Chapter 24

  

I walked back to the journalism school, my ears ringing with Stoddard’s final instructions. “Meredith, write a rebuttal—with facts, lots of facts—and get it to Phil Lewis and me before the end of work tomorrow. We will need it to compose a letter from Phil to all these deans and, especially, to anyone on the committee coming to re-accredit the school next semester.”

There had been no sympathy in his face and no sense of the friendship he had always shown me. He didn’t speak of my interim deanship, but his disappointment was palpable. I figured I was going to lose that job right after I handed in the rebuttal.

“Here’s what I need,” I told Nell, asking for detailed records for everything from faculty research in the last five years to records of student accomplishments. “I’m sorry Nell, I know this is a horrendous request, but I will need all this stuff to back up my rebuttal to Simon’s letter. And, I’ll need it by end of work this afternoon so I can write it tonight. Stoddard insists I have a rebuttal to him tomorrow.”

“Simon’s a lousy son of a bitch,” said Nell. I had never heard her swear before. “I hate him.”

“So do I Nell, but right now I have to diffuse the situation he’s created.”

I had one errand to do before I could go home to the comfort of Joe’s arms. It took me to the other side of campus. As I drove through the still winter landscape I realized how much I wanted to keep my job as dean. I had been feeling wonderful after the retreat and after the ceremony accepting Ben Howard’s gift. I had begun to enjoy being dean of journalism. I loved my students and my friends and this university. Now it was all in jeopardy. Now I had two faculty members in trouble, one who had to be disciplined and one who probably had to be fired. In less than three months, I had lost the confidence of the provost who had once admired me and the president who had appointed me.

It was a mess. And, heading out the back gate of campus, I wondered how much I wanted to go to Max’s house and insist he see me and what? Get him to come outside, away from his wife, so I could talk to him about Celeste.

Get it over with, I thought. Deal with Max today because tonight you have to deal with Simon’s betrayal.

  

The drive to the Worthington’s took me through the main residential areas of Landry, a neighborhood that looks more like the towns I knew back east. In spring, maples, flowering plum, and linden trees bloomed in what had once been brown and barren high desert. Water from Lake Tahoe flowed downstream to nourish them.

Max and Trudy lived in an old Victorian in a section that had been the historical center of Landry and was still the most prosperous. The Worthington’s house was gracefully proportioned and beautiful with a deep front porch and well-kept shutters at all the front windows.

Trudy Worthington met me at the door. Her face was haggard, her body heavy with pregnancy. Her usually carefully arranged hair was straggling down her back and about her face and looked oily from lack of recent washing. I could hear the shrieks of children playing in a back room.

“Hi, Red. Come on in. It’s great to see you, although I’m a bit frazzled today. Hope you don’t mind the clutter. Can I get you something to drink? I’m sorry about the noise and...”

“Thanks, Trudy. But I really just stopped by to see how Max was feeling and to see if he felt up to meeting with me.”

“As far as I know, he’s feeling fine,” she said, brushing a stray lock of hair off her face. “But he’s not here.”

I was almost relieved, but Max’s absence meant postponing a talk with him and I wanted to be done with it. I also wanted to be sure he didn’t follow Celeste to her parents’ home.

“Do you know where he is?” I asked.

“I thought he was at the school,” said Trudy. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Not at all,” I said. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was upset Trudy.

“How are you?” I said summoning up a smile.

“Oh, this pregnancy is driving me insane.” She spread her hands under her massive belly. “But thankfully it will be over in a few weeks. Can I give Max a message for you?”

I paused. Might as well get something useful done. I remembered his book. “Uh, well I was hoping to get the manuscript of his book. He promised to bring it in last week but he keeps forgetting.”

“Oh. He’s been forgetting everything these days,” said Trudy, sighing. “Last month he forgot Max Junior’s birthday party. I know December birthdays are tough to remember, but really.”

I decided to press on. “I wonder if I could trouble you to get the manuscript for me.” I tried to sound casual and cheerful. “I really need to go over it this weekend so I can complete his evaluation for a merit raise.”

“Well, we need his merit raise all right,” she said. “Let’s see if we can find it in his den.”

We headed down the hallway to a room at the back. The door was locked but she reached up to grab a key off the top of the doorframe. “Have to keep it locked,” she said, “or the kids get into it, and nothing upsets him more.”

We entered a small cluttered room with a large desk in front of a back window and bookshelves on every wall. A computer sat in the middle of the desk and papers were stacked on either side.

“I know the galleys are in here somewhere,” she said.

“Oh, I don’t want to take his galleys. The final draft of the manuscript will do just as well, if he has it here.”

“Well, let’s see,” she said, rifling through the piles on his desk. I spotted a large manila envelope on one of the lower bookshelves. It looked big enough to hold a book manuscript.

“Would this be it?” I said, picking it up and handing it to her.

She opened the clasp and looked inside. “Seems to be a draft of the book,” she said. “Will this do?”

“It’ll be fine.” I took the envelope from her hands. “Thanks so much. I’ll read this over the weekend.”

As we walked back to the front door I noticed how slowly she maneuvered. There was a stain on the back of her sleeve. I had always seen Trudy as a pretty woman, neat and well dressed.

“Hope you feel better soon,” I said as she opened the door for me.

“Oh, I’ll be all right as soon as I unload this kid and as soon as I get my husband back from that big project he’s working on at school.”

“Big project?” So that’s how Max accounted for his time at the Grant Street motel.

“Yes. Research on something. He’s late most nights for dinner and he goes into work on Sundays. Sundays used to be family day around here. Do you have any idea when he might be finished, Red? I really need my husband back.”

“I’ll talk to him about it, Trudy. No research is worth missing your good cooking. Please tell Max I’ll be at school and I do need to see him.”

I walked back to my car praying Trudy would never find out about Max and Celeste.

  

The manuscript was thick and heavy in my hands as I put it on the front seat of my car. How could I look at this and also get Stoddard the data he needed to respond to Simon’s letter? I decided Max’s book could wait for another time. I drove away from his house but then my curiosity got the better of me. I pulled into the parking lot of an old church and started to scan the pages.

The book promised to cover the future of online journalism, a subject dear to Max and close to the topic Shaw had been working on. As I scanned the pages, I also prayed for Max. His affair with Celeste was enough trouble for him. Plagiarism would cost him his job.

In the second chapter, I spotted a familiar phrase. Then another. I turned on the ignition and put the car in gear. I would have to compare this chapter line for line with Shaw’s and then search for attribution and hope to find something that would exonerate my selfish friend.

As I neared the entrance to the parking lot, I saw Max’s car coming down the street towards his house. His eyes were fixed on the road. He did not look up. He did not see me. Just as well. Go home to your wife. Your world is going to hell soon enough.

  

Joe was in my kitchen. Corned beef and cabbage. A little early in the season but it smelled delicious.

“St. Patrick’s Day is two months away,” I kissed his cheek, warm from cooking.

“It’s never too soon for corned beef.”

I sat down at the table while Joe poured me a glass of wine. It was no good putting off the inevitable. I began, starting with Simon’s letter and Stoddard’s order for a rebuttal tomorrow.

“That’s terrible,” said Joe, abandoning his pots and sitting down next to me. He took my hand. “Why would a professor try to hurt his own school?”

I sighed. “Perhaps because he believes his school has betrayed him. Left him behind. Scorned him.”

“How much damage has he done?”

“Maybe a great deal. It remains to be seen how much we can control it. I know Stoddard and President Lewis have been making phone calls to journalism deans all over the country. If Nell has pulled together enough evidence for me to write a refutation of Simon’s letter, then we can send it on and hope for the best.”

Joe read my copy of Simon’s letter, a frown creasing his forehead. “Where did Simon come up with this idea of you having an affair with a married professor?”

“Who knows? He probably means to imply Max and it’s just his way of combining his hatreds and creating a rumor that hurts us both.”

“Max is a good-looking guy. No doubt that’s how he gets pretty students to sleep with him. Maybe Simon knows about that.”

“Max is an adulterous son of a bitch,” I snapped. Joe looked startled. “And what’s worse, I think Max may be the plagiarist Henry found.”

“Jesus,” said Joe. “Now I need a glass of wine.” I told Joe about my visit with Trudy and my brief look at Max’s manuscript.

“I don’t know how I am going to talk to Max about this,” I said, a lump in my throat. “He’s been my friend for a long time.”

Joe took my hands and looked steadily into my eyes. “You’re not going to talk to Max about the plagiarism.”

“I’m not? Why?”

“Because if Max is Henry’s thief, that means Henry and he may have talked about it. I’m sorry, sweetheart but it gives Max Worthington a motive for...”

“Oh, my God, Joe. I can’t believe Max would’ve hurt Henry over this. They were very close friends.”

“Look, Red. We don’t have any proof Max and Henry ever talked, or that they talked on that November Sunday. But I still want you to keep a lid on this plagiarism thing, until both you and I go over this manuscript.” Joe picked up the envelope from the kitchen table and stuffed it into a cupboard. “This may be evidence of more than plagiarism.”

I sagged in my chair.

I was close to exhaustion and even closer to tears. “I think I’ll take a hot shower.”

“Good idea. I’ll have dinner ready when you come down.”

I headed out of the kitchen and was hanging my coat on the rack by the front door when I saw a figure coming up the path to the front door. Max.

I called to Joe in the kitchen.

“Let him in,” said Joe in the kitchen doorway. “But not a word about suspecting plagiarism. Tell him you haven’t read anything yet.”

“What if he wants the manuscript back?” I heard Max’s footsteps on the entry.

“Tell him you left it at your office.”

The doorbell rang. Max looked cold and upset. “I need a minute or two of your time, Red.” He looked at Joe. “Alone, if it’s okay with you Detective Morgan.”

“I’m the cook tonight,” said Joe, his voice casual. The kitchen door swung behind Joe. But I knew he would be on the other side, listening.

“Trudy says she gave you my manuscript.”

“Yes, that was very kind of her. I plan to look at it over this weekend.”

“Why couldn’t you wait until I emailed it to you?”

“I could have, Max. But since I was at your house, hoping to see you, I decided to ask Trudy for it.”

I stepped into the living room and poked at the fire. Max followed still in his overcoat, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Okay, what were you hoping to see me about?” he said. His brow was furrowed and there were circles under his eyes.

“You know perfectly well what I wanted to see you about.”

“Did you tell Trudy?”

“No, Max. I hope Trudy never finds out about Celeste.”

“Red, I told you it was consensual. All the way. Inappropriate perhaps, but not illegal. Celeste is an adult. You can’t say anything about this to anyone. As long as you keep quiet, I can protect Trudy from knowing about this.”

“Max, your relationship damn near destroyed that girl. Celeste is a wreck. You have to stay away from her from now on. You are not to see her or talk to her under any circumstances. That’s what I came to your house to tell you.”

“Knock it off, Red. You’re my dean, not my commanding officer.”

We heard the sound of pans rattling in the kitchen.

“You have to leave Celeste alone.”

“Or what?”

“Or I will have to report you to the administration and put you on administrative leave.”

His jaw hardened. “Do you really want to lose my support, Red? I could easily throw you to the wolves on this curriculum issue. I can rescind my support. I could vote against Larry’s tenure. You seem to forget I’m a nationally known writer and I can make things very unpleasant for you.”

I couldn’t believe he was threatening me. “What do you want, Max?”

Max’s face fell.

His hands came out of his pockets in a gesture of supplication. “I want you to forgive me, Red. Please.” He took a step toward me. “I want you to forgive me and to forget about my affair with Celeste.”

I had never seen this side of Max. Anger and flirtation, yes, but pleading, panic on his face?

“Can I trust you to leave Celeste alone?” I knew I was giving in.

“Yes, Red. I promise.”

“I’m not sure I can believe you, and I have to protect your other students...”

“Please, Red. Please.” Max’s voice was louder. He put his hands on my shoulders.

“Everything all right in here?” Joe came into the room.

“Max is just leaving,” I said, pulling away from Max’s grasp.

Joe’s eyes flashed but his voice was even. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“Guess what, pal. I don’t give a shit what you think,” Max said. “I only care what this beautiful woman thinks.” Max turned back to me. “Red, sweetheart, remember our friendship, all the times I helped you.”

Over Max’s shoulder I could see Joe’s scowl. Sweetheart? That didn’t help. I had never felt so tired or so unhappy. “Okay, Max. I’ll let it go for now. But if anything more happens...”

“Thank you, Red, Thank you,” said Max, putting his hand back on my shoulders. “I knew I could count on you.”

And then he turned and without a word to Joe, he rushed to the front door. I heard him running down the path to the street.

“You’re not going to report his affair with Celeste, are you?” asked Joe, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

“I guess I just agreed to that.”

“You’ve got feelings for that guy,” said Joe.

“He’s been a good a friend.”

“Red, I’m not just a detective, I’m a very good detective and my instincts tell me you do have feelings for Max Worthington, strong feelings that are interfering with your judgment. C’mon, the man seduced a student and still wants to sleep with her. And yet, here you are telling him you’ll let it go. Forgive and forget. Jesus, Red.”

“He’s been my friend for years. I want to give him a chance to redeem himself.”

“A slap on the wrist may not drive him to redemption.”

“You think I should turn him in?”

“If he were anyone else but Max, I think you would turn him in.”

“You’re angry about this.”

“I’m not crazy about your sympathy for Max. He’s a bad guy, Red. You should be able to see that. You should actually fire him for what he did to Celeste. But you’re not seeing him clearly. You’re protecting him. I hate that.” Joe bunched the towel into a ball and threw it on the floor.

“You’re jealous of Max?”

“Should I be?” Joe’s voice was almost a growl.

Silence and shock. Should he be jealous?

Do I have feelings for Max that I haven’t acknowledged? But, before I could say anything, Joe was in the hall, putting on his coat.

“Damn it, Joe, you have no right to even think what you’re thinking.”

He stared at me. “No right? No right, Red? Now I’m really angry.” His eyes and voice hardened. “Maybe Simon was on to something...”

“No, Joe. No.”

“I think you need some time for yourself to figure what you really want. I know I sure as hell do.”

“Joe, don’t leave.”

The door slammed behind him.

Gone. Really gone. I couldn’t believe the turn this conversation had taken.

I went back into the living room and headed to my desk. Nell’s data was piled beside my computer, but it was impossible to concentrate on it. How was I going to work on my report to Stoddard? I called Joe’s cell but only got his voicemail. Maybe he would come back in an hour or so when he cooled off, when he realized he had been unfair. I had never come close to sleeping with Max. But, to be honest, there were times before Joe came into my life when I was drawn to Max. If Max had been single, I might have done something about those feelings. I realized that when Celeste had described sex with Max, I had felt a twinge of jealousy.

Joe Morgan was shrewd. Had he figured all that out?

I rifled though Nell’s data. I had to write that report or lose my job the next day. But how could I concentrate? I worked a little, called Joe’s cell, worked a little more, called Joe, and finally at midnight had a draft for Stoddard.

I went to bed exhausted. Too tired to weep. Too tired to wonder if I had been right to let Max off the hook about Celeste. But not too tired to know I’d hesitated at the wrong time, I’d denied Joe’s concern and made him doubt me. I’d messed up the best relationship I’d ever had.