“Thanks a lot, my man,” Mark said slapping him on the back. “We’ll see you next time.”
“Have a good day now,” the attendant said.
Mark led Ben between cars until they reached the back corner, where an alley cut through behind the lot and the Popeye’s store to reach 26th Street. There, in the far right hand corner, parked right up against the alley, stood Ben’s car. All they had to do was hop in, pull out and go.
Ben nodded. “Nice job,” he said with true admiration.
“I told you they take good care of me. It’s worth the extra money to be able to get in and out when you want to.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Ben said. “We’ll be coming here enough.” They climbed into the car and in thirty seconds they were gone.
Fifteen minutes later, they pushed through the revolving doors at the law school and headed off to the elevators. Ben got off on the 5th floor and Mark went up to the library on the 9th floor to do some research. The door to the office was open, but Ben knocked anyway. The woman behind the desk jumped.
“You startled me,” she said.
“Sorry about that,” Ben replied. “Professor Berman, I was wondering if I could bother you for a few minutes?”
The woman looked away and considered the request for a few seconds. “Sure,” she said, “come in and shut the door.”
Ben did so and sat down on the lone guest chair. He glanced around the office and found it not particularly inviting. It gave off a strange, almost sterile air that seemed designed to avoid saying anything personal about its inhabitant. Professor Sally Berman was a nervous, almost mousy woman full of all sorts of personal idiosyncrasies. Ben could see instantly that the ten years since he had last spoken to her had not diminished any of her quirkiness.
A tall thin woman in her late-thirties, Sally Berman came to the Chicago College of Law from a brief career in a big New York law firm, one for which she was no doubt ill-suited. She specialized in torts and Ben’s first year section was also the first class she taught after she joined the law school. Her fidgety manner, quivering voice and refusal to make eye contact often overshadowed a sharp intellect and biting wit. She was definitely an acquired taste. By the end of the first year, most of her students had gotten used to her mannerisms and actually liked her and enjoyed her class.
“So, how have you been?” Ben asked remembering that Professor Berman’s manner often made him uncomfortable as well.
“I’ve been well, thank you,” she said looking to her left at nothing in particular. Ben subconsciously found his eyes traveling in the same direction. “You seem to be doing quite well yourself,” she continued. “I certainly wish you the best of luck in your defense. Ms. Rand certainly does not seem to me to be the kind of person who could kill someone.”
“No,” Ben agreed, “she’s not. I guess that’s why I’m here. Having been here awhile now, I was hoping you could help me shed some light on some of the goings on here at the law school.”
She cocked her head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“What I mean is I’m certainly aware of the rumors that had been circulating around here while I was a student about Professor Greenfield and female students. I was wondering if you could shed any light on that. In particular, I was hoping you could give me some perspective as a fellow professor, especially since you are a woman.”
“Ah,” she said looking down, “so that’s the rub.” She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. Then she looked up at him and directly into his eyes. Ben found this surprising and somewhat disconcerting. “This is somewhat awkward,” she began.
Everything about you is awkward, Ben thought.
“Professor Greenfield was after all a colleague of mine for many years,” she said. “On the other hand, he is a dead colleague now and your task in defending Ms. Rand seems somewhat more significant than my discomfort over discussing this.” She hesitated before continuing. “So I will tell you simply that Daniel Greenfield was a pig.”
“That is kind of a broad term,” Ben said, “and it conjures up all sorts of images. What exactly do you mean by pig?”
“I mean pig in every real sense that a woman can describe a man as a pig. If it’s fair to so describe a man, it is fair to describe Daniel Greenfield that way. Daniel Greenfield was a chauvinist of the worst kind.” Professor Berman’s eyes never left Ben’s and he noted a surprising intensity in her manner. “In Daniel Greenfield’s world,” she continued, “women were mere objects, playthings put on this planet for his amusement and to satisfy his personal proclivities. It is amazing to me that he managed to find a woman who would marry him, bear him children and stay with him as long as she did.”
“Perhaps he was different outside of law school,” Ben offered.
“I doubt it,” she responded. “I simply don’t believe he was capable.”
“Obviously I heard stories back when I was a student and I’ve heard more stories in the last few days, but do you know any specifics that might help me?”
“Of course, I don’t know what you know or don’t know, but it’s pretty simple that he was having relationships with students for many years and somehow or another, he finally got caught. I couldn’t give you and names or specifics because I am not privy to those or simply don’t recall them, but I would hope that it’s all a matter of record in his files and you should be able to obtain those at some point.”
Ben nodded in agreement. “What about other teachers? Do you know of any situations like this between Professor Greenfield and other professors?”
She took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. Her body appeared to stiffen. “Yes, well, there’ve been a number of circumstances that probably don’t add up to much. You see, with men like Daniel Greenfield, the normal condescending attitude of a male chauvinist is more or less a given and must often be accepted as a matter of course. So we’ll put that aside, because every woman who works in this building probably dealt with that at one time or another. I’m sure what you’re referring to is something more significant that may have ultimately led to his very unpleasant demise.”
“Something like that,” Ben said.
“Well, I don’t think he hit on fellow professors nearly as often as he did his students. There could be several reasons for that, I suppose. First of all, most of us aren’t the young and nubile types that seem to attract men like Daniel Greenfield. Second, the sheer number of female students and the willingness of a select few to improve their grades any way they can made them more willing targets. Also, not very many women who are teaching law school would put up with that kind of thing, if for no other reason than we would be presumed to know how to protect ourselves legally. I’m sure there are other reasons. Having said that, it doesn’t mean that Professor Greenfield confined himself to young female students. He was known to make inappropriate comments and suggestive proposals to certain professors as well.”
“Did he ever say anything like that to you?”
“To me? No,” she said appearing almost relieved. “There were some, but I’m not sure I really want to get into who they were and what I know. Most of it is second and third-hand as you might expect.”
“Look,” Ben said, “I’m not here to gossip. Somebody killed Daniel Greenfield and there are all sorts of possible motives as to why they did it. I’ve got a broad area of possibilities here and I just want to figure out if there is somebody on the staff that disliked Professor Greenfield enough to kill him, whether it’s provoked or not.”
“I appreciate your predicament,” she said. She looked down and fiddled with the corner of a law journal laying open on her desk. Ben could see her calculating her options and trying to decide the right course.
Ben sought to put her at ease. “I would never reveal your name and what you told me unless I couldn’t do it any other way.”
“I believe that,” she said. She took another moment to collect her thoughts. “As I said, I’m not sure there are many women in this build
ing who shed any tears over Professor Greenfield’s passing, myself included. I would even go so far as to say that many of the slights and insults and behavior that the women in this building suffered through at his hands over the years were probably not even directed personally at any of us. He just didn’t know any better. That was who he was and his chauvinistic attitude was just a part of his personality. But I did know that he made several inappropriate comments to fellow professors, in particular, to one fellow professor, which resulted in quite a bit of animosity between the two of them.”
“Who was the professor?” Ben asked.
She paused. “Angela Harper,” she said finally. Ben sat back and raised his eyebrows. That one surprised him. Angela Harper did not seem at all Greenfield’s type. “I can see you’re surprised.”
“You’re right, I am.”
“Nevertheless,” she said, “there were a couple of incidents between the two. I believe the first may have appeared harmless, but then on subsequent occasions, Professor Greenfield was more insistent on his desire to have a more personal relationship with Professor Harper. He even went so far as to make suggestive comments to her at a law school function at which Professor Harper’s husband was also present. Eventually, there were some words between the two men. Afterward, it was fairly clear that Professor Greenfield and Professor Harper were never going to be close friends, if you know what I mean.”
“Did you witness this yourself?
“I did and I’ve talked to Angela about it, although not recently. I saw the incident at the party mostly from afar, but eventually voices were raised and you couldn’t help but witness it.”
“When did this take place?”
“Oh, maybe three or four years ago, I suppose. I don’t remember exactly.”
Ben left Professor Berman’s office at ten minutes to twelve. He thanked her for her time and her candor and she promised to keep in touch and let him know right away if she thought of anything that might prove helpful to his defense. As Ben took the elevator back down to the third floor, his head whirled with possibilities. He got off the elevator and walked straight into a crowd of students just getting out of class. He joined the group and bumped his way along to the Makrateria, which was now filling with the lunchtime crowd. A moment later, Mark trudged around the corner with another group of students.
“Any luck?” Mark said as he approached Ben outside the entrance to the Makrateria.
“I don’t know, maybe, but we can’t talk about it here obviously. Why don’t we go in and get a quick bite?”
After a quick lunch and a conversation devoted largely to football, Mark went back up to the library and Ben went looking for Angela Harper. He found her leaving her office on the way to her next class. A tall, thin African American woman in her early-forties, Angela Harper wore glasses and had her curly reddish hair pulled back behind her ears with barrettes. She brushed past Ben as he introduced himself.
“I would like to talk to you about Professor Greenfield,” he called after her.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have anything to say about that subject. Please don’t bother me again,” she said turning slightly.
“If you would rather speak to me in a crowded courtroom filled with reporters that would be fine too,” Ben called as she reached the corner of the hallway. She turned again and glared at him, saying nothing. Then she disappeared around the corner toward the elevators. Ben laughed, taking her rejection in stride. So that’s how it was going to be. He would talk to her eventually.
Professor Harper taught Constitutional Law at the law school and always appeared to Ben to be more than a bit full of herself. Although Ben had never taken any of her classes himself, he had heard numerous times through the student grapevine that Professor Harper spent much of her classes spouting liberal orthodoxy combined with a steady dose of shrill harangues against conservative Supreme Court Justices and Republican politicians generally. Ben really didn’t know her, yet he didn’t like her at all.
Ben took the elevator back down to the 3rd Floor, where he ran into Martin Beileck, the school Registrar. “Excuse me,” Ben said as they collided.
“Counsel,” Beileck whispered as he grabbed Ben’s arm, “meet me in the library on the 10th floor in ten minutes.” Then he walked away leaving Ben standing there puzzled.
Beileck? What could he want? Ben thought. He took a deep breath and forced himself to think. Beileck had not been someone that Ben even considered talking to previously. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Beileck should have been at or near the top of his list. As the School Registrar, Beileck had his fingers in almost everything that went on in the law school. He was one of the few people to interact with the students, the staff and the faculty on a regular basis. More than a bit of a nebbish, he overcompensated for his lack of stature with an affected, overly aggressive persona that made him the frequent butt of student jokes. As Registrar, Beileck possessed all the thankless jobs that no one else wanted, yet needed to get done.
Ben entered the library through the main entrance on the 9th floor and walked up the stairs to the 10th floor. The 10th floor of the library was a largely ceremonial space, with large cherry tables and bookshelves rising high near the top of the twenty-foot ceiling. The north wall of the main room was devoted entirely to windows and a balcony overlooking the city. Ben walked over to the window and looked out. Only three students studied at the tables and not a sound could be heard. The room felt more like a church than a law school. Martin Beileck arrived exactly on cue. As he approached Ben, he pointed to a door in the corner of the room. Ben followed him into a small room which housed several rows of additional shelves containing library materials. When Beileck closed the door behind them, they were alone.
“Good to see you again, Counsel,” Beileck said as he approached Ben and the two men shook hands. “I give you a lot of credit for what you’re doing here. You’re starting to really stir the pot and I want you to know there are things here that are worth investigating.” There was a small table against the near wall with two chairs and they sat down. “We don’t have a lot of time,” Beileck said. “I don’t want people to know I’m cooperating with you. It’ll make it easier for me to help you out.”
“Why do you want to help me out?”
“Because Daniel Greenfield was a friend of mine. I know he had problems here and there, but he always treated me decently and I will never forget it.”
Ben nodded. He could imagine that being treated decently by a school full of arrogant law professors didn’t happen very often, particularly to someone like Martin Beileck. “Okay, I guess I understand. What do you have for me?”
They spoke for a few minutes and Ben outlined what he had learned so far, which wasn’t much. “I think you’re on the right track with Professor Harper,” Beilick said. “It’s no secret that they haven’t gotten along for years. There was a rumor circulating that they had a big argument shortly before Christmas and you may not know it, but she can be a real … I mean, she can be very difficult.”
“I’ve always had that impression. Are you telling me you wouldn’t be surprised if Professor Harper were involved somehow?”
“I’m telling you that nothing would surprise me about Angela Harper.”
“Do you know of anyone else with problems like this with Greenfield?”
“Well, I don’t think any of the female teachers or staff liked him very much. You probably know his reputation. But I don’t think anyone had the animosity for Daniel the way Professor Harper did. I would definitely look into her very closely.”
“I’ll do that. What about some of these students? I understand there were some complaints made from students.”
“You’ll find most of that stuff in the files. I think there were a couple of others previously that may have been purged from his files.”
“Purged from his files? When?”
“Not recently. Things were just sort of swept under the rug at the time and kept out of h
is files. You know, Daniel was here a long time and the Administration didn’t want to see anything happen to him, or to the school for that matter, on their watch.”
“I understand.”
Beileck appeared nervous and was looking over his shoulder constantly to make sure no one was coming in the door. “I don’t want to be seen talking privately to you. That way I could be of more help to you. Sometimes I hear things. Look, I’ve gotta go. I’ll be in touch.”
23
Ben spent an uneventful weekend with the family, while Meg’s case percolated in the back of his mind, never far from the surface. Ben spent all day Monday trying to catch up on the work he had neglected and preparing for a Forest Preserve District meeting the following day. When he returned to the office from that meeting at about eleven-thirty on Tuesday morning, Ben ran into Dianne Reynolds by the fax machine. “You’ll never guess who called,” she said. Ben shrugged. “The wife.” Ben had been trying to get in touch with her for days, without success.
“Really,” Ben said. “What’d she say?”
“I don’t know. Nancy talked to her.”
Ben went upstairs and into Nancy’s office before even taking off his coat. “So what’d she say?” he asked.
Nancy spun around in her chair to face him. “Well, she wasn’t very friendly, for starters. She said that she understood that you wanted to talk to her and she wanted you to call her back as soon as you got back to the office. She said she was free this afternoon if you wanted to meet with her.”
“This afternoon? That’s quick.”
“Yeah, I thought so too.”
“Did she say anything else?”
Nancy shook her head. “Not really. I don’t think she wanted to talk to a lowly secretary.”
“Can’t blame her for that,” Ben said. Nancy scowled. “Any other calls?” he asked.
“Tons, but isn’t that enough?”
“Maybe too much.”
Ben went to his office, hung up his overcoat and suit jacket and dialed the number on the piece of paper Nancy had just given him.
Final Exam: A Legal Thriller Page 15