Red Queen's Run

by Morris, Bourne

  “Ginger ale,” I said.

  We sat in silence waiting for the drinks. It was clear I wasn’t getting any answers to my question while anyone could hear them.

  After the bartender left our drinks, Joe took a pull on his beer. “I am reluctant to share a lot of this case with you, Red. Not because I don’t trust you, or because I think you are a suspect, it’s just that...”

  “Everyone in the school is a suspect,” I said. “But I do have a good alibi, don’t I? Sadie Hawkins doesn’t lie.”

  Joe relaxed. Then he said in his most serious cop-fashion, “and, Doctor Solaris, what was the name of the movie you saw last Sunday?”

  “Gee, Detective. Gone with the Wind? I can’t remember now. It was so long ago. Now tell me what’s going on. I want to help and I do know all the suspects better than you do.”

  “What I can tell you now is that the forensics guys and Danny Ranko, the medical examiner you met, are all convinced the wound in Henry’s back was caused by that pointed glass sculpture, that award. It punctured the skin on his back and created a massive contusion. And there’s no way the fall down the stairs caused it.”

  “Did someone stab Henry with that thing? It’s awkward and pretty heavy.”

  “We’re still working on it. There was no blood in the office or the hallway but the wound did bleed some and stained Henry’s shirt. Danny found traces of Henry’s blood on the glass award, but no fingerprints, not even Henry’s.”

  “So it was wiped clean?”

  Joe’s little half smile. “Yes, Detective Solaris. So it would seem.”

  “But doesn’t that strengthen the idea it was murder rather than an accident.”

  “Yes. But Henry also had a heart attack. The back wound may have occasioned the heart attack, but the heart attack and the fall down the stairs are what killed him.”

  “So we know what killed him.” I felt a chill even in the warmth of the booth.

  Joe put his hand over mine. I noticed how strong it was and the warmth of it took the chill away. “We think so and I’m still investigating a probable homicide. But keep in mind—even though I am telling you all this—you are the dean. I am the detective.”

  I nodded. “Thank you for trusting me. I can’t tell you how much it will mean to me to know what really happened to my friend and whether or not one of my faculty is homicidal.”

  He looked at his watch. “I’ve got about another five minutes to finish this beer. Tell me what you know about Simon Gorshak.”

  “Is he your primary suspect?” I was surprised and excited. Wouldn’t it be great to be rid of Simon?

  “No one is primary, yet,” said Joe. “I just don’t know as much about him as the others. He was very uncooperative during our interview at the school. I didn’t get much out of him.”

  “Well, he’s as mean as a trapped ferret and I wouldn’t put it past him to kill Henry. He hated Henry. But Simon would have hated anyone who was made dean after he lost his position. All I know, is that he was a writer for Fortune a hundred years ago.”

  “Is he married? He refused to answer that when I talked to him. Said it was not relevant to my inquiry. Weird. Most people don’t have a problem with that question.”

  “Hmm. I don’t know if Simon is married or not. He never brings anyone to university events and I’ve never heard him mention a wife. I can certainly ask around. The faculty members who’ve been there longer than I have will probably know. Simon is so universally disliked, no one talks about him much.”

  Joe rubbed his chin. “So far, I found an old DMV record for a Doris Gorshak. But her license has not been renewed since 1997. And, whoever she was, she’s never registered to vote.”

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” I said. I felt good. I got to help my handsome cop and, maybe, get the upper hand with Simon Gorshak.

  Joe walked me to me car. “I like having you as my partner,” he said. I could see the seriousness of his face. “But you are not to talk directly to any of these guys about Henry’s death. Other stuff, okay, but not Henry. I don’t want you confronting any of them.”

  “I know that,” I said. “I promise, I’ll be a good girl.”

  That brought another smile. “You know, Dr. Solaris, one of these days after this investigation, I am going to hope you don’t want to be a good girl.”

  “I know.”

  He opened my car door for me and closed it after me. He stood by the side of the car, his hand on the roof looking down at me.

  I started the engine. As I pulled out of the parking lot, Joe stood still, watching me until I was out of sight. My God, he was attractive. But I knew he had to be careful. And so did I.

  As I turned toward home, the road looked dark ahead. The image of Henry’s body flashed before me. I hated that I could no longer see a clear picture of my good friend, Henry Brooks, dean of journalism, distinguished scholar, still alive and laughing instead of cold and dead on those stairs.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning, after a visit to the library, I encountered Philip Lewis. It was a crisp late morning, but the snow had melted. That often happens in Nevada. We’ll get a storm overnight but the Sierras take most of the snow and often leave just an inch or two on the ground that melts away by ten in the morning.

  “Beautiful day we’re having,” said Lewis, taking my arm. “How are you doing Meredith?”

  “I think I’m doing well,” I replied. “But I could use some historical information if you have a minute.”

  Lewis stopped and looked kindly. But then he almost always looked kindly. “What can I tell you, my dear?”

  “I need to know more about Simon Gorshak than the personnel files tell me,” I said.

  Lewis lost his kindly look. “A difficult man, Simon. You know, of course, he was dean for several years, long before Henry.”

  I nodded. “I wonder if you know more about him personally, as a man?”

  “More than I wish I knew,” said Lewis. “Simon was a terrible manager as a dean—unsympathetic, irascible, so unjust he lost the confidence of his faculty. They came in a body and asked me to fire him, you know. But, he was tenured and the best I could do was dismiss him as dean and send him back into the faculty who despised him. He was devastated and angry and impossible to reason with...” Lewis paused and looked sad. “And then, of course, a few years later his wife left him.”

  “So he was married?”

  “Oh yes,” said Philip. “Doris was quite pretty, although rather too thin in my view. Dressed very fashionably as I recall.”

  “Did she leave him because he lost the dean’s job?”

  Lewis smiled, dropped my arm and took a step away. “I really don’t know,” he said. “I just know it must have been dreadful for Simon to lose his post, his reputation and, ultimately, his wife.”

  “President Lewis,” I began. But Philip Lewis turned.

  “Have to dash. See you later, Red.” He waved his hand as he walked away.

  I headed back to the journalism school and, without stopping to take off my coat, went straight down the hall to Simon’s office.

  His door was closed but I could see a light through the glass panel, even though the venetian blinds that covered the panel were shut tight. I knew he was there. I could hear his voice, louder than usual. “Goddamn it, I tell you, I sent that check in a week ago,” I heard him say. “You stop harassing me or I’ll call my attorney.” Then I heard the phone slam down.

  I knocked on the glass panel.

  “What?” I heard Simon’s voice, still angry.

  I opened the door. Simon was seated at his desk. He turned his chair toward me, his face grim and grayer than ever. “What do you want?”

  “I just wanted to say I know how distressing the police interviews were the other day and I am just making the rounds to see if everyone is okay,” I said.
/>
  Simon turned back to the papers on his desk and put his hands on his pencil cup as if he was about to work. “I’m fine.”

  “Did you have a difficult interview?” I remembered what Joe had said.

  Simon glanced up at me, “The police ask too many stupid questions,” he said, voice low and calm.

  I considered taking a risk. “Simon, are you in any sort of trouble?”

  He looked up and then stood up and took a step toward me. His small eyes were shining with anger. “No, missy, I am not in any kind of trouble. You were listening outside my door, weren’t you?”

  He grabbed my arm. Simon is an old man but the strength of his grip surprised me. I looked down at his hand, old, bony; his fingernails were long and ragged and I could feel the pinch of them through the sleeve of my coat.

  He put his face close to mine until I could smell his sourness.

  “You and your damned cop can stay out of my private life.”

  “I’m...”

  “Shut up, Solaris. You may be the appointed dean but I know you were just one of Brooks’ whores and if you meddle with my private affairs, you’ll wish to Christ you hadn’t.”

  I stood stunned.

  “Now get out of my office,” he said, pushing me into the hall. He slammed his door so hard the blinds behind the glass panel rattled.

  I walked back to my office in a daze. That old man was amazingly strong and, as far as I was concerned, he definitely had murder in him.

  I collapsed in my chair and called Joe. My voice returned without shakiness. “I forgot to ask. How’s your drunk driver?”

  “Sober and incarcerated. His parents refuse to bail him out. How are you? I miss you. Please don’t make any elaborate plans for next weekend. As soon as I know my schedule, I want to see you.”

  “I want to see you, too.”

  “How’s it going?” It was clear he didn’t want to end the conversation.

  After a moment of silence, I decided I couldn’t wait for later to tell him about Simon. “Joe, I found out more about Simon. He was married to a woman named Doris, but Philip Lewis tells me she left him a few years after he was fired as dean.”

  “That’s useful to know,” said Joe.

  “That would have been years ago. When I went to his office this morning...”

  “You what?”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything to him about your investigation or about Henry. I went to see how he was doing. When I approached his door, it was closed, but I could hear him yelling at someone about a check.”

  “And,” I could hear Joe’s voice harden.

  “I stupidly asked him if he was in any trouble...”

  “Red, stop. I told you to be careful around these guys.”

  “I know. I know you’re right. Simon grabbed my arm and literally pushed me out of his office and said if either you or I interfered in his private life, we would wish we hadn’t. Joe, he was angry and much stronger than I imagined.”

  I heard Joe’s long intake of breath. “Red, promise me you’ll stay away from him.”

  “That won’t be hard. He scares the hell out of me.”

  Silence. We both know there was more we wanted to say to each other, but not on the phone.

  Finally, “Can Nell and I clean up Henry’s office now? I really want to settle in there.”

  “I’ll check with my team. I’m sure it’s okay but it will give me a reason to call you again.”

  “Do you need a reason?”

  Pause. “No, I don’t.”

  Still thinking about Joe, I didn’t hear the knock on my half-opened office door. Max Worthington pushed it open. Max was tall enough to fill my doorway. He had a smooth, boyish face that probably was movie star handsome when he was younger. A look that certainly helped his journalism career. Ever since I had first met Max, he has always struck me as warm and intelligent and, while I sometimes wished he would control his temper with George, I admired his willingness to defend Larry Coleman. Other faculty members were all too likely to let a colleague take it on the chin from the elders. I found Max easy and comfortable and I was grateful for his support.

  Max had been my friend from my first day at the school. “Let me know what I can do to help you adjust,” he’d said. He became my steadfast cheerleader when I was on tenure track. He edited my papers before I sent them in to journals. Once, under the mistletoe at a Christmas party, Max’s kiss had been a bit too wet and had lasted a little too long, but I forgave him. Max was an easy guy to forgive.

  “How’s Trudy?” I asked. Trudy was pregnant with their fourth child. I had not seen her recently but, whenever I saw Max, I thought of his wife’s kindness to me when I first came to Mountain West.

  “Still a trooper,” he said. “She’s big as a house but unfailingly cheerful.”

  “Please give her my love. What’s up?”

  Max did not sit down, but approached my desk and leaned on the edge.

  “Red, I come to plead the case of one of the students I advise.”

  I leaned back in my chair and smiled. “You have the floor, counselor.”

  “She came to me in tears yesterday with your letter expelling her from the j-school.”

  Oh, crap. Celeste. Already maneuvering.

  Max moved around my desk until he was on my side. He leaned against the wall. “She’s a kid, Red. A smart kid who made a mistake. Don’t you think throwing her out of the school is a bit heavy-handed?”

  “Max, perhaps you don’t know all of Celeste’s history.”

  Max smiled slightly. “Well, she did mention some stuff about earlier infractions in other classes. But, honestly Red, we have a lot of students who struggle when they first get here. A lot cheated in high school and got away with it. Then they get into college, and we hammer them.”

  “Celeste Cummings is an unrepentant cheater. She’s been caught three times, but God knows how many other times she’s gone undetected.”

  Max stepped closer. His eyes were serious and he spoke quietly. “Red, you are a beautiful woman. Celeste is a beautiful woman. Do you think that could have factored into your decision?”

  “Max, you are way out of line. Back off.”

  He moved back against the wall. His hands went up, palms facing me, in a defensive posture. “Just trying to help a friend, coach. Two friends, I hope.”

  “I’ve made my decision, Max.”

  He moved toward the door, then turned to give me a rueful smile. “You know how I tend to stick up for the oppressed,” he said. A dark thought crossed my mind, but I dismissed it. I liked Max.

  I went off to lunch worrying about Celeste but was pleased to see that Phyllis Baker was joining Sadie and me at our table. Next to Max, Phyllis was my best friend on the faculty, a good friend who made me laugh when I was down and told me I was unique and wonderful when I was feeling particularly ordinary. Phyllis was the physical opposite of Sadie. A dark brown perpetually plump face, a body shaped like a pouter pigeon set on top of long, thin legs. She was settled at the table in front of a martini. She greeted me with a cheery grin. “You look pretty good for a woman who has been beaten to a pulp and left to rot by vicious male faculty.”

  I sighed and fell into the chair beside her. Wilson appeared with the glass of the wine he knew I was about to order.

  “Bless you,” I said. “It’s been hell.”

  “Heavy lays the crown,” said Sadie, sipping her predictable iced tea. Sadie doesn’t drink alcohol before five p.m. After five, she can channel Dylan Thomas.

  “So tell us everything. We’re dying to know exactly how awful it’s been for you.”

  It’s probably true in other professions, but I know with certainty that, in the academy, friendships can be solid and lifelong. If you are fortunate enough to find good friends across campus, as I did, you discover one of the gr
eat benefits of a university career. Funny, smart, absolutely loyal, Sadie and Phyllis would keep my secrets and get me through no matter what. We ordered food from the attentive Wilson and I started in. As I had promised Joe, no mention of Simon, but everything else was on the table. When I described the expulsion, I didn’t name Celeste. When I talked about Max’s visit, it prompted an interesting comment from Phyllis.

  “I’ve often wondered if Max Worthington doesn’t have the hots for you.”

  “Me too,” said Sadie. “I’ve noticed at faculty parties at Stoddard’s house that Max seems very attentive when you’re around.”

  “Max is married with kids,” I said. But it set me to wondering. Max had come a little closer to me than was comfortable when we talked about Celeste.

  “He has a reputation,” said Phyllis. “Champion tennis player, newspaper editor, Berkeley PhD. And he’s great looking. I can think of a few university ladies who wouldn’t let a wife and kids get in the way.”

  “Red already has a man in her sights,” said Sadie, turning back to the student-cheating episode. “Your decision was quite right. I wish more faculty would come down hard on cheating, especially plagiarism. I know it’s hard to prove and a pain to document, but integrity matters. It’s our cornerstone.”

  “I agree, but some faculty are afraid the student will file a grievance against them if they come down hard,” said Phyllis. “Also, I’m afraid many of our overworked colleagues don’t want the hassle and would rather forgive and forget.”

  “I still hate to see us tolerate cheating,” said Sadie. “Ultimately, it means we’re willing to grant degrees to people who haven’t earned them. Sooner or later, we pay for that.”

  “How do we pay for it?” Phyllis asked. “Maybe their future employers pay for it when the students can’t do their jobs, but how do we suffer?”

  Sadie cleared her throat. “C’mon now. You ever run into lawyers who didn’t know their stuff? You want an elementary school built by an engineer who cheated his way through college? Or your dear old mother cared for by a nurse who faked her credentials?” Sadie was now swaying with the energy of her argument. “And what about the bastards at the top who hurt thousands of people? You think Bernie Madoff learned to cheat after he graduated?”