The Faded Alibi
The chalk snapped. It was a short, sharp sound in the empty lecture hall, louder than the wind rattling the high, single-paned windows. Dr. Arthur Penhaligon stared at the fragment in his hand. The other piece lay on the floor, a white splinter against the dark wood. He did not pick it up. He stood there, his hands trembling slightly, feeling the cold seep through his cardigan. The room smelled...
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