“And here I thought I was unforgettable. You’re messing with my self-image.”
“Well, you do look vaguely familiar. Were you a student of mine?”
“About a million years ago. Alec, Alec Steven—”
“Alec Stevenson!” Dr. Rob finished, stepping farther out of his office. “I’ll be damned, I haven’t seen you in . . . how long has it been?”
“Well, I graduated in ’95.”
“No. Can’t be.”
“Afraid so.”
“Well, how’ve you been?”
Alec shook Dr. Rob’s proffered hand. “Can’t complain, you?”
“Not bad. So what brings you back to Limestone?”
“Just visiting some ghosts of the past. Checking out the new and improved Winnie Davis.”
“She’s something, isn’t she? A real beauty. Want to see my new office?”
“Sure,” Alec said, following his former professor inside. The large office was almost as impressive as the skylight, with an entire wall dedicated to bookshelves. “Wow, you have a lot of space here.”
“Tell me about it,” Dr. Rob said, wearing a youthful grin. “And I have closets on either side that are almost as big as the office itself. It’s almost like having three offices, more than enough space to keep my hundreds of books.”
“Yeah, I remember the office you had when I was a student, it was kind of a . . . ”
“Book cave?”
“I was going to say a ‘shithole’ but book cave works, too.”
Dr. Rob dropped into the chair behind his desk. “I’m pretty happy with it. If it only had a window, it would be perfect.”
“You’re moving up in the world, and it only took you, what? Three decades?”
“Closer to four, I’ve been at Limestone since ’73.”
“Man, that was the year before I was born.”
Dr. Rob peered at Alec over his glasses. “It’s not nice to insult a fan.”
“A fan, huh?”
“Oh yes, I have all three of your novels.”
“Really?” Alec said, turning to peruse the shelves.
“Not here, I keep those at home.”
“I see. I couldn’t help but notice you said you have all three of my novels, not that you’ve actually read them.”
“I’ve read the first two, but I have to admit I haven’t gotten to the latest one yet.”
“Well, if you listen to the critics, you’re not missing much.”
“I particularly liked your second book, the one about the shape-shifters. Really creepy stuff.”
“That surprises me,” Alec said, taking a seat across from Dr. Rob. “I never pegged you for a horror fan.”
“Love the stuff. Stephen King, Dean Koontz, Greg Nigel, and of course Alec Stevenson.”
“If you think I’ll respond to flattery, then I’d say you know me pretty well.”
“Last I heard you were living in New York.”
“For about ten years now.”
“You’re a long way from home. Visiting friends?”
“No, actually I came here specifically to see Winnie Davis Hall.”
“What for?”
“Research.”
This seemed to snag Dr. Rob’s attention. The man leaned forward with his elbows on his desk. “Planning to write a book about this building?”
“I have the beginnings of an idea,” Alec answered.
“Care to tell me a little something about it?”
“Well, it’s nothing solid yet, not like I even have an outline or anything. I’m thinking maybe something—some spirit or as-of-yet unidentified entity—will be awakened by the reopening of Winnie Davis Hall after so many years. I’m even toying with having a character in there loosely based on you.”
“Ooh, I get to be in the book?”
“Well, not you, a character with a few of your traits and qualities.”
“Do I get to do something really nasty?” Dr. Rob asked with a strange gleefulness.
Alec held out his arms in a ‘who knows?’ gesture. “Like I said, it’s nothing solid. May not even be anything that gets written. I mean, not every idea I have gets turned into a novel. I am, however, intrigued enough by this idea that I want to spend some time on it, do some research, see if I can develop it into something worthwhile.”
“That’s exciting. Maybe it could be the beginning of a whole series set at Limestone.”
“Turn the college into my very own Castle Rock?” Alec asked, smiling.
Dr. Rob returned the ‘who knows?’ gesture. “Anything you need, feel free to ask. No one knows the history of this building like I do.”
“Since you’re offering. You wouldn’t happen to have a key to the tower, would you?”
The professor’s flinched at the unanticipated question. “The tower? They keep that locked.”
“Yeah, I know, that’s sort of why I need a key.”
“There’s no public access allowed. It’s dangerous up there.”
“How so?”
“Well, the walkways are very narrow. If one were to slip, you’d crash right through the skylight, and you know how college kids can be. A bunch of daredevils is what they are. No, it’s better to keep the place sealed up tight.”
“Okay, I understand that, but people are allowed up there sometimes. Haven’t you been up there?”
Dr. Rob shook his head. “Nope, and I don’t have a key either.”
“I really want to get a look. I’m thinking that whatever the reawakened something is in my story, it’ll reside mainly in the tower. There’s something kind of medieval about that idea, which appeals to me. So if you can’t help me out, who can I talk to about getting access to the tower?”
“I don’t know, maybe Public Safety.”
“Of course, those guys have a key to everything.”
***
“What do you mean, you don’t have a key?”
The overweight security guard stared at Alec and slowly repeated, “I. Don’t. Have. A. Key. I’m not sure how to make that any plainer.”
“But you’re security. Don’t you have a key to everything?”
“I got keys to what I need keys. Guess they don’t think I need a key to that tower.”
Alec and the guard stood outside the Public Safety office, between the Curtis Administration Building and Ebert dorm. The guard saw Alec’s presence as an annoyance, like a fly he couldn’t quite shoo away.
“Someone has to have a key for that lock,” Alec said.
The guard shrugged. “Try the maintenance crew.”
Alec sighed and rubbed at his temples. “It’s like I’m on some weird scavenger hunt. All I want to do is go up in the tower, I can’t figure out why that’s so difficult.”
“They probably stashed them heads up there.”
“I’m sorry, did you say heads?”
“Yeah, you know, all them white heads of dead famous people.”
“Oh, you mean the busts. They have those out on display.”
“Uh-uh, not all of them. They got some real old ones, all chipped up. They didn’t wanna put them out, so they stashed them away somewhere. Maybe locked them in the tower where no one could get at them.”
“Right. Old busts with broken noses, I’m sure that’s some precious treasure that needs protection.”
The guard shrugged. “I don’t really give a damn.”
With that, the guard turned and went back into the office. Alec barked a surprised laugh then looked back, across campus, toward Winnie Davis’s tower.
He would figure out who was in charge of maintenance. Then, by God, someone was going to let him in that tower.
***
“They won’t let me in the tower.”
Alec sat up in the hotel bed with his cell phone in hand. Dr. Rob’s home number had been listed in the phone book. Alec hadn’t thought twice about calling, despite the late hour. He had stewed all evening and Dr. Rob was the only person he knew that might be able to help him.
“You�
�re talking about Public Safety?” Dr. Rob asked.
“No, they didn’t even have a key to the tower, but some geriatric guard told me maintenance might be able to get me in. So I located the head of the maintenance crew, Dale something or other.”
“Trilling. I know Dale; he’s a good guy.”
“Good guy or not, he wasn’t a damn bit of help.”
“He didn’t have a key, either?”
“Oh no, he had a key, but he still wouldn’t let me in the tower. Said there was absolutely no access to anyone, except the maintenance crew.”
There was a pause on the line, before Dr. Rob said, “Well, I guess that’s that then.”
“That’s crazy. If they want to keep it secured, fine, but come on, the idea that no one can go up there doesn’t make any sense. I tried to explain about the book and all, but he wasn’t hearing it. I even told him someone from his crew or security could accompany me, make sure I didn’t try to leap from the windows or swipe whatever secret cache they’re squirreling away up there. He told me the subject was closed. And let me tell you, he wasn’t too polite about it.”
Another pause, and when Dr. Rob spoke, Alec could clearly hear the irritation in the man’s voice. “Alec, I’m not exactly sure what you want me to do about this.”
“Surely you’ve got some pull with the administration. Hell, you’ve been there since God was a boy.”
“If Public Safety and maintenance can’t get you in, there’s not going to be much more I can do.”
“Come on, Dr. Rob, you said if I needed any help with this book—”
“I meant it. If you want to know anything about the history of Winnie Davis, I’m your man, but I can’t help you gain access to the tower.”
Alec felt like tossing his cell phone across the room, but resisted the urge. He tried to keep the growing frustration out of his voice. “Dr. Rob, all I want is to take a look up there. Five minutes, that’s all I ask. I want to walk around, snap a few pictures, get a feel for the geography of the place. If I’m going to write about it, I need to see it, for Christ’s sake.”
The longest pause yet, and if Alec hadn’t been able to hear Dr. Rob breathing over the phone, he’d have thought he’d lost the connection. Finally Dr. Rob said, “Alumni/Development.”
“What?”
“Try Alumni/Development. You are a graduate of Limestone, after all, and considering your reputation, I’m sure they’ll view you as one hell of a potential donor. Play it up that way. I bet Alumni/Development will get you whatever you want, including access to the tower.”
“Hey now, that’s a great idea, Dr. Rob.”
“I do have my moments of brilliance. Few and far between, but I have them.”
“I’ll give them a call first thing in the morning.”
“Offices are closed over the weekend. You’ll have to wait until Monday.”
“Damn. Well, first thing Monday morning then. Thanks a million, Dr. Rob. Alumni/Development. I never would have thought of it, but I’m sure that’s the answer.”
***
“The answer is no.”
Flabbergasted. That was the only word Alec could think of to describe how he felt. Why was it so difficult to get in that damn tower? When researching his third novel, he’d requested access to the F.B.I. headquarters in New York and been granted it within hours. It was ridiculous that this should prove the more arduous task. He’d come to the Alumni/Development office in McMillian Hall to personally meet with Mr. Brackett, head of the department, fully expecting all doors to be opened to him. Instead he faced more locks.
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Brackett said, leaning on the corner of his desk. “I simply can’t help you on this matter.”
“I’m not asking you to give me access to one of the girl’s dorms after midnight with nothing on me but a switchblade and a hard-on. All I want is to get up in the tower for one quick little tour.”
“Again, no,” Mr. Brackett said firmly.
Alec started laughing at the absurdity of it all. “How much?”
Mr. Brackett blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
“Just tell me how big the check needs to be to get me access and I’ll write it.”
Mr. Brackett smiled at him then, and it was a smile Alec recognized instantly. It was the smile you gave your buddy at the bar when he’d had a few too many and was making a colossal ass of himself. The kind of smile you gave an unattractive woman who kept throwing herself at you even after you’d made it clear she wasn’t in your league. Basically it was a smile that said you were deeply embarrassed for someone.
“Mr. Stevenson, we of course always welcome donations, and would appreciate any gift you are willing to give, but you can’t bribe your way into the tower. It is off limits due to safety concerns.”
“It can’t be that dangerous. I’ll sign a waiver, stating that if I get injured I won’t hold the college liable. That should cover all your bases.”
“Sorry sir, but we simply cannot allow it.”
“Jesus, what do you guys have up there? Dead bodies? Bars of gold?”
Mr. Brackett pointedly checked his watch. “Thank you for coming by, Mr. Stevenson.”
“Wait a minute,” Alec said, refusing to be dismissed this way. “Don’t you know what I’m trying to do here? I want to write a book set here at Limestone. It could really put the school on the map.”
“We’re doing just fine,” Mr. Brackett answered with a tight smile.
“But you could be doing even better. I’ll donate half the profits from the book to the school. Half. All you’ve got to do is get me up in that tower for five minutes.”
Mr. Brackett didn’t respond right away. Alec watched a war raging in his eyes. He was resisting, but he wanted that money, Alec could practically smell the want in the air. “Why is the tower so important?” he finally asked.
“It will be the focal point of the story.”
“Why not choose some other location to be the focal point instead? Why not the basement of Winnie Davis? We’ll be more than happy to let you roam around down there all you want.”
“No, it has to be the tower.”
But did it, really? If Alec examined the situation objectively, the idea he entertained didn’t absolutely hinge on the tower. He could move the lair of the entity to the basement without changing anything integral to the story. Yet, the more access was denied to him, the more he felt it did have to be the tower. He hadn’t taken many psych courses as a student, but he knew that depriving someone of something often left that person more desperate than ever to get it.
“I have an idea,” Mr. Brackett said. “Why don’t I describe the tower to you?”
“What?”
“I could tell you what it looks like up there, and you could use my description for the story.”
Alec considered this. It could work. Accuracy wasn’t necessary in fiction.
But damn it, he wanted to see it!
“Okay, now I have a counteroffer,” he said. “If I’m not allowed up there, what if you went and took some pictures for me?”
Mr. Brackett visibly stiffened. “That isn’t possible.”
“Why not?”
“Mr. Stevenson, I really don’t have time to continue this repetitive conversation with you. I have a lot of work to do, so I suggest you go.”
Alec stood, anger bubbling inside him like the carbonation of a shaken soda. “This isn’t the end of it. I’ll get in that tower one way or the other.”
He began to make his way out of the office, but paused when Mr. Brackett called his name. Alec looked over his shoulder. “Yes?”
“Don’t do anything crazy.”
***
“This is crazy,” Alec mumbled to himself.
He felt like a spy in some espionage movie, or more accurately, in some parody of an espionage movie. Night had settled when he slipped into Winnie Davis through the back door. The guards would soon lock up the building for the night, so he needed to be quick, but also cautiou
s.
Despite the warm weather, Alec wore a jacket to conceal the bolt cutters he’d tucked under an arm. He hated to admit that he wasn’t doing a terribly good job. The blades poked out at his waist, but chances were he wouldn’t run into anyone. The building should be mostly deserted. He hoped.
Alec thought it wise to avoid the stairs, so he took the elevator to the third floor. He crept through the building, pausing each time his shoes squeaked on the floor, listening for any sound that would indicate that he wasn’t alone. All was quiet, but he didn’t let his guard down.
Jesus, this really is crazy, he thought. He couldn’t understand why he felt like a criminal. It wasn’t as if he was breaking into a bank. After getting nowhere with Alumni/Development, Alec had called the office of the president of the college. Dr. Grey, he had been president since the late 80s and had always seemed to like Alec. In fact, he had sent a letter after the release of Alec’s second novel asking if he would be interested in teaching a creative writing seminar at the school. Alec had responded by thanking Dr. Grey for the offer but taking a pass due to other commitments. But at this point, Alec was willing to reconsider if it would mean getting up in the tower.
Unfortunately, Dr. Grey wouldn’t even talk to him. He sent a message through his secretary, saying he needed to take a pass on meeting with Alec, due to other commitments. The other commitments could be anything, but Alec had heard Dr. Grey’s twenty-six year old daughter had gone missing a few months ago.
When Alec’s options ran out, he decided to break into the tower. It was a desperate, stupid act, but he felt fairly desperate and stupid. He didn’t even know if the bolt cutters would work. Still, he had to try.
When he reached the stairs, he stood on the landing, straining to hear if anyone descended from above. When nothing sounded, he started up the stairs, praying Dr. Rob wasn’t in his office this late.
There were two faculty offices on the fourth floor, and both doors were shut. Without pausing, he hurried to remove the velvet rope that cordoned off the staircase. He pulled out the bolt cutters as he approached the trapdoor. The lock looked bigger and more daunting today than last Friday. He felt foolish, breaking into a restricted area, like a character in a bad novel he’d be ashamed to write. He should turn around right now and get out of here, but he continued forward, stopping only when he could go no farther. He opened the blades of the bolt cutter and fitted them on either side of the U-ring of the padlock. It would be like trying to cut through a tree trunk with a butter knife.
Flowers in a Dumpster Page 9
