Danci
ng
With
Other
Peopl
e’s
Money
Pr
olo
gu
e
(S
un
da
y)
Priests, who joined
their gods millennia
ago, celebrated a
ritual on a
panorama around
the crucible. Shiny,
black, shaped like a
small serving bowl,
it was protected
from the twenty-first
century by a glass
enclosure.
Jennifer stared at the
broken case that had
held one of the
school’s most prized
possessions. It hadn’
t been touched since
the school was
founded. “My bowl,
Todd! My bowl’s
gone. Look!
Someone stole my
bowl!”
It was so
shiny, she
remembered,
and what
were those
guys doing
on it?
Jennifer arrived
at the Braxton
University library
a few minutes
before Todd.
She was looking
at the new fiction
on the shelves
next to the check
out desk when
Todd came in.
“You
waiting
long?”
He asked
as he put
his free
arm
around
her waist.
“No,
Hot
Toddie,”
she
said
with a
big
smile,
“just
got
here.”
On the stairs
up to the
900’s,
Jennifer said,
“I don’t
understand
why there
isn’t anything
on the
Internet?”
“Fifth century BC
Athenian
economic info is
not the stuff of
action movies. I
mean, who
cares? If we didn’
t have this paper
to do, nobody
would ever read
that stuff,” he
said. She nodded
in agreement.
On the second floor, they walked passed light oak
display cases housing the pride of the history
department. Arrowheads, beaded chest protectors and a
tomahawk were near the books on American history.
The next set of cases held a massive bronze hinge from
an English castle’s drawbridge that shared the bottom
shelf with a dagger and gloves of a long dead nobleman.
His dark velvet cape, although threadbare, hung regally
above it. Against the back wall, at a right angle to these
cases, was the school’s small collection of pottery and
shards from the Ionian peninsula.
Three comfy chairs
complemented a low
round table in front
of the case, an open
skylight was in the
high ceiling above.
No one used this
area and, on warm
sunny days like this,
birds could be heard
through the skylight.
Last Tuesday, a bird flitted in
and quickly felt his
confinement. He darted out
but not before startling them
and losing a few feathers, one
of which floated down onto
Jennifer’s open book—the
source of prolonged laughter.
Then Jennifer’s smile
drooped. “If a feather lands
on your hand, it means that
bad news is coming.”
“Wh
ere
did
you
hear
that?
”
“Oh, I read it
somewhere,
something to do
with magic or
some old New
England
superstition,”
she said.
Their books were on the table.
Todd was sitting on the edge of
his chair looking through his
notes on his lap for the exact
name of the subject they were
here to look up. Jennifer, far back
in her soft chair, glanced at the
display case against the back
wall. Her eyes widened, her
mouth fell open. “My bowl! My
bowl’s gone. Look, Todd,
someone stole my bowl!”
Todd
jumped up
and rushed to
the empty
display case.
Slowly, he
touched the
edge of the
broken glass
front. “What
do we do?”
Jennifer had her hand
on her chest, eyes
wide, not breathing,
then: “Listen, we’ve
got to report this—
now! This is serious!”
She was standing
now, arms akimbo,
shaking her head and
finally seeing all the
little broken glass
shards on the carpet.
“OK,
OK, you’
re right.
Let’s go
tell
someone
at the
desk
downstairs.
”
Chapter 1 Bobby & the LaMonicas (Monday)
I’m working on a floppy disk drive, trying
to get the Post It out of it. Real funny, I’d
sure like to find the idiot who put it in the
library computer. My job’s fixing the
school computers after boneheads screw
them up. You’ve got a problem with
floppy discs? Our new computers have
CD drives but the older ones sill have the
floppys. In most cases, kids are copying
an article, no pictures, just words so it’s
better, and cheaper than burning a disc for
one dumb article, right?
I finished my Sanka and put the cup on my spiral notebooks next to the computer. That means that I’m in class. If I put the
cup on my keyboard, it means that I am doing some computer work somewhere. It’s my way of telling people
where I am. If it’s in the sink it means that I just washed it. It’s not a perfect system, it won’t replace words but,
you have to admit that it’s good. Sanka as a tool of communication, another use for the drink of the gods—and
me.
I checked my
Zolex. Time to
leave for
Criminology, my
favorite class.
Speaking of the
Zolex: 27 bucks
and it’s identical to
a Rolex except for
the Z and the
price.
I left my dorm and headed down the main
walk to Johnson Hall where they have the
sociology and language courses. It’s also
where the snack bar is, in the basement.
The main walkway connects everything, the
classrooms to the dorms and the north
parking lot. We call it the “Kennedy” after
that expressway in Chicago that runs
through everything and connects the
downtown to the airport. It even has a
communter train running down the middle
of it.
Braxton U is in the
middle of Illinois, in
the middle of the
Midwest, which is
in the middle of the
U S in the middle of
the world. We are
probably the center
of the universe, too.
Not much
excitement here, but
we get good corn—
cheap.
Walking across campus is really nice. The leaves are changing. The temperature is not too hot, not too cold. The girls are still wearing their summer
clothes so there are many great sights on the way to class. I live in Foster Hall, the coolest of the four dorms.
I just passed the bell tower. It’s three
stories high and red brick like everything
else around here, with a big clock face on
all four sides. On special days, they have
concerts with the bell tower. You know,
the bells play certain songs, usually old
stuff that I never heard of. Last year, I
was in a class with the girl who played the
bells. She called it Caroline for some
reason or another and said it was a big
privilege to play it and we were fortunate
to have one.
I walked into Johnson Hall
and down the stairs to the
snack shop. Johnson is one
of the four classroom
buildings and the farthest
from the dorms, a two
minute walk for me. I saw
the LaMonica sisters sitting
on the other side of the
room. I just met them this
year and they seemed nice.
I joined them.
Monica was wearing her mandatory
navy pledge blazer and Veronica had on
a bright red sorority sweatshirt. Monica
was pledging Beta Omicron Delta and
Veronica was one of their queen bees.
Their members were known as the “bod
girls.” Interesting that most of them
were lookers. There aren’t that many
frat and sorority events; people join
them for the cool sweatshirts and
something to put after their names in the
yearbook.
“Good
morning
Monica,
good
morning
Veronica.
How are
you today?”
“We’re fine, Bobby, but the important thing is, how are you after last night’s date?” Monica
replied.
“Ya know, I don’t think I’ve got this dating thing down yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, take this last night thing for example. See, they were twins. So I thought that I didn’t want to hurt one of them’s feelings so I thought it was
a normal thing, like you know, I thought everybody did it.”
“Did what?”
“I thought everyone asked them out.”
“Whatever are you talking about?” Monica asked.
“I asked them out. I thought since they were twins, they came as a pair, you know, inseparable? So I thought I was doing what everyone did with
twins and asked them out.
“I wasn’t looking forward to paying for dinner or the movie, but I was really relishing the thought of the making out. I kind of was thinking along
the lines of one of those sultan guys with the harem, you know? Being smothered in kisses by these two girls who shared their looks with each other.”
“What happened?”
“It started off nice enough, they did let me buy them dinner and we did go to the movie, me with a twin on each arm. I thought I had it down. But
they blew me off at the dorm. I got simultaneous hand shakes, one from each.
“So now I know. You’ve got to split them, just as if they were individuals.
“But
they
are
individ
uals,
meath
ead!”
“Ya think?
I said,
believing
that
Veronica
probably
new more
about this
than I.
“Hey,
have
you
started
the
paper
yet?” I
asked
Monica.
“No, have you?”
“Yeah, I
finished it and I
think it came out
OK.” From the
back of my
notebook I
pulled out the
three typed
sheets that were
almost neatly
folded and
delicately
placed them on
the table.
“Wh
at
did
you
write
abou
t?”
“
“Well, it’s
supposed to
be a
description
of something
so I wrote
about the
Cornfest.”
“Really
?
Could
I read
it?”
Monic
a
asked.
“Only
if you
don’t
make
fun of
me. I’
m not
a hot-
shot
jou
rna
list
lik
e
yo
u.”
She
picked
it up
and
recited
from
the
paper:
RobertDiedrich
ENGL
201
Pr
ofe
sso
r
Cle
me
nt
Assignment
2
THE
CORNFEST
I could smell it from my
dorm—sort of cooked
leaves and I don’t know
what else but it sure smells
good. That’s the corn on
the grill I’m talking about.
It’s good—mom’s
cooking good. A half
dozen tent covered
booths sprouted on main
street for the Cornfest,
just like this one in front of
the bank.
If I could bottle
Cornfest
atmosphere, it could
be sent worldwide
as an example of
American Life—
camraderie,
neighbor helping
neighbor, food fresh
from the field, and
hope in ourselves
and the future.
Enou
gh
about
me.
Now
the
town.
Up and down Main Street, people crowded the booths,
mostly men and students, all bending over trying not to get
butter on their shirts, moms carrying kids jackets flowed
toward the park and the beanbag toss, I could hear the
Hastings high school band behind Mercle’s Drugs, some
of Hastings’ finest were attempting to clear a path down
main street accompanied by joking and greeting friends
and storekeepers. Lawn chairs were laying on the
sidewalk staking out individual watching spots for the
parade. The chairs were there since yesterday—no one
would think of taking the chair or the space.
A lot of students and kids
wore costumes. I don’t
want to say that they’re
corny but… Some moms
had pilgrim hats picked up
at Mercle’s—a dollar fifty,
they’re paper and looked
just like the hat a pilgrim
woman would wear except
for the Mercle’s, your
source for Good Stuff
Cheap printed on the brim.
Fortunately, the weather was doing its part to make
Cornfest better than last year when the wind blew over
all the booths and scattered corn under the parked cars.
The gust lasted for only half a minute but the whole
festival was knocked down. The corn was alledgedly
washed and put back up for sale. Everyone knew that
they all weren’t washed so the “broasted corn” sales fell
to zero. I got some damaged corn free. The wind also
hurt the arts and crafts people so this year most paintings
were flat on tables in the tents and not on easels as they
were last year. Next year, back to easels?
The people with the saved spots on the
sidewalk will have a good view of the
parade when everyone gets off the street.
The firetruck was there in front of the three
police cars. I can’t see the ambulance but I’
m sure it’s somewhere. Rumor on the street
is that the Braxton Library bought four new
books on corn for the celebration and has
them on display at the check out counter.
No, you can’t take them out—yet. Is there
no end to this extravagant school spending?
Now the camera pulls slowly back into the sky
showing Hastings’ main street with its shops,
then the other town streets with their one storey
red brick houses. Continuing to rise, I can see
the farm lands that brush up against the back
yards of the nicely kept houses, once all green
now brown stalks dominate as far as the eye can
see, and it can see far. I see Braxton U, on the
south edge of town, with its pond and parking
lots dominating the scene. Part of the dorms and
the bell tower are covered by the trees.
The camera spirals
higher in the clear
blue exposing miles
of harvest criss-
crossed with black
topped ribbons. A
lone yellow car
wanders north
toward and a beer
truck heads into
town. I lied, it’s a
bread truck.
The buzz that you hear is
the plane’s engine, the
plane that I’m riding in
over this Midwestern
town, this town with the
school attached: or is it
the other way around?
The town is a part of the
university, the university
is the heart and the town
is the muscle, the lungs?
I don’t know.
When I first arrived last
year, all this was new,
the stores, the
restaurants, the school
itself, but now, it’s an
old hat, a comfortable
place where I don’t only
live, but rule. And I got
a free plane ride today.
Thank you Braxton
Uinversity Computer
Club for letting me take
the pictures today.
“The end,”
Monica
said. She
put down
the paper.
“I’m
impressed,
Bobby, I
could really
see the
town.”
“I
agree,
”
Veron
ica
said,
“I felt
like I
was
there.”
I
said “thank
you” as
humbly as I
could, but it
was hard
because I
did think it
was a good
paper.
“Well, It’s not due till next week,” she mumbled, “so I’ll start on it on the weekend. “Life’s so
boring that working on the paper will probably be the most exciting thing happening.”
Little did she know.
Chapter 2 Zygoti and the problem
“What’s this
about a missing
something from
the library?” I
asked Fay as I
took off my
coat and saw
the small pink
note on my
desk.
Fay continued
putting final exams into a
gray filing cabinet and
said without looking up,
“Good morning,
Professor. One of the
security guys asked me if
this was Professor
Zygoti’s office. I said
yes and he said I should
give that note to you as
soon as you come in.”
Fay is my girl
Friday, if I can use
that expression. She
does everything for
me. Sometimes she’
s a little, how could I
say it, unfocused?
But I like her a lot
because she tries to
do her best and
always thinks of my
needs first.
“This
looks like it could
be something big,”
I mumbled under
my breath as I
pulled out the thin
writing board that
was on top of my
desk drawers. It
had the school
phone directory
taped to its top
surface.
“Myrna,
this is Zygoti.
What’s up? I
hear you lost
something.” I
said when the
assistant
librarian picked
up.
“A
bowl?
Why not
go down
to the caf
and get
another.
The
breakfast
rush is
over.
“Oh, a
special
bowl.
Am I in
trouble
for
making
light of
it? Are
we still
pals?”
“All
right,
we’ll
get
right
on it.
Goo
dbye.
”
She told me
that the bowl was
one of the most
important pieces in
the school’s small
collection of
antiquities. Myrna
also said that it was
loved not only
because of its age
but also because of
its beauty—small
and precious.
I sat back in my leather swivel
chair and surveyed the wall of
books that stood in front of me.
I looked to the right through the
leaded glass window that faced
Mittler Auditorium, and saw the
yellow leaves fluttering on the
big Linden. A book hit the
floor and I turned to my left and
saw Fay at her desk in the
adjoining room shuffling papers
and mumbling.
“What’
s up?”
I
asked.
“I’ve got
class and I can’t
find my French
notes. I’ve got the
402 notes but
where are the
312’s?” She
mumbled more to
herself than to me
as she moved her
hand around
inside her big
carry-all bag.
I spun back and looked at my shelves behind my desk, my classy walnut
stained shelves. I keep my stuff there, things that I like to look at, art if you
will. An MG TC model car is on the shelf at desk height along with a model of
a red 1948 Indian Chief motorcycle. Next to it are a skull, a squid suspended
in a bottle of clear liquid and a compressor from an under-the-counter
refrigerator. The shelf above it has several computer manuals, a ten inch piece
of galvanized pipe, threaded on both ends, and a cottage cheese container half-
filled with different size screws and nuts. Next to that is a tarnished bugle and a
nine volt power supply for a computer printer or CD player or some such
gadget, I don’t remember which. An old British SU carburetor and a stack of
CDs—Gypsy Kings, Ravel, Muddy Waters, stuff like that—sit on the window
sill.
I really like this
place, it’s beautiful, not
like Paris, but in an
unassuming Midwestern
way. People give you
straight answers here.
Lock you car, don’t
lock your car—it makes
no difference, these are
honest people who live
on campus and the
nearby town, Hastings.
What to
do, what to do? I
scratched my chin
while thinking of
the direction that I
should take. I
heard Fay putting
on her coat and
gathering her
things, getting
ready for class.
She must have
found her notes.
I should talk to
Larry, see what he
knows. Lawrence
Schwartz is the Dean
of Students and a
person in the loop.
Either he made the
decisions for the school
or was consulted
before the decisions
were made. I was
lucky to have him a fan
as of mine.
“Larr
y, it’
s
Zygo
ti.
How
are
you?
“Good.
What
can you
tell me
about
the theft
in the
library?”
We talked for several minutes. He told
me that it was a very delicate situation. The theft
might dissuade donors from contributing to the
school’s collections because of the “appearance”
of lax security. Also, there were political
overtones. Several administrators’ contracts
were coming up for renewal shortly and this may
affect some careers, what with all of the politics
going on in the ivory towers. Homecoming was
only a few weeks away and it would be bad PR
if something as important as the bowl were not
on display at that time.
It looks like
the ball is in
my hand. I
must make
things right,
and if it takes
more than
two weeks,
some people
are going to
look mighty
bad, maybe
even me.
Chapter 3 The Group (Monday)
As soon as Fay
came back
from class I,
asked her to
type up
invitations and
hand deliver
them to some
of my students.
By three o’
clock, all eight
had received
the note.
The note said that we
were to meet at a quarter
to four in room G-03 for
complimentary snacks
and beverages and to
discuss
on-the-job-training.
G-03 was in the
basement of Griffin Hall,
the science building.
They all arrived
before the
appointed time
and were sitting
there waiting for
me. I said,
“Please help
yourselves to the
snacks and there
are cups over
there on that
table for the
drinks.”
The two girls got
up to get cups
and the boys
ripped open the
bags of chips.
The chips were
the individual size
bags and were
on a regulation
Formica
cafeteria table.
So I said, “I
suppose you’re
wondering why I
called you all
together today.” I
was standing at the
head of the table.”
Everyone nodded.
“OK, something
has happened
here, here at
Braxton.
“All of you are now taking or
have had a criminology course
with me. I chose each of you for
several reasons. One of them
was that you are all interested in
a career in law or law
enforcement. Another is that
you’re all smart. And what I
consider the most important
reason: I think that you’ll be able
to work together. You will be a
team.” They all smiled self-
consciously.
“This task will take away from your study time and your
social lives. I don’t know how long this will take but I
need a commitment from you. This is a criminal
investigation and it will be a paid job, $8 per hour, just like
working in the cafeteria. You will be paid for twenty hours
a week, the maximum that the school allows a full time
student to work. Most weeks, you will be working more
than that. Please don’t consider this investigation for the
money. I put in for a budget to pay you so you won’t have
other jobs competing for your time. This will be good
practical experience for you. You will be doing the same
work a detective would do on a case.
“I’m going to
leave to make a
phone call for a
minute. While I’m
gone, think about
what I said.
When I get back,
I’ll answer any
questions you
have and then if
you want to do
this job, you’ll sign
an agreement.” I
left.
They all
stopped talking
when they saw
me reenter the
room. “OK, I’
m ready. Any
questions.
Yes? Ms.
LaMonica.”
“Yes, I’d
like to
know if
we would
be
working
regular
hours
every
day?”
“No, we’ll work
when we need to.
If you have a test or
a paper due, you
can be excused.
But, don’t forget to
tell me first. You
see, we’ll be a team
and every one
should be able to
count on everyone
else. Yes? Mr.
Diedrich.”
“What
are we
going
to
investiga
te?
What’s
the
job?”
“It’s a burglary of
school property. I can’
t say anymore until we
have all of the
questions answered
and those of you who
want to do this have
signed up. I don’t
believe that the person
who did this is violent
so I’m not expecting
this to be dangerous.”
“I’m working at
the post office
now.” Ralphy
Diedrich
continued, “Can I
continue working
there while
working on this
investigation?”
“I’m sorry, but you’ll
have to quit that job
in order to work with
us. This investigation
will take
considerable time
and effort so if you
have any other
activities that you’re
involved with, I
suggest that you put
them on hold during
the investigation.”
OK?
Next
questi
on.
Mr.
Drisc
oll?”
“Are we going
to work five
hours a day or
ten hours a
day? Will we
work on
weekends?
And, will we
have to get up
early?”
“The answer to all those questions is
yes. I don’t know what is going to
happen. Sometimes we will be waiting
for something—lab results, something
in the mail, someone getting back to us
with some information. Then
everybody does their regular work.
And then sometimes we are all needed
right now. We work when we need
to, just like the police. Only with us,
we will only have this one
investigation. Yes? Mr. Schultz.”
“I was
wondering.
What if you don’t
feel comfortable
doing this? I
mean I know it
could be good
experience but I’
ve got other
things to do also.
Like my studies
and I go home
every weekend.”
“If you don’t
feel
comfortable
doing this then
that’s OK.
We only want
you on the
team if you
want to be on
the team.
“Any other
questions? All
right then.
Who would
like to give this
a try? Who
would like to
be on our
team? Raise
your hands
please.”
Two boys got up and left.
The rest raised their hands
looking around with smiles on
their faces. I passed around
an employment
application/waiver of lien
form which they all began
studiously filling out,
consulting wallets and purses
for personal information that
was not committed to
memory.
Five minutes later everyone was finished
and looking at me for directions. I
collected the forms and said, “This is
about the theft in the library last
Sunday. Has anyone heard about it?”
They all raised their hands. “OK, we
will discuss that in a minute, but first I
would like you to introduce yourselves
to your team members. Tell us your
name and what you think that you will
get out of this investigation. Who wants
to go first? Yes, Mr. Diedrich?”
“First, call me
Ralphy,
everybody
does.” He
was chewing
gum while he
talked.
“I think that I’ll see if
this is the type of work
that I want to do. I
mean I think it is but
maybe it isn’t like what
I am expecting. It
would be bad if I spent
four years here and a
lot of money and found
out that this is not the
job for me. So I want
to see what law
enforcement officers
really do.”
“That’s
good,
Ralphy.
Who’s
next?
Miss
LaMonica,
Veronica?”
“Well, I’m Veronica. I’m
a junior and this is my sister
Monica. She’s only a
sophomore. We talked it
over and we want to do
this to meet people, and to
learn more about the
school, the different offices
and the secret nooks and
crannies. And,” she said
as an afterthought, “to learn
more about criminology.”
“Go
od.
Bob
by,
Mr.
Mall
oy?”
“I’d like to know
more about the
technical aspects of
investigating. You
know, the finding of
evidence and testing
it in the lab. Will
we do that
Professor Z?”
“I don’t know. Most detectives in most
cases don’t have the luxury of using a lab.
Because of budgets and backlogs, even if
the lab is in a detective’s district, the
chances are not good that the lab can be
used for everyday cases. If we’re lucky we’
ll be able to use the lab. We will be the
only people looking at this crime scene for
evidence. This isn’t like television where a
dozen people in lab coats are seriously
examining everything at the crime scene.”
“And I
guess I’ll
have to
quit my
job at the
library. I
fix the
computers
there.”
Bobby
said.
“Yes,” I
replied,
“but only
temporarily.
This should
be finished
up in a
couple of
weeks.”
“Bef
ore
Ho
mec
omi
ng?
“I sure
hope
so.” I
said.
“Yes,
Veronica
, a
question?
”
“Yes, why
aren’t the
police
doing
this?
Aren’t we
covering
up a
crime?”
“No, were not
covering up a
crime. The police
have been notified
of the theft as has
the insurance
company. This is
a valuable object
that has been
taken and it is
insured.
“After a meeting of ‘The Powers that Be,’ it
was decided that this issue could be resolved
with the least amount of disruptions if it were
done in house, so to speak. A police report
has been filed but since Hastings is a small
town and doesn’t have much crime, they use
the county for detective work. The county
spends most of its time on violent crime and
would not give this case a high priority. So,
this crime will be exclusively investigated by the
insurance company, Mutual Assurance of
Wisconsin.
“I worked at
MAW, that’s what
we called it,
‘Maw,’ several
years ago as an
investigator so
they know me.
They hired me to
investigate this
incident.”
“Question!”
“Yes,
Ralphy.”
“Well, why the eight
dollars? I mean, if
the insurance
company is paying
you, they aren’t
paying eight dollars
an hour. That’s a
big company with
lots of bucks. Aren’
t we poor students
getting short-
changed by the
man?”
“Normally, I
would do this
alone. You have
been brought into
this for experience
in an actual
investigation. This
will be beneficial
to you and will be
good on your
resumes.
“There are several of you, each on the
payroll, and there are expenses; this
adds up. These expenses aren’t only for
things like fingerprint powder, but they
are for more practical items like copying
and transportation. If we have to
investigate off-campus, the costs mount
very quickly. For example, if we had to
travel to Springfield to look at
documents or interview someone, it
would cost us about $300 a day for
each person there.
“And food, we
usually will meet
at a restaurant so
we can be
spending $70
dollars for just a
half hour meeting
that we’ll be
doing almost
everyday. That is
one of the perks
of the job—free
food.
“This whole cost
issue is something
that you will have to
understand if you are
self-employed or
working for a
company. You’ll
always have a
budget for your
investigation,
expenses that
someone must pay.
“Any more
questions?
OK, after I
leave here, I’
m going to
work out a
plan and
things for
you to do.
“I’ll see you all at the Bar Bar at
seven tonight. Oh yeah, another
thing, I’m going to write a letter
that says that you’re working for
me. You can use it to show
people that you have a right to
inquire about this theft. I should
have it ready for pick up
tomorrow morning. So come in
and pick them up from Fay at
my office.” If they don’t know
Fay already, they’ll meet her
tomorrow.
The meeting at the Bar Bar was short—just to give everyone their assignments.
I thought over what the kids did best. Ralphy was the most outgoing and oldest so he’
ll be our interviewer. Bobby was a technogeek, he loved computers and repairing
anything. He’ll be our technical consultant, and the LaMonicas will be our researchers,
digging around for anything that relates to the case. I told Bobby to go as soon as the
library opened tomorrow and check the crime scene for any evidence. I wasn’t
expecting much since the bowl was probably taken several days ago and dozens of
students have been in that area since. I told them that we would meet tomorrow for
lunch at the Bar Bar and discuss what we had found. They left with Bobby telling the
LaMonicas how he was going to impress everyone on campus with his cool new job.
Did he really know what he was expected to do?
Chapter 4 Bobby
I watched
the sun go
down
while
having my
twentieth
Sanka.
These Illinois sunsets are not
like California or New England
where the sun comes up or
goes down into the sea. A
Midwestern sunset usually
doesn’t include water—salt or
fresh. Sure, there’s Lake
Michigan. If you’re some kind
of wealthy dude, you could live
next to it and see the sun come
up from the water. But that’s
not the normal thing.
Day begins with the
light seeping into the
sky. At Braxton U,
the sun is first seen on
the roof of Bellerman
Hall, at least from my
room it is. A slight
illumination (good
word eh?) and then
this ball of light creeps
over the roof’s ridge
and into view of all in
Foster Hall.
Sunset uses the trees beyond the pond. It
aims for the tree tops along side the
highway which is the western border of the
campus and then filters through these trees
dimming the whole campus and then, when
it is totally under the treetops, we get some
color, red, bright red usually, unless it’s
Friday. Why is that? I don’t know. Am I
a chemistry major or something? Wait, I
should know that. I should know
everything. After all, I am almost a
Criminal Lab Technician!
Chapter 5 Bar Bar (Tuesday)
“Hi guys,
what’s going on?”
Ralphy Diedrich said
as he pulled up a
chair. ”Can I have
some, Professor?”
he said to me as he
put one of the tortilla
chips into the melted
cheese dip before I
could answer. He
was the last one to
arrive.
“Bobby was
just telling us
what he
found at the
library.
Please go
on, Bobby.”
I said.
“There really wasn’t
much to see. I dusted for
prints and found smudges. It
wasn’t that the guy was
being careful or anything. It
was that so many people
touched the glass that there
was nothing useful on it.”
Bobby grabbed a handful of
chips and stuffed them into
his mouth as soon as he
finished speaking.
“Did you
dust the inside of
the glass? You
know, behind the
broken piece. He
might have touched
there and it would
only be the thief’s
prints because the
back of the glass is
not available to the
public,” I said.
“I
checked that,
too, and came
up negative.
There really
wasn’t anything
there except the
broken case and
the missing
bowl. We’ve
got nothing to
work with
here.” Bobby
added.
“What
about
fiber
eviden
ce?” I
asked.
“I vacuumed
in front of the case
and there was so
much there because
it was a public area
that I couldn’t tell
what was left by our
villain. I also
checked inside the
case and there was
nothing. So I drew a
blank on that.
Sorry.”
“It’s not
your
fault.
You did
good.” I
said,
trying to
cheer
him up.
“Do you think
anything else was
taken?” Veronica said.
“Maybe some other
items were taken but
nothing was broken, you
know? Maybe they got
into other cases and didn’
t have to break them.
Maybe they took some
books.” Monica nodded
in agreement.
“Go
od
point
,
Ver
onic
a.” I
said.
“The
library had one
of their guys go
through and
check
everything out
and they found
nothing else
was missing.”
Bobby said.
“One of their
guys?” Ralphy
said disgustedly,
“Their guys are
freshman jocks.
They couldn’t
find a bull in a
bathroom with a
searchlight.”
“Sear
chligh
t?”
Bobb
ie
aske
d.
“You
get
my
drift.
”
Ralp
hy
repli
ed.
I thought for a
minute. “After we break
up, Ralphy, go to the
librarian, either Ms. Beems
or Ms. March, and ask to
have one of the permanent
staff, not a student, go with
you through the collections
and make sure that
everything is OK. Better
yet, have the person in
charge of the collections go
with you.
“Monica,
you and Veronica
go to the library
and get the names
of those who were
working on
Sunday. You’ll
have to interview
them. Ask them if
they noticed anyone
suspicious or
anyone who acted
strange.
“OK,”
Monica
replied.
“Did
everybody
pick up
their ‘letter
of transit’
from the
office?”
They all
nodded.
“OK, next
thing is the phones.” I
gave each of them a
cell phone and
charger. “These will
help us keep in touch.
Always have this with
you and keep it
turned on. I don’t
want to hear anyone
say, ‘Oh, if only I had
my phone.’” They
nodded.
“Please notice the speed dial feature.
Number 7 is setup for a conference call. After
you press the speed dial button and 7, it dials
all of our phones. So, if I hit 7, it dials Bobby,
Monica, Ralphy, and Veronica. Then I can
talk to all of you at once. Another use is if
someone is in danger. The chances that all of
us would be unavailable at the same time
would be pretty slim so someone should pick
up. Put it on the charger when you go to bed.
But be sure to always take it with you and
always keep it on.
“Any
questions?”
They all shook
their heads no.
“All right.
Ralphy, get
back to me after
you’re done at
the library. The
rest of you, I’ll
see tomorrow.”
They filed out playing with their new toy and left me
alone with the bill for their mid-morning snack The bill
wasn’t too much and even if it was, it’s being paid for by
MAW. I put MAW money on top of it and walked toward
our waitress. The bill felt funny, it was like two sheets
thick. I turned it over and saw the yellow post-it that was
stuck on the back. There was a small drawing of a dagger
with drops of blood dripping from it. It was done in red ink
and looked like it was hastily done, not an art major I’m
sure. Who could have put it here, and why? What did this
mean for our group? Should I tell them? I pondered this
question as I marched back to my office in Fogal Hall.
“Security was lax on the
bowl since it was in that
same place for such a
long time and nothing
happened.” Ralphy said.
I was just about to leave
the office for dinner when
he popped in. He was
standing in front of my
desk “The person in
charge of the collections is
Wydra Beems.”
Wydra Beems, everybody
knows Wydra Beems, I
mused. She’s been around
the school since before
Arizona was a state, first as a
student, then as an
administrator, as library staff,
and finally as head librarian.
She is wiry and fast for a
person who dated Hoover—
the president or the Director,
nobody knew for sure which
one.
“Anyhow,” Ralphy continued, “the archive’s in the basement of the library and
that’s where the majority of Braxton’s collections are. It’s one of those places
that most people don’t know about. She said that the school has over 1,300
pieces in its permanent collection and it’s her job to keep track of it all. They
are loaned to other schools and museums or are studied by students here in
history, archeology, or sociology classes. Either the students come to the
archives, which she told me she hates, or the object is signed out by the teacher
and brought to the class, which she also hates.” Ralphy said while fidgeting with
the small carburetor that adorns my desk. “And another thing, 1,300 objects?
What, historic corn? ‘And here is corn grown by Lincoln’s brother for the
inauguration.’” Ralphy said in a basso profundo voice.
I nodded in
agreement.
Thirteen hundred
what in our library
basement? “Well,
what about the day
in question? Was
she there?” I
asked returning to
our main topic.
“It was a Sunday so she wasn’t
there. She wasn’t there on
Saturday either. She was there on
Friday but she said she doesn’t
remember the last time that she
saw the bowl. She said she rarely
goes up there because her office is
on the first floor. She also works a
lot in the basement— she calls it
‘the archives.’” He made quotation
marks with his fingers. “It’s still
the basement to me.”
“When you get
your advanced
degree, it’ll be
the archives to
you too.” I
said. “So, when
was it taken? It
could have been
taken a week
ago, two weeks
ago. How do
we know?”
“We know that it
wasn’t taken before
Wednesday night
because that’s when
the cleaning people
came. They would
have noticed the
broken glass and
mentioned it to
someone.”
“Yeah, that
sounds
reasonable.” I
said, “but let’s
check with
them to make
sure. I’ll call
them
tomorrow.”
I got up and followed Bobby out
the door, locking it behind me. I
walked to the lot and got in my
car. It started without a fuss. It’s
been doing that lately. It is an XJS
Jaguar that I love even though its
reliability wears my nerves thin. I’
ve replaced everything that could
prevent the car from starting with
good old American parts (made in
China or Brazil) so it should run
like a new car—but it rarely does.
My place is in town,
Hastings, a few minutes
from the campus. In the
mornings I pick up hordes
of students who are trying
to get a ride to school. On
the five minute ride home, I
try to get the fine arts music
station from Chicago.
Tonight, all I got was
static. Does this mean
solar flares? Will my
satellite TV be down?
I parked in the garage next to my apartment and
walked to the front of the building, up the squeaky
stairs to the second floor. I unlocked the door, hit the
lights in the living room and set the mail on the coffee
table. I went through the dining room down the
hallway to the kitchen and into my big bedroom. I
threw my coat on the bed and went back to the
kitchen to listen to my messages—nothing. Tonight,
supper will be penne with tomato and basil and a
salad. The pasta and sauce come in a box, frozen and
the salad, well, I make that. Sounds healthy but I’ll
make up for it tomorrow.
What should I do about that note? I took it out
of my pocket, where I stuffed it in the
restaurant. Looking back, I should have
preserved it like a piece of evidence which it
very well might be. The drawing was on a
yellow post-it, the most common size, about
three by three. The lines were drawn too long
or too short, not connecting. The drops of blood
(what else could it be) were all of different size
and they weren’t falling straight down from the
blade. Either the artist was not very good or he
was hurried in his drawing—maybe both.
Should I tell my student
investigators about
this? Would this scare
them? If I didn’t tell
them, would that be
dishonest of me,
keeping from them an
important fact of the
case or possibly, a
potential for harm to
them? What is best for
the investigation? What
is best for them?
Chapter 6 The Bowl’s Begining
Homecoming is
something I always
dread. You know, it’
s like New Year’s
Eve. You must have a
date. And that ain’t
easy what with my
classes and working
with Professor Z. I
set my cup of Sanka
on the table.
I sort of asked the
LaMonicas but
they both politely
said, “Bobby, we
don’t want anything
to spoil the
friendship that we
share.” I mean,
what are friends for
if you can’t use
them, right?
Especially in a
social situation like
this.
I tried the twins,
each as an individual
this time, and they
didn’t mention
friendship. They,
like in the public
service
announcement
against drugs, “just
said no.”
I’ve had my eye out for Mary Alice. She’s in my English class and she is prime. So I talked
to Ralphy because he knows her a little. I said, “Ralphie, go find out if she has a date for
homecoming. Kind of sneak it in so she won’t know that you’re spying for me, OK?” And
he says, “Yeah, sure.” So he takes my cell phone right there and dials her up. Then he does
some small talk like, “How are you?” and, “How are classes?” Then he says, “Do you have
a date for homecoming?” and I can’t hear her answer. Then he nods his head and says,
“Sure, OK. Bobby wants to talk to you.” Then he hands the phone to me and says, “She
already has a date. Here, talk to her.” And he hands the phone to me. And I freeze up.
Ralphy walks out of the room as if nothing happened and I just look at the phone, my palms
wet. I looked at it and didn’t know what to say so I clicked it off and fell into a chair.
Needless to say, I cut English all that week. I’m still afraid to look at her, the beautiful Mary
Alice.
So, homecoming
will be pretty
bleak for me,
unless… Is there
some place
where I could
rent a girl—rent a
date? Is that
against the law? I
should check into
that.
Anyway, Professor Lloyd Fisker-Muesson laid a
bomb on all of the Braxton community including the
High-and-Mighty Administrators with his appraisal of
our stolen bowl. He was here because of the
insurance claim. The insurance company, Mutual
Assurance of Wisconsin, had him fly out to give a
current appraisal of the stolen bowl. After viewing pix
of the bowl, he said that it isn’t from the Greek
mainland but from one of the islands, Thera to be
exact. Couldn’t he have done this from the comfort of
his fax and computer? I don’t understand the ways
of big business.
It was a big shock to
everyone since Professor
Blake was such a hot-shot
and this goes against his
original findings. Does this
mean that he bought it instead
of digging it out of the
ground? Does this mean that
there’s going to be a scandal?
Good thing he’s not here any
more. He’s probably a
hundred by now.
The History and Archeology
departments have called a big
meeting to decide what to do—
to proclaim the bowl Aegean
or something else, maybe
something rarer and more
valuable. I know if the legal
and accounting departments
were invited, they for sure
would vote for more valuable.
It might help enrollment—or
endowments.
In spite of this
shocking news, he—
Professor Fisker-
Muesson—was still
escorted around
campus with an
entourage of half a
dozen of the power
people, fawning over
him as if he were all
the Rolling Stones
rolled into one super
Stone.
I’m really hopping
today, along with the
LaMonicas.
Professor Z has us
scouring the net for
anything about Thera
and its pottery. My
classes and this
investigation are
cutting into the time
that I should use for
getting a homecoming
date.
So far, we’ve checked the library and found that Thera is a small island in a
group of islands off of the Greek coast. Because of a volcanic eruption around
1500BC, it was inhabited by only a handful of hardy folks. It is now called the
island of Santorini, and is very “in” with its trendy bars and beautifully colored
volcanic cliffs overlooking the Aegean. The reason that Thera is being
mentioned at all is because it is the perfect candidate for the lost island of
Atlantis. And while we’re speaking of Atlantis, word on the street is that it
never existed and was make up as an example of a perfect nation with perfect
governance by, your friend and mine, Plato. Atlantis was supposedly located
at the “Pillars of Hercules” which, as we all know, either means the pillars that
hold up the heavens or the Straits of Gibraltar, depending on who you ask.
So, you could
say that our
little bowl is
not what we
thought it to be
but an artifact
from—you
guessed it—the
mythical island
of Atlantis. Is
that cool or
what?
The good professor
based his findings on
the clothing, or lack
of, on the figures
decorating the bowl.
He also said that it
was common in Thera
to only decorate the
outside of the bowl
since their pottery
was not for
decoration but for
daily use.
I told all
this stuff
to
Professor
Z last
night.
That was
when we
were still
friends.
Chapter 7 Zygoti Discusses Strategy
I had never been at Bobby’s place before. He asked me to come over because, “all the gang would be there.” I
left my office, walked down the two flights of stairs and out onto the walkway in front of Fogel Hall. Although it
was already dark, the temperature wasn’t bad. I felt warm in my dark green trench coat with its fuzzy liner. The
trip to his place wasn’t far. I went down the Kennedy and turned left toward the dorms. His was the closest
building. All the dorms are red brick, three stories high, with a gabled roof. The white trimmed entrance has a flat
roof supported by two columns which minimally protects those saying a long goodnight from the Midwestern
elements—the standard Midwestern college building. I opened one of the double doors, walked past the
mailboxes, and up the stairs to the third floor. His room was in the back facing the quad, a small common area
between the four dorms. All of the back rooms had balconies. In the warm months this was luxury living. After a
lengthy internal discussion, I decided not to tell them about the note with the dagger. It might have been a joke in
poor taste. Or if not that, it could give them a feeling of danger where, I believe, it doesn’t exist. I hope that this
decision is not proven wrong.
“Professor Z, welcome to my humble abode,” Bobby said while bowing
and stepping aside so I could come into the living room. His place wasn’t
really a room, it was more a suite. There was a living room with a counter
and sink in one corner and bedrooms on the left and right sides of the
room. Eight people shared one of these suites, two in each bedroom. It
looked liked someone’s mother was about to arrive, the place was
immaculate—for boys—no litter on the floor, no dishes in the sink, and it
didn’t smell bad. I guess Bobby spent his afternoon cleaning up the
place. “It looks great, Bobby, and you really keep it clean.” I said as I
patted him on the back. He hemmed and hawed for a moment and then
said, “Well, I did pick up some stuff around here today, but thanks
Professor.”
The artwork was limited to posters of rock and
roll legends: Jimi Hendrix, The Doors, and the Beach
Boys (The Beach Boys?). All of the other furnishings
were supplied by the school, the three chairs (wooden
arms and green upholstered seats) and the sofa
(wooden arms and green upholstered seats) and the
two end tables with lamps (yes, a green shade) and the
coffee table. What color was the rug you ask? It was
green, like the rest, forest green. It didn’t look bad, it
looked cheap but it didn’t look bad. The perfect
furnishings for an educational setting. I could get smart
here.
The
LaMonicas and
Ralphy were
there, snacking
on chips and
cokes. I’m sure
if I wasn’t invited
they’d all be
having beers.
“First, I talked to the cleaning
people,” I said to my cast of
assembled investigators-in-
training. “They said that they
didn’t see any glass when they
cleaned on Wednesday night
so it was taken after they
cleaned and before our
students found it missing on
Sunday. That’s as close as
we can be to the time it was
taken.
“How are we
going to find this
guy? Why did
he do this? Is
he going to
fence this art
object or will he
keep it for his
own reasons?”
I asked.
Monica raised
her hand and
said, “I think he’
s evil and did
this to cause
trouble for the
school,
Professor Z.”
“What
makes
you
think
that,
Monica
?” I
said.
“Because you
can’t sell it. It’s
too rare to sell.
Anyone who
would buy
something like
that would know
that it was stolen
from here. So all
he could
accomplish is to
make the school
look bad.”
“Does
that mean
that we
can
expect
other
thefts to
occur?”
I asked.
“Yeah, I would say
that’s a reasonable
conclusion.” Ralphy
said. “We should
warn people.” He
was wearing a frown
most frequently seen
on Sherlock Holmes in
the middle of a case.
I wrote
on my
legal size
note pad
evil, and
on the
next line,
will
happen
again.
“I think
what
Monica
was
hinting at
was…
What,
Bobby?”
“Motive.”
“That’s right.
Motive. When
we find out the
why, then we
can make up a
list of who—
suspects, the
people who
would gain
from the crime.
“Besides
trying to
make the
school look
bad, what
are some
other reasons
for the theft?
Yes, Bobby?”
“A crazy
collector
who
must
have this
bowl for
his
collection.
”
“Money.”
Ralphy
said.
“Good. Any
other reasons,
Guys, Ladies?”
I asked. “What
about some off-
the-wall
reasons?
Maybe this guy
is a kook, some
nut case, or just
some strange
bird.”
“How
about
patriotis
m?”
Veronic
a
asked.
“What
do
you
mean,
V?”
Ralphy
asked.
“Maybe
this guy’
s
ancestors
come
from
that
island…”
“Th
era
?”
Bo
bby
said
.
“Yeah,
and he
feels that
we have
stolen it
from his
people.”
Veronica
said.
“Or maybe,”
Ralphy said,
“this guy just
did it for the
thrill. You
know, the guy’
s really dull
and he thinks
that this will
make him a
man.”
“Or,” Monica
said, “maybe
he did it for
the media.
Something he
did is talked
about in the
news.”
“This doesn’
t have to be
a guy who
did this, a
woman
could have
done it.”
Veronica
said.
“That’s right, it
could have been
a woman.
Anything else?
Anything else to
add?” I said as I
finished writing
down their
suggestions.
“Usually the
motive is
money. That’
s the reason
for most
theft.” I
said. “Why
wouldn’t it be
the reason for
this crime?”
“I think that it
would be too
hard to sell—
too easy to
track.” Ralphy
said. I mean
there are other
things around
campus that
could easily be
taken and
easily sold.”
Ralphy said.
“Lik
e
what
?”
Bob
by
aske
d.
“Well,
like
compute
rs for
instance.
”
Ralphy
said.
“Yeah but
they’re
big, bulky,
not easy
to sneak
around.”
Bobby
said.
“OK then laptops.”
Ralphy countered.
“There’re worth more
and easier to hide.
Maybe software disks or
papers in the offices or
maybe there’s cash in
some buildings, like the
cafeteria and the Bursar’s
Office. And the
bookstore, there’s no
security there, you could
take anything.”
“You’
re
probabl
y right,
Ralphy.
”
Bobby
said.
“How can we
find out what the true
motive is of this
guy?” I asked the
room. “What
information do we need
and where can we get
it? You know that if we
have the motive nailed
down then we’ll be
able to name some
suspects and get this
show on the road.”
“But, until we
have the
name,”
Ralphy
added, “let
us to refer to
the thief as
The Evil
One.”
“I
like
that
.”
Bo
bby
said
.
“
Me
too.”
Said
Ralph
y.
Veronica said,
“Wait, why do
you always
say it’s a guy?
Women
commit crimes
too!”
“That’s right
Veronica, but the
greatest majority of
crimes are
committed by men.”
I said. “Men are
more violent,
aggressive, and just
more
psychologically
suited to crime.
“Have we
covered all
the bases?
Are there
any reasons
for the theft
that we
haven’t
listed?”
“What
about hate?”
Ralphy said. “You
know, someone
hates Thera or
Greece or
somewhere and
believes that by
stealing the bowl it
will make things
better. Could that
work?”
“Or, what
about religion.
Someone thinks
that we are
desecrating the
bowl by having it
displayed in the
library. Maybe
they think it should
be in a church
somewhere.”
Bobby said.
I broke in. “
Some
mystery
author I read
said that all
crimes are
done for
money or
love. How
could this be
a crime of
love?”
Nothing for a
minute and
then Veronica
said, “Well, it
could have
been a gift…
to someone’s
love.
Something that
she always
said that she
admired.”
“Or,”
Monica said,
“it could be
that
someone
loved the
bowl so
much that
they had to
have it.”
“How
could
someone
love a
bowl?”
Ralphy
said. “I
mean a
bowl?”
“I love Monet
paintings. I
wouldn’t steal
one, but I
would love to
own one.”
Monica said.
“It’s just like
that.”
“O
K,
I
thin
k I
get
it,”
he
said
.
I banged my
pencil on my
notepad.
“Now, how are
we going to
find out which
one on our list
is the right
one?”
“Maybe
some
evidence at
the crime
scene can
help us.”
Bobby said.
“But what?”
“I don’t think we got anything useful
from the crime scene itself.” I said.
“It was contaminated by all of the
traffic that was there before the
crime was reported. The question in
my mind is still: why the bowl? What
does the bowl possess that other
things around the school don’t. The
only thing that we learned from the
crime scene is they wanted the bowl
and nothing else: that was the only
thing they wanted.
“Even though most crimes are
committed for money, I think that we
should put money as a low priority on
our list of reasons for the crime. So
then, the other big reason for
committing a crime is love. Love of
what? The beauty of the bowl? The
love of Greece? The love of ancient
civilizations? The love of a woman?
The love of power, of knowledge?
The opposite of love, hatred of our
school, or Professor Noone?
“The crime
scene can’t
help us much;
so what can
we use is the
bowl. What
is its value for
the thief?
That is the
question.
What does
the bowl do
for the thief?”
“I agree with
you, Professor
Z. I think it was
for love, for love
of beauty. That
girl who
discovered it
missing really
loved it and
maybe many
other people
might feel the
same,” Veronica
said.
“Maybe it
wasn’t
love but
something
that
someone
needed,”
Bobby
said.
“What
do you
mean,
Bobby?”
Veronic
a asked.
“I mean
maybe it was
needed to
complete a
collection or
something
like that.”
Bobby
replied.
“What if it
was needed
for some
ancient
religious thing,
some old guy
cult.” Ralphy
said.
“How
could
it be
used
by a
cult?”
Monica
asked.
“I don’t
know,
pottery
worship?
I don’t
know!”
Bobby
said.
“Pottery
worship
?
Good
Bobby.”
Ralphy
said.
“Who
are
my
resear
chers
here?
”
“We
are.”
Veronica
said,
Monica
raised
her hand
and
waved.
“OK,
researchers, go on
the internet and
see if there is a
pottery worshiping
sect, or, for that
matter, any group
that might worship
antiquities. See
what you come up
with, ladies.
“The
rest of you,
keep your
ears open
and do your
school
work.” I
said.
“Tell us
when you
find
something,
Professor
Z.”
Ralphy
said.
“I’
ll let you
know
when we
find
something
useful.” I
said as
they
started to
file out.
“I think we found
something,
Professor.” Veronica
said as she walked
into my office with
her sister after their
last class. Now the
whole gang was
here. Ralphy and
Bobby had stopped
in to see what
advances we have
made.
“We
started by looking
up ancient pottery
worship and we
didn’t get anything
useful. We tried
ancient religions
but, although it
was interesting,
there was no
mention of pottery
in any of them.”
Veronica said.
“But
then, after
reading about
those old
religions we
started thinking
about cults.
Maybe some
cult would use
the bowl. So
we looked into
cults and
religious
groups.”
Monica
broke in, “We
found several
sites about
witchcraft and
they have many
rituals that use
sacred items.
We think that we
should look into
this witchcraft
stuff more. What
do you think,
Professor?”
“You
ladies might
have
something.
See if you
can find out
more about
the specific
items used in
their rituals.
“What
about those
channelers and
psychics? I
think that they
need some
special things
for their
meetings with
ghosts.”
Bobby said.
“Spiri
ts,
not
ghost
s.”
Moni
ca
said.
“OK,
spirits.”
Bobby
replied. “Are
you our new
expert on
unnatural
things?”
The
ladies
let
the
state
ment
go.
“Bobby,” I
said. “why don’
t you look into
these mediums
and seers and
see what else
you can come
up with?”
“I believe,”
Veronica looked
at me and nodded
very seriously, “the
thief has a beaker
of evil and, until
we catch him, he
will pour his evil all
over this campus.”
She looked around
at all of us while
nodding again.
Ho
w
can
you
not
love
this
girl?
Chapter 8 Library Tour
On my way down the corridor, I bumped into the
mailman who gave me an armful, mostly catalogs and
flyers, mostly for my officemates. I sorted out my stuff
and brought it into my office. There was something from
the State of Wisconsin. Wisconsin? What do they want
from me? I read the letter… something about my grant
was granted and the check is enclosed. I looked at the
second sheet which was a check for seven thousand
dollars and a check stub. It said pay to the order of Fay
Reynolds. But why did they send it to me? Where’s
the envelope? Oops. It’s addressed to Ms. Fay
Reynolds.
I could hear her
in the outer office at the
shredding machine.
Boy will she be happy
when she hears this. I
walked up to her at the
shredder. She had a
whole bundle of grade
reports in her lap and
she was methodically
feeding the machine a
handful at a time.
I smiled,
“Here.” I gave her
the cover letter and
the other sheet with
the check and stub.
She looked at me
and added the two
papers I just gave
her to a half dozen
other papers and
stuffed them into
the shredder.
“No!” I
shouted, but it
was too late.
The shredder
did its work
on all of the
papers that it
had just
received. Fay
looked up.
“What?”
“Those
papers,
they
were for
you. It
was a
grant
with a
check.”
She
didn’t move.
And then she
looked into the
shredder, her
mouth open in
shock. “What
did I do?
How stupid
am I?”
“There,
there, Fay.” I
patted her
shoulder. “I’ll
call and tell them
it was my fault. I
opened the letter
and the check got
misplaced. Don’t
worry. We’ll get
you that check.”
She still wasn’t
moving.
After lunch, I
walked to
the library
and up to the
head
librarian’s
office. She
was in and
greeted me
like you
would greet
a reptile.
“Well,
Professo
r
Zygoti,
and to
what do
I owe
this
visit?”
Beems
was hiding
something. She
seemed
embarrassed
during my tour
of the library
basement.
“We
don’t need
to go in
there.” she
said. “It’s
only junk
storage,
things that
we haven’t
thrown out,
but should.”
“Could I
see it any
way. You
never
know
where we’
ll find
something
important.”
I said.
“I’d let
you in but I
don’t know
where the key
is. It isn’t on
our regular
key system
for some
reason or
another” she
said.
I tried the
doorknob, gave it
a twist, and
pushed. Nothing
happened. It didn’
t turn. And the
door didn’t move.
It looked serious,
a single panel with
brown pealing
paint.
“I
suppose l
could look for
the key and let
you know
when I find it.”
Ms. Beems
said while
standing behind
me with her
hands in her
lap, clutching
some papers.
“That
would be
good. And if
you could
look for the
key for that
other door
too, that
would help.”
These were
the only two
doors that
we couldn’t
open.
“I’ll
see
what
I
can
do.”
She
said.
I made a
note to myself to
have Bobby or,
better yet, Ralphy,
see if he could talk
to one of the student
workers and see if
he can get into those
rooms. I don’t think
I’ll hear from Ms.
Beems in the near
future. I left and
went to my office to
think.
Both
Bobby and
Ralphy
were
waiting for
me, talking
to Fay in
the outer
office.
I don’t have Fay to myself, she
also works for Bill Neilson and
Sandi Rhodes whose offices
are, like mine, attached to the
outer office. They both teach
undergrad psychology. Sandi is
newly married to Coach Bob
Rhodes which is why she has
that stripper-like name. No
loving parents would name their
precious daughter “Sandi
Rhodes.”
“I
have a
project
for you,
Ralphy.” I
said while
ushering
them into
my office.
“What’
s up,
Profess
or Z?”
Ralphy
asked.
“I
need you to
use your
charms on
one of the
student
workers at
the library.”
“Wha
t do
you
mean,
Profe
ssor?
”
“Tomorrow,
after classes, see if
you can wend your
way into the heart of
one of the library
workers and have her
show you those two
rooms that I didn’t see
with Beems today.
They were in the
basement and were
numbered L028 and
L013.”
“Sounds
pretty
spooky.
Are you
sure you’re
up to it,
Ralphy?”
Bobby said.
Ralphy
just
looked at
him with a
look that
said,
“What a
bonehead.”
Bob
by
grin
ned
bac
k.
Chapter 9 Faculty Party (Friday)
We were in the most elegant
room in the school, the
President’s Room. Three
chandeliers spread their light
over the dark paneled walls
and the scarlet carpet which
turned conversations to
murmurs, unintelligible mumbles
of people enjoying themselves.
This was the room that the
administration used for events
covered by the press.
The first gathering of the school year,
a party where the administration
thanks the faculty for their good work
last year and welcomes everyone
back to a new academic year. It was
a reason for all the ladies to get a new
dress. Everyone dressed, not tuxes,
but nicely, for this evening. Not a pair
of cowboy boots could be seen. Free
food, free booze, they would have
perfect attendance again this year.
I was to meet Landra there, my date for the
evening. I wanted to pick her up. The Jag
can be very impressive when I shine it up
and polish the upholstery but she was
having none of it. She said, “I’ll be your
date—but I’ll drive my own car.” I agreed
because I’ve asked her out several times
before and she just flat out said no, not
interested. I think she agreed this time
because she didn’t want all the other men at
the University hitting on her. I was her
ticket to a hassle free night.
I remember the first time we went out, last
spring, to a wedding of some history
professor. Every man, married or not, who
had more than two drinks was making a fool of
himself over her, asking her where she worked
and probably less acceptable things.
Fortunately, the groom was able to control
himself. Anyway, I’m well pleased that she
accepted my invitation. Maybe next year I’ll
be promoted to escort and driver. At this rate,
we’ll share our first kiss sometime after Mars is
colonized—something to look forward to.
“How is
your
investigatio
n of the
bowl
coming?”
she asked.
“Could
be
better.”
“You
mean
it’s
not
going
well?”
She
asked.
“I mean I haven’
t a clue. It’s
been almost
two weeks now
and nothing
concrete has
linked anyone
to anything. I
feel like I don’t
know what
direction I’m
going.”
She
was
silent,
then,
“You’ll
find it.
I know
you
will.”
“Maybe,
” I
answere
d with
my
impressiv
ely
quick
wit.
“How could
someone reach
you? Do they
know you’re the
man to see? Do
you have a website,
one where they
could contact you
anonymously, to tell
you some secret
about the bowl’s
whereabouts?”
“You’re
good. That’
s a good
idea.” I put
on my
winning
smile. “How
about we
skip this
party and go
make a web
page?”
“You know,
Frank, the
only reason I
came with
you tonight is
because I feel
safe with
you. I don’t
feel like you
are going to
be all over
me.”
“I’m
just
kidding,
you
know
that.
Don’t
you?”
I said.
“I hope your
kidding
because I
enjoy your
wit. You’re
not as stupid
as most of the
men I meet.”
Was that a compliment? Landra Lodge is
tall, slim, and, well, perfect. She looks a
lot better than the models in Cosmopolitan
and Elle. The cut of her short blonde-
streaked hair fits perfectly with her sculpted
features. Lips, eyes, ankles—can’t be
improved. She’s everyman’s idea of the
perfect woman and she affects me like she
does the rest of the men at the University,
the universe. It’s hard for me to act like
James Bond when she’s around. I feel
more like Barney Fife.
She works in the Bursar’s
Office, something to do
with statistics. She taught
math somewhere, but
moved into
administration. I don’t
know if she was
motivated by money,
power or just didn’t like
teaching. Landra keeps
her cards close to her
chest, a place I would like
to be close to also.
I met her at a school function when she first arrived and I
thought we hit it off rather well. Since then, I have asked
her out a few times. I’ve been batting around .300. She
says that it’s not me she’s against, it’s men in general. I
guess she had a bad marriage or relationship or some
serious man problem. Whatever. She’s a smart cookie.
I know she has her masters and she might be working
toward her doctorate. I don’t know, she never talks
about herself. She’s like CIA, or maybe KGB, all my
questions are deflected back to me so she ends up
knowing all my secrets and I don’t know what kind of
car she drives.
In spite of her physical and
psychological baggage, she would
be an asset to our team, she has a
sharp mind with an encyclopedic
memory. When we converse—
when I talk—she has a far away
look in her green eyes like
everything said is being digested,
words in their contexts, nuances,
concepts, all going into her long term
memory to be called up at a seconds
notice.
I gave her my
most masculine
of looks—one
eyebrow raised,
lips pursed.
“Drinky?” I
asked.
She gave me
her “what a
pill look.”
“Chablis, if
they have it.
If not, then
any white
wine.”
I don’t know why I
always say dumb
things to her. I guess
it’s gallows humor.
She’s such a
knockout, I think I
am trying,
subconsciously, to
say I’m not
intimidated by her,
but of course I am.
Or maybe I am a
bonehead.
I head to the bar. It’
s crowded and the
snippets of
conversation I
overhear are about
Gallipoli, Marlowe,
a border around a
Gaussian surface,
and String Theory.
This ain’t a Cubs
game.
I see Larry, my
friend the Dean,
turning with two
hands filled with
drinks, he spots
me. “Professor
Z, how are
you? Are you
alone? Or did
you bring THE
WOMAN?”
“Hi Larry.
Yeah, I
brought
Landra. And
she told me she
wanted to get
in the back
seat of a Miata
with you.”
He smiled.
“Ever the
jester.
How’s the
bowl
investigation
coming?
Did you
find it yet?”
“I wish. I’
m at that
point
where
nothing is
happening
and I feel
like I’ll
never find
it.”
“Keep the faith,
buddy. I got to
go. I’ll talk with
you later.” He
went off to find
his spouse,
staggering under
the burden of
two glasses and
two napkins.
It was my turn
to order. “A
Chablis and a
Becks,
please.” The
bartender was
a perky
blonde with a
friendly smile
wearing a tux-
like outfit.
“We don’t have
Chablis,” she
said. “How
about a
Chardonnay?
And, we don’t
have Becks.
How about a
Heinekens?”
I nodded my
acceptance.
Wow, two
out of two
misses. I’m
doing as well
with the
bartender as
with Landra.
I put the tip in
the jar, took her
glass, my bottle
with the glass on
top, and napkins
back to my
date. There was
a short, round,
bald guy that I
didn’t recognize
talking to her
when I arrived.
Nice suit.
“Frank, this is
John Moody.
We work
together,
although he is
much more
innovative in his
financial
estimates than I
am.” I handed
her the wine.
“That doesn’t
mean lying with
numbers, does
it?” They both
gave me a
patronizing smile. I
poured my
Heinekens into the
glass and sipped
the rest of the beer
out of the bottle
which I stuck in
my pocket.
“We were
just talking
about the
stolen
bowl. John
thinks it
was an
inside job.”
Landra said.
“Why is
that,
John?” I
asked.
Everyone
knows
more than
the
investigators.
“Well, first, it was
taken at the ideal
time. People were
being given
performance
reviews then. And
second, it was
taken and not
noticed for a
week.”
“Only
four
days,
John,
not a
week.
”
“Don’t be
so
defensive,
Frank.”
Landra
said,
darted a
glance at
me.
“Another thing,” John said,
“is that it was a way to
humiliate the school, right
before homecoming. It
seemed like the person who
took it knew all about the
politics of the school, and
how bad it would be if it
wasn’t on display during
homecoming. I don’t think
that it could have been taken
for money because who
could buy it?”
“Points well
taken. I’ve
thought
these same
things,
John. Like
minds go
down
similar
paths, eh?”
I said.
He smiled at Landra. “I’ve
got to go. Nice talking to
you, Frank.” He shook my
hand. “I’ll see you at work,
Monday, Landra. Enjoy
yourselves.” He left and
entered a throng in the center
of the room where I could
hear loud talking and see
backslapping rampant
among the men. The women
were better behaved.
Landra wrapped her hands around her napkin
covered drink. “There should be more of these.
Hastings should have more social events, or
concerts, where we could dress up and go out.”
She looked up at me giving me the full effect of
her green eyes. “We shouldn’t have to go to
Chicago for everything. There are a lot of
talented people in town and at the university, and
there’s so much money around here.” She
smiled, like a flower. I don’t think she ever did
that before. I luxuriated in the warmth of her
smile that was just for me.
“Excuse
me.”
“Huh?” I said. I
was still blissed
out on the smile.
I turned a bit
and saw a
nondescript
young man
standing almost
between Landra
and me.
“Hi
Landr
a.
How
are
you?”
He
said.
“Hello,
Herman.” She
gave him a slight
smile and turned
to me. “Frank,
this is Herman
Walsh. We
work together in
the Bursar’s
Office. How
are you?”
“I’m fine. Great
party, eh? I hear
that the caterers are
from Chicago. That’
s why we have all
these fancy little
sandwich things.”
He held up his little
sandwich to
demonstrate his
point.
This
guy
was
less
smoot
h
than
I.
“I saw you
standing
here and I
thought I
would
come over
and say
hi.”
Herman
said.
“That
was
sweet.
Thank
you,
Herman.”
She
patted his
sleeve.
“Can I
get
you a
drink,
Landra,
Profess
or?”
“No
thanks
,”
she
said.
“We
just
got
one.”
“The game. We should
thoroughly trounce them
this weekend. The
Coyotes haven’t a chance
against Brokowski. He’s
the best QB we’ve ever
had. Even better that
Schwartz. And Groden,
even if he could throw, he’
s on the injured list this
week so they’ll have to
start someone else.”
Landra and I
nodded in
agreement. I was
worried that he
would ask my
opinion of some
team or player and
I don’t know
anything. OK, I
do know that he’s
talking about
football.
Herman spent a few more
minutes discussing the Bears’
chance this year and then
eased into the Bulls. Finally,
he noticed that we weren’t
contributing to the
discussion. With his head
down, he said that he was
going to get another drink
and were we sure that we
didn’t want one. We
indicated that we were full up.
“He’s a
nice
boy.”
Landra
said
after he
left.
“Let’s
see
what’s
to eat.”
By the time we sampled the
canapés and finished our second
drink, the room was emptying.
We walked through the lot to her
car in silence. She looked at me
and said, “Thank you, Frank. It
was a nice evening.” She
squeezed my hand and then got in
her car. She started the car,
looked at me and waved. I
watched her drive down the tree
lined road to the highway.
Chapter 10 Witch meeting was that? (Friday)
I don’t know what got into
me. I thought that if I went
there now, no one would be
there and I could find out
something useful. I had the
keys for the front door that I
got from ___ so I was able to
get to step 1. I’m sorry I can’t
name the person who gave me
the keys since this would
violate my ethics, the Bobby
Malone Code of Professional
Ethics.
I glanced around when I
put the key in the lock. I
shouldn’t have done
that. The correct thing to
do would be to walk up
the steps and stick the
key in the lock like you
were supposed to be in
the building and you
were late. But, I’m
learning and I have to
admit I’m nervous.
As you would
expect, it was
dark inside.
There were a few
lights on but if I
was a burglar,
which I almost
am, these few
lights would not
showcase the evil
that I was
perpetrating on
the library.
Next to the elevator was the stairs. I
opened the door and tried the lock to see
if I closed the door, would I be locked in
the stairwell. OK, it wasn’t locked. If
Professor Z found out that I was doing
this extra-legal action, he would say,
“Bobby, who told you to break into the
school library? What were you
thinking?” That is, unless I found
something that was of value. Actually,
even then he would kill me. He is a
stickler for ethics and for setting a good
example for us.
Down the stairs I
went. Slowly
because the lights
were so dim that I
could easily trip
and make a noise
that would alert any
evil-doers that
were in the area.
The air felt dry and
warm like a boiler
room of an
apartment building.
At the bottom of the stairs, I heard
sounds, like humming or singing—
something human—it wasn’t a
machine or the creaking of the
building. I went left, toward the
sound. There was a light on in a
room at the end of the corridor which
lit the path for me. There was no
other illumination. The sound was
louder as I got closer. I pressed
myself against the wall next to the
open door and sneaked a look into
the room.
I can’t believe what I saw! Wait till I tell Zygoti! At the end of this forty foot square storage room were about eight or
nine people in a circle, holding hands. They were all naked. Naked as the day they were born. There were two men
and the rest were female. They all looked ready for retirement. Droop and flap are the words that I would use to
describe the scene. Pretty or beauty was not here tonight. If I wasn’t such a horny perv I would have quietly ran from
my spot next to the door, but the opportunity to see our zany librarian was too much. They were singing or chanting
something in a foreign tongue or they were saying something backwards. I can’t believe it! Our Ms. Beems, naked as a
jay bouncing up and down, holding hands with the two men and prancing around a big candle that must have been a half
a foot in diameter and twice as tall. The candle was in a bowl. A bowl colored like the missing one only much larger,
large enough to accommodate the candle. They stopped now. They turned to their partners, the person on their left,
held both of their hands and very chastely kissed on the lips. Then they looked like athletes after an event. Coming
down, unreeling from the experience. It looked like they were through and were getting ready to leave.
With the utmost care, I slowly moved backwards,
away from the door. I stopped. Someone was behind
me and was pushing a board into my back. I raised my
hands in surrender and carefully turned around to see
my captor. I just about passed out from relief. What
happened was I backed into a partially open door. I
looked around to see if those in the room had heard
me. Did I make a noise? I don’t know. I tip toed
backwards down the corridor to the stairs. Yes, I
could have probably learned more if I stayed around
longer and observed but, let’s face it, I’m chicken, a
pussycat at best.
Who were
those
people with
Beems and
what were
they doing
down
there?
Wait till I
tell the
gang!