Summa Cum Liar

by Ali Franklin

  They all agreed. Soon they were enjoying a sumptuous dinner and sparkling conversation. Teddy and Summer had recently watched a television show about a company that built a small luxury hotel on a beach in Thailand.

  “A vacation is only a vacation if it’s on the beach,” said Teddy.

  “I totally agree,” said Ryan.

  “What about the mountains?” asked Nicki. “You’ve got hiking, swimming in lakes, camping…”

  Summer agreed. “I love the fresh air at high altitudes.”

  “Okay, it’s settled,” said Teddy. “The next time we go on vacation, Ryan and I will go to the beach. You two can go to the mountains.”

  Summer made a funny face. “Then again, dolphins are lovely.”

  “And I love snow skiing,” said Ryan.

  They all laughed.

  Nicki stood. “We’ll have to find a good compromise.” She raised her glass. “Anyone else need a refill?”

  The conversation turned to campus events. An hour later, Ryan confessed to being tired and rose to leave.

  “Wait,” said Teddy. “I still need to talk to you about the last act of the musical.”

  Ryan closed her eyes briefly. “Teddy, I want to hear it. I really do. But I need to get some sleep. Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

  “Sure. But the change is going to happen. Don’t be surprised if the first time you see it is on opening night.”

  Ryan chuckled as she walked out to her car, believing that Teddy would make the change—with or without her blessing.

  3

  The next morning, Associate Professor David Anderly walked up the stairs toward Professor Bobbi Herman’s office with butterflies in his stomach. He had a good feeling about this meeting.

  It was the end of the spring semester, which was usually when Dr. Herman, Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, made plans for the next academic year. She’d make committee assignments, some of which brought opportunities to work with the biggest movers and shakers on campus. She’d also name someone to stand in for her during the summer term.

  It was David’s fifth year at the college. Two years ago, he’d earned tenure and was named chair of the history department. Being chair brought more opportunities to work with the dean, and David had taken advantage of every one. Each step in his academic career brought him closer to his ultimate dream of being a provost.

  David knew he’d probably have to serve as dean before getting a shot at the provost’s chair. For that reason, he was trying to position himself as Dean Herman’s right-hand man. After all, Bobbi Herman was close to retirement age.

  He shuddered in anticipation. Maybe that’s what today’s meeting was about. Maybe she was retiring! His steps quickened as he neared her office.

  Bobbi looked up as David knocked on her open door. She gestured for him to come inside and sit in one of the chairs facing her desk. They made small talk for a moment, then she told David the reason she’d asked him to meet.

  “As you know, Dr. Albert is retiring from the geography department at the end of the semester.”

  David nodded. “I heard.”

  “I’d like to get his position filled before the fall semester.”

  “That’s pretty optimistic. It usually takes six months or more to find a new faculty member.”

  “That’s true, but Dr. Franks will be on sabbatical in the fall. That means we’d be down two professors in a department of three. We need to get this done. That’s why I want you to serve on the committee.”

  David’s jaw dropped. “I’m hardly an expert in geography.”

  “With small departments, it’s important that we have additional faculty screen the candidates. The department faculty can tell us about the candidates’ credentials, but we also need to know whether a person will fit in at Haverwood.”

  David twisted his hands. He’d been expecting a much larger assignment when Bobbi asked to see him. This was just a temporary committee thing—something anyone in the College of Arts and Sciences could do.

  “Bobbi, I appreciate you thinking of me, but I have a department to run.”

  “I understand that, but you know the old saying, ‘When you need something done, ask the busiest person to do it.’” She opened a folder on her desk and shuffled some papers. “David, this is important. I need someone I can trust on this committee.”

  “Are you worried about the geography department?”

  “No, nothing like that. But I need to know I can count on you for things that are important to the college.”

  David straightened in his chair. That sounded more like it. Maybe this was more than just regular committee assignment.

  Bobbi closed the file folder. “There’s a lot going on at Haverwood right now. There could be some significant changes in the next year or so. I need to make sure the college of Arts and Sciences is positioned to make it through those changes intact.”

  “That sounds ominous. Is someone maneuvering to split the college?”

  “No, but it’s important that we don’t show any weaknesses. Can I count on you?”

  David felt his heart beat a little faster. “Certainly.”

  “I’m happy to hear it,” said Bobbi.

  “Is there any other business, maybe campus-wide, that I can assist with? Maybe President Martinez has a task force opening I could fill?”

  Getting exposure to the president would be another good way for David to accelerate his rise up the academic ladder.

  “I can’t think of anything, but I’ll keep you in mind if something comes up.”

  David grasped for another idea. “We could do something definitive to demonstrate the strength of the college. To exhibit we’ve established a plan for the future.”

  Bobbi raised her eyebrows. “What did you have in mind?”

  David took a deep breath and sat up straight. This was it. “Name me associate dean of arts and sciences. That way, everyone will know I’m your surrogate. It will be a show of fortitude to have two of us at the helm.”

  Bobbi leaned back in her chair and put her hands in her lap. She looked up at the ceiling as though she were considering his suggestion. David’s knuckles turned white on the arms of his chair while he waited for her to speak.

  Finally, her gaze moved to his face. “I understand what you’re saying, but we don’t need that much administrative structure.”

  “But Len Ibanez is an associate dean. He’s a chemistry professor, so everyone knows he’s the associate dean for the sciences. I could be the associate dean for liberal arts.”

  “Everyone around here is filling multiple roles. Think about it: you’re a department chair and you’re not even a full professor.”

  David’s shoulders slumped but he kept his facial expression even as Bobbi continued.

  “I know being an administrator is part of your career plan, David. And you’ll get there. You’ll probably have my job someday.”

  He started to speak, but she raised a hand to cut him off.

  “If you keep doing what you’re doing, keep taking the committee assignments I give you, people will start to see you as my successor. But I’m not going anywhere for the next few years.”

  This time, his mask slipped. He looked down at his hands as his vision swam.

  A few years.

  He looked up as he realized Bobbi was talking again.

  “You’re headed in the right direction, David. I’m happy to help you develop so you can be a dean someday. But I can’t give you a new title right now.”

  “I understand. I’ll participate on that committee for geography.”

  Bobbi thanked him and stood, making it clear the conversation was over.

  David left her office and walked slowly down the hall, replaying the exchange in his head. Could he have made his case any better? Was it really going to be another few years before he had a more noteworthy title?

  He was going to have to reexamine his options: keep treading water at Haverwood in hopes that he’d bec
ome dean in a few years and provost a few years after that, or move on to another institution where he might progress more quickly. He reached his office and packed up his computer for the night. He had a lot of thinking to do.

  ☐ ☐ ☐

  Ryan sat in her office thinking about the alert message. She’d tried imagining herself as someone with a grudge against a professor. How would she act on that grudge?

  Helen brought in fresh coffee halfway through the morning. “You’re quiet,” she said. “Everything okay?”

  “I’m just trying to figure out what this hacker wants.”

  “He wants what they all want—a better grade.”

  “But why threaten more than one faculty member? Why not just focus on the one you have a problem with?”

  “How many complaints do you get against faculty every semester?” asked Helen.

  “Ten or twelve.”

  “And how many of those are about grades?”

  “Almost every one. I coordinate with Victoria on those and we usually settle them quickly.”

  Dr. Victoria Roux was Haverwood’s provost. She had a no-nonsense approach to disputes over academic marks and the faculty knew their best defense was to keep thorough records.

  “So what’s the problem?” asked Helen.

  “This feels different. This person isn’t asking for anything. And he’s suggesting there are a lot of faculty with skeletons in their closets.”

  “He might be right.”

  “But what does he want?”

  Helen’s phone rang. She picked up the call from Ryan’s desk, then put it on hold.

  “It’s Mike Garza.”

  Ryan considered not taking the call, then picked up the phone. Maybe she could get some new information.

  “Mike. I’m glad you called.”

  “That’s not the reaction I expected from you this morning,” said the young man.

  Mike Garza was a senior journalism major at the college. He worked on the school paper, the Haverwood Herald, and interned at a local television station. He’d been a big part of the investigation into a thirty-year-old campus murder earlier in the year. He was a straight shooter and a decent young man, and Ryan trusted him.

  “What’s your take on that alert message?” she asked.

  “I was calling to ask you the same question.”

  Ryan took a beat to gather her thoughts—and to remember that she was talking not only to a student, but a member of the press. Nothing in this conversation would be truly off the record.

  “I can’t speak on behalf of the college,” she said. “You’re going to have to call the public affairs office.”

  “I’ve already gotten a statement from Rena,” he said. “I was just wondering if you could give me some insight into what’s being done.”

  “We have our best people working on it. That’s all I can tell you.”

  “Do you think it’s a student?”

  “Mike, don’t tell me you’re giving this guy air time—or column inches. I think that’s what he wants.”

  “But it’s newsworthy. Everyone’s dying to know if he’ll actually reveal any secrets.”

  Ryan’s stomach did a little flip as Mike emphasized the word “secrets.”

  “Do you believe he has information to put out there?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. But if I were a professor with something to hide, I’d be worried.”

  “Mike, don’t break this story off-campus just yet. Let us try to fix this before it goes wide.”

  It was a moment before he answered. “I can give you a little time, but like I said, this is news.”

  Ryan pressed, and Mike agreed to give her a heads-up before he broke the story.

  Ryan ended the call and sat back in her chair. Her eyes wandered around the office, looking for inspiration. A tall bookcase held rows of books and pictures of student events from previous years. The opposite wall featured snapshots of musicians she’d worked with during her time in New York City. Each image reminded her of a moment in her life when things were stable and predictable.

  Things were anything but predictable today.

  She stood and walked to the large window overlooking the recreational fields, trying to imagine the options for the texter’s next move. None of them were good. She hoped Kyle switched the servers soon.

  Her direct line rang again, signaling a call from an on-campus line. “This is Dean McCabe.”

  “Dr. McCabe, it’s Kyle. I have bad news.”

  Ryan swallowed a grunt of frustration. “Let’s have it.”

  “It’s going to take longer than we thought to set up the additional firewalls on the backup server. I won’t be able to switch our systems to that server until that’s in place and tested.”

  “Do you have an ETA?”

  “Tomorrow at the earliest.”

  “Is there anything else we can do to protect ourselves between now and then?”

  “I’ve assigned one tech to check the system for intruders until the new system is in place. We’ll get it done as soon as we can.”

  Ryan thanked him for the update. She stared out the window. After a few minutes, she walked into the front office and sat on the couch.

  Helen was reading that morning’s edition of the Herald. She set it down, open, on her desk.

  “This is nuts,” said Ryan. “I’m not sure how seriously to take this guy. Does he really know our people’s secrets, or is he just trying to get attention?”

  “We won’t know until he makes his next move.”

  Ryan rubbed the back of her neck. “I hate sitting here, waiting to see what he does next.”

  The two women sat quietly as they contemplated the possibilities. Helen reached down and absentmindedly flipped the page of the paper. She glanced down and her eyes widened.

  “I think we have our answer.” She pointed to the page.

  Ryan came around behind the desk to see a full-page ad in the paper. It read:

  HAVERWOOD COLLEGE:

  Are you prepared to hear the

  truth about your professors?

  Their shameful secrets

  will soon be known.

  To add your information to

  the list of grievances, email

  Paladin@haverwood.edu

  The revelations begin soon.

  Ryan stared at the words. “Paladin?” she asked with a grimace.

  “You’ve got to admit it’s original,” said Helen”

  “Paladin…paladin…”

  “It’s one of the peers of Charlemagne’s court. Kind of like the knights of the Round Table, but Charlemagne was a lot earlier than King Arthur. Paladins were renowned for their chivalry and heroism.”

  Ryan raised an eyebrow.

  “I learn a lot on those Road Scholar trips each summer,” said Helen.

  Ryan looked up. “So this guy sees himself as a hero.”

  “It seems that way.”

  “It’s also a couple of clues. Someone paid for that ad, and someone’s at the other end of that email address.” Ryan walked through the door of her office as she called over her shoulder, “I think ‘the Paladin’ just made a mistake.”

  She picked up her phone and dialed the extension for the campus newspaper office. After identifying herself to the student who answered the phone, she asked who’d bought the ad.

  “I’m sorry, Dean McCabe, but I can’t tell you that.”

  “What do you mean you can’t tell me?”

  “I mean the ad was submitted online via a Haverwood email address.”

  “What address?” asked Ryan.

  “Paladin@haverwood.edu.”

  Ryan blew out a breath. “Of course. How did they pay?”

  “Through the GetchaPay app, but there’s no name on the account. It was a one-time payment.”

  “Who looks at the ads before they’re put into print?” asked Ryan.

  “Just the layout editor.”

  “And that is…?”

  “I
t’s me,” said the student softly.

  “So you just put this ad in the paper, no questions asked?” asked Ryan.

  “Payment was made and it doesn’t break any of our rules.”

  Ryan sighed. She wasn’t going to get anywhere with the student. She’d have to talk to the paper’s faculty advisors. She ended the call and looked up to see Helen standing in her doorway.

  “Sorry to eavesdrop, but…”

  Ryan smiled. “I have no secrets from you. Unfortunately, they don’t have any information about the person who placed the ad.”

  “Are you going to call Dr. Jensen?” Rick Jensen was one of the aforementioned journalism advisors.

  “Right after I ask Kyle to track that email address.”

  Ryan called Kyle immediately. The IT director had already seen the ad and attempted to track the email address.

  “He spoofed it,” said Kyle.

  Ryan wasn’t the most tech-savvy person on campus, but she knew that meant the email hadn’t really come from the address on the “From” line.

  “Is there anything we can do?” she asked.

  “We know some tricks, too. We’ll try to track it.”

  Ryan stared up at the ceiling while she pondered their next move. “Okay,” she said. “Let me know what you find.”

  “You got it.”

  4

  Later that afternoon, Nicki Statton looked across her desk at Kyle. “Let’s look at the bright side,” she said. “He’s giving us more clues to follow.”

  He gestured toward the newspaper on her desk. “You see clues in there?”

  Nicki read the ad again. The large white letters, stark against the all-black background, revealed nothing. She sighed. “There’s nothing here that sets this person apart from anyone else.”

  “Then we’d better double down on tracking the signal to that email address.” Kyle stood. As he walked out, he said, “I’ll call you if I get anything, and you do the same.”

  Nicki watched him go, hoping they’d find something soon.

  Her mobile phone rang and she lifted it to her ear. “Hey, Dad,” she said, a smile lighting up her face. “I didn’t think I’d hear from you until you were back from your trip.”