Murder Misread (19 page)

“
I know
that, Bernie.” He’d invited her into his office, waved her into
this seat, told her to make herself comfortable, as though sitting
on the student side of the desk could possibly be comfortable.
Really wanted her to make
him
comfortable. To sit in the
subordinate seat, a desk-width away, under control. No screaming
allowed. No weeping either. Merely state your alleged sorrow and
your intention of soldiering on as though nothing had occurred. As
though your life had not been smashed.

“
Are Paul and Rocky
coming?” he asked.

“
Tomorrow night. Paul may
not arrive till Sunday.”

“
That’s good. I’m sure
they’ll be a great help to you. Smart kids. Well, not kids anymore,
really. I tend to remember them before they went off to college.”
His pale eyes looked into the distance. “I remember Rocky in her
baseball cap once at a departmental barbecue. She was probably in
junior high about then. I asked her, just teasing, if she was going
to major in phys ed in college. ‘No,’ she said, ‘math. To catch a
ball you have to solve a differential equation, instantaneously.’”
Reinalter smiled. “Cool as a cucumber.”

Just like Reinalter to
appreciate Rocky’s coolness. He was cool himself. Well, sometimes,
like right now, he made an effort to be human, but somehow the
effect was always as though he spoke from a lofty, chilly height.
Reinalter peak, just north of Mount Blanc. Anne said, “Rocky’s
still coaching softball.”

“
Good. Well, I just wanted
you to know that we’ll do everything possible to help. Officially
or unofficially.”

Anne said perversely, “Of
course when it’s murder there are added complications, aren’t
there?”

He didn’t quite flinch at
the word, but his blond eyebrows contracted in a frown. “That’s
true. Of course we’re cooperating with the police, trying to clear
it up.”

“
We’re all cooperating
with the police, Bernie.” Anne pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and
blew Gallic smoke at his Swiss nose. “And so far I’m doing my
damnedest to turn away the reporters.”

“
I appreciate that, Anne.”
She’d shaken him at last, and now he leaned forward, suddenly
earnest. “You know how important it is to avoid bad
publicity.”

So that was it. Should
have known. “Bernie,” said Anne, “someone in this department
murdered
Tal. That’s not
going to be good publicity, however it comes out.”

“
Yes, I know. But after
all, it is an isolated problem, isn’t it? No need to—”

“
Don’t be silly, Bernie!”
Anne had had enough of the subordinate chair. She stood up and
tramped around the desk to his wastebasket to tap her cigarette
ash. She looked down at Bernie. “There’s every need to inspect
problems in this department. The police have already searched Tal’s
office and our home, and they’ll be looking at the rest of you too
if they can think of any justification at all.”

Bernie’s eyes flicked down
toward the leg of his desk, then up again. “That’s true, Anne. But
we must still be discreet, don’t you agree? I mean, if you’re
having tax problems, you don’t really want it spread across the
newspapers, do you?”

Anne almost pitied him.
“Hell, Bernie, I don’t give a damn. The IRS was wrong on that one.
An investigation was exactly what we wanted. And we’re not talking
much money anyway. Though I can see, in your case—”

She broke off at the
shadow of panic in his eyes. She turned to the windows and drew on
her cigarette. Lucky Bernie, two big windows overlooking the
parking lot. “Look, everybody’s being as discreet as possible,
seems to me,” she said. “Even the police. Walensky’s watching every
move Hines makes, and vice versa. But we have to tell the truth,
even if it’s ugly.”

“
But some things are
irrelevant! A waste of time!” A shrill note had entered his voice.
He stood up, apparently realizing that it was hard to play the
patriarch when even a short matronly woman like Anne could look
down on his graying head. He stepped to the other side of the
window and drew a deep breath. “And there are things Tal didn’t
want known.”

“
Tal devoted his life to
truth.”

“
But he also knew how to
keep things in context. A lone fact is not a truth, Anne. Not by
itself.”

“
But it’s a piece of the
truth.” Anne turned to face him. “Look, Bernie, I know some things
about this department. Over the years Tal has shared some things
with me. Obviously I’ve never gone running to the newspapers with
hot tips about scandals in the education department. I don’t intend
to start now. But damn it, if you don’t tell the cops about your
problems back in Iowa, I will!”

Bernie stared at her,
frosty as Alpine air. Finally he said, “It’s not relevant, Anne.
Tal would know that. It can hurt a career. And a department. And
slow down the investigation.”

“
Tell all that to Hines
too. He’s not stupid. He’s not out to ruin careers. He’ll keep it
in context, as you say. But the context is murder. Tal’s murder,
Bernie!”

“
Anne, I know you’re
upset, of course you are. But you have to keep a sense of
proportion!”

“
My
sense of proportion is fine,
Bernie. But what the hell happened to yours?”

Under her glare his eyes
shifted away, then back again. “I’ll tell him,” he muttered at
last.

“
Good.” Anne ground out
the cigarette in Bernie’s wastebasket. Yesterday, long ago, she
might have felt sorry for Bernie, as she felt sorry for young
what’s-his-name who needed more time for his term paper. But today
it didn’t matter that Bernie had spent years cultivating an
upstanding image for the department and for himself. Nothing
mattered. Even finding the murderer and exacting revenge didn’t
matter. But at least focusing on that task distracted her.
Liberated her from deep grief into deep anger. Anger was much more
comfortable.

There was a tap on the
door. Cindy called, “Professor Reinalter, there are reporters here
again. Can you talk to them?”

“
Damn,” muttered Bernie.
“The dean’s office is supposed to take care of them.”

“
Want me to see them?”
Anne offered.

Bernie looked shocked.
“No, no, of course not. Tell them I’m on my way, Cindy.” He reached
for his jacket and peered into a little mirror on the inside of his
narrow closet door. “Anne, I’ll get rid of them quickly. Be right
back.”

“
Thanks, Bernie.” She
accepted the favor. He was right that she didn’t want to talk to
reporters.

“
When they’re gone Cindy
can help you with the forms that have to be signed.”

“
Good.”

“
See you later.” The door
closed behind him.

As she stooped to lift her
bag, an image flashed across Anne’s mind: his quick guilty glance
at the leg of the desk when she’d mentioned Hines searching
offices. Maybe not at the leg, maybe at the drawer. She pulled the
drawer open, surprised at her own detached curiosity. Nothing in it
anyway, she saw, just a couple of popular math puzzle magazines,
too mass-market to be displayed on a scholar’s shelves. Sure didn’t
take much to embarrass Bernie. She pushed the drawer closed again
and waited until she could start signing papers.

Anne signed the umpteenth
form and shoved the stack across Cindy’s desk. “Those are done.
Ready for the next batch.”

“
Here you go.” Cindy
handed new papers to her. “Lundgren says he’ll have the rest of the
stuff for you Monday, so you can go directly to see him in the
personnel office. Won’t have to stop by here.” Cindy was shuffling
the forms into the appropriate piles, stapling and restacking as
she spoke. Today she was wearing a white linen suit over a
pumpkin-colored knit shirt.

“
Okay,” said Anne. “Better
talk to you today, then.”

“
Oh?” Cindy paused, her
light prominent eyes under the overhang of thickened lashes fixed
on Anne.

“
Who do you think did
it?”

The eyes shifted away.
“God. I don’t know, Anne. Bart, maybe, or Charlie?”

“
Bart, then,” said Anne
sadly. “Hard to picture. Leaving Charlie’s memo book to try to
prove that Charlie did it, then making it look like suicide. God.
And then dropping his own pipe by mistake.”

Cindy shrugged her white
linen-clad shoulders. “Could be,” she said. “Or vice
versa.”

“
Maggie was with Charlie
and says he couldn’t have done it.”

“
Could be. But who can you
believe in this kind of thing?”

“
Cindy, what is it about
Charlie? Do you know some way he could have done it?”

“
No, no.” Cindy’s hand
rose and fell to the desk again in a gesture of frustration. “He
and Maggie weren’t together every single minute. But it’s hard to
think how either one could have done it. On the other hand, Bart is
such a peaceable old bear. And Charlie had a motive, after
all.”

“
You think it was Tal’s
new study? But they’ve been arguing the same issue for
years.”

“
Yeah, it’s a rotten
reason. But with everyone else there’s no reason at
all.”

“
I know.” No reason. No
reason at all. So why had it happened? Maybe this was all a cruel
dream.

“
Anne!” Maggie Ryan swung
into the room, ablaze today in a bright red shirt. She dropped her
briefcase beside Cindy’s desk. “How are you?”

“
Angry,” said
Anne.

“
Right. Me too.” She
touched Anne’s elbow and turned to Cindy. “Is there any problem
about me staying in the building late tonight? Have to make up some
time because I have to take a couple of hours off now.”

“
Sure, you can work late,”
said Cindy. “The night watchman comes on around ten and locks up,
but your building key will still let you in and out. Where are you
going now?”

“
Liz wants to take the
kids swimming, but when I spoke to her just now she said Will’s
sniffle is worse. And he’s an absolute brat if he misses his nap,
even when he’s healthy. So she’s going to drive by in a few
minutes, and I’ll take him home for a nap while she and Sarah go
off to the park to swim.”

“
Kids are so inefficient,”
Anne said. “Paul and Rocky always got sick at different times too.
Doubled the problem.”

“
Better than tripling it,”
muttered Cindy.

“
You have three kids?”
Maggie asked.

“
Two boys and a girl. And
every time a cold hits one of them, I know it’ll be three or four
weeks of juggling for Mark and me, and sometimes my
mother.”

“
Yeah.” Maggie shook her
head sympathetically.

“
They do get older,” Anne
said. “After a while they can take care of their own colds. But by
then you’re worried about them all the time anyway, sick or well.
Drugs, dropping out, general teenage stupidity.”

“
God. Maybe you shouldn’t
tell us,” said Cindy, resting her chin on her hand
glumly.

“
I remember doing it to my
own mom,” Maggie said. “God, I put her through a lot. But I sure
appreciate her now. Cindy, tell me, is Walensky still investigating
this case?”

“
Yeah, he came around
once. But the black fellow from downtown, what’s his name, Hines?
He’s really working on it. He’s been around a lot more.”

“
I see. I was wondering
because I just passed Nora Peterson’s office, and a Campus Security
cop was in there. He was closing the door.”

Anne frowned. “Wonder what
he’s after? It wasn’t Walensky?”

“
No, the younger guy. The
one who drove us here yesterday. Pete something, Walensky called
him.”

“
Pete Dixon.” Anne
remembered the name on the gray uniform barring her way yesterday,
blocking her from seeing if that too-familiar tweed on the trail
was what she feared it was.

“
Right. Pete
Dixon.”

“
Interesting,” said Cindy.
“Walensky’s always pretty low-key. Hates publicity. Well, the
administrators probably tell him to avoid headlines. But maybe he’s
following up for a change. Did you see the paper last
night?”

Anne said, “I skipped
it.”

“
Well,” said Cindy, “there
were three front-page photos. One of the gorge, one of Tal, and one
of Dean Hughes looking serious and noble. And there’s Walensky back
in the shadows. You can barely make him out.”

“
Sounds like the perfect
man to work with Dean Hughes,” said Maggie. “Hines was nowhere to
be seen. But they had a few quotes from a police
spokesperson.”

“
Anything there we didn’t
know yet?” Anne asked.

“
Not a thing. A lot of
people refused to comment. Including you.”

“
Yeah. They called a few
times yesterday afternoon and I brushed them off. Took the phone
off the hook last night.”

“
Good plan,” said Maggie,
then looked up in surprise.

A heavyset balding man in
a brown uniform had entered. He bore an invoice, its multicolored
leaves and dark carbon sheets crackling in his hand. “Package for
Professor Charles Fielding,” he announced. Behind him in the hall
stood a hand truck bearing a large cardboard box.