Blood Feud

by Brenda Donelan

  “Everyone we talk to knows just a snippet of information about Raj. I wonder if he had one best friend, a person he confided in with all of his secrets,” Barry said. They were silent during the bus ride back to their area of the city, unsure who might overhear their discussion of Raj and his potential killer.

  “How did you get the maid to talk to you? Isn’t she afraid of losing her job if it was discovered that she was dishing the dirt on the family?” Marlee asked after they departed the bus and started the walk back toward campus.

  “I’d like to say it’s because I’m very charming and likeable, but I don’t think that’s it. Now that I think of it, I’m not sure why she opened up to me. Maybe no one at the Sharma house ever talks to her like she’s a human being. If they all treat her like crap, then she might be anxious to spill the family secrets.”

  “She really said she didn’t like me?” Marlee asked, wondering what she had done to set off the maid when she’d only seen her fleetingly on two occasions.

  Barry’s cheeks reddened. “Nah, I just said that to get your goat.”

  “Speaking of goat…,” Marlee said with a smile. How dare he make her think that the Sharma family and their servants didn’t like her!

  “Shut up! I don’t want to hear anything about eating goat. My stomach is finally settled, and I don’t want you to make me sick again,” Barry snapped, his irritation with her returning at full blast.

  “I’m flattered that you think I can control your stomach with my words,” Marlee snarked, realizing too late that she and Barry were headed toward another argument. Before he could lash back, she held her hand up. “Just wait. Before we go down this path again, let’s just end the conversation.”

  “Great idea. I think we should end our communication for the rest of the day,” Barry snapped.

  “Fine!” Marlee barked.

  “Fine!” Barry hopped aboard the bus en route to the Empire Hotel, leaving Marlee standing in the middle of the sidewalk. She hated arguments but loved to be the one storming off in a rage. Now that she was left standing, it made her feel foolish.

  Glancing at her cell phone, she saw it was nearing lunch time, so she went to the cafe she and Meena dined at before. It was several blocks away from the far side of campus, the side of campus where Crispin Kingsley’s office was located. After a hearty lunch which included a flaming hot chicken vindaloo, Marlee’s mouth was still burning from the heat of the chili peppers. The spiciness of the dish caused her eyes to run and her throat to close up, reminding her of the time she accidentally sprayed herself with mace.

  She cut through Crispin’s building and walked by his office, seeing that the door was closed. He’s probably sexually harassing some other student in there, Marlee thought. She knocked on the door, unsure of what she would say to the vile engineering professor. No one answered the door, and she couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside.

  Marlee walked across campus to her office, but there was nothing to do, so she walked by the secretary’s office. The lights were out, but Meena’s computer was on, suggesting she couldn’t be too far away. Marlee sat on one of the two chairs against the wall and waited quietly. That’s when she heard two males talking in hushed tones.

  “It is no secret that Raj had many enemies,” said the male with the deepest voice. “It was only a matter of time before someone put a stop to it.”

  “He was playing with fire, but I did not think he would be killed. Beaten, of course, but not killed,” said the man with the softer voice.

  “I heard he was having an affair with Professor Appleton. That is why he had such good grades in her classes. I read one of his papers, and it was average at best. Yet, he received an A with many positive comments. I received a B on my paper, and it was ten times better than Raj’s.”

  The duo was now in the department office, standing before the row of faculty and graduate student mail boxes. They rummaged through their mail boxes, collecting some papers and tossing others in the garbage can. Marlee sat quietly in the corner, listening to every word they said. As long as the light remained off, they might not notice her there.

  “That is old news. Everyone already knows about that. But I heard their affair was over, and he was seeing someone new. Professor Appleton was heartbroken, and now she is having a baby. And Raj might be the father,” said the man with the soft voice. “I heard Raj was blackmailing Professor Patel.”

  “What did Raj know about Professor Patel?”

  “Professor Patel had false credentials, and Patel is not even his real surname. He may have stolen the identity of someone else. And if that is true, he could be fired and go to jail. But how could he assume the role of a professor without having the background in sociology? And university would have conducted an investigation when he applied for the position, right? I do not know how Raj discovered it. He had a way of finding out all types of information around university even though he does not have any friends.”

  The two continued their speculation as to Raj’s death as they walked out the door but did not reveal anything new. Within five minutes, the secretary entered the room and snapped on the lights. She jumped when she saw Marlee sitting against the wall.

  “You scared me!” she shouted, grasping at her chest. “Why are you sitting here in the dark?”

  “Sorry, Meena. I was waiting to talk to you, but then two men entered the office and started talking about Raj. I think they’re graduate students. Anyway, they didn’t see me sitting here, so I just stayed quiet and listened to them. Then you came in.”

  “I took a lunch break. Did you learn anything else about Raj?” Meena asked, settling into her office chair.

  “Have you heard any rumors about Professor Patel being here under false pretenses? Maybe he stole someone’s identity or falsified his education to get the position?” Marlee asked.

  Meena laughed. “As much as I wish that were the case, I’m sure Professor Patel is who he says he is and has a doctorate degree in sociology. I have observed multiple search committees when they are interviewing for a faculty position. They are very, very thorough. I do not believe one could falsify their information or assume a new identity unless they had several people helping them. The search committee speaks with previous employers and professors from the applicant’s university.”

  “Okay. That sounds very much like how we do things back at my university. Although for one faculty search the committee didn’t carry out due diligence and we hired someone with multiple pending law suits for sexual harassment at his previous university. He had a hyphenated surname and dropped the last part of his name, so he did not show up on any internet searches,” Marlee recalled.

  “What happened?”

  “When it all came to light, he was dismissed. The search committee and Midwestern State University had egg on their faces for quite a while. We were the laughing stock in our region for hiring him.”

  Meena thought for a moment. “I suppose it is possible someone could get away with such a scheme here, but I have never heard of anything like it at all.” She looked around and noticed no one else was in or around the department office. Meena grabbed a set of keys from her desk drawer and strode across the room to a group of file cabinets.

  She handed the procured manila folder to Marlee and said, “This is Professor Patel’s personnel file. It contains his application for employment and reference information. No one will know it is gone as long as you have it back to me by the end of the day. Please be discreet. My position and reputation depend on it!”

  Great anger is more destructive than the sword.

  Indian proverb

  Chapter 25

  With shaking hands and a pounding heart, Marlee rushed to her office and locked the door behind her. She had Professor Patel’s personnel folder which might hold the key to why Raj was blackmailing him. She spread the folder out on her tiny desk and started reading his application and letter. It was impossible to focus as every footstep or creak on the other side o
f door made her jump. Marlee assumed it was only a matter of time before Dean Reddy came barging into her office, demanding the contraband folder. When she couldn’t take it any longer, she slid the folder into her bag and went back to her apartment.

  As long as I get the folder back to Meena before 5:00 o’clock, I’ll be fine, Marlee thought. She opened the file and placed the stack of papers on her bed, again returning to Professor Patel’s application. Delhi University was his first full-time teaching position with his only previous academic experience being a teaching assistant in graduate school. He cited several papers he’d submitted to academic journals, few of which Marlee was familiar with but that could be because they were not American publications.

  Professor Patel’s application letter contained the usual jargon and bullshit used by academics. He professed a love of teaching and opening young minds to the study of sociology. His research interests were all over the place – from population studies to race and ethnicity to criminal justice. Marlee didn’t see anything too unusual but made a note to follow up on the papers he had published while still in grad school. He attended University of Mumbai, graduating in 2010. He earned his doctorate and undergraduate degrees at the institution located over 800 miles to the south of Delhi.

  It was customary in the United States to provide teaching evaluations along with the application, and India was no different. Professor Patel’s student evaluations from several semesters of teaching in grad school went from one extreme to the other. Some students seemed to worship Patel, even calling him a genius. Other students lambasted him for his lack of preparation for class, haughty attitude, and refusal to entertain questions or listen to differences of opinion. How did he get hired with this many poor evaluations? Marlee wondered as she sifted through the paperwork. Either he provided a good explanation during the interview or the university was desperate to hire someone. She knew that oftentimes universities found themselves in a tight spot and hired the best candidate they could find, which might mean hiring someone woefully lacking in one area.

  Upon looking through his evaluations again, a pattern emerged. The positive comments from students occurred over several semesters. A couple negative reviews were mixed in, but most were favorable to Professor Patel. Almost every negative review he received was during one semester. I wonder what happened in spring of 2010. Marlee remembered her dean at Midwestern State University saying that everyone who teaches has one really shitty semester. It might be due to a divorce, a death in the family, a substance abuse problem, or the professor becomes disillusioned with academic life. Either way, if the poor performance could be explained and didn’t repeat itself, then all was forgiven.

  I need to find out what happened to Professor Patel that semester, Marlee thought, wondering if this was a lead as to why Raj was blackmailing him. She finally found what she was looking for; the professor’s list of personal references. Two were professors that taught him in grad school and one was a fellow graduate student.

  Handwritten notes were attached to the list of references, presumably from the person who talked to each of them on the telephone. Professor Mattoo reported him to be a hardworking student, passionate about the discipline of sociology, but lacking in people skills. That sounds like nearly every graduate student I’ve ever known.

  The notes on the conversation with the second professor, Nivia Kommala were quite damning in that she characterized Professor Patel as a sociopath willing to do whatever it took to achieve his goals. Unfortunately, no examples were written down. Either none were given by the reference or the person on the search committee doing the telephone interviews chose not to write them down.

  The third reference was from fellow graduate student, Hanish Kale. His comments were overly complimentary, even gushing at times. He marveled at Patel’s brilliance, work ethic, and magnificent teaching abilities in the classroom. I bet they agreed to provide glowing references for each other, Marlee thought, curious about what Hanish Kale might have to say about Professor Patel now two years later.

  It was unethical, but she decided to do it anyway, convincing herself that the ends justified the means, as Barry had noted earlier. If she got caught, then Delhi University might send her back to the United States, but they didn’t have much authority over her otherwise. Of course, it wouldn’t look good for her once she got back to MSU and had to explain to her dean why she impersonated someone from human resources to get information on Professor Patel.

  Her first call was to the professor who said he had no people skills. That professor had since died and Marlee had no idea how to follow up on his comments, so she asked to be transferred to Professor Kommala since they were in the same department.

  The professor had a melodic voice which Marlee thought would sound nice reading poetry. “I’m sorry to bother you, but we had some destruction of records and we are facing an accreditation review next year. In order to complete our file on Professor Manu Patel, I just needed to follow up with you since you were one of his references for the position here back in 2010.”

  She paused, leading Marlee to wonder if Professor Kommala would agree to provide comments. She didn’t know her, and the plan did seem far-fetched. Would she believe that Marlee was working to complete application files from 2010?

  “I have no trouble remembering Manu Patel. He is quite intelligent, but beyond that I have nothing complimentary to say. Patel fabricated his research data, but I could not prove it, so he graduated with his doctorate.”

  “Why do you think he fabricated his data?” Marlee asked.

  “Because I personally talked to three of the people he interviewed, and they gave me very different information that what Patel reported in his study,” said Professor Kommala.

  “But the names of subjects are kept confidential. How do you know for certain the three you talked to were actually part of the study? And how do you know for sure what answers they gave to Patel? It’s possible that they just told you what they thought you wanted to hear.”

  “Yes, of course it is possible that two of them lied, but the third person in the study was my husband. He was the one who tipped me off to Patel’s faulty research methods, so I watched, and I waited. When he provided the results to his graduate committee, I knew he was lying. His research was qualitative, based on interviews from graduate students in the chemistry department and the meanings gleaned from said interviews. None of the interviews reported in his study matched up with what my husband told me he said. My husband then suggested I talk to some of the other grad students in his department and they revealed very different stories that what Patel had reported,” said Professor Kommala.

  “What was the nature of his study?” Marlee asked, already knowing since she’d had access to his personnel file.

  “Patel was studying graduate student satisfaction in the chemistry department. Originally, he wanted to do the study in the Sociology Department, but we thought it was a conflict of interest to study his own department. He settled on the chemistry graduate students, not knowing that my husband was in the program. I said nothing because I did not see it as a problem. He told me that during the interviews, Patel tried to lead them to say specific things about the chemistry program. As you know, an interviewer should remain impartial. After hearing of his leading questions, I made sure to look closely at his data. My husband already told me what he said and nothing of that nature was reflected in his research.”

  “Do you think Patel had a vested interest in skewing the research results in a specific way?” Marlee asked, unsure why he would want his research to reflect something inaccurate.

  “Oh, yes. As I learned later, Patel held a grudge against the Sociology Department and was trying to cast unfavorable light on the chemistry program in hopes it would lead a trail back here to us. His plan was to get some of the sociology professors fired, and he was using his research to start the ball rolling, as they say,” reported Professor Kommala.

  “Why was he holding a grudge against
the Sociology Department?” Marlee asked. “And couldn’t his plan have backfired, leaving him without his doctorate degree?”

  “Patel received low grades in two classes; both of them being mine. He was in danger of being released from the program, but he could not accept that his poor grades were his fault. The blame was placed on me. He made accusations against me and the whole Sociology Department and a grueling semester-long investigation ensued. It ended in our favor, but our reputations were tarnished. When he came up for his dissertation defense, I noted the problems with his interviews. Unfortunately, the administration felt that I was retaliating against Patel because of the claims he made against me. They felt my husband would say whatever I asked him to say. The other two students I spoke with in her program were not deemed credible since they were friends of my husband. And I was removed from his graduate committee due to conflicts of interest. As I said earlier, Patel’s research was garbage, but he was allowed to graduate.”

  “I notice here in your comments to the person who spoke to you from Delhi University that you said Patel was a sociopath. Did you say that because of the falsified research and the trouble he got you into with the administration?” Marlee asked not convinced that Patel’s actions, while horrific, rose to the level of a sociopath.

  “Oh, no. That was just the tip of the iceberg. The other horrible acts did not directly involve me, but I heard about them from credible sources. Another graduate student at that time accused Patel of rape. Of course, he denied it and was able to convince the police of his innocence. He was able to manipulate every situation to his benefit. Most people had no idea they were being used,” said Kommala, more than a touch of bitterness in her sweet-sounding voice.