The detectives split up when they entered the Language Building on the ESU campus. Eames turned left, heading for the spacious office of Bhat Robi; Goren took a right, toward a row of closet-sized offices, each of which was inhabited by a pair of grad students.

"Bhat Robi?" Eames asked, knocking lightly on the doorframe of the office that had a B. Rabi nameplate next to it.

"Yes," an olive-skinned man said, swiveling in his chair to face her. "Can I help you?"

She stepped into the office and offered her hand. "Detective Alex Eames. I spoke to you on the phone this morning?"

As she spoke, she unobtrusively evaluated both the man and the office. Robi's space was roomy, with colorful, patterned textiles hanging on two walls and a large panel of windows in a third that overlooked an indoor courtyard. A bookcase held four shelves of books, most of which had intimidating titles like Studies on Semantics in Generative Grammar and Government and Binding Theory. She counted five books on the top shelf which listed 'B. Robi' as an author or editor. Everyone likes to see their own name in print, she reminded herself.

Robi himself was younger than she had expected; he appeared to be in his late 30s or early 40s. His black hair was slicked back with something - did academics use hairspray? - that made it improbably shiny, and he wore a pair of gray slacks (devoid of wrinkles, she noted) and a red-striped oxford shirt. She tried to picture her partner in a similar getup, but couldn't seem to get past the shiny hair without needing to fight laughter.

Eames was saved from the embarrassment of laughing in front of a potential suspect by the suspect himself, who leaned forward in his chair and took her hand. "Ah, Detective Eames," he said, holding the handshake a second too long. "I was expecting someone . . . older."

Trying not to roll her eyes, she told herself that she shouldn't be surprised; the man wasn't wearing a ring and, judging by his demeanor, he probably didn't get out much.

It only took her a second to tame her thoughts and plaster on her most charming smile. "Sorry," she said, shrugging one shoulder girlishly. "You're stuck with me."

"Hey," he said, holding up his hands in protest, "I'm not complaining. What can I -" He stopped and looked around the room. "Where are my manners? Here, have a seat," he said, dragging a hard-backed chair around to his side of the desk.

"Thanks." She sat, noting that the chair, which she figured usually held students, was one of the most uncomfortable ones she'd ever sat in.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, leaning back in his own soft-cushioned chair. "You're here to talk to me about James."

"Yes. We're trying to find out more about him from the people who knew him, and we heard that you got along with him. I was hoping you'd be able to help us out and tell us more about his life. Who he socialized with, what he enjoyed, his schedule . . .?"

"Well," Robi began, leaning back in his chair, "James was a brilliant man, and brilliant men aren't usually popular among their peers . . ."

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While Eames dealt with the unctuous professor, Goren was busy wrangling a roomful of opinionated students. He was initially pleased to find four of the five students whom he had been planning to talk to all gathered in one office, but he soon started regretting not having planned planned for an interview that involved frequent inter-student arguments.

"Dr. Li?" repeated a petite black-haired girl who was perched on a desk when Goren introduced himself and his purpose to them. "Sorry, but I really can't hold it against whoever killed him. He wasn't exactly a nice guy."

"Oh, come on," retorted a tall, Asian-featured boy, in a tone of voice that made it clear that this was an old argument. He turned in his chair to look at the girl sitting on his desk. "He was fine; you just didn't like him because he was a tough grader."

A second girl, this one lanky and blonde, made a disgusted face at the boy from her desk against the opposite wall. "Drew, you're literally the only one out of all the grads I know who could deal with the guy." Turning to face Goren, she continued, "Dr. Li was probably really smart, he had to be to be teaching here, but the problem was that he knew it. He couldn't stand being forced to deal with -" She shuddered theatrically. "- all us useless grad students."

Goren, who had been absorbed in watching the argument as it bounced from person to person, shook his head to clear it. "Hold on, guys. Before we go on, can I get your names?"

"Oh, sorry," said the Asian boy. "I'm Drew Kim. That's Jana Wu," he added, pointing to the shorter girl, "and Sara King," he said, gesturing to the blonde. "And the guy hiding in the corner is Alex."

"Alex what?"

"It's really Alejandro," the boy supplied, looking up from the sheet of paper he had been drawing something on. "Alejandro Torreira. That just takes too long to say, so everyone calls me Alex."

"Fair enough," Goren said with a nod. "My partner's name is Alexandra, and she tells people to call her Alex for the same reason."

"Your partner's female?" Sara King echoed. "That rocks."

Drew snorted. "The longer I share an office with you, the more I think you should just give up higher education and go take the Civil Service Exam."

Sara threw her pencil at him. "Stop with the elitist act."

"Guys," Alejandro interrupted. "Can we at least pretend to be human while a stranger's in here?"

"Sorry," mumbled Sara. "But he started it." Looking back to Goren, she sighed. "What did you want to ask us?"

"Well . . . you were all in one or more of Dr. Li's classes, right?" All four students nodded. "What can you tell me about his teaching style, his policies, his interactions within the department?"

His question was answered quickly by snorts from three of the room's occupants. "His teaching style was, uh, let's just say hands-off," said Jana. "He came in, gave the lecture, assigned homework, and left."

"And if you actually paid attention to the lecture, there wouldn't be anything wrong with his methods," said Drew.

"Drew, look," sighed Alejandro. "Some people have this strange thing where they like to feel like the teacher doesn't consider them to be on the same level as cockroaches. I did ok in Li's classes, but I still agree with Jana that as a teacher, he sucked."

"He was good at being sucky, though," Sara pointed out. "He never did it in a way that you could actually point to something and go, 'he did that wrong'."

"Can you give me an example?"

"Well, here," Sara said, holding out a graded assignment. "I got a D on this. Everything he marked wrong was technically wrong, but my overall answers were right, and I looked up some of the stuff - we're not even required to know them for this class."

Goren took the stapled-together pages from her and flipped through them, letting out a low whistle. James Li had apparently been a proponent of the "red pen" grading method; nearly every answer Sara had written had some comment scribbled over it in a nearly illegible red scrawl. "This is typical grading for him?"

All four students nodded. "He went easier on . . . some people," Alejandro said, subtly tilting his head toward Drew, "if they were willing to kiss his ass."

Drew, pointedly ignoring his classmate's jibe, looked past Goren to the doorway. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

Goren turned to see who the student was adressing and came face-to-face with his partner. "Done already?"

"He didn't have much to say about Dr. Li," Eames said. "Although he did seem very interested in what I'm doing after work today."

"Let me guess," Jana spoke up. "You were talking to Dr. Robi."

Surprised, both detectives turned to look at her. "He does that a lot?" Eames asked.

Sara rolled her eyes. "He has a very definite 'type'. Short, thin . . ."

"Which is why he kept hitting on me, but left Sara alone," Jana finished.

"Dude," Alejandro said with a shake of his head. "No wonder I can't get a date; I'm competing with tenured professors."

"Oh, I'm sure it's not just that," Sara teased.

"Guys!" Drew exclaimed, waving his hands over his head to get their attention. "This is not date night; can we please just tell the police what they need to know so I can get back to work?"

The other three students looked sheepish. "What else did you need to know?" Jana asked Goren.

"Actually . . . I think I've got just about everything I need for now. Uh, we'll probably need to speak with some of you again in the next few days; it would help if you could write down your contact information for us."

Mumbling "no problem" and "sure," the students each jotted down their office numbers and phone extensions.

Goren tucked the papers neatly into his portfolio and looked at Eames. "Ready?"

Eames opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off when Alejandro said, "Ohh, you're Alex!"

Eames blinked. "Uh, yes," she said, wondering why Goren, who almost never used her first name himself, had given it to the students. "And you are . . .?"

"Alex," he said with a grin. Catching the confusion in her face, he added, "Alejandro. I go by Alex because that's too long, and Detective Goren said you do the same thing."

"Ah," she said with a nod. "That's . . . interesting. It's nice to have met you, Alex - and the rest of you, too,' she added, smiling at the office's other occupants. Looking back to Goren, she smirked and said, "Come on, Bobby." If he could advertise her first name, then she could advertise his!

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Eames checked her watch as they got back into the car. Their trip to the school had taken longer than anticipated; it was close to quitting time. "Dinner?" she asked.

"What time is it?"

"Five."

"If you want to just go home . . ." Goren started tentatively. He knew his gung-ho attitude toward investigating was overwhelming to some people, and though Eames generally dealt well with him, he was constantly on his guard against assuming that she had the time or inclination for overtime.

Taking her eyes off the road for a moment, she gave him a curious look. "Why stop now? I don't have anything better lined up for tonight, and we need to trade information on our interviews."

"Well, if you don't have anything to do tonight," Goren said, "you could always . . . go out with that professor."

"Ha, ha," she said flatly. "Very funny. I'll hold off on dating suspects, thanks just the same. Which means that it's you that gets stuck with me."

"That's fine with me. So, where are we headed?"

"I'll buy the groceries if you'll come to my place and help me cook them."