“I understand. I will gladly refer the press to you.” They headed to the door of the station together. “None of this seems like motivation for murder, though, does it? Would anyone care so much about Barrow getting tenure that they’d murder him? And would Jennifer kill the father of her child, eliminating any chance of them getting together?” Beth asked.
Sally stopped at the door of the station. People were out and about, running errands and enjoying the first truly springlike day of the season. The sun was out and jackets were open. “A murder in the city is usually a pretty clear-cut case of gang-related killing or domestic violence of some sort. Looks like I’m going to have to dust off some real detecting skills for this.”
Beth smiled. “I think we’re in good hands. Thanks for letting me know what’s going on.” Beth opened the door to head out. “Good luck with the president. He’ll be wanting an explanation from you as to why you haven’t caught anyone yet.”
“Don’t worry, we will. And, Beth, your president doesn’t scare me.”
“He’s not my president!”
*
As Beth walked across campus she saw students milling about in groups, talking excitedly among themselves. News of John Barrow’s murder had reached them by now, along with word that the murderer was still at large. She headed toward the Annex, the coffee shop/café/hangout located in the Student Union and visited on a daily basis by nearly every student and faculty member. The food was good and cheap, the seating plentiful, and the coffee always fresh. In the middle of the Annex was a large fireplace surrounded by lounge furniture. These were the seats that were always taken first, and it was where Beth was scheduled to address students for the first time since the murder the night before. Beth was joined by Dean Taylor, who set up a portable microphone and amplifier with the efficiency of a band roadie. Harriet flipped on the microphone and began to speak as a growing crowd of students listened.
“Students, Dean Ellis and I have joined you here today to make a preliminary attempt to answer your questions about the terrible incident last night. As you all read on the campus network, Professor John Barrow was killed last night in his home by an unknown assailant. Dr. Barrow’s family in England have been notified and will be arriving tomorrow to retrieve the body. Obviously, the police are hard at work trying to apprehend whoever killed Dr. Barrow, but as far as I know there have been no arrests.”
Harriet looked to Beth for confirmation, which she gave with a nod of her head.
“Our primary concern at the moment is the safety of the student body. We want to assure you that security has been increased to a level that will make it impossible for any unauthorized person to access your dorms. It’s at a level that you will undoubtedly find annoying, but we must ask for your patience during this time. I’ll now turn this over to Dean Ellis, who would like to say a few words.”
Beth took the microphone. Some of the faces in the crowd had the stupefied look of any eighteen-year-old just out of bed at noon on a Saturday, while others appeared both somber and attentive.
“Someone has shattered something we have taken for granted here at Grafton. Our active, exciting, insular, and safe world has been invaded just long enough to turn that world upside down. We don’t know who killed Dr. Barrow, or why, but we do know that we lost one of our members, one of us, and that is painful and frightening.
“As Dean Taylor indicated, we have increased security and will keep it in place until the threat to anyone here on campus is gone. We are cooperating fully with Chief Sullivan’s investigation, and ask that you do as well should she or any of her officers need information from you.”
A shaggy-haired boy raised his hand and she pointed at him.
“Dean, I don’t think we’re particularly freaked out, in terms of our own safety, I mean. Somebody didn’t like Barrow, but it’s not like this was a random campus shooting where a student starts taking down other students.”
Other students were nodding. She suspected they were starting to imagine what it would be like to have uniformed officers at the doors to their dorms, patrolling the campus day and night, putting a distinct crimp in their style. She wouldn’t have liked it either.
“I agree that this is different than those campus tragedies. This seems to be a situation with an intended victim. Your name is Craig, right?” Beth asked the student. He looked a little surprised that she knew who he was. “We have to acknowledge that even though it doesn’t seem likely any of you would be targeted by the same killer, it’s not impossible. And our job is to keep you as safe as we can. I truly believe that it won’t last long and that you don’t have to feel you’re living in a police state. Unless you’re breaking the law, the officers won’t bother you.”
Another student piped up, a senior English major whom Beth knew well. Amanda was a born leader and organizer.
“Dean Ellis, a number of us are really sad about Dr. Barrow’s death, and we’re sickened by the gun violence in this country. We’d like to pay our respects to Dr. Barrow and demonstrate against gun violence by having a candlelight vigil on campus tonight.”
Beth smothered a groan. She admitted she had lost her enthusiasm for things like vigils and protests, but the idea seemed particularly wearying at the moment. Still, the students seemed eager, so there was nothing to do but support it.
“That’s a great idea, Amanda. Why don’t we speak after you get your plans set and I’ll make sure security is there to work with you. I’m going to turn this back to Dean Taylor, who will tell you about the upcoming memorial service and the presence on campus of therapists and counselors, should anyone want to speak about their reaction to this.”
That was greeted with a few snorts and groans, but Beth could see that the students were genuinely stunned by what happened. Murder at Grafton had seemed as likely to them as a campus concert by Radiohead or some other major band. You had to go to school at an entirely different sort of place for those things to happen—both the good and the bad.
Beth made her way through the crowd and headed out into the sunny spring day, the sort of day that made her want to dance and play and laugh and have sex, except that she was dean of Grafton College and there was a murderer running loose, and why would she even be thinking about such things? In fact, with her world in crisis, Beth felt herself less willing to focus on crisis management than on when she would see Sally again, a lapse so foreign to her she blushed at the recognition of it. The worst part of this wandering attention, of having her eye off the ball and squarely on the girl, was that it felt disorienting. Her entire world was the college and now that the college was truly in a crisis, her mind kept wandering back to a woman she barely knew. Sally’s request for the personnel files of the faculty was something she would normally have fought, but she conceded instantly because it was something she could give to Sally. The physical pull was there, it was real, but she’d experienced attraction with any number of women. Wanting to give something, just for the sake of giving? That was different.
Katie Murphy emerged from Bart Hall and trotted down the steps, her heavy bag bouncing off her hip. Beth hadn’t seen Katie for a few weeks—unusual on a campus so small—and she was struck again by how young Katie looked, though she was now in her mid-thirties. Her hair was braided in a single rope down her back, her clear skin and eyes were untouched by makeup, her clothes well cut, comfortable, and familiar. Katie appeared to believe in buying quality, not quantity, and seeing her wear the same outfits quite frequently was not a hardship. Beth had no trouble understanding why Katie was popular with the students. She was simply pleasant to be around, serious about her field but lighthearted about life.
Katie had set herself on a collision course with Beth and would have run right into her had Beth not said her name and stepped out of her path.
“God, I’m sorry, Beth. My mind is somewhere else, I’m afraid.”
Now that they were close together, Beth saw that Katie seemed a little agitated. Clearly the tenure battle for the pos
ition in the English department had taken its toll, Katie’s first meaningful chance at tenure being derailed by John Barrow. His death would be a complicated event for her.
“Are you okay, Katie? Everyone’s upset, of course, but I know this affects you in particular.”
Katie’s eyes snapped onto Beth’s. “You don’t think I had anything to do with Barrow’s death, do you? It’s one thing to be questioned by the police about it, but if people I know are thinking—”
“No. God, no. There were plenty of people who disliked Barrow as much as you and I did. Has Chief Sullivan already spoken to you?”
“This morning. I don’t have anything to hide from her, but it’s unsettling.” Katie looked at her shoes. Beth thought she was trying to decide how inappropriate it might be to ask about the tenure position now that the top candidate was dead.
“Beth, I want to ask you about something.”
“Okay.” Beth thought it actually was a little inappropriate to ask this soon.
“I think you know a woman I met this morning. I had to take my car in for service and I had quite a conversation with the mechanic there.”
“Wow. That’s not what I expected you to ask about.”
“It’s a little soon to ask about tenure, don’t you think? And I don’t even know what to say about the murder. It seems unreal. I hope they catch the person quickly.”
“Why do you say I know Mel?” As if every lesbian in town (and there were a lot of them) didn’t know Mel.
“I never said her name was Mel, so there’s one clue. But mainly it’s because she told me. When I said I was with the college she mentioned you.”
Beth felt alarmed. She also felt a blush come to her face. “What did she say when she mentioned me?”
“Only that she knew you.” Katie seemed to study Beth’s face for a moment. “I wanted to ask you about Mel because she was flirting with me, and I found that I was flirting back. But if you have something going with her, I won’t pursue this at all.”
Beth grinned. “Katie, you obviously have not heard of Mel before today, though how that is possible I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mel has a good heart, but she also has an outsized libido. Her mission, and I quote her, is to spread the loving wherever it’s needed, and in this town it’s needed by a fair share of the women, single or not.”
Katie looked crestfallen. “You mean she sleeps around.”
“Oh, yes.”
“She’s a cad?”
“A lovable one.” Beth could see that Katie was confused. “It doesn’t mean she wasn’t sincere when she was flirting with you. Mel has tremendous focus. But you need to be forewarned if you think you may have more than a passing interest in her. You’ll just get your heart broken.”
Katie looked behind her, as if she could see into Mel’s shop and figure out how she could have been misled. Then she turned back. “I don’t know what I feel. Frankly, I thought she was sexy as hell, but I don’t want to be the housewife to her milkman. Milkwoman.”
“Milkmaid?” Beth offered.
They both cracked up, the thought of Mel in apron and bonnet akin to über drag.
“Anyway, thanks for the heads up, Beth.”
“As to the tenure situation, let’s just get through the memorial and all of the chaos right now, and then we’ll sit down and talk about it. We’ll bring Delilah into it and figure out how to move forward from here. Frankly, at this point I’d like to see us dispense with the full search and interview process, but that’s not totally my decision.”
Katie gave Beth a wan smile and moved off, her step not as light as it had been a few minutes before. Beth felt like going to Mel’s and telling her to keep her pants on for once, but she knew it wasn’t her place. She was Katie’s dean, not her Mother Superior. And she’d be an appalling hypocrite to boot.
*
Beth walked quickly toward home, ready for a glass of wine and a few hours alone. She would go back on campus at eight o’clock to show her face at the vigil. She loved that the students felt a strong reaction to Barrow’s death and that they wanted to make a statement about gun laws. She believed it was a student’s duty to feel things keenly and react to them strongly no matter what the issue at hand, to ignore shades of gray and political expediency, to go straight to claims of corporate greed, right-wing conspiracy, and the alienation of our culture as a whole. Society needed the young to voice these things because it seemed so many lost the nerve or the energy to do so once they got out of school. She seriously doubted that any law banning the possession of handguns would have saved John Barrow’s life; someone wanted him dead and would have found a way to make it happen. Still, the vigil was harmless and might make some feel better.
With her mind wrapping itself around these thoughts, Beth stepped off the curb onto the street ringing the campus, turning after the fact to look to her left. She saw the squad car in time to jump back out of its way, just as it hit its brakes hard. Adrenaline flooded her body. As she shook and tingled, Sally Sullivan, naturally, got out of the car. Beth sat on the curb and awaited her lecture about looking both ways before crossing.
“I don’t think it would improve town-gown relations to have the chief of police run over the dean of the college,” Sally said as she walked around the front of her squad and stood in front of Beth. The sun was directly behind her, making her seem like a dark column surrounded by light, mystical in some way, with her arms akimbo, fists resting on her gun belt. The image reminded Beth of something, some fetish or iconic figure. Her mind raced through a catalogue of images and literary references, finding comfort in the familiar academic discourse in her brain, the brush with death she’d just experienced finally pushing her beyond what she could comfortably process in any twenty-four-hour period.
Sally squatted before her and looked intently into Beth’s face. “Beth?”
With the sun no longer shadowing her, Sally’s face popped into view. “Sorry I almost ran into your car,” Beth said.
“I wouldn’t worry about the car in that encounter. I am a little worried about you.”
“Why?” Beth scootched down the curb a little as Sally sat next to her. She noticed Sally’s perfectly pleated pants and shiny shoes and wondered if she sat in front of the TV at night buffing those clunky shoes, or stood ironing those straight creases. There was something reassuringly competent about the way Sally was all spit and polish.
Sally continued to stare at Beth, as if watching for signs of concussion even though a collision had been avoided. “You don’t seem well. Is there anything I can do?”
“Catch the killer, for a start. The students are scared, but they don’t want to show it. The faculty’s scared too.”
“Are you scared?” Sally asked.
“I think I’m numb. A lot has been going on lately and some part of me is threatening to shut down. I think I just need some time alone.”
Sally sat on the curb and put her arm around Beth’s shoulder, and Beth couldn’t have been more surprised if Sally had stood up and danced a jig. She turned toward her and saw the concerned look on her face, felt her squeezing her shoulder gently. She felt cared for, she felt attracted, and she felt arousal—all things she’d felt around Sally before, but all when she had the ability to keep everything on a theoretical plane. Now the physical barrier was breached, and not only did her interest and arousal shoot up, but so did her fear. She turned toward Sally, drawing her shoulders in, making herself small and tense within the circle of her arm. Sally withdrew it.
“I promise you I will catch who did this,” Sally said. “My gut tells me that this is a purpose killing, that the killer doesn’t have any further targets in mind. But I also promise you that we’ll keep everyone safe on campus until we do catch him.”
“Thanks.”
“And as far as your alone time goes? I just drove by your house and saw a car in the driveway.”
“Yeah?” Beth frowned slightly. Who was parked
there? And why did Sally always know who was in her driveway?
“Yeah.” Sally stood, smoothing down her pants before offering Beth a hand up. “Looked like a Cadillac Escalade with Nevada plates.”
The adrenaline coursed back through Beth’s body, now a signal of an entirely new fear. She turned from Sally and started sprinting toward her house, praying that her mother had not come for a visit.
*
It was midafternoon when Sally pulled into the drive of Delilah’s big house. Despite the bright day, lamps shone throughout the first floor and as Sally approached the front door she could smell the delicious aroma of baked bread. She realized she hadn’t eaten since that morning when she had a Pop-Tart.
The front door stood open and Sally peered through the screen after ringing the doorbell. The large living room was really a double parlor with the walls between the rooms removed. There were a couple of comfortable-looking seating areas, but it was designed to be open space, conducive to entertaining. Sally supposed it was used for the faculty parties she’d heard about, but of course never been invited to.
Delilah emerged and moved quickly toward the front door. Her sweatsuit was now covered by an apron, her hair piled high on her large head. She was at least as tall as Sally, but outweighed her by a fair amount, and Sally guessed that weight wasn’t all flab, either. Delilah looked like someone who could easily sling Sally over her shoulder if the situation called for it.
“Good afternoon, Chief,” Delilah said, opening the screen door for Sally and looking her over as she entered. “I just put the first batch of cookies in. If you’re here longer than fifteen minutes I’ll be able to serve you some.”
“That sounds great. I’m afraid I missed lunch.”
“Well, come on.” Delilah led Sally down a hall into a large kitchen. Bowls, dripping spatulas, mixing machine, food processor, open bags of flour, oats, sugar, baking powder, and all sorts of dried fruit, nuts, and chocolate were spread about the generous countertop space as well as the breakfast table. Delilah cleared some space at the table and sat Sally down, then filled two mugs of coffee from a thermos before joining her.
Veritas Page 9
