“Do you recall Hanish Kale? He was a graduate student studying there the same time as Patel.”
“Of course. He was another person manipulated and used by Patel. I do not know why, but he idolized Manu Patel. Again, I cannot prove it, but I suspect he wrote some of Patel’s papers for his classes. He was smart enough to do his own work, but I think he enjoyed getting people to do things for him. It was like a game. Like he was practicing and refining his skills of using people, if that makes any sense.”
“It does make sense. Do you know where Kale is now? Is he teaching? Did he go into research?” Marlee asked, knowing those were two popular options for a Ph.D. in sociology.
“No, he died a few years ago. It was before he and Patel graduated. I do not know all of the specifics of the incident, but he fell to his death from the top of a building on campus,” Kommala said.
“Wait, you said he died before either he or Patel graduated in 2010?” Marlee asked.
“That is right. I remember it well because it was in mid-January, right after we returned from winter break. A special tribute was paid to him at graduation in May.”
“But we have in our records that Hanish Kale was interviewed when Manu Patel applied for the position here in the spring of 2010. How can that be?” Marlee asked.
“I am afraid your university has been tricked by this man. He had someone else provide the reference under Kale’s name. I wish I could say this surprises me, but it does not.”
“Was Kale’s death accidental?” Marlee asked.
“It was determined to be a suicide, even though everyone who knew him said he did not suffer from depression. He was nearing completion of his Ph.D., and there was no doubt he would finish. I have always suspected Patel may have pushed him, although I have no proof of it,” said Kommala.
“Besides you and Hanish Kale, Professor Mattoo was also listed as a reference. I was told by your department secretary that he died. Did he die under mysterious circumstances too?” Marlee asked.
“Oh, no. He was elderly and had been in poor health for months. He should have retired years before he died.”
“What was his cause of death?” Marlee enquired, wondering if this could be another murder attached to Professor Patel.
“Mattoo went into heart failure and was rushed to hospital. He passed away there the next day,” replied Professor Kommala. “He’s been gone for almost two years now.”
“He provided a mixed reference for Patel. Said he was a hard worker who was passionate about sociology but had limited people skills.” Marlee looked at Professor Patel’s file as she spoke.
“As I said, Mattoo should have retired years before he died. He gave the same generic reference for any graduate student who asked him. The students who ask him to be a reference for them are the ones who have difficulty finding other professors to speak to their attributes. They have been in conflict with the faculty or their level of work is enough to get them through the program, but not recommend them for employment. It is almost always a personality issue,” said Kommala.
“But why would Patel ask you to be a reference when he had made claims against you? And why would you agree to provide him a reference?” Marlee asked.
“As to why he asked me for a reference, I have no idea. It seemed very odd to me at the time, and I only agreed so that I could provide a negative assessment to his potential employers. Normally, I would be ashamed of my behavior, but given the trouble Patel caused me when he was a student here, I feel no remorse. He almost cost me my career, and I am still working to redeem myself in the eyes of some of my colleagues. It takes many, many years for a scandal to be fully extinguished, even when the accused is deemed innocent.” Kommala’s voice no longer held the melodic tone. It was sad and weary. Holding a grudge against Patel, no matter how justified, had taken its toll.
“I know that graduate students can become very good friends as they work their way through the program together. Were Hanish Kale and Patel particularly close?” Marlee asked.
“Very, very close,” replied Kommala. “We have a small number of graduate students, so it is well known throughout the faculty the nature of the relationships they have with each other. They were best friends. It was an odd association. Patel was such an opportunist and con artist while Kale was a lovely person with a kind heart. They were both intelligent and knew their specific areas of sociology inside and out. Kale was a genuine people person. Patel could pretend to like people until he got what he wanted from them. Then he was cold as ice,” Kommala said. “I never knew why Kale associated with Patel.”
As Marlee was thanking her for her time, Professor Kommala asked, “What happened at your university that destroyed your records?”
“We had a small fire in our records room. They had not all been put into a computer data base yet, so some of them were lost to us.” Marlee let the lies roll off her tongue. “Since all of our records may be checked when we are under review for accreditation, my superiors asked me to fill in the blanks in some of our incomplete application files. Manu Patel’s file was only partially damaged, so I have some information on him.”
“Are you satisfied with Patel’s performance since you hired him?” asked Kommala.
Unsure of what to say, Marlee stalled, “Well….”
“Ah, buyer’s remorse. I understand. I have to leave for a meeting now, but if you want more information on Manu Patel, contact me again. If you are truly dissatisfied with his performance, I will help you get him terminated.”
Poverty makes thieves like love makes poets.
Indian proverb
Chapter 26
Whenever someone used the word ‘terminated’ Marlee immediately thought they meant killed. Unless you were a hit man or worked for the mob, terminated meant something very different. She was taken aback when Professor Kommala offered to help Marlee get Professor Patel fired from Delhi University. On the one hand, she hated to see people occupying positions they shouldn’t have. There were plenty of unemployed professors capable of excellent teaching, research, and service to the university. To have someone like Professor Patel, who most likely obtained his position through false means, angered Marlee and made her want to take action. On the other hand, she had tasked herself with finding out who killed Raj. In doing so, she delved into the lives of the suspects, but knew she didn’t have the time, energy, or resources to right every wrong she saw the suspects committing.
Marlee returned to her review of Professor Patel’s file. Glancing at her phone, she saw the time and knew she’d never finish perusing it before returning it to Meena’s office before 5:00 p.m. Swallowing her pride, Marlee put on her shoes and walked to Barry’s hotel. She needed to make things right with him, not only for peace of mind, but also because she needed to use the copy machine in the business center at his hotel. Marlee wasn’t sure where to find a copy machine on campus, since they seemed to be so proud of going paperless. She was all for conservation and recycled much of what she could at home, but sometimes she needed paper copies. Especially when she was in possession of documents she was not entitled to have and needed to return soon.
“Barry, open the door!” shouted Marlee as she slammed her hand against the door for the fifteenth time. “I know you’re mad at me, but I have news about the case!”
He could be a major jackass but wouldn’t place his pride over solving a case. When he didn’t respond, she knew she needed to find another way to get photocopies of Professor Patel’s file within the next half hour.
Sauntering up to the concierge’s desk feigning a confidence she did not have, Marlee leaned on his desk and motioned him to move closer. “I have a bit of a sensitive issue I need help with,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I need to make photocopies of these documents, and I don’t have access to a copy machine. Would I be able to use your business center? I will certainly pay for my copies.”
“Of course,” chirped the concierge. “Right this way.” He led her down a long hall, around
a corner, and to a brightly lit office. “You can use the copy machine,” He said, showing her how to operate it.
She thanked him and as he turned to leave the business center he asked, “And you will be needing wine again, yes?”
Marlee recognized it as not so much a question as a statement. It was the price she would be paying for use of the copy machine, and she had no problem with that since her alcohol stash at the apartment was dwindling, mostly because of the number of people she had entertained over the past few days. “No wine, but I would like more of the Kingfisher beer. It’s my new favorite!”
With copies of the documents stuffed into her bag, Marlee made her way to the concierge desk where she was greeted with four six-packs of Kingfisher divided into two cloth tote bags. She paid the concierge, including a huge tip, and left for her apartment.
She hadn’t planned on going back to the apartment before dropping off Professor Patel’s folder with Meena before the office closed, but her weeny arms couldn’t carry twenty-four bottles of beer around campus. Glancing at her watch, Marlee noted the timing was tight, but knew she could make it if she didn’t dilly-dally at the apartment.
When she arrived, Barry was pacing back and forth outside her door. “Come on in,” she said, unlocking her door. “But I only have a minute before I need to get back to campus. I’m on a deadline.”
Barry marched inside without a word and plopped on the bed, watching as Marlee took the beer bottles out of the bags and placed them inside the mini fridge. “I don’t think this is going to work with us,” he finally blurted.
“I think you’re right,” Marlee said with a sigh of relief as she continued to place beer in the refrigerator. “We’re better off as friends and nothing else.” She thought she was making it easier for Barry, but once again she failed to take the male ego into account. He needed to be the one to break up with her, and Marlee hadn’t realized it.
The look on Barry’s face went from nervousness to animosity in one second. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t know what to say.
Marlee, anxious to move beyond the awkwardness, forged ahead. “I completely understand. We fight all the time, and that’s not good for either of us. Our communication is horrible, and we are constantly misinterpreting each other’s words. I love you, Barry, but just as a friend. We both know this shouldn’t go beyond friendship.”
Barry’s normally pale face was even paler now as he fought to find words to express his feelings. Still feeling uncomfortable, Marlee continued on. “I think we tried to make a romantic relationship work because we’ve known each other for twenty years. Now that we’re in our forties, it’s hard to meet someone you’d like to date. You’re newly divorced, and it hasn’t been that long since Hector cheated on me. It’s only natural that we would gravitate toward each other. Anyone in their right mind can see that we’re not meant for each other. I know this has been going through your mind too.”
Barry cleared his throat. “I was going in another direction. I was going to ask you if you wanted to think about making things more serious.”
Her jaw dropped as she closed the door to the mini-fridge. In a million years, she never would’ve guessed Barry was thinking along these lines. And now she felt really bad because she just told him they could only be friends and nothing else. Marlee believed that to the core of her being, but she never would have made such a bold pronouncement if she knew what Barry thought. Barry was a rough, tough cop, but he was also a tender-hearted man with feelings. She would have given anything to take back her words, not because she didn’t mean them, but because she didn’t want to hurt Barry.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to say that, Barry. You have to know that we will never be happy together as a couple because we’re always arguing. I can’t live with that kind of drama, and I suspect you can’t either.
Barry strode toward the door, not looking at Marlee. “I guess I don’t know what to think anymore!” He slammed the door and took off at a jog back toward the hotel. Marlee peered through her window, watching one of her best friends run away. He was wounded by her words, but deep down Marlee knew it was better to hurt him now rather than a few years down the road in divorce court.
“Crap!” Marlee shouted, glancing at the alarm clock on her beside stand. It was 5:04, and she had failed to return Professor Patel’s personnel file back to Meena as stipulated. Her conversation with Barry lasted less than ten minutes, but that was enough to make her late. Maybe Meena will still be there, Marlee thought as she raced out the door.
The door was locked when she arrived at the Sociology Department office. She hated being late and cutting the time too close, and this was exactly why. Meena had trusted her enough to turn over Professor Patel’s personnel folder. Not only had she broken Meena’s trust, but she’d also put her job in jeopardy. If anyone found out about Marlee’s access to Professor Patel’s file, Meena would be the one to pay the price, and Marlee would be in hot water with her own university when she was booted from Delhi University.
She fished around inside her tote bag for her key chain. When the three keys were provided to her, she was only half listening, but she knew she had the ability to get into the building and into her own office. The third key was a mystery, and Marlee hoped it was for the departmental office.
Marlee let herself inside, keeping the light turned off so as not to attract the attention of anyone walking by. When Meena retrieved the folder from a file cabinet earlier that day, she used a key inside her middle desk drawer. Hoping against hope, Marlee tugged at the desk drawer, and it opened. She recognized Meena’s colorful satchel in which she’d stored the USB drive earlier. Even though she didn’t know why, Marlee rummaged through the bag until she found the USB drive. Marlee held it in her hand for a few seconds before throwing it in her own bag. She’d return it tomorrow.
Also inside the desk was a key chain containing at least twenty keys, all labeled with the corresponding locks. She sifted through keys for the inventory room, the dean’s office, each individual professor’s office, and the various file cabinets. Locating what she thought was the correct key, she moved toward the cabinet, pulling the confidential folder from her bag. She opened the cabinet without any problem and replaced the file. My luck has really turned around, she thought with a smug smile as she closed the cabinet.
“Excuse me. Who are you, and what are you doing?” said a firm voice from the doorway of the dean’s office. The lights were off, and he narrowed his eyes to determine if it was someone he knew.
“Um, it’s just me, Marlee McCabe, the visiting professor from the United States. I was looking for the forms for visiting professors,” she said, caught off guard but quickly regaining her composure. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”
“This office is off limits to faculty after 5:00 p.m., and the file cabinets are always off limits to faculty. You do not have the authority to access them at any time. If you need forms or paperwork, you ask Meena, and if she deems it necessary, she will provide it to you,” said Dean Reddy, his voice agitated.
“I am so sorry,” Marlee said. “I meant to get to the office before Meena left for the day, but I didn’t make it. Instead of bothering her first thing in the morning, I just thought I’d find it myself. I didn’t realize the protocol, or I never would have done such a thing.” Marlee continued on with the apologies and lies until the dean waved her away.
“Just come back tomorrow, and Meena will assist you,” he said, going back to his office and closing the door.
Marlee placed the ring of keys back inside Meena’s desk and left the building. It was a pleasant early evening with a hint of spring in the air. Instead of going back to her apartment, she walked around the beautiful campus to clear her head. She was thrilled that she’d replaced Professor Patel’s folder undetected but was upset that she’d missed the deadline Meena set when she gave her the file. And to top it all off, Marlee was now on the dean’s radar. She wasn’t sure if he suspected her o
f something nefarious, or if he just thought she was a bumbling idiot. Either way, he would be keeping an eye on her, and she needed to fly under the radar.
As she walked around campus, she noticed Crispin Kingsley exiting the engineering building. He carried a brown briefcase with his overcoat thrown over his arm. A slim woman in a snug-fitting dress accompanied him as he walked away from the building. They were talking and laughing, much more intimate than coworkers or casual friends.
Not knowing exactly what she was going to do, Marlee approached them. Crispin was so deep into his conversation that he didn’t notice her until she was a few yards away. Grimacing as he saw her, he asked, “What do you want?”
“Oh, I thought you were walking with Eleanor. When I saw you from across the campus green, I thought you were with your wife and thought I’d come over to say hello,” Marlee said, trying not to smirk.
“Wife?” asked the woman with Crispin. “You said you were divorced!” She walked away. She had dismissed him; if he lied about something as important as his marital status, then who knew what other information he falsified?
“You bitch!” Crispin hissed, keeping his voice down in hopes he could patch things up with the young woman later. “Why are you following me?”
“I’m not following you, Crispin. I work here on campus too. Remember?”
“You have no business interfering in my life. Leave me alone or else…” The unfinished statement hung in the air.
“Or else, what?” Marlee asked walking a step closer to Crispin. “You’ll have someone beat me up just like to you did to Raj?”
“I did no such thing, and you can’t prove that I did.”
“Really? Of all the people who had a motive to kill Raj, you’re at the very top. He was having an affair with your wife and may be the father of her baby!”
“Eleanor would never cheat on me!” Crispin roared. “And we’re not having a baby.”
Blood Feud Page 21
