Final Appeal

by Joanne Fluke

  It had been exactly 6:59 p.m. when Professor Zimmer’s flight had landed at the airport, forty-four minutes behind schedule. He had been delayed another thirty minutes at the baggage carousel, and then he’d waited thirty-five minutes for the airport shuttle bus, which was scheduled to make a complete circuit of the airport every ten minutes. He’d finally arrived at Lot C to find his Mazda sandwiched in between a black Cadillac and a dusty yellow Winnebago, right where he left it.

  The Mazda had started right up, and at a quarter to ten he was back where he belonged. If he were the type to indulge in anthropomorphism, he would have said that his Mazda was also glad to be back. It had seemed to purr like a kitten when he’d pulled into the entrance to the campus.

  The professor locked his car and started to walk away before he remembered what was in his small travel bag on the passenger seat. Perhaps it would be a good idea to take it with him. His application for tenure would be processed soon, and if some crazy student broke into the Mazda and discovered what he had in his bag, the rumors would surely reach the University governing board. Vandalism wasn’t a big problem on campus, but Gateway University still attracted some students who were a little off-center. Their parents hoped that sending them to religious college would straighten them out, and sometimes that did happen, but more often than not, it didn’t.

  When Professor Zimmer crossed the commons carrying his briefcase and his travel bag, he realized that he was very glad to be back. Things had not gone well in Washington. Morals and the Media had been an exciting and timely concept, but the structure of the conference had left much to be desired. The individual meetings had been held in separate buildings, and the directions the professor had been given at registration were sketchy at best. He’d almost missed an important panel because two digits had been reversed in the building number and the students he’d asked had known nothing about the conference or the buildings where it was being held.

  There had been several other negative aspects, factors that were indicative of the degeneration of his profession. A shamefully large percentage of his colleagues had regarded the convention as an excuse to vacation on the honorarium given by the sponsoring institution and the per diem expenses they would receive from their home colleges.

  Professor Zimmer had spoken to one immensely popular academician who had attended only the meeting at which he was scheduled to speak. The man had openly admitted that he’d spent the rest of the time in his hotel room with his mistress, who had been flown to Washington at the sponsoring institution’s expense.

  Professor Zimmer did not approve of such behavior, but he could empathize with his colleagues’ hunger for some sort of remuneration. The life of an academic in today’s world carried little in the way of compensation. Teaching was a life of quiet disillusion, and, for many, the only high spots were the honoraria they received for attending conventions, and the opportunity to taste the good life on someone else’s expense account while enjoying the company of their peers.

  A full professor’s salary was laughably low compared with those for other fields that required terminal degrees. Medical doctors made over ten times a college professor’s annual salary, and the length of their training was comparable. To Professor Zimmer’s dismay, he had found several students in his classes this semester who had made more money than he did. And those students were working only part-time!

  Why then, did anyone choose to enter a field with such low pay, long hours, little opportunity for advancement, and ridiculously rigid rules? To mold bright young minds, of course. That was the standard altruistic reason most dedicated teachers gave. Unfortunately, the bright young minds of today seemed to have lost all respect for the lowly academician. He’d heard one young student remark that if the professors had any real talent; they’d be pulling in a decent salary doing, rather than teaching. Students listened more attentively to their stereos and their televisions than they ever did to their teachers.

  This was precisely the reason Professor Zimmer had gone to the governing board of Gateway University and petitioned to attend the Washington convention. The media had such a great impact on youth of today that they must be forced to recognize their moral obligation to act in a responsible manner.

  The board had been astounded by his request. It was uncharacteristic for the professor to be so passionately vocal. They hadn’t heard a peep out of James Zimmer since they had hired him.

  There had been the standard objections, which Professor Zimmer had anticipated. Gateway University was a private religious institution that attempted to maintain a low public profile. Publicity was unseemly, and this conference would certainly be covered in the newspapers.

  Professor Zimmer had argued eloquently. Wasn’t a moral issue of this magnitude precisely the type of thing on which they should take a firm stand? Their image would surely suffer if other religious universities were represented and Gateway deemed it unnecessary to participate. He had read them a list of colleges who were participating and saved the best for last. Gateway University’s arch rival, King’s Hall, was sending three delegates.

  This put a different light on things. They had hastened to assure him that they were favorably impressed with his staunch moral stand, but Professor Zimmer suspected that they’d been even more impressed with the fact that the convention’s sponsoring institution had offered to pay him a small honorarium. It meant that they could send him to the convention without pulling out the college checkbook.

  There had been a vote, during which he’d left the room, and when he was called back into the inner sanctum, they announced that they had unanimously decided to give him leave. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the budget to provide per diem. Or travel expenses. But if the professor still thought it was his moral obligation to attend, they’d arrange to reschedule the classes he would miss during the week he’d be gone. The bells began to chime as Professor Zimmer walked past the cathedral. That meant it was almost ten o’clock.

  The chimes were two minutes early. Everyone on campus knew that, and the reason the tower clock was set early, to make the students hurry to class, was effectively defeated. Professor Zimmer walked briskly to his office building, climbed the stairs, and unlocked the door to his office. It was getting late and he had some work to do.

  When the professor pushed open his door and switched on the lights, he thought he was in the wrong office for a moment. Dorothy’s desktop, which had always been immaculate, was now piled high with magazines and books.

  He smiled as he walked closer to inspect the clutter. There was an untidy pile of magazines, the type one would find at supermarket checkout stands. “Popular Soap Star Claims Husband Dressed in Her Clothes” was the headline. He’d certainly never suspected that Dorothy read the celebrity scandal sheets!

  There was a well-thumbed astrology paperback on the corner of the desk and a horoscope worksheet filled out in Dorothy’s careful hand. Professor Zimmer was so shocked that he almost missed the ashtray filled with cigarette butts. He hadn’t known that Dorothy smoked. Or wore lipstick, but the evidence was there on the cigarette butts. Or painted her nails with the Passionate Plum nail polish he spotted on the corner of her desk. He was certain the administration didn’t know any of these things either, or they never would have hired Dorothy in the first place.

  Professor Zimmer surveyed the evidence of his secretary’s secret life and chuckled. Dorothy had always made such a point of being a paragon of virtue. There must be an unwritten code of conduct for secretaries as well as professors. Dorothy had certainly succeeded in fooling him until tonight!

  Should he mention this to Dorothy and share a laugh with the secretary he’d occasionally suspected was a spy for the administration? No, that wouldn’t be wise. He would only embarrass her, and it might actually hinder their working relationship. There was no reason for her to know that he’d taken an early flight. She could go on with her act, and he’d go on with his. But it made the professor feel good to know that at least one other p
erson at Gateway University had a secret vice to hide.

  Professor Zimmer went into his office and sat down at his desk to call a number that wasn’t listed in his office phone list. He frowned when he got the answering machine, but he reminded himself that he had not been expected back until tomorrow. Was it safe to leave a message? Yes, as long as he was careful how he worded it.

  “Hello, this is Jamie.” Professor Zimmer’s voice took on a much younger tone. “I’m back early, darling. Its ten-fifteen, and I’ve got a little work to do at the office, but I’ll call you when I get home. I brought you something. It’s what we were talking about the last time we saw each other. And yes, I did have the nerve to buy it!”

  Professor Zimmer hung up and patted the bag he’d carried in from the car. It had taken all the courage he’d possessed to walk into the store, even though he’d assured himself that no one could possibly recognize him. Perhaps he was much more risqué than he thought. And now he’d better think about other things or he’d never get ready to resume his classes.

  There was one more call left to make. Professor Zimmer dialed the number and reached another answering machine. He’d anticipated that no one would be in this office. It was long past regular business hours. He left his message and immediately felt better. One more task accomplished. Then he picked up the folder his secretary had left on his desk and opened it.

  Last week Dorothy had proctored the midterm he had written before his media class met on Monday. The papers had to be corrected, and he’d never finish at a reasonable hour unless he got started.

  The exam was multiple-choice, with sixty questions. Since he had a template, it was no trouble to correct. The essay question at the end, however, would take some time. Professor Zimmer worked for an hour and he was over halfway through when he heard a cautious step in the outer office. Just as he was about to get up to see who was there, the campus security guard came barreling in.

  “Aw, shucks! Sorry, professor. I thought you weren’t going to be back until Monday.”

  “I wasn’t, George. But I managed to catch an early flight”

  George, a well-built young man with a limited vocabulary, looked sheepish. “Sorry I crashed in here like that, professor, but I thought you were a burglar.”

  He gave an understanding nod. “Of course you did. That’s perfectly all right, George. It’s good to know that you keep your eye on things. I’ll be leaving in less than an hour, so if you spot anyone in here after that, it’ll be a real burglar.”

  “Okay, professor. I’ll keep my eye out. You want me to bring you something? I got coffee out in the guard shack.”

  “No thanks, George. Coffee would just keep me awake when I get home. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  George backed out, and Professor Zimmer shook his head. The campus security guard wasn’t the brightest young man in the world, but he took his responsibilities seriously. If push came to shove, he’d rather have George around in an emergency than anyone else he could think of. The night guard was quick on his feet, and he seemed to have no fear at all. Professor Zimmer certainly wouldn’t have had the courage to crash into an office, armed with nothing but a rubber gun, if he suspected a burglar was inside.

  It was almost midnight by the time Professor Zimmer tallied the results of his exam. He tried the phone number once more, but no one answered. He left another message, shorter this time, saying he’d call again tomorrow. It was too late to see his lover anyway. He was exhausted, and he wanted to go straight home and climb into bed. Even though he knew there was only a three-hour difference in the time zones between Washington D.C. and Los Angeles, he suspected he had some type of jet lag.

  Professor Zimmer put the folder with the exams into his briefcase. His media class hadn’t done all that badly, considering what they’d had to work with. They certainly were not the brightest students he’d ever taught. Then he picked up his travel bag, doused the lights, locked the office door behind him as he left, and walked out into the quiet darkness.

  As he exited the building, he smiled. Gateway University was beautiful at night without the throngs of noisy students. It was built on a section of land consisting of gentle rolling hills and ponderosa pines. The tract of land was so large, it was still partially undeveloped, and it had been donated to the Reverend Esmond Heath long before the turn of the century to house a university devoted to religious study. The original architect had done an excellent job of designing the buildings to blend with the surrounding countryside, and Professor Zimmer hoped that an architect of similar persuasion would be hired when Gateway started its projected expansion.

  Rather than walk past the cathedral again—it always made him feel vaguely guilty—Professor Zimmer decided to take the long way around through Statuary Walk. This section of the campus belonged to the fine arts department, and it was always featured in the full-color brochures the college sent out to recruit new students in the fall.

  If a student’s artwork was deemed worthy, it was placed along the winding walk for future generations of students and professors to admire. Statuary Walk covered approximately two city blocks, and it was heavily wooded. It was designed so that walkers came upon the statues almost by accident as they followed the decorative flagstone path. Strategically placed spotlights enhanced the beauty of the sculptures as well as illuminating the walkway after dark.

  Professor Zimmer smiled as he passed the first statue, a granite Madonna and child that looked to him like a large blob of rock holding a smaller blob of rock. There were many Madonna’s on Statuary Walk, along with a plethora of Christs, some on the cross, others off. It was predictable that the sculptures created by Gateway art students should have predominantly religious themes. There had been quite a scandal last year when one of the most talented graduate students had submitted his sculpture entitled Whore of Babylon, an extremely realistic bronze nude. The Whore of Babylon had not been assigned a place on Statuary Walk, even though Professor Zimmer had seen it and thought it really quite beautiful.

  The most famous of the statues on display was called Revelation. As far as Professor Zimmer could make out, it was a crouched figure with multiple limbs and a huge head with multiple faces representing the major ethnic groups who lived in Los Angeles. The student who had sculpted it had come from a wealthy family who had purchased an enormous block of expensive black marble for their son to chisel away. Professor Zimmer had seen the marvelous block of stone when it had been delivered, and he wished the student had called his statue Revelation Hidden in Black Marble and left it just as it was.

  Revelation had been featured in a television series last year, and Professor Zimmer had gathered with the other professors in the fine arts department to watch it on the university’s large television monitor. The husband and wife in the episode had owned a detective agency and their son was a talented magician. The son’s task was to create the illusion that the statue had been stolen when it was actually right there on Statuary Walk. If the son could do this, the bad guys would be fooled into letting their hostage go. The board of Gateway University been paid ten thousand dollars a day to allow actors and crew on the college campus for the three days it took to shoot the episode.

  Professor Zimmer walked past Revelation and sighed. Perhaps he just didn’t understand modern art because he thought the acclaimed statue was ugly. It certainly looked both ugly and threatening tonight. In the shadow from the floodlights, the multiple limbs seemed to be reaching out for him, moving closer and closer like some prehistoric beast on the prowl. Even when the statue was behind him, he could still see the grotesque shadows it cast on the walkway, growing larger as he walked away from the light source. Perhaps it had been a mistake taking Statuary Walk tonight. For a moment there, he’d actually imagined that one of the elongated shadows had moved.

  There it was again! Professor Zimmer whirled around, but no one was in sight. He must be more tired than he’d thought. Not only was he experiencing visual hallucinations, but now his auditory senses
had come into play. He was almost positive he’d heard stealthy footsteps in the area just beyond the light. His imagination, coupled with exhaustion from his week at the convention, was affecting his mind. His instincts told him to flee for the safety of his car, but he knew he’d feel foolish if George were watching, and he burst out of Statuary Walk as if demons were chasing him.

  Deliberately, the professor walked forward, keeping his steps measured and even. There was nothing beyond the floodlights except his own over-active imagination. The last sculpture on the walk, a cast bronze called Pagan, was one of his favorites. It had been installed only a month ago, and it was a composite of many ancient gods. Professor Zimmer didn’t know that much about mythology, but he enjoyed trying to identify the gods that were represented. Since the feet of the statue had wings, he assumed they indicated the Roman god Mercury. The figure was in a crouch like the Titan Atlas, supporting the world on his shoulders. And here was something he hadn’t noticed before—there were several places on the statue’s head where the hair was coiled in ropelike strands. Was that Gorgon Medusa’s influence? Of course he recognized the Norse god Thor, holding his hammer. What was it called? He had looked it up just the other day. Oh yes, Mjolnir. And then there was another god, one he couldn’t quite remember that . . .

  The professor stopped abruptly. Something behind the statue had moved. He was sure of it. The hell with decorum. Something was there!

  Professor Zimmer broke into an awkward run, his travel bag and his briefcase banging against his legs. The exit to Statuary Walk was in sight, just past the next tree. He had covered almost three quarters of the distance when something faster and much more powerful grabbed him from behind. The professor fell heavily to the flagstone walkway, breaking his left kneecap on the rough-hewn stone. He had no time to feel the intense pain such an injury would cause. The last sight his terrified brain could process was that of the huge black shadow of Thor’s mighty hammer crashing down on his skull.