Mind Change

by T'Gracie Reese

  The twin hums of motor and air conditioner serenaded each other as the car snaked its way back through campus.

  “We didn’t kill that man, Pete.”

  “That’s too bad,” he growled.

  “Pardon?”

  “Somebody killed him. Blew his chest open. If I can find out who did it, I’ll give the guy or gal a million dollars.”

  “You didn’t like him?”

  “Nobody liked him. And he made Lucinda’s life a living hell. Every dollar she brought into the university, and that she had visions for, he blocked. More of those damned articles and more of those damned bureaucrats. Plus the man was a skunk. Are you sure the two of you didn’t kill him?”

  “Pretty sure. I think I’d remember.”

  “Damn. Have to keep my money where it is.”

  They could see the residence now, glowing in front of them.

  “What’s going to happen next?”

  “As far as I can tell,” he said, “there’ll be a formal hearing tomorrow at nine o’clock. Judge and all. You two will get to tell your stories. The first thing is, though, you need a good night’s sleep.”

  “I’m not too sure how easy that’s going to be.”

  “Easier here, I imagine, than back in the jail.”

  “That’s very true, Pete. And thank you. Thank you for getting me out.”

  “Was my pleasure, ma’am. Sorry I couldn’t do the same for Barnes. But even with all the pull I had, even with my promising to get that D.A. fired if he didn’t go along with me—even with all that, there was no way they were going to let you two see each other.”

  “I understand.”

  “I like Barnes. I like the way he writes. Clear, doesn’t make up words or beat around the bush. I even like his newspaper except it’s––”

  “I know. Too liberal.”

  “You think so too, huh?”

  “What else could one think?”

  “Well, anyway, here we are. And there’s Lucinda!”

  She was waiting for them, wearing a dark blue robe, and standing on the veranda.

  How many years had passed, Nina found herself wondering, since eight thirty this morning when the two of them had walked from this space, across the campus, into the faculty meeting?

  Ten years? A hundred years?

  “Nina!”

  The two of them embraced.

  Then cried.

  Finally, Lucinda:

  “It’s all right, Nina. It will all be all right, now. And thank you, Peter. You’re always there for me. Always.”

  “We got her out. That’s the main thing.”

  “Now, come inside, Nina. We’ll put you in a quiet, interior room. You won’t hear a thing all night. And here, over here on this little table, there’s a glass of milk for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Nina picked it up, drank from it, and drank again.

  “You’re going to need a good night’s sleep.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep.”

  “Of course, you will. You’ll sleep like a log. Tomorrow we shall all eat breakfast together, like civilized people. I’ve invited Mr. Marsh over—I’m told he is attorney for both you and Richard.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Then tomorrow, at nine, we shall all talk before the judge. I’ll tell him what a splendid teacher you are, and what a credit to the community.”

  “Thank you, Lucinda.”

  “It will be my great pleasure.”

  They were moving inside now, and Nina remembered the room with the fireplace, where the two of them had drunk sherry.

  “I’ll have to excuse myself now, ladies. If there’s anything more I can do––”

  Lucinda:

  “Could you take the two of us downtown tomorrow? I think we both would feel more comfortable riding with you.”

  “Of course, I could. I’ll have my car come around about eight thirty. We’ll all go together.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Good night then.”

  So saying, he bowed and left.

  Nina followed Lucinda down a long corridor, which, strangely, was beginning to swim before her eyes.

  “I’m getting really tired,” she said.

  “Of course you are. Just follow me. I’ve had the bed made, and a nightgown laid out for you to sleep in.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “And Lucinda, you’re telling the judge about my teaching will be kind of you. There’s something else that’s probably going to be more important, though.”

  “And that will be?”

  “Talk about the oysters.”

  “The what, dear?”

  “Our oyster meal. If I was here eating with you––”

  “Oh, of course. That goes without saying. Now come, in here.”

  She opened the door to an elegantly furnished bedroom.

  “I wish I had a book,” said Nina, making her way to the bed and picking up a nightgown that Lucinda had laid out for her.

  “You won’t need one, I promise.”

  “It’s always hard for me to sleep without reading. And given everything that’s happened today––”

  “You’ll go right to sleep.”

  “I do feel kind of groggy.”

  “Of course, you do.”

  “Maybe it’s just that I’m exhausted.”

  “That’s possible, Nina. Or it may be the sleeping tablet I put in your milk. Now good night, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Within five minutes, Nina was asleep.

  The following morning, when she awoke, she was unable even to remember putting on the nightgown.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE HEARING

  She was not surprised that she slept soundly, given the medication she’d taken, but rather that she felt so refreshed at 7:30 the following morning. No headache, no drowsiness, no feelings of disorientation or dizziness—just a complete sense of freshness, as though she were back home with Furl and her Vespa, getting ready to walk on the beach and go to Bagatelli’s for croissants.

  “That was some sleeping pill you gave me,” she announced to Lucinda Herndon, upon entering the breakfast room.

  “Yes, Thomas discovered it some years ago. He suffered so from the tension connected with the job. I knew it would make you sleep. I hope there are no side effects.”

  “No, I feel great. Good morning, Adam.”

  Adam Marsh stood, sipped a cup of coffee, and smiled.

  “Good morning, yourself.”

  The room was small, but, like everything else in the residence, elegantly appointed. A silver coffee service gleamed on the table, and plates of bacon and eggs soon appeared before them as if by magic.

  “Adam,” said Lucinda Herndon, “was kind enough to come by. I thought it might be best if we could talk before the hearing.”

  “Good idea,” Nina replied, buttering a roll. “Adam, have you heard from Rick?”

  “Yes. I just came from the jail. He slept okay. Obviously, he’s not exactly on top of the world right now.”

  “Have you been able to learn anything since last night?”

  “A few things. The autopsy report came in a little over an hour ago. They think the provost was shot about nine thirty, about an hour before you two found the body.”

  “At nine thirty, I was here, having a late dinner with Lucinda., so that clears me. The problem is Rick. He’s got to try to remember where he walked. There’s a chance someone saw him. But as it is, he’s got no alibi at all. And there are so many other things that don’t make sense. What was the provost doing at Rick’s house in the first place?”

  “I don’t know, Nina.”

  They ate in silence for a time, while the events of the previous day began replaying themselves in Nina’s mind.

  “What’s the situation with the university?” she asked.

  “Well, President Herndon’s speech last night was certainly a coup,” said Marsh. “The provo
st thought he had marshalled enough support to remove her and install himself as president. He’d already lined up a team of psychologists to testify that she was entering dementia, and another team of lawyers to label the contracts and the early retirement papers invalid.”

  Lucinda Herndon merely smiled:

  “I’m sorry I could not have been at the stadium to see his face. His and Barbara’s.”

  “There was very little either of them could do. Tuition cut in half. That alone made you the most popular president in the history of education. That, and, word is already going around the state and the country that anyone who goes to school here and wants to, gets a free study tour in Europe, or God knows where else.”

  “So the battle is over?” asked Nina. “The old faculty and administration are really gone?”

  Marsh shrugged:

  “It’s not that easy,” he said. “Some of them, realizing they won’t have to work for the rest of their lives, are really pretty happy about it. They can go and live the rest of their lives in Paris if they want. Others are fighting it, of course. But Rick’s stories were very effective. Lucinda started a true national revolution. Parents, political leaders, students themselves—people all over are looking closely at universities and asking hard questions.”

  “Like?”

  “Like what is this research that you’re spending so much money on? It’s one thing to figure out how to cure cancer; it’s a whole different thing to use tax money finding out about extinct shrimp. And the same people are asking themselves, does any university really need three assistant coordinators of planning and development? What in heaven’s name do these people do, anyway?”

  “Lucy,” Nina said, looking at the president, “you should be very proud.”

  But Lucinda Herndon merely shook her head:

  “I would be, of course. I just did what needed doing, and what no one else seemed to have the stomach for. True university reform has never taken place in my life time, and, as the monstrous amoeba that is the research university grew and swelled, it became such a daunting creature that no one dared attack it.”

  “And you did.”

  “Yes, but that’s not the attack that worries me right now. The provost may not have been one of my favorite people, but he did not deserve what happened to him. Nor did Rick and you deserve what you were put through last night.”

  “It seems like a dream. Or rather a nightmare. Walking through that door, seeing the couch, all the blood––”

  “Adam,” asked the president, “what about the murder weapon?”

  “The shotgun? It’s Rick’s all right. He kept it hanging on the wall above the couch. I’ve been over to his place several times, and it’s always been there. That is, when he’s not dove hunting.”

  “No, that’s not what I’m talking about. I was referring to finger prints. I’m an administrator not a detective; but one hears about, reads about police procedure…”

  Adam Marsh shook his head.

  “No prints. Whoever shot the provost was smart. The gun had been wiped clean.”

  Silence for a time.

  Then Nina:

  “What will happen this morning at nine o’clock?”

  Marsh set down his coffee cup and shrugged.

  “It’s a standard preliminary hearing, before a judge. The district attorney will make the case that Rick and Nina are the only suspects, and that the case against them is so damning that they must be held, without bail, for trial. I’ll tell their side of the story. I’ll also ask you to testify briefly, President Herndon, if I’ve understood things correctly, Nina was here with you from nine to almost ten.”

  Lucinda Herndon hesitated for a time, then said:

  “Yes. Of course, I’ll be happy to testify to that.”

  “It might be good if you’d talk a little about Nina herself. How you came to know her. Your opinion of her as a teacher. Why you brought her here to take part in this Golden Age Teacher Award program.”

  “I understand.”

  “And as for Rick, he’s got a whole town full of character witnesses. Everybody knows him and likes him. The problem is, everybody also knows he’s had a personal feud with the provost for years. And that attack last night didn’t help things.”

  “I think,” said Nina, quietly, “that he was just sticking up for my honor.”

  “Maybe, but the provost had just sued his paper and threatened his job. Rick’s been a reporter in this town for his whole life. The district attorney is going to make the point that people have killed for less compelling reasons than those. And then there’s…”

  He hesitated.

  “What?” Nina asked.

  “The thing we talked about last night. The D.A. is almost certainly going to want to know about your relationship with Rick.”

  “Adam,” said Lucinda Herndon, “surely that’s a personal matter between Nina and Richard.”

  Marsh shook his head.

  “It was personal before last night. But now everything’s on the table.”

  Nina was about to speak, to repeat what she’d said the evening before.

  She was about to say ‘We were about to go to bed together.’

  But a horrible thought came into her mind.

  What if Rick had murdered the provost?

  He had attacked the man only a little more than an hour earlier. There had been a kind of rage in his eyes. And the story of walking, but not knowing where he was going? It made no sense. The man had been murdered with Rick’s shotgun, and found in Rick’s house.

  After having threatened Rick’s job.

  His career, actually.

  His life.

  What if he had done it?

  What did she really know of this man?

  Enough to decide to go to bed with him.

  How stupid she was.

  A woman in her late sixties, a respected woman—acting like a schoolgirl.

  How stupid she was.

  And what if he, this man she barely knew, really did take a shotgun and blow open the provost’s chest?

  That was absurd, absolutely absurd.

  But it could have happened.

  She thought for a time more.

  No. It could not have happened. Even if she’d been wrong, completely wrong about this man she had come to feel so comfortable around—even if she could have been stupid enough to misjudge a human being so completely—it still made no sense.

  Why would he have returned to the house with her?

  Rick would have tried to dispose of the body somehow.

  He would not have led Nina straight to it.

  No, it made no sense.

  But nothing else did either.

  She was thinking these thoughts when Peter Stockton drove up in a chauffeured limousine.

  It was time to go to court.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: BEFORE THE LAW

  It was all very much like a television show or a black and white movie.

  The judge, stern looking, seated high above the rest of them. The District Attorney, silver-haired, black-rimmed glasses. Marsh, comforting, seated beside her and smiling as often as possible. Rick, dressed in a business suit, at a table next to her and Marsh, scuffling his shoes nervously on the tile floor of the courtroom.

  A crowd outside, but no reporters allowed to hear or tape the proceedings.

  Somehow she was not that worried about herself. The dinner at the residence would save her. When the provost had been murdered, she had been sipping sherry and eating oysters.

  But Rick?

  Someone had set him up. But who, and how?

  “All right,” said the judge, “let’s begin. Mr. District Attorney, what case does the state intend to make?”

  The man standing some feet away from her could have been an insurance agent. And, when she thought about it, she realized that he was, in fact, a salesman of sorts. He was selling a version of reality that would make her, Nina, as much a murderer as one of the people she’d caught in recent
months.

  “The state, your honor, will prove that the co-defendants, Ms. Nina Bannister and Mr. Richard Barnes, did willfully do murder on Dr. Charles Iverson, who was shot last night some time between the hours of eight and ten o’clock. The shooting took place at the home of Mr. Barnes and was performed with a weapon belonging to, and registered to, same Mr. Barnes. The state will further show that Mr. Barnes and Dr. Iverson had bitter feelings toward each other, feelings stemming often from Mr. Barnes’ reporting of certain events that transpired over a lengthy time frame at Ellerton University, where Dr. Iverson served as provost. Mr. Barnes, in front of several witnesses, viciously attacked Dr. Iverson on the evening on which the murder was committed. The state will show that sufficient evidence exists so that Mr. Barnes and Ms. Bannister be bound over for trial by their peers, and that, due to the severity of the crime, they be held in the city jail without a posting of bond.”

  After saying these things, the district attorney sat down.

  “Mr. Marsh? The defense?”

  Adam rose and spoke in low and comforting tones.

  Nina almost wished a jury had been present to hear them.

  “Your honor, the defense will do, and needs do, little more than paint a picture of the two people who, completely innocent of any crime at all, sit here accused before you. It will point out that Ms. Bannister is one of the leading citizens of the city of Bay St. Lucy, a teacher and principal there for decades. She is in town because she won Ellerton’s first Golden Age Teaching award, which has brought her here to share her teaching expertise with the faculty and student body of Ellerton University. She is a political leader, having formed the well known Lissie movement, and she was instrumental in preventing a possible ecological disaster that might have destroyed the offshore drilling rig known as Aquatica. She has never, ever, committed a crime of any kind. As for Mr. Barnes, there are few people in town who are more respected. He has been a first-rate journalist here for years. He was nowhere near his house when the murder took place. In point of fact, he was having a quiet glass of wine at a well known wine bar, with Ms. Bannister at the time. We, the defense, do not know how Dr. Iverson came to be in Mr. Barnes’ house, but the prosecution doesn’t either, and the bottom line is that nothing exists here except circumstantial evidence. There are no fingerprints on the murder weapon. There are no witnesses. No, your honor, the fact is that these two people should be released on bond, and the police department should set about finding out who really shot this unfortunate man.”