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MY AFTERNOON CLASSES went by in a blur. It’s not every day I attempt to extort my administration into giving me tenure. I would never make it as a professional blackmailer.
I came home to find Donnie sitting on my couch, pressing the buttons on my television’s remote control.
“Oh, Molly. There you are. I can’t figure out your system.”
“That remote controls live TV,” I said. “Anything else has to connect from the computer in my office. What are you trying to do, exactly?”
“I thought we could watch a movie tonight.” He stood up, came over to where I had seated myself at the computer and handed me a disk whose label indicated it was the property of the university library.
“You want to watch Henry the Fifth?”
“It’s a classic. I don’t think you and I have ever seen a movie together.”
“You know what? I think you’re right. We haven’t.”
“I know you don’t like movie theaters.”
“I don’t?”
“You said you can’t relax and enjoy yourself because you always imagine there are ukus in the upholstery.”
“No, I said it about airplanes. But now that you mention it, movie theaters probably have lice living inside the seats, too. You’re right. I guess if I had a choice, I’d rather watch a movie in my own house.”
“Good. Let’s do it. I picked up some sushi and wine on the way home.”
“This sounds really nice,” I said suspiciously. “Is this to celebrate Davison’s birthday? Is he going to watch with us?”
Donnie grinned happily, pulled me up from my computer chair and clasped me in a tight hug. “You’re a great mom,” he murmured into my hair, then pulled back to beam at me. “It was so nice of you to pick up a birthday card for him. I asked him if he wanted to do anything special with us, but it looks like he made plans to catch up with some old friends.”
“When is he coming back? Are we going to have to get up and let him in at three in the morning?”
“No.” Donnie smiled proudly. “I made him a copy of my key.”
“Oh good. Davison has a copy of my house key now. So you just came home with a movie to watch?”
“Two. A double feature. I got Becket, too, another classic. Go ahead. Show me how this works so I don’t have to bother you next time.”
He watched me insert the disk into the tray.
“So we have sushi and wine and classic movies, just you and me? It sounds wonderful.”
Too good to be true, even. Most likely the product of a guilty conscience. Well. I could spend the rest of the evening grilling him about his motivation. Or I could put off arguing until later and enjoy the evening.
I had seen Henry the Fifth long ago, the 1944 Technicolor version with Laurence Olivier. What I wasn’t prepared for was how much my attention span had deteriorated in the intervening years. The scenes seemed intolerably long, the dialog wordy, the pace glacial. This was probably the fault of social media. We were all getting so used to tiny morsels of information flying by. I’d have to remember to remind Pat how his new occupation as Mahina State’s Social Media Czar was helping to destroy civilization.
I dozed off a couple of times, lulled as much by the wine as by the film. Every so often, a soft buzzing from Donnie’s side of the couch signaled he, too, had succumbed. Donnie and I both perked up for the famous scene of King Henry in disguise, mingling with his men on the eve of battle.
“This is like the show where bosses go undercover to see what their employees are really like, when they think they’re not being watched,” Donnie said.
“I wonder if you could do that. Probably not. People at the Drive-Inn see you every day.”
“I could put on glasses, like Clark Kent.” Donnie grinned.
“Or you could wear the cockroach costume. Oh, sorry.”
The cockroach costume was gone, along with everything else in Donnie’s house. Now I’d reminded him of the fire. Nice going, Molly.
Donnie chuckled. “Nah. Norris the health inspector would have a heart attack seeing a giant cockroach in the kitchen.”
He placed his arm around me and squeezed. “This is nice. Hey, I forgot to ask. Any news on your tenure thing?”
“Oh, I think things are going to be okay.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
Was it just that morning that I’d been in Marshall Dixon’s office, calmly threatening the reputation of one of Mahina State’s most generous benefactors for the sake of my own job security?
“How about you?” I asked. “Anything going on?”
“No. Oh, there is something. I almost forgot.”
“Yes?”
“Davison finally confirmed his flight for tomorrow morning. I’ll take off from work to drive him. It would be nice if you could come along, too, to see him off.”
“I don’t think I have any meetings until tomorrow afternoon. Okay, I guess I can come with you.”
Conversation having thus petered out, we turned our attention back to the Technicolor Battle of Agincourt.
I was ready to pack it in after Henry the Fifth, but Donnie insisted on watching Becket as well.
“It’s a good example of miscommunication,” Donnie said. “When Henry the Second says, ‘Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest,’ he’s just thinking out loud, ‘I wish I didn’t have to deal with this troublemaker,’ and the four knights take him at his word.”
“I don’t think it’s miscommunication. Isn’t this how businesses get their dirty work done? You don't tell your store managers, force your employees to punch out and make them work extra hours for free. You just give them store targets and let them worry about how to meet them. Or say you have—Victor Santiago.”
“Victor Santiago? Your marketing person?”
“Yes. Marshall thought Primo Nordmann was a troublemaker, with all of his protesting against biotechnology and insulting one of our potential donors on his website. She probably said something to Santiago like, ‘will no one rid me of this turbulent eco-warrior?’ And he went and took care of it for her.”
“You think Santiago is so serious about his job he’d kill someone to make his boss happy?”
“It wasn’t just commitment to his job. He’s infatuated with Marshall Dixon.”
“How do you know?”
“The way he looks at her.”
“The way he looks at her? That doesn’t exactly prove—”
“Santiago is the killer. Let’s call Detective Medeiros.”
Donnie gave me a look.
“Fine. I’ll call Detective Medeiros. Oh, better yet, I’ll email him.”
“Molly, why don’t you sleep on it? I’ve heard you say it’s a good idea to give your unconscious a chance to work things out. Maybe it’s the best thing to do in this case.”
“You’re right.” I scooted closer to Donnie and rested my head on his shoulder. I knew Victor Santiago had a motive, but Donnie had a point. It would be a good idea to wait until I had some actual evidence.