Death With Dostoevsky

by Katherine Bolger Hyde

  She hung back a moment so as not to attract the Russian’s attention, then proceeded down the hall. But as she approached the stairway, she met Saul Goldstein coming up. He scowled at her.

  ‘I’m sick of this shilly-shallying,’ he said. ‘I’m going to confront your department head and get this thing settled once and for all.’

  Emily put out a restraining hand. ‘Just a moment, please, Mr Goldstein. There are developments you need to know about.’ She explained about the recording. ‘Marguerite’s talking to Richard McClintock now. I really think it would be best if you let us handle this as an internal college matter. If we fail, then it will be time for you to get more involved.’

  He hmphed. ‘I want to hear this recording for myself. Come along if you like, but I’m going to McClintock’s office.’

  It was clear to Emily that there was no way she could stop Goldstein, so she contented herself with saying, ‘Just please promise me you’ll be a silent observer until we see how he reacts. Honestly, getting hostile with him at this stage will only make him more recalcitrant.’

  Goldstein hmphed again and marched on down the hall. Emily scurried to get to Richard’s door ahead of him. She could hear Marguerite and Richard talking, so she walked in without bothering to knock.

  Richard was holding forth in his best pompous manner. ‘If you think this is going to change anything—’ He broke off, spotting the incomers. ‘What the heck? Emily, could you please mind your own business just this once? And who is this man?’

  ‘This is Saul Goldstein. His daughter Svetlana is the one Taylor was making threats about. He also happens to be a lawyer.’

  At the word ‘lawyer’ Richard’s red face paled, and his tone went from commanding to groveling in nothing flat. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Goldstein. As I was just telling Professor Grenier, we will naturally treat this matter with all the seriousness it deserves. It is an internal college matter, though. No need for you to be involved – either as a parent or as a representative of the law.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ Goldstein growled. ‘If I see appropriate action within the next twenty-four hours, fine. If not …’ He left the rest of the sentence to Richard’s imagination.

  Judging by his face, Richard’s imagination supplied the most daunting possible conclusion to Goldstein’s unfinished clause. ‘I assure you I’ll do everything in my power to bring this issue to a satisfactory conclusion for all parties.’ He gave an unconvincing smile.

  That was the mother of all diplomatically meaningless remarks. Any conclusion that was satisfactory to the reluctant cooperative of Emily, Marguerite, and Saul Goldstein could hardly be satisfactory to Taylor Curzon.

  ‘Marguerite, you’ve emailed me that recording? Good. Now if you’ll all excuse me, I think it best that I speak to Professor Curzon in private.’ Richard reached for his desk phone with one hand while waving them all out the door with the other.

  With her back to Richard and a significant look at Emily, Marguerite tapped on her phone and then slid it surreptitiously on to a shelf by the door. In a moment Emily felt her own phone vibrate in her pocket.

  As soon as they closed the door behind them, Marguerite whispered, ‘Pick up the call but say nothing.’ Emily complied, and Marguerite shooed her and Goldstein into her office. As she pulled the door shut, Emily glimpsed Taylor emerging from her own office and heading across the hall toward Richard’s door.

  Marguerite took Emily’s phone from her hand and did something to it. ‘There. I have muted the sound from our end and set it to record the conversation.’ She set the phone on her desk and beckoned the others close. Soon they heard Taylor’s voice, sounding annoyed.

  ‘What is it, Richard? I do have things to do, you know.’

  ‘Oh, I think you’ll find this is worth your time, Taylor.’ They heard Emily’s recording playing faintly from Richard’s computer.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ Taylor’s tone was dismissive, but Emily sensed fear underneath.

  ‘Never you mind. The point is that it proves you’ve been sexually harassing Daniel Razumov.’

  ‘It proves no such thing. Daniel said his and Svetlana’s grades depended on his … cooperation. I never did.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but you strongly implied it. At any rate, Svetlana’s lawyer father seems to think your words are quite clear enough to warrant your dismissal.’

  Goldstein’s eyebrows went up and he opened his mouth, presumably to protest that he’d said no such thing – in fact, he hadn’t even heard the recording yet. But Marguerite shushed him with a raised palm.

  Taylor’s confident voice wavered slightly. ‘There’s no way this would stand up in court. It was obtained without my consent.’

  ‘We don’t need it to stand up in court. All we need is for the college disciplinary board to accept it. And given your well-deserved reputation, I don’t think there’s much question that they will. Accept it – and act on it. Your career could be over, Taylor.’

  Richard’s tone shifted to one that made Emily’s skin crawl. ‘Of course, there is a way to make this go away.’

  Taylor gave a derisive snort. ‘Nice try, Richard. But there is no way you’re ever getting into my bed, threats or no threats. I’ve got something worth two of that.’

  ‘Wh–what do you mean?’ Emily pictured Richard backing away and Taylor advancing in a travesty of a tango.

  ‘That last article of yours in the Journal of Modern Literature? I happen to know exactly where you got it. And it certainly wasn’t out of your own feeble little brain.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Richard blustered. ‘I dare you to find either the ideas or the words anywhere else, in print or online.’

  ‘In print or online, no. But on your student Pacifique Morel’s computer, yes. Practically word for word, and file-dated well before your article appeared.’ Emily could almost hear Taylor’s triumphant smile. ‘Pillow talk is a marvelous thing. You should try it sometime. Oh no, I forgot – you have no one to share a pillow with. Nobody will have you, for love, money, or threats. Poor Richard.’

  ‘You devious bitch,’ Richard hissed. ‘I’ll get you for this. One way or another. Or Goldstein will. Now get out of my office.’

  ‘Toodle-oo, dearie. Just remember – if I go down, you go down with me.’ They heard footsteps, then the opening and closing of the office door.

  Marguerite ended the call and the recording as Goldstein erupted. ‘That spineless slimeball! Now you’ve got to admit it’s time for me to take this into my own hands. I’m going to sue.’

  Marguerite and Emily exchanged a defeated glance. ‘You must do as you think best,’ Emily said. ‘And may God have mercy on us all.’

  ELEVEN

  ‘After that debacle, chérie, we need a distraction,’ Marguerite said to Emily when Goldstein had stormed out. ‘Let us have a Scrivener lesson.’

  Emily agreed readily. As frustrating as learning new technology might be, it would still be a relief from the impossible Curzon situation.

  They worked for an hour, after which Emily felt like the Far Side cartoon character who asks to be excused because his brain is full. It was time for coffee anyway, so she and Marguerite decided to adjourn to the Paradox. But as they left Marguerite’s office, Emily saw Douglas Curzon entering the office of his erstwhile wife.

  With a significant glance at Marguerite, Emily stole close to Taylor’s door. If she was going to embark on a new career as an eavesdropper, she might as well make the most of it. She must be developing a suspicious mind – she couldn’t help wondering if there was more to the situation between Taylor and Douglas than Douglas had led her to believe.

  The door closed behind Douglas but then drifted open again. The latch must be faulty. That explained why the door hadn’t been fully closed when Daniel was in with her earlier.

  ‘Douglas,’ they heard Taylor say, ‘I thought we’d said everything we had to say.’

  ‘You may have. I have not.’

  Emily hardly re
cognized the normally urbane, courteous tones of Douglas’s voice. It rang with an edge of barely controlled rage.

  ‘Oh, come now, Dougie. Is that painting really so important to you?’

  ‘You know it is. It’s been in my family for generations. It was painted by one of my ancestors depicting another. You have no claim to it whatsoever – legal or moral.’

  ‘But possession is nine-tenths of the law, sweetie. You know that.’

  ‘Not in this case. The painting isn’t legally under dispute. You simply stole it. And now you’re holding it for ransom.’

  ‘So sue me. Bring criminal charges against me. Go ahead. After all, you have nothing to lose.’ Her voice dripped sarcasm. Could she have some hold over Douglas, as she did over Richard? Was this the way she got away with everything in her life?

  Emily longed to see into the room, but her scruples would not bend that far. She pictured Taylor standing hand on hip, smiling provocatively, while Douglas’s handsome face contorted with rage.

  ‘Taylor, I swear to you, if you don’t hand over that painting, I’ll—’

  ‘You’ll what?’ Her taunting voice suddenly dropped to a seductive whisper. ‘Crush me in your passionate embrace? Rip off my clothes? Throw me over the desk and screw me silly?’

  Emily could hear Douglas’s rough and labored breath. Could it be that he was still attracted to Taylor? Was he actually longing to do just that?

  The taunt came back with a harder edge. ‘You’re not man enough, Douglas, and we both know it. You’d better just accept that I’ve won. The painting is my trophy, and I’m keeping it.’

  Douglas did not reply. Sensing an end to the conversation, Emily and Marguerite darted back to the safety of Marguerite’s doorway and peeked out as Douglas emerged. Emily watched him take a few deep breaths, no doubt willing his color to recede and his shaking hands to still. When he seemed more or less back to normal, the two women came into the hallway as if they had never suspected his presence.

  Emily hailed him. ‘Good morning, Douglas. Though from your expression I’m guessing your morning hasn’t been any better than ours.’

  ‘That woman is going to be the death of me,’ he said with a failed attempt at lightness. ‘Or vice versa. She refuses to budge an inch.’ He collected himself enough to notice Marguerite. Men always did notice Marguerite.

  Emily hastened to make the introduction. ‘Marguerite knows all about our attempt to get Taylor fired,’ she said. ‘But I’m afraid we’ve had a major setback this morning, just when we thought we were on the cusp of victory.’ She gave Douglas a thumbnail sketch of the morning’s events without specifying the nature of Taylor’s threat to Richard.

  Douglas rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. ‘Typical Taylor. She always makes sure to have something she can hold over anyone who might be a hindrance. In my case, it’s this heirloom I want her to return. It looks like I’ll have to choose between that and my entire fortune.’

  Emily marveled at his ability to speak so lightly of a situation that had to all appearances driven him to the brink only moments before. Self-control was one thing, but she preferred Luke’s transparent honesty.

  ‘You should hire Saul Goldstein as your lawyer,’ Marguerite said. ‘I do not know if he does divorces, but he is out for Taylor’s blood. If anyone could defeat her in court, I think it would be he.’

  ‘That’s not a bad thought,’ Douglas said with a closer, more appreciative look at Marguerite. ‘My current lawyer is an old family friend, and I half suspect Taylor has got her hooks into him. He doesn’t seem to be giving me his all.’

  Emily was having second thoughts about fixing Marguerite up with Douglas, but Marguerite was forewarned as well. She could take care of herself, and her flirtations had sometimes proved useful in the past. ‘We were just going to the Paradox for coffee,’ Emily said to Douglas. ‘Would you like to join us?’

  ‘I’d be delighted.’ He turned toward the staircase and offered them each an elbow. ‘With the two most charming ladies on campus on my arm, I can face down the world.’

  Douglas insisted on paying for all the coffees, and they sat at one of the rickety tables. Marguerite always refused to sit on the Paradox couches as it was impossible to maintain a ladylike posture against their sagging seats and beaten backs.

  Douglas and Marguerite soon became enmeshed in a happy if not very serious flirtation. Marguerite could flirt for France, even in a parka in a snowstorm surrounded by hungry polar bears. Emily allowed her attention to wander out the window. She saw Daniel approaching around the corner, and soon he entered the café.

  He ordered his coffee, then turned and noticed Emily. He didn’t approach but gazed at her with an intensity that told her he wanted to talk to her alone. She joined him on a couch. Douglas and Marguerite were too absorbed in each other to notice her move.

  ‘Do you have any news?’ he asked her in a low voice.

  ‘Yes, but I’m afraid it’s not all good. We played the recording for McClintock, and he agreed to confront Curzon. But she’s got something on him that made him back down. Svetlana’s father was there, and he’s decided to go ahead and sue Curzon. It’ll be hell for Svetlana, I’m afraid, but I don’t see what we can do to stop him.’

  Daniel dropped his head into his hands and pulled at his hair with both fists. ‘I’m at the end of my rope,’ he said. ‘This is going to tear Sveta and me to pieces.’ He dropped his hands and looked up at her with anguished eyes. ‘If this goes to court, it’ll kill Sveta. She’s so sensitive, you have no idea. To have her personal business paraded in front of the world – it’ll just kill her.’

  Emily searched Daniel’s face with concern. His haunted eyes darted around the room, and his hands shook on his cup, making his coffee slosh. She didn’t know much about epilepsy, but she feared these might be signs of an oncoming seizure. Emily suspected Svetlana was actually the stronger of the two – much stronger than Daniel gave her credit for. It was Daniel whom this whole impossible situation might destroy.

  ‘Perhaps Mr Goldstein will be able to avoid a trial, or at least avoid involving Svetlana. Surely he’d want to keep her out of it if possible.’

  ‘But it’s her grade he cares about. Curzon could coerce every male student in the whole college and he wouldn’t care, as long as it didn’t touch his precious little girl. No way will he keep her out of it. Or me. And when it’s all over – if it’s ever over – he’ll find some way to separate the two of us. Take her back east, make her marry a Jewish lawyer. He probably has a junior partner all picked out for her already.’

  Emily covered his shaking hand with her own, her voice gentle. ‘Daniel, this is twenty-first-century America. No parent can force his daughter to marry someone she doesn’t want to marry. Nor can he prevent her from marrying the person of her choice – you’re both of age. You may have to run away together, but you wouldn’t be the first couple to do that.’

  He shook his head, clinging to his despair as if it were his only friend. ‘You don’t know Sveta. She loves her dad in spite of everything. She’ll never go against him.’

  ‘I think you underestimate her love for you. I’m quite sure it’s you she’ll hang on to at all costs.’

  Daniel merely heaved a sigh and struggled to his feet, wavering as if he were tipsy – but Emily knew it was stress and illness that caused his instability. ‘I’ve got to get to work. Even if I can’t have Sveta, I still have to get my degree. My mother and sister are counting on me.’

  Emily stood and caught his elbow as he seemed about to fall. ‘Daniel, I’m begging you, get some rest. You really don’t look well at all. One afternoon off won’t ruin your thesis.’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head slowly, eyes half-glazed, hardly seeming to take in her words. ‘Got to work.’ He staggered out in the direction of the library.

  Emily called Svetlana’s cell to warn her to look out for Daniel, but she didn’t answer. Probably in the midst of being harangued by her father. She left a messag
e, then said a prayer for Daniel. His guardian angel would need to work overtime in the days and weeks to come.

  TWELVE

  Emily had arranged with Marguerite for another Scrivener lesson first thing Tuesday morning. At eight o’clock she walked down the hall toward Marguerite’s office. Noticing Taylor’s door ajar, she had the sudden mad notion of making one more attempt to plead with her to see reason and give Svetlana and Daniel – and even Douglas, while she was at it – a break.

  She knocked and called, ‘Taylor?’ but there was no response. Emily pushed the door open halfway and poked her head in.

  Immediately she wished she hadn’t. The sight of an inert form sprawled on the Persian rug in front of the desk gradually overcame Emily’s instinctive disbelief and resolved itself into the shape of a woman, dressed as Taylor had been the day before in a revealing purple dress, one black spike heel kicked off under a chair. Emily assumed the woman was Taylor, but the face was unrecognizable, the head covered in blood. No need to check for signs of life. The blood was dull as if congealed, not shiny and wet. Given that and her day-old outfit, it seemed safe to assume Taylor had been dead for some hours.

  With shaking hands, Emily pulled out her phone and called Luke. ‘What was the name of your nephew on the force again? I’m going to need him.’ She took a gasping breath and said the word. ‘Body.’

  ‘Oh, crap. It’s Colin. Colin Richards. Want me to call him and introduce you?’

  ‘Please. Then have him call me right away.’

  ‘Roger. Call me back after you talk to him and fill me in. You know I’ll be up there like a shot if you need me.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’ll be OK. I will call you back, though.’

  Emily hung up and attempted to gather her wits as she looked around. She knew better than to touch anything or even to walk on the rug, where her shoes might disturb any traces left by the murderer. She made her way gingerly around on the cement floor, avoiding spilled blood and looking for a weapon or anything that might present a clue.