Veritas

by Anne Laughlin

  Beth turned around and headed out of the bathroom. “I don’t have time for this, Mel. One minute you’re acting like my soul sister, the next you’re like some horny guy. I’m calling the police.”

  “Well, Jesus. Don’t call the police. I’m leaving.” Mel sounded angry.

  “I’m not calling the police about you,” Beth yelled back toward the bathroom. “But I’d appreciate it if you weren’t here when she arrives.”

  Beth went back to her kitchen and called the police station. When she told the dispatcher what the call was about, she was patched through to Chief Sullivan’s house.

  “What can I do for you, Dean?” Sally said. She sounded a little groggy.

  “Sounds like I may have woken you, Chief.”

  “No, it’s fine, really. I fell asleep in front of the TV. What’s up?”

  “I thought you’d want to know right away that Jennifer Manos just called me. Unfortunately, I was busy and didn’t pick up the call and it went into voicemail.” Beth waited for Sally to respond but there was a longish pause.

  “Chief?”

  “Sorry. Is she okay?”

  “I think so, though she can’t really be. She told me she was dropping out of school, but she’s just about to graduate. There has to be something really wrong for a student like her to do that. I’m not sure what I should do.”

  Mel walked into the living room, grabbed her coat, and left. Beth would have to patch things up with her later.

  “…better come over,” Sally was saying.

  “I’m sorry, Chief. I missed that. Someone was just leaving.”

  “Mel,” Sally said.

  Beth thought she couldn’t be hearing right. “What did you just say?”

  “Shit. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

  “How did you know Mel was here? Am I under surveillance or something?”

  “Of course not. I happened to be driving by earlier this evening and saw Mel pull into your drive.”

  “Huh. That feels a bit unsettling, like you’re stalking me or something.”

  “I’m not sure you should flatter yourself. I usually have better things to do with my time.”

  “Well, still,” Beth said. She couldn’t figure out what was happening with this conversation.

  “I think it’s just a small-town thing,” Sally said. “If we were in Chicago I’d never know who you were seeing.”

  “I’m not ‘seeing’ Mel,” Beth said. “At least not the way you mean.”

  “Okay, whatever you say. But I do think I should come over and listen to that voicemail. And there’s something I found out today about Jennifer that you should know about.”

  Fifteen minutes after they talked on the phone, Sally rang the doorbell and Beth opened up to see her for the first time out of uniform. It seemed odd to her now that in the two years Sally had been in town, Beth had only seen her when she was on duty. Now she stood on the front step with faded jeans and Frye boots on, a black leather coat on top. Still a uniform of sorts, Beth thought, and Sally wore this one as well as her cop clothes. As she walked into the living room, Beth had that same sensation of solidness, though it was a feeling that didn’t account for the sensation occurring slightly lower in Beth’s body. She felt confused by the first, but she knew what physical attraction was. There was no question that she was feeling attracted to Sally.

  “I said, why don’t you show me where your answering equipment is?” Sally looked at Beth as if she were a bit slow.

  “I’m sorry, I’m very distracted,” Beth said, leading Sally into the kitchen. “It’s been a hellish week and a very long day.”

  “It’s okay. I imagine you’re under a lot of stress. Being dean is a big job.”

  “Well, it’s really not the job that gets to me, it’s the people. Anyway, here’s the phone. It has digital voicemail so I’ll have to call in and replay it for you.” Beth handed the phone to Sally after she entered her password. Sally listened to the message and hung up.

  “And you said Jennifer was calling from a four-one-five number? That’s San Francisco.”

  “That’s what the caller ID read. When I called the number back it wasn’t her voice on the outgoing message, just a standard recorded greeting. I have no idea what’s going on with her.” Beth handed her a piece of paper with the phone number and e-mail address as she moved to her small breakfast table and sat. “Have you been able to find out anything about why she left?”

  “I think so, but I’ve got to say that now that she’s called in, there really isn’t anything more I can do. As I said earlier today, as long as she’s moving around of her own free will I’m not in a position to go after her. She’s an adult.”

  “Well, that’s where your responsibility and mine are different. Parents expect their children to be reasonably well looked after while they’re here, not so distressed that they leave school right before graduation. It’s like throwing a hundred fifty thousand dollars down the drain.”

  “A hundred fifty thousand? Is that how much this school costs?” Sally sat and took her coat off. “That’s insane.”

  “I know. But Jennifer was mostly getting through on scholarships. She’s very intelligent.”

  “Maybe not about everything. It appears that Jennifer is pregnant, and that’s likely to be why she left school.”

  “Oh, shit.” Beth began pacing the kitchen. “How could she let that happen? Sorry, it’s just that Jennifer has so much promise as a scholar and I know she was looking forward to graduate school. This just doesn’t make sense.” She stopped and looked at Sally. “I wonder who the father is?”

  “According to her housemates, Jennifer only had eyes for this Barrow guy. Her roommate didn’t know for sure, but she thinks it’s him.” Sally stretched her long legs out in front of her and did not appear particularly concerned about Jennifer Manos or John Barrow.

  “I don’t imagine you much care one way or another about who got who pregnant or whether a gifted student finishes her education, but believe me, this is a big deal. And now with John Barrow possibly involved, the ramifications spread even further. What a fucking mess.” Beth sat and put her head in her hands, running her fingers through her hair.

  “I don’t know if I understand everything that’s going on, but I’m happy to help you out in any way I can.”

  “Why would you want to get involved in a college problem?”

  “I don’t, really. But I do want to help you. Why don’t you tell me the parts I don’t know about and we’ll see where it goes?”

  See where it goes? Beth wondered about Sally’s choice of words. Was there a chance Sally was attracted to her? As interesting as that sounded, and as frightening, Beth didn’t think there was any room in her head at the moment to cram one more important thing into it.

  “If we’re going to talk, I think we’re going to need some wine.”

  Beth uncorked a bottle and poured as Sally filled her in on the interviews with the students and with her attempts to find a time to interview John Barrow, who still had not returned Sally’s calls or been at home or his office when she tried to find him at those places. Beth described the whole tenure mess, how she found it hard to believe that even John Barrow could be stupid enough to jeopardize an already difficult tenure process by sleeping with a student of his. After she poured a second glass of wine for each of them, she told Sally all about the new president and what a bad fit he was.

  “That much I do know about,” Sally said. “Even the old-timers at Werni’s Tap know that the president of the college is an asshole. What I don’t get is why the board of trustees doesn’t rein him in a bit.”

  “I’m not sure anyone has got the guts to tell the board how much the faculty hate Landscome. As long as he continues to bring in new funding commitments the way he’s been doing since he arrived, the board will likely let him do almost anything.” Sally stared into her wineglass. “I’m surprised that you haven’t made the usual smart remark about the horrors of academic p
olitics.”

  Sally smiled ruefully. “It’s not that different or worse than police department politics, at least in big cities like Chicago. But professors, unlike cops, aren’t wired for violence. You have that much going for you.”

  “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen the Committee on Committees in action last week.”

  “You have a Committee on Committees?” Sally looked truly horrified.

  “Oh, yes. And the chair of the Committee on Committees is very powerful. In a small school like this, the quality of life of each faculty member is largely determined by what committees they end up serving on. The lobbying for positions puts Washington politicking to shame.”

  “And where there’s power, there is corruption. I’ve lived in Chicago, so I know.”

  “I am a little worried about integrity starting to take a backseat on campus. I hate to sound like an anticorporate academic, but the fact is that I’m an anticorporate academic. I see the corporate sensibilities of our new president starting to create rifts in the faculty, and the problems are going to get worse before they get better.”

  They were quiet for a moment. Beth realized she felt better sharing the details of her troubles with Sally, that they felt smaller, maybe a little absurd, whereas the usual feeling for her when campus problems were particularly problematic was to feel threatened.

  “Why would Jennifer go to San Francisco? I’ve never heard her say anything about that city.” Beth moved to pour her more wine, but Sally placed her hand over her glass.

  “If Jennifer is pregnant, she’s looking for a place to have the baby or terminate the pregnancy, and she can do both there, of course. Maybe a friend of hers lives there?”

  “Can you look into the number she gave me, see who the phone is registered to or where she called from or something?” Beth asked.

  “Sure, I can do that.”

  Beth stared at Sally’s hands, one resting on the table, the other twirling her empty wineglass. They were surprisingly delicate hands, the fingers long and tapered, the skin smooth and soft looking. The nails were well cared for. Beth tried to imagine Sally preparing for bed in the evening, smoothing hand cream on, filing her nails. She had a hard time picturing it. But why? Why shouldn’t Sally do the same things other women do? Because she was really tall, commanding, in a position of power? Beth knew such assumptions could be so wrong. How many people assumed that all she read was Austen and Elliot, or whatever appeared on the Booker Prize long list, when in fact her favorite novels were mysteries and thrillers?

  Lost in her thoughts, Beth was startled when Sally pushed her chair back and stood.

  “I better get going. My dogs will want to go out.”

  “Oh. You have dogs.”

  Sally smiled. “That surprises you?”

  “I guess not. It’s just that I realized it’s the first thing you’ve told me about yourself.”

  Sally put her jacket on as she regarded Beth. “You haven’t asked me anything.”

  Beth opened her mouth to protest, but Sally had already turned and headed toward the front door. Beth followed behind. “I’m sorry. I must seem self-centered to you.”

  “No, you don’t. You have a lot going on, and I don’t.”

  “You must have someone keeping you busy, Chief. Are you saying you don’t have a girlfriend?” She hoped the answer was no.

  Sally paused at the door. “You just assumed I’m a lesbian?”

  “Let’s just say it wasn’t a big leap.”

  “Since you’re asking, no, I don’t have a girlfriend.” She opened the door and stepped out, turning back to Beth. “And I don’t have a Mel, either. Good night, Beth.”

  Chapter Five

  The following morning, Beth sat with the dean of students, dean of admissions, and department heads for their regularly scheduled Friday meeting to coordinate the ongoing projects and policies of the college. After each of these meetings she would summarize the gist for Landscome, thus obviating any need for him to attend. It was a report she gladly wrote. Before the start of the meeting Beth took a few minutes to tell Dean Taylor about the voicemail message from Jennifer Manos and the news of her apparent safety.

  “You didn’t feel a phone call to me was in order? I would have appreciated being spared another night’s worry.” There was no mistaking Harriet’s displeasure. Beth just kept herself from cringing.

  “You’re absolutely right to be annoyed with me, Harriet. I can’t imagine why I didn’t call you.”

  Perhaps because too much was happening, too fast? Because she simply forgot? Because Sally came to her house and sat for a chat and everything else flew out of her head? Beth didn’t bother offering up any excuse. Harriet would reject it out of hand. Beth endured another few moments of glaring before taking her seat to start the meeting, refusing to appear chastised. It was a bit much, she thought, to be condemned by Harriet Taylor for thoughtlessness. She couldn’t remember the last time Harriet had actually inquired about anything pleasantly, said a kind word, or eagerly shared good news. She tried to think what it was she always said she admired about Harriet. Maybe it was simply that she never made a mistake. Ever. And her manner was so supremely self-assured, Beth couldn’t imagine Harriet would even feel bad in the unlikely event she did err in some way. Was that what she admired, even tried to emulate? A person so tightly in control no outside force could upset her?

  The weekly meeting was held in the large conference room in Old Main, an ornate but stately room, decorated by fluted sconces, beamed ceiling, wood-paneled walls, and an immense mahogany conference table that comfortably seated twenty in wide wooden armchairs. The board of trustees met semiannually in the room and Beth imagined they all loved the Ivy League feel of it. She knew that President Landscome was not alone in being enamored of the elitist feel of academe. She had been in thrall to it most of her adult life.

  As Beth was pouring a cup of coffee at the side board, she listened in on a conversation between the dean of admissions, Ed Baker, and the director of the library, Andi Vancaro. Ed was nearly a giant—close to seven feet tall and corpulent as well. He picked up a large croissant from the tray next to the coffee and it looked like an animal cracker in his hand. Andi Vancaro, who Beth thought of as the first Goth librarian in the Midwest, was petite and ghostly pale. Ed tried to keep his voice low as he talked to her, but what sounded muted to him rang clear as a bell to everyone nearby.

  “What I heard was that several of the members of the committee wanted to vote him in, and Delilah delayed the vote in order to win them over,” Ed said. He took a bite of the croissant and it was nearly gone.

  “How will she do that?” Andi asked. She had no trouble whispering—she was a librarian, after all—which forced Ed to bend nearly in half to bring his ear close enough to hear her.

  “I’m not sure she can,” Ed said. “From what I hear, Landscome’s got his folks just as much for Barrow as Delilah has hers against him. She may be able to win on a simple majority vote, but she wants a full one hundred percent to try to avoid his veto.”

  Andi’s dark red lips moved and Ed leaned down again. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

  “I think she said that it’s fucked up,” Beth offered. Andi nodded.

  “Well, she’s right about that, Dean. I know the president is offering his people something in return for their vote. I heard Andrews in Sociology is getting the London/Florence program next year. If word gets out on how this president is awarding tenure, my recruitment efforts will be seriously damaged.”

  “But the president doesn’t award tenure. The faculty does,” said Beth.

  “I’m never on the right committees,” said Andi, looking fierce.

  Some of the others approached, wanting in on everyone’s favorite topic of conversation.

  “All right, let’s start the meeting so we can get out of here. You know I can’t talk about this with you guys.”

  Beth presided over the meeting, cranky that she could neither participate in t
he tenure vote nor gossip about it. She had been forced to cut back on faculty gossip because deans were supposed to be above that, but Beth doubted she was. It wasn’t like her to purse her lips when a bit of gossip broke out at a party. She wanted to dive in and dig in the dirt with the rest of them. There wasn’t that much about being dean that Beth thought was fun, which disappointed her. She was proud of being dean, but she wondered sometimes if she was happy. She missed teaching.

  She looked forward to her evening plans and the chance to put everything out of her mind for a bit. She was driving into Center City to have dinner with an old friend, an activist and bookstore owner who was not an academic, not an ex-lover, not a love interest. Just a friend, an acquaintance really, which was exactly what Beth needed. She thought back to Sally’s parting words the night before, that she didn’t have a girlfriend and she didn’t have “a Mel” either. She didn’t know exactly what that was supposed to imply. Sally didn’t sound judgmental, as in “no, I don’t have a girlfriend or a sex buddy either.” It was more along the lines of “no, I don’t have a girlfriend, or a cat either.” It was just a fact, but she wanted Beth to know she was unencumbered. She didn’t know if Beth really was. That must be it.

  Good lord, thought Beth. What if Sally really was attracted to her and was interested in dating, or having a relationship? That was what solid people did. It wasn’t what Beth did. She trotted out her sexual self on a fairly regular basis, but her heart she kept on a very tight rein. Once it had gotten loose. Just once. Her heart made a run for it and got picked up right away by a fellow grad student who swatted it in the air for a while for a bit of fun, and then wham! Her heart was batted down to the ground and stepped on. She was so devastated she couldn’t even talk to a therapist about it. She couldn’t seem to get over the heartache, but when she thought about getting help, the very idea of opening her mouth and actually articulating how terrible the abandonment felt was absolutely paralyzing.

  Now she felt a little tug in that same area and it terrified her.