Death of the Rat

by William McMurray

CHAPTER NINE

  Next morning dawned cool and overcast. The heavy low clouds scudded by on a stiff breeze as the little party proceeded along the river path, Janet in her jogging suit and well-cleated running shoes leading the way, Professor Antwhistle in old gardening shoes and pants, and an enormous Cowichan sweater grumbling in her wake, Tom Audette bearing several pails and pots in the rear. When they reached the scene of the fall John Antwhistle set up his camera and tripod preparatory to taking photographs of the areas designated by Janet.

  "Over here," she directed, "around the base of the tree and in the clump of bushes, do you see?"

  "Yes," he replied. "I think I can get these without flash." Then anxiously peering over the edge of the bank, "You don't need any down there do you? Small wonder he broke his neck!"

  "No. But perhaps Tom could have a look after he finishes in the bushes."

  She was still somewhat dubious about sharing their clandestine purpose with the Professor's young sculptor friend. The latter was busying himself with mixing and pouring materials from the pail into areas of the ground alongside the trail. Next he scrambled nimbly down the bank and did the same in areas near where the body had lain.

  "Good thing we didn't wait much longer," he remarked, looking overhead at the darkening sky." A good rain would have washed most of these away."

  "Do you think we have time even now?" asked Janet anxiously, following his gaze.

  "Oh yes," he laughed, "This stuff sets up extra fast. And no harm done to the environment, if you know what I mean."

  "You mean no traces left on the ground?"

  "None whatsoever," he replied confidently. "This new moulding compound takes a negative impression from clay, with appropriate separators of course, and you could even pick out the fingerprints in the mould."

  Even as he spoke he proceeded, to pull off the first of the impressions. There was a faithful rendering of the bottom of Janet's running shoe, with every worn cleat replicated. He then sketched the area and numbered each of the impressions with their locales duly noted on the sketch.

  "Up at the top we can register these with the Professor's photos, using my rough sketch. These of your imprints will make a good control as you scientists refer to it."

  After the better part of an hour they had finished their record-taking and packed up the paraphenalia.

  "Let's take all this back to my place," suggested the Professor. "I don't know about you two but I'm damn near frozen. Have either of you eaten breakfast?"

  Janet admitted to her customary orange| and Tom a cup of coffee.

  "Starvation regimens! "snorted the Professor. "We’ll soon remedy that.”

  Within minutes of their arrival at John Antwhistle's home they were seated around the kitchen table while the Professor prepared a massive pan of eggs scrambled over the burner.

  "Dig in," he exhorted them, passing the eggs, muffins and marmalade. "Behold the egg, a creature much maligned by nutritional experts," he expounded, "it is in reality a benediction upon humanity. The amount of dietary cholesterol absorbed by the human intestinal tract is small. And for most people, except the hypercholesterolemics who are a minority among us, the benefits of the excellent protein provided by the lowly-egg far outweigh the small addition to our LDL'S. You would be better off to remove the butter or margarine from your diet." He went on to extoll the virtues of low-fat diets in reducing the incidence of cardiovascular disease and cancer. Tom and Janet showed little evidence of heeding this nutritional advice as they polished off not only eggs but muffins, the latter well-buttered and marmaladed. Finally sated they sat around the table drinking mugs of tea.

  "These imprints are remarkably detailed!" exclaimed Janet after examining them closely. "This is a fairly common style of cleat, however. Can you tell much from the relative wear on each tread do you think?"

  " I don't know,” Tom replied. "I'm no expert at this sort of stuff. But here, you can see there’s an entirely different kind of tread."

  "Probably one of the ambulance men."

  "Can you remember what kind of shoes they had on?"

  "One had running shoes of some kind as I recall. The other must have had regular street shoes. He was slipping and sliding all over the bank.”

  "There were certainly enough skid marks to obliterate most of the footprints," complained Tom.

  "What about the area in the bushes at the top?" inquired the Professor.

  "Only a partial impression I'm afraid. A part of a heel in a soft spot where somebody rocked back on his haunches most likely. It doesn't match up with the others where we got a full foot print, however," Tom said examining the dozen or so impressions spread out on the kitchen table.

  "What about this one?"

  "Could be. But you see this is mainly the front part of the shoe. With the weight forward it doesn't make much of an impression from the heel. They all look like a similar type of cleat to me."

  "So unless we can get an imprint from the actual shoe it’s going to be hard to make a connection isn’t it?"

  "Afraid so. Sorry if I haven't been of much help to you."

  "You've been a great help," assured the Professor. "And

  this little bit of evidence may prove pretty significant later if we can find something with which to compare it."

  "Well, I’ll be shoving off then," said Tom. "I’ll say nothing to anyone as you asked before. Let me know if I can do anything else to help."

  "I think I can see a modus operandi for the 'accident' consistent with our observations," said the Professor as he drove Janet into work later that morning. "Who did you suspect as the agent behind all this?"

  "I do not know," she replied deliberately. Were there not some grounds for suspecting Archie, for example? Although it was rather incredible to consider him as a suspect, she was glad that up to now she had not confided in him about her theories of the cause of the Acting-Principal's, death. Now that those theories seemed to be pretty conclusively confirmed, Janet was somewhat in a quandary regarding her next step. After a brief discussion about how next to proceed they arrived at the Biology parking lot just as the first fat drops of rain started to spatter the windshield. By the time they had rushed to the building the shower had turned to a torrential downpour.

  "A good thing we got our records before the deluge anyway," concluded the Professor. "I should think that by tomorrow morning the slate will have been obscured or wiped clean!”

  Janet nodded her agreement, and walked to her office where a stack of telephone messages marked her late arrival at work. She shuffled through the memos abstractedly while puzzling over the course she should take. Certainly it should be settled, if possible post haste, or else turned over to the authorities. But perhaps there was one more gambit she could carry out on her own before incurring the interests of officialdom. She was pondering the possibilities when Leonard knocked on her open door and entered the office.

  "Could I talk with you for a few minutes?" he asked.

  "Come right in!" responded Janet, but the irony was lost on Leonard, who proceeded to sit in the chair beside her desk. Janet was about to offer him a seat, then thought better of it, anticipating some further unsolicited invasion of her privacy.

  "What's on your mind?" she asked, with a conscious effort to avoid sarcasm in her tone.

  Leonard got up, shut the office door, and pulled his chair closer with a conspiratorial expression, on his face, It's about this emergency meeting," he whispered. "Oh, didn't you get a call about it?" he added noting Janet's bewilderment.

  "I just got here," said Janet, annoyed to have to admit the fact, and riffled through the memos on her desk. “I suppose this is it - special meeting of Selection Committee today at noon -- no agenda noted," she remarked looking vainly on the reverse for clarification.

  “None was given, but some of us have an inkling of what is up and I think we should present a united front he asserted importantly.

  "To what?" asked Janet, somewhat miffed to be learning all this ba
ckground information second-hand.

  "There are fractions in the committee who are trying to block the Dean," said Leonard. Janet struggled to maintain her composure in considering the fractional nature of the Committee.

  "But is it more than one-half, this fraction?" asked Janet innocently.

  "We have heard," continued Leonard, "of some plot by the Regents to parachute a new candidate in from outside. Now that Mr. Nicholas is out of the way they want to stop the Dean," he said ingenuously.

  "Surely there are enough outside candidates already. If someone wishes to block the Dean's candidacy as you imply there is competition in the lists."

  "But not very serious-competition," and he started to rhyme off the deficiencies of the outsiders. A was too young, B too old, C an expert scholar, but too narrow in his discipline, D too broad, E a burnt-out case, and so forth.

  "What about Dr. Holmes?" asked Janet somewhat aghast at the off-hand dismissal of the members of the short-list.

  "Quite a bright lady, but I hear she insulted several members of the Regents during a meeting last spring." Angel Holmes was President of a small college with a liberal arts emphasis. "Do you really think this place is ready for a woman Principal yet?"

  Janet had to admit she did not. Moreover, despite the exaggerations in Leonard's summary she also had to admit that from the perspective of a substantial number on the selection committee the objections he had noted had all been raised at some point or other in their deliberations about the outside candidates. She paused thoughtfully before continuing. If there were indeed someone or ones who wished to block the Dean's chances there also seemed to have been someone more determined to prevent the confirmation of Mr. Nicholas as Principal. Might not that same person be among the group supporting the Acting-Principal's rival, Dean Owens? Before identifying herself too strongly with this 'fraction' Janet decided she should determine who the members of the group were, although she was pretty certain she knew the answer before she asked the question.

  "I've talked already to Dr. McManus," said Leonard. Janet had a slight twinge, halfway between regret and stricken conscience, that Archie should find more opportunity for discussions with Leonard than herself. There was, she noted, a message on her desk to call him.

  "And I thought if you or Professor A could contact Professor Radlock, you know it would be more appropriate, don't you think?"

  More appropriate but still improbable, thought Janet, nodding in agreement. Radlock was unlikely to accept advice from anyone let alone Leonard, judging from his behaviour at the meetings thus far. And Professor A would doubtlessly have thrown Leonard out of his office door, or window if he had succeeded in getting as far as he had intruded into Janet's office,

  "Well that's good then," said Leonard misinterpreting her smile as acquiescence. "See you at the meeting," he waved as he walked out into the corridor. Janet watched him departing down the hall confidently swinging his briefcase. Leonar was buoyantly thriving on all the new-found political activity and his burgeoning sense of self-importance. He had taken to wearing a suit to class, that is, if and when he ever found time to attend classes. Doubtless the briefcase was opened only at lunch-time to release a sandwich. Any books that found their way in there would serve chiefly as counterweights to add the semblance of substance to its contents. Janet had a momentary glimpse of the future with Leonard as a member, or more probably, chairman of the Board of Regents, bringing the same empty brief case and cranium to the meetings.

  She left her desk and went to the cold-room to discuss with Julia their latest modifications of the isolation procedure. By the time that she finished and attempted to return Archie’s call he was no longer in his office. They could see one another at the meeting, at any rate. Janet had to admit to herself that she-felt decidedly awkward about getting together with him now. In one sense she was dying to open up the whole case with him to get his ideas about what had happened. On the other hand she reluctantly entertained this absurd suspicion that he was avoiding contact with her, covering something up. It was too ridiculous -- and yet -- if there were only some way to settle the matter without letting him know. She started to hatch a plan of action. It was not an easy matter to see how she could set the stage. It was like an attempt to get a suspect to leave his fingerprints on some object, but infinitely more difficult when it was a footprint instead.

  Most of the committee members had already assembled by the time that Janet reached the meeting. It had been catered as a luncheon meeting rather ineffectively by the University cafeteria. Janet recalled her long-held vow to eschew the offerings of the cafeteria as she surveyed the curling edges of sandwiches revealing grey beef slices, soapy cheese and oozy tuna. She helped herself to a rock-hard green banana and a luke-warm grapefruit drink. In one corner Leonard was attempting to break in on a heated discussion between Professors Radlock and Antwhistle. The chairman and Alan Goldsack disputed together at the other end. Archie entered the meeting room just as the chairman broke off his argument and called the group to order. United solely by the sombre nature of the occasion and a foretaste of intestinal discomfort, the members of the committee seemed as disparate and remote from consensus as it was possible to be.

  "l have a sorrowful and distasteful duty to perform," commenced the Chairman soberly. Apt phrasing Janet reflected with a view to the use of these particular funeral baked meats to furnish the feast for those who would replace the late-departed. "You will mourn with me the loss of our stalwart colleague who has filled the role of chief executive officer so well, and given such promise for the future. So long as he held the reins of the acting chief we had some breathing space about the final selection. Now alas, that he has gone we have lost two key administrators at once and the academic ship is particularly vulnerable. I can tell you in confidence what will be announced officially tomorrow, that earlier today the Board of Regents convened and named me as Chairman pro tempore so that one of our vacant offices has been filled, albeit by one with inadequate preparation. It was agreed however, and I would hope, the committee concurs, that it would be inappropriate to appoint yet another Acting-Principal. That would only extenuate the interregnum and create serious problems of confidence within the academic community, not to mention fiscal problems at a critical phase of the budget cycle. In short," he concluded, "the Regents have determined, with your agreement that this committee should come to a speedy resolution of its mandate and appoint a permanent Principal as soon as possible!”

  “Mr. Chairman.”.Alan Goldsack attempted to obtain the floor.

  “One minute Mr. Goldsack. I don't want other issues raised. Were you about to speak to the point recommended by the Regents?”

  "Since there is no motion on the floor I would like to make one relevant to that point, with the proviso that since our short list has been further shortened by events we must be prepared to accept some additional names for the short list."

  "Outside of those already on file?" The Chairman looked aghast at the suggestion.

  "Yes Mr. Chairman. And in due course I shall provide such a nomination with full documentation."

  "Seconded," said John Antwhistle.

  "Mr. Chairman, I object," declared Leonard. "Now we have a carefully ranked list of names, and I think all of us can agree of those which is the best person. So why should we have to add an unknown quantity like an afterthought? Stick with those people we’ve got all that information on and stick with the agenda."

  "There is no agenda," put in John Antwhistle. "No, I apologize, the emergency did not allow it.”

  “But we don't want to protract our discussions by opening up the lists," the Chairman objected.

  "Let each person today consider if he has a name to bring forward, and then settle on the short-list," suggested Alan Goldsack.

  “Well, it could add all sorts of unknowns. We would have to dig up more information," protested the Chairman.

  "Not in the case of my nominee. Everything’s in here," said Alan patting a thick fil
e in front of him, "And most of you know him already."

  "Question!" interjected Professor Radlock.

  "What is the question?" asked the Chairman wearily.

  "I move the previous question," repeated the Professor. "It is a non-debatable motion," he went on pedantically, " and-requires that the question regarding Mr. Goldsack’s previous motion should now be put."

  The Chairman eyed him with disfavour but put the question which was passed with dissenting mutters from Leonard.

  "Would members of the committee signify now if they are satisfied with the short-list," said the Chairman.

  Leonard was first on his feet, "Mr. Chairman. There are several people on that list that shouldn't be there, and I see no reason to add anyone when we have Dean Owens as the man on the spot. With good experience as an administrator, and he knows this place. "I was not soliciting endorsements or challenges to particular candidates on the short list. Please signify simply if you wish to add any new names or bring up again any of our earlier candidates that were relegated to the Limbo List."

  "No, Mr Chairman, I have none to add."

  "Thank you." He went around the table clockwise asking each person in turn, all denying any interest in augmenting the list of candidates, until he got to Janet. She was seated three seats ahead of Alan Goldsack and could not make out any name or label on the fat file in front of him on the table. Nonetheless, she was fairly certain of its contents, and surprised herself by rising from her chair as her turn came up.

  "I don't know whether the gentleman in question is interested. I do know he would be eminently qualified. I would like to nominate Dr. Edmund Tyler, Dean of Medicine at Richmond University."

  "Nothing to add," said Professor Radlock who sat beside Janet.

  "Nor I," commented one of the Regents who was next in line.

  "Well, I have to second Dr. Gordon's nomination," laughed Alan Goldsack, passing the file along to the Chairman. "I believe that most of you will know Dr. Tyler, if not in person, then by his reputation both as a scholar and administrator," and he ran through the highlights of his curriculum vitae. It was apparent from the nods around the table that most of the members of the selection committee did know Dr. Tyler. In fact, Janet in reflecting on the composition of the guest list at the Goldsack's party realized that most of the committee members except perhaps Leonard and Professor Antwhistle had recent occasion to meet the Tylers, and that Alan Goldsack doubtless had occasion to broach the matter of the Principality to Dean Tyler.

  "It would seem said the Chairman, "that we now have a pair of Deans on our short-list, that is if we agree to add Dr. Tyler’s name." Leonard looked sullen but did not interject. And if no other names are forthcoming, I shall add this material and consider our files now to be closed. An office adjacent to the Principal's suite will be made available to you for the next 48 hours. The candidate’s personal records, letters of recommendation, and other confidential background data will be retained therein for your perusal prior to our meeting on Thursday morning. It is my intention then to ask you each to rank order the short-list candidates, together with your reasons. If a clear choice is produced we may then approach the ranked candidates in turn."

  "And if there is no clear choice?" asked one of the Regents.

  "Then after due opportunity for debate, I will call for a vote between the two top-ranked candidates, with the chair to break a tie if such should occur. I stress that I rely on you all to observe discretion in the extreme at this sensitive stage. No mention outside this room of candidates' names, the short-list, or the stage of our proceedings. I know I can trust you all in this for the good of the institution, and of course, for you all to be thoroughly prepared for our next debate."

  As the meeting adjourned and the members drifted off Janet managed to get Archie's eye and they walked together to the outer hall. Leonard passed with a look of fury.

  "A surprisingly ardent supporter for our own Dean," murmured Janet.

  "Despite his aloof manner the students respect him,'' Archie replied. "There is a fair measure of support from faculty members too, although that may have been an anti-Nicholas vote. Terry O'Meara, for example was a strong proponent of Dean Owens."

  "I would have thought your fiery-friend to be too much of an iconoclast to be a supporter of the current administration."

  "Just so. But it was the former Principal and the Acting-Principal he was most opposed to. It had to do with Terry's failure to win tenure. If he misses once more he's through at the University. It's the end of his probationary period. It has been said that the Dean may have gone to bat for him over objections from higher up."

  To Janet, for whom the mechanisms and machinations of the tenure process were still somewhat distant and mysterious, all of this sounded rather esoteric reasoning for O'Meara's support of Dr. Owens. Perhaps if he perceived himself to be threatened from the top of the administrative ladder he would naturally opt for one on a lower rung who reportedly had shown him some favourable treatment.

  "I've not seen much of you lately," said Janet, trying to sound off-hand about it.

  "Been pretty busy with a graduate seminar plus a couple of other courses," Archie said apologetically. "How's your work coming?"

  "Less hectic just now, since I got my grant renewal off, and Professor A took over in the undergraduate course."

  "You scientists have an easy time of it ," needled Archie.

  "Easy enough if you're not also working 12 hour days in the lab and to get some erratic graduate students to keep producing!"

  "So you can't have much time for jogging and other pursuits. Have you been out since the last time -- you know?"

  "Once," she answered truthfully, but not revealing the purpose of the outing. It seemed a natural lead-in to her next question. "How about an early morning run tomorrow?"

  "I’d only hold you back," laughed Archie. "Besides, I agreed to take someone else for a slow jog along the trail tomorrow AM."

  "Well, perhaps we'll meet then," said Janet casually, and they strolled out to the front door. The clouds had broken up, and a light breeze puffed them along with a shower of golden leaves across the brilliant blue of the sky. They parted at the doorway, Janet setting off at a brisk pace for the lab. There was still something irritatingly inconsistent in her attitude toward Archie, and in his behaviour toward her. She felt a mixture of expectation, guilt and exhilaration as she contemplated the next move in their ambivalent relationship. Pending the outcome, and depending on the evidence therefrom, it could very well be the last.