“Go on,” Joe said gently.
“I pushed him away and stood up. I told him he couldn’t stay and he couldn’t drink any more vodka. He wanted me to drink with him. I told him he had ruined my life enough and I wasn’t drinking anymore.” Celeste moaned and grabbed my hand. “I told him I didn’t want him anymore and that I hated him drunk and I was disgusted by the idea of sleeping with him.”
“I imagine he didn’t care to hear that,” I said.
“He went ballistic,” said Celeste, her voice rising. “He said ‘don’t you dare minimize my feelings.’ He called me a stupid little student.”
“Did you ask him to leave?”
“No. I got mad about being called a stupid little student. So I told him he was a self-pitying drunk and it was time to pull himself together. That was a mistake because he stood up and punched me in the face. I almost passed out.”
“Did you leave then?”
“I tried to, but he grabbed my hair.”
Her voice quavered, “And then he forced me to the floor and tore off my robe and...and he raped me.”
Her speech became rapid. “I mean I know it’s hard to claim rape when you used to have sex with someone, but I really didn’t want sex at that point and Max didn’t care. He just forced me and it hurt. It hurt a lot.”
“How did you get away from him?”
“I screamed and screamed and he finally got off of me. Then he just sat there on the floor while I ran to my room.”
“Did you call the police?”
“No, I threw on some clothes and drove here. I mean, come on Dean Solaris. I’d been having sex with Max all last year. Who’s gonna believe me?”
We both believed her.
“We need to get you to the hospital,” said Joe. “I’ll get dressed. Give me your address, Celeste. I’ll send a police car to arrest Max.”
Celeste collapsed into my arms and we sat together on the couch. “I can’t believe he did this to me, Dean Solaris. I can’t believe I let him into the apartment. I’m so terrible at saying no to him.”
I rocked her for a few minutes and then said, “I’m going to dress and come with you to the hospital.”
“I want to keep her here today and tonight,” said the doctor, a young Japanese woman with a round face. “The swelling on her cheekbone concerns me. And she seems to get dizzy on and off. Have you called her parents?”
“Yes,” I said. “They are on their way. Is Celeste badly hurt?”
“She may have a concussion and her vaginal area is bruised.” The doctor pulled me to the side away from the others in the emergency reception area. “The man who came in with both of you?”
“He’s a police detective,” I said. “He’s gone to look for the man who raped Celeste.”
The doctor nodded. “Wish the detective luck for me,” she said and left.
I reached for my cellphone to call Joe. The police hadn’t found Max at Celeste’s apartment or at his home. Joe had made calls to his captain. “I’m back on the case,” he had said.
My phone buzzed. Nell’s name appeared on the caller ID. “Dean Solaris, this is Nell. I’m at the school. Security called me when they couldn’t reach you at your house.”
“What’s up, Nell?”
“Looks as if someone tried to break into your office. Whoever it was left the outside door open downstairs and set off the alarm.”
“Did they get into my office?”
“No, looks like they failed, but the door handle is broken and the wood around it is chipped.”
“Was anything taken?”
“Not as far as I can see, but you might want to come over and take a look.”
Unbelievable.
Chapter 29
My watch read 8:15 when I entered the school of journalism. I had to use a key card to open the door since it was the weekend. We had been warned when the card system was installed that if we didn’t use the card on entering and on leaving, it would set off the alarm. So, whoever had broken into the school probably had a key card, had entered, broke into my office, and then left in a hurry without sliding his or her card.
I called Joe again on my cellphone. It went to his voicemail. I left a message to call me on my cell, but I didn’t tell him about the break-in. He had enough on his plate finding Max.
Nell had unlocked the door to my office with the help of a security guard who managed to reset the broken handle. She was standing by the table.
The security guard was nowhere in sight.
“The guard said he was going to check the perimeter,” said Nell. “I am baffled trying to figure out what someone would want.”
I went through the papers on my desk. “And nothing is missing?”
Nell shook her head. “Nothing.” She looked anxious and I remembered it was Saturday and she took care of her mother on Saturdays.
“You go on back home. I’ll take a look around and see if I can figure out what our intruder was looking for.”
“Thanks Dean Solaris. My sister works on Saturdays and I’m afraid this disturbance has made her late. I should get home as soon as possible.”
I sat down and went through my desk drawers then spent a few more minutes looking through the papers on my desk. I heard a noise that came from the direction of the elevator. The guard returning I assumed.
I looked up from my desk. Max was in the doorway. He looked awful. A heavy growth of beard covered his mouth and chin, hair tangled and matted around his face. He was wearing dirty jeans and a plaid wool shirt unevenly buttoned and hanging out over his belt. His jacket and shoes were muddied. Only his eyes were clear—oddly clear. He was sober.
“I was hoping to find you here, Red.” His speech was firm and precise.
“There’s a security guard on his way up,” I said. “I’m not sure you want him to find you looking the way you do.”
“He won’t.” Max moved into my office and closed the door behind him. “He’s been called to another building on the other side of campus. I guess another alarm went off.” He smiled. His lips looked dried. There was dirt caked in the lines around his mouth and his eyes.
“I have to leave now, Max. I have to take my dog to the vet for a check-up this morning.” That was true except Joe was supposed to take Charlie to the vet. Why hadn’t Joe called? I reached for my cellphone.
Max stepped closer, grabbed my wrist, wrenched the phone from my hand and threw it across the room. It clattered against the wall. “We need to talk, Red. Without interruption.”
I zipped up my jacket. I could handle this. “Sorry, Max but I can’t be late. My dog was injured and he needs to see the doctor.”
“Sit down, Red and listen.”
“Listen to what, Max?”
Max’s eyes narrowed. He moved silently to the other side of the room and picked up my phone, put it on the floor, and crushed it under his heel. He sat down in the chair opposite my desk. He pushed the papers off the desk onto the floor and put his hands, folded, in the center of the desk.
“Trudy left for California four days ago. Drove down to her mother’s in Santa Barbara. Took the kids with her.”
“In her condition?”
“I tried to talk her out of it but she said she wanted to be with her family when the baby was born.”
“Not here with you?”
“Not with me. She says I drink too much.”
“Judging by the look of you, I’d say she’s right.”
His hands on my desk formed fists and he banged on the desk so hard the lamp moved. “Don’t judge me, Red. Don’t judge me. I’ve had enough women telling me how to behave. I don’t need it from you. Now sit.”
I obeyed. I realized I was truly frightened. Max was glaring at me with eyes as icy as I had ever seen. He was calculating. What? How to kill me?
Joe had not ret
urned my calls and didn’t know I was at school. He would expect me to be home. If he couldn’t find me there he might think I had taken Charlie to the vet. I was in my office in an empty building, alone with a man who had just raped a student. My mind raced. Max had been my friend for years. How could I get him to remember that?
“I won’t judge you, Max,” I said. My mouth was cotton.
Max sat back in his chair. He worked his jaw. He took a deep breath. “I came to get my manuscript back and to tell you I am with Celeste again. I know you don’t approve, Red, but I need her now that Trudy has gone. I don’t want any interference from you.”
I reached for my lower desk drawer.
“What are you doing?”
I pulled up a bottle of water.
“Just getting some water, Max.” I forced my hand to steady and took a deep drink from the bottle. “Want some?”
He reached for the bottle and I saw the dirt under his fingernails. He drank. It seemed to calm him. He sat back and rested his arms on the sides of the chair. “Celeste went out this morning. I was looking for her and wondered if you had seen her?”
I hesitated.
“Don’t lie to me, Red. Did you see her?”
I nodded.
“Did she come to your house?”
I nodded again. My eyes teared up remembering Celeste’s bruised face.
“So where is Celeste right now? I need her.”
“I don’t know, Max.”
This brought him forward in the chair, his lips curled. “Don’t lie to me, Red. Where is she?”
My mouth was dry again.
“She’s in the hospital,” I said. “Her cheekbone may be shattered.” Maybe this would alarm him enough to want to go to her and leave my office.
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling, rolling his bloodshot eyes. “I guess I was a little rough on her last night,” he said. “But I’ll make it up to her.” His calmness was terrifying. This was a Max I had never imagined.
I summoned my strength. “Leave her alone, Max. Please leave her alone. You’re married. You’re about to have another child.”
A smile formed on his lips. “Oh, knock it off, Red. You’re not a prudish woman. You know I’m never going to leave Trudy, no matter how many girls I fuck.”
“Celeste Cummings is a mess, Max. She drank herself into a coma last semester. Now at least she’s sober, but she’s hurt. She needs you to leave her alone.”
The smile disappeared. “I know. I’m sorry as hell for her. That’s why I want to see her.”
“Bullshit.”
“Okay. Bullshit. I enjoy her body.”
“Leave her alone, Max.”
“Or what?” Max shifted in his chair and folded his arms. “You’re going to shoot your mouth off? You’re going to report me and Celeste, you’re going to devastate my wife—your good friend—your kind generous Trudy?”
Amazing. The man had raped a young woman just hours ago and here he was cool and confident enough to think he could bargain with me.
I took a deep breath. I had brought George Weinstein down yesterday. Maybe reminding Max I was his boss would have the same effect. I decided to go for broke.
“I’m not planning to tell Trudy anything about Celeste.”
Here goes.
“But your book is another matter. And, I wonder if I should talk to Stoddard about your second and third chapters and maybe even call your publisher. Or, better yet, you should.”
His face transformed. He had probably figured he could back me off and probably talk Celeste out of filing charges. But my discovery of the plagiarism stunned him. I watched carefully as he realized my knowledge of the text he had stolen from Alistair Shaw could ruin him. He would be fired. No respectable journalism school would hire him. The media would denounce him.
His shoulders sagged. He seemed to weaken just as George had, so I continued, feeling surer.
“Why, Max? Why did you copy Shaw’s text for your book?”
I tried to sound sympathetic. I wanted Max to remember we had once been friends. I wanted him to think we could talk our way through this, could come to a sensible solution. I needed to stall him. Sooner or later the guard would return. Or Joe would figure out where I was.
My question seemed to have some effect.
Max pulled his chair closer to my desk and leaned in, his elbows now on my desk. “First tell me what you know, Red. Or, what you think you know.”
“I know you plagiarized because I compared the text in your second and third chapters to text Shaw sent here. I know what you did, but I don’t know why. You’re a good writer, Max. You didn’t have to steal Shaw’s work.”
He leaned forward with his chin in his hands. “My publisher was hounding me for two chapters I couldn’t seem to write. Then, I heard Shaw at a symposium and knew his text was what I needed. So...I borrowed it.”
“And you copied it into your manuscript.”
“It got the publisher off my back. It got me my final advance payment. I needed that money.”
I began to feel in control of the situation. I glanced at the clock on my wall. Ten thirty. Joe would have discovered Max was not at home or at Celeste’s. He could be looking for Max at the school. He could be looking for me.
“How did you think you were going to get away with it?” My voice was even, gentle.
Max pulled back and got up and paced the room. “I figured my book would be published long before Shaw’s. I figured I could re-write it, but I didn’t get around to it. Then, I figured maybe Shaw wouldn’t even live long enough to finish his book. He was old and tackling a huge subject.” Max took a deep breath and stepped toward my desk. “And, finally, I figured no one would notice.”
“You know what this could cost you.”
Max walked around to my side of the desk. His body odor was profound. “Red, I have three kids and another on the way. I had to re-shingle the entire roof of the house a few months ago and I’m still paying it off.”
He put one hand on my shoulder and the other cupped my face. He leaned down, very close, his breath was rank, but his voice was calm.
Obviously, he thought he was persuading me.
“I need this book. You have to give me a break on this. I’ve always been on your side. Now, you need to be on mine.” I pushed him away. His hands went back to his sides but he stayed close. “Red, Alistair Shaw is dead. None of this matters anymore.”
“It does, Max. Using his text was unethical. You need to call your publisher.”
“Goddamn it, Red. I can’t risk it. They might stop publication. Even demand I refund the advance.”
“Then you know that I’ll have to call them.”
Max’s voice rose in a whine. “Why? Just to hurt me?” He raised his hand, palm out. I thought of Celeste’s bruised cheek. I flashed on the memory of the driver of the car demanding his keys. Just as I was sure Max’s hand would come across and strike me, I spun my chair around and bolted toward the door.
Max stood still behind my desk, staring at me. I opened the door and ran.
I heard Max’s footsteps coming after me down the hall. No time for the elevator. I flew down the stairs, thankful I had dressed in jeans and sneakers. I sensed Max a few steps behind me. He caught my arm at the bottom of the stairwell.
“Damn you, Red,” he shouted.
I brought my foot down hard on his instep. He cried out and I pulled free and veered down the back hallway toward the television studios. I turned a corner, pushed open a heavy wooden door and locked it behind me. Max pounded on the door but the lock held.
I was in the smaller of two television studios. The walls were thick and covered in dark material to keep it soundproof. TV studios have no windows. I turned on the light. A camera and some light stands had been pushed up against the far wall behind a small table tha
t held a monitor and a telephone. I raced for the phone. No cord was attached. I was trapped. No sound. Max had stopped pounding on the door, but I sensed he was still on the other side.
I looked around the small studio for a weapon. One of the portable lights, perched high on a long pole might work, but it was top-heavy and unwieldy. I dragged it out from behind the table, gripped it with both hands and then leaned against the table waiting for Max to figure out how to break down the door.
I heard a thump. Then another. Max was kicking the door. I could see it tremble but the lock held.
Then silence. I waited. And waited. The studio was silent. Minutes passed. I felt sweat on my neck and under my arms. I had thrown on a jacket and sweatshirt before taking Celeste to the hospital. Still gripping the portable light stand, I moved toward the back of the room as far as possible from the door.
Then I heard the noise of metal scraping. Max must have found something he thought would break the lock. But the door held and the scraping stopped.
More minutes passed. I looked at my watch. Eleven. By now Joe should be really worried. He would know I was not home, not with Charlie.
Eleven fifteen. The air in the room was warm and thick. No one was going to come to help. Joe must still be out hunting for Max to arrest him. Not for me. I prayed Joe would think to come to the school.
A sound. A key in the lock. Maybe the security guard had arrived. No. My heart rate zoomed as the door opened and Max appeared with a set of master keys in his hand. He must have broken into Nell’s office to find them. He was breathing hard.
I clutched the light stand. The lighting fixture on top was heavy and the stand trembled in my hand.
“Red, I don’t want to hurt you. But I can’t leave you until you promise you will keep this book problem to yourself.” Max took a few steps toward me. I could see he was sweating even more than I. His teeth dug into his lower lip.
He took another step toward me.
I clutched the light stand. Another step. He was no more than a yard away. I inhaled and pushed hard on the light stand. Max dodged to one side. The light stand fell forward, grazed his arm and crashed to the floor next to him. He cried out, “Red, you bitch,” and rubbed his arm. I had stopped him but only for a moment.
Red Solaris Mystery Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 23