by Jan Dunlap
If you want to know who’s in and who’s out in any college department, ask a secretary. And I don’t mean just the physical location of in and out. Secretaries know all the dynamics of office relationships. They know who’s ticked at whom, who’s doing the heavy lifting in the office, and who’s got other irons in the fire. Besides juggling a hundred clerical and administrative tasks, good secretaries learn to identify the moods of the people they work with and often notice details others overlook.
And that was why the first person I was looking for this morning was a secretary, preferably one who knew both Rahr and Ellis. Since both men were based in the BSB, I was hoping I might pick up some helpful insights into their working relationship from the department secretaries. Okay, maybe even a little dirt. I had, after all, promised my fellow MOU board members that I would check on Ellis’s credentials—just because he personally wasn’t available didn’t preclude my obtaining some information.
I mean, it’s not like I was snooping, exactly.
Close, but not exactly.
And if a secretary told me something I thought Knott might like to know, there was nothing wrong with passing it along, right?
Especially if it got me back in Knott’s good graces. I knew I was skating on thin ice since I’d neglected to tell him about my phone call with Rahr. At the time, I just hadn’t thought it would help. Now, I realized it was a major error in judgment.
I locked the car and walked to the building. The air was brisk and felt great after a morning of driving. The weather had turned. Unlike the previous weekend I’d spent freezing in the woods, the air was spring-like—instead of closing my throat against the cold, I wanted to drink it in. Without a doubt, Old Man Winter was starting to lose his grip on Minnesota’s North Shore.
The down side was that it meant time was running out on the Boreals’ mating season and any chances I had to find them. Though I hated to admit it, my pending suspension from work was a birding blessing in disguise if it produced my owl. If it didn’t, and Knott couldn’t convince Mr. Lenzen to take me back on Monday, then it would be only the beginning of a very long weekend—a weekend that might possibly extend into weeks, or even months.
With only partial pay.
If I was lucky.
Not this camper, I decided. I was going to set my sights on something good coming out of this weekend, even if I had to make it happen myself.
Problem was, at least two other someones apparently had their sights set on me. And to make matters worse, I really didn’t know why.
It definitely looked like lunch with Knott wasn’t exactly going to be happy hour.
I walked into the BSB lobby and looked around for a directory but couldn’t find one. Then I looked up. Suspended high above my head were large department symbols, pointing visitors down different corridors to the various departments. The symbols were hewn out of native rock. Big pieces of native rock. I couldn’t decide which was scarier: the thought that I could be squashed like a bug if one of those rocks came tumbling down, or the possibility that my tax dollars had helped pay for them.
I picked out a symbol that looked like a primitive drawing of a wave curling around the earth and hoped it meant environmental science. After following it down a wide corridor that made several turns, sure enough, I ended up … in front of a water fountain.
I retraced my steps, mentally cursing the architect who sold the university on the symbol sign posts. This time, I chose a rock that was etched with what looked like a mass of tangled worms. Or maybe it was spaghetti. If it led me to a food court, I was giving up.
Thankfully, it didn’t. A couple turns of another corridor and I found the environmental sciences department.
I had chosen wisely.
I pushed through the glass office doors. Across the room, behind a reception desk, there was an attractive, dark-haired woman. She smiled as I approached.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes,” I said. “I was hoping you could tell me a little about Bradley Ellis. I understand he’s an adjunct professor here this term.”
She dropped the pen she was holding. She leaned back in her chair.
The ground shook.
The room darkened.
Lightning cracked.
Just kidding.
But something happened because Ms. Smiling Secretary disappeared.
Ms. Furious took her place.
“Are you from the police department?” Ms. Furious shouted at me.
I took a step back from the desk.
“Because if you are, I don’t know anything more than I’ve already told you people! Dr. Ellis is out of town. His father is ill. I don’t know when he’ll return. That’s all you’re going to get. Now get out!”
I figured if I didn’t move, she wouldn’t see me. Maybe I could back up very slowly and follow the worms back out of the building. I could enter the warrens under the campus and lose myself in the pajama-clad throngs. I could drive down to the harbor. I could hide in my hotel room.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I certainly didn’t mean to upset you. I’m not a detective.”
That seemed to help a little. Not much, but a little. Ms. Furious downgraded to Ms. Seething.
“I’m here on behalf of the Minnesota Ornithologists’ Union,” I told her. “Dr. Ellis sent an email saying he’d like to do some research for us.”
“Oh.”
The dark abyss closed up as suddenly as it had opened.
Ms. Smiling Secretary was back.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized to me. “It’s just been so terrible around here this week with the police asking questions, over and over, and poor Bradley—Dr. Ellis—gone to be with his father. It’s just been overwhelming, really. It reminds me of last year, when we had all those logging people in here arguing with Dr. Rahr. And all those S.O.B people, too. I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had started throwing punches. It was awful. Honestly, it was a three-ring circus in here by the time the DNR put an end to it.”
Now she was Suzy Talks a Lot.
I nodded in understanding. Actually, I was afraid to open my mouth.
Suzy picked a pen out of a glass jar on her desk, pulled a notepad in front of her, and began to write. She smiled up at me. “Now, what was your name?”
“Bob White,” I told her. “I’m a member of the MOU board. I wanted to talk with Dr. Ellis about the Boreal Owl study.”
I noticed that the pen she used had Save Our Boreals stamped on it. For some reason, the pen looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place it. I wondered if she was a member of the group, or if someone had left it behind last year during the three-ring circus.
“He’s already had experience, you know.”
My gaze shifted from the pen in her hand to her face. Now she was beaming, almost like I’ve seen parents do on Back to School Night when they’re proud of their children. Except she certainly wasn’t old enough to be Ellis’s mother.
Considering her multiple personality routine, I couldn’t imagine her as anyone’s mother. She alone probably had enough issues to keep a whole class of counselors-in-training busy for at least a year or two. Maybe three. I didn’t even want to consider how kids of hers might turn out.
“He spent a season working with Dr. Rahr a few years ago,” she offered. “That’s when I first met him, actually. I was Dr. Rahr’s secretary at the time.”
Bingo.
Ms. Multiple knew both Rahr and Ellis. I’d hit pay dirt on the first shovel dig. I bit the inside of my mouth to keep myself from grinning. “And you are?”
“Alice. Alice Wylie.”
Then it happened again. The woman—Alice—morphed again. This time into Ms. Press Release.
“I can’t tell you how upsetting Dr. Rahr’s death has been for all of us,” she said, her voice totally flat. “It’s just unthinkable. I haven’t seen Dr. Ellis this week, but I’m sure he’ll just be sick about it. Since he started here in January, he’s often remarked that he owes Dr. Rahr a
great deal.”
Then, for the blink of an eye, Ms. Furious was back. “In fact, if it weren’t for Dr. Rahr, Dr. Ellis wouldn’t be where he is today in his academic career.”
Gee, do you think I could go out and come in again and we could start this thing over? I wanted to ask. Because this whole multiple-personality thing was really starting to creep me out. Without a doubt, I was definitely getting a bad feeling here. But what?
Something weird was going on with Alice Wylie.
Not only was she doing a good imitation of a really serious clinical psychological disorder, but her tone of voice was confusing me. I couldn’t tell if she was defending Rahr or damning him, or if it was Ellis that she was defending/damning. Whichever it was, it also didn’t jibe with the press release she’d just recited, a comment that seemed to suggest that a mutual admiration society existed between the two men.
But I knew that mutual admiration wasn’t the case. Or at least, it hadn’t been the case when Rahr refused to keep “the kid” on, as Dr. Phil had reported.
Which made me wonder what Ellis had really meant in his email when he said he owed Rahr.
Depending on how I took Alice’s statement, I could come up with a variety of spins.
If I took it as an indictment against Rahr on Ellis’s behalf, that could mean that Ellis had made his remark out of resentment, rather than gratitude—that he might be further along in academia if Rahr hadn’t shut him down with the Boreals. True, he’d earned his doctorate from Cornell, which was no mean feat, but was it possible that Rahr had somehow slowed him down professionally?
On the other hand, if I took Alice’s words as praise for Rahr, then maybe Ellis’s email remark was likewise complimentary.
Unless he was being sarcastic.
Or vindictive.
Get a grip, I told myself. Just listen. Stop looking for innuendo. Collect the information and let Knott do the detective thing. That’s what he got paid for. Not me.
“You know,” Alice was saying, lowering her voice, “some of these professors can be pretty petty about their colleagues. I’ve even seen them deliberately sabotage each other’s chances for promotion and funding grants. Not here, of course,” she added quickly. “I’ve worked at other colleges in the state and seen it all. But it’s different here.”
She sniffed, grabbed a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. My guess was that Ms. Vulnerable had just arrived.
“Everyone is so supportive of each other’s work that it’s like working with your own family,” she said, her voice quivering. “That’s why Dr. Rahr’s death was so disturbing. Nothing like that ever happens here.”
I waited to see if she’d say anything more, but she—all of her—seemed to be finished. Believe me, I wasn’t complaining. I thanked her for her time, and she promised to get the message to Ellis when he returned. As I wound my way out, following the worm back to the building’s lobby, I passed an office door that was slightly ajar. Thinking it was worth a try to speak with another department member, I knocked. When no one answered, I pushed it open.
Papers were scattered across a wide oak desk. On the wall behind it, photographs and diplomas hung in the space between filled bookshelves. One photo in particular caught my eye: it showed a man on skis shooting a rifle. Next to it was a diploma from Cornell University. I leaned in a little to read it. It belonged to Bradley Ellis.
“Can I help you?”
I jumped at the man’s voice right behind my shoulder. I hadn’t even heard him walk in. I turned around and found myself looking at a big muscular guy about my height, maybe my age, with salt-and-pepper hair cut close to his scalp.
“Yes,” I said, pointing at the photo. “Who’s the biathlete?”
“I am.” He stuck his hand out in introduction. “Bradley Ellis.”
I shook his hand. “I’m Bob White.”
“Do you compete?” he asked, nodding towards the photo.
“No,” I replied. “I ski, but I don’t shoot. Do you compete?”
“Not any more. When I was younger, I had the time to get to races and train, but full-time employment put an end to that.” He folded his arms over his broad chest and looked me squarely in the eye. “Not much demand for armed cross-country skiers, you know.”
I shifted a little uncomfortably on my feet. “No, I’d guess not.”
“So … is there anything else I can help you with?”
Gee, now that you mention it—confess to murder, maybe?
But since I figured the odds of that happening were zero to nil, I tried to talk my way out of my embarrassment at being found loitering in someone’s private office.
Okay, maybe not loitering exactly.
More like … spying.
“Your secretary said you were out of town, and I happened to see your door open, so I thought I’d check,” I explained. It sounded lame even to me, but it was the best I could come up with spur-of-the-moment.
Obviously, people who were detectives were highly skilled in their profession: they knew how to handle getting caught while snooping, while I felt like a bumbling idiot.
Maybe because I was a bumbling idiot?
It wasn’t my fault that we never covered the finer points of spying in my counseling classes.
“Actually, I just got back about an hour ago,” Ellis said.
He moved away from me and leaned his hip against his desk. With one hand, he straightened the papers on it into a neat pile. I noticed his hands looked strong and weathered, definitely more the hands of an outdoor enthusiast than a classroom pedagogue. I could easily imagine him hiking in the woods or paddling a canoe, dressed as he was in a worn flannel shirt and heavyweight jeans. As for proof that he could ski and shoot, I’d just seen it on the wall.
“I don’t always check in with the receptionist,” he said, smiling a little. “I have a bit of a reputation around here as a maverick, I suppose. An aversion to authority, some people might say.”
The “kid”—as Jim had called him—was definitely a six-footer like me, but he was carrying probably thirty more pounds, all of it muscle. Teaching environmental science was obviously a better workout than being a high school counselor, even with the coaching I did.
Maybe I should start lifting weights with Alan, after all. He was always telling me I should.
“I’m on the MOU board,” I told Ellis. “I’m up here for the weekend to look for the Boreals, and I thought I’d stop in to say hello and talk with you about taking on the study.”
“So you got my email,” he said. “I know the timing seems lousy and probably disrespectful, but I know how much the research meant to Andrew, and I think it would mean a lot to him if it weren’t interrupted.”
“You two worked together before, didn’t you?”
“Yes, we did.” Ellis shuffled some more papers. “After the one season I spent with him, I decided I wanted to pursue my doctorate in environmental studies instead of biological field research, so I took off for the East Coast. I’m afraid he wasn’t very happy with me.” He smiled briefly at me. “Sometimes, it’s hard for mentors to let their mentees go.”
“And now you’re back,” I said.
Brilliant observation, Bob! I gave myself a mental headslap.
“Yes. I am.”
He didn’t elaborate. After a moment of silence, I asked him how his father was doing.
“Not great,” Ellis said. “I left on Saturday … no … Friday to fly home to Michigan. I’m sorry—after being away, my days are all mixed up right now.”
“Bradley!”
We both turned to see Alice in the doorway.
“Hello, Alice.”
“I didn’t know you were back,” she gushed, beaming. Ms. Proud Parent in action.
“Alice, are these yours?” He pulled a pair of red reading glasses from his chest pocket. “I found them on my desk.”
“Oops!” She blushed and took them from his hand. “I was in here the other day—I hope you don’t mind—to see if you had any
plants that needed watering, and I must have left them here. I’m always losing these little guys, you know. I’m missing another pair, too, so if you happen to find them,” she smiled again, “you know where I am.”
I gave myself another mental headslap.
She wasn’t Ms. Proud Parent.
She was Ms. Lovestruck.
In fact, Alice was so focused on Ellis, I wasn’t sure she realized I was standing there in the room, too.
Ellis, on the other hand, was sending out cold waves that were almost palpable. I decided it was time for me to make an exit.
“I won’t keep you,” I told Ellis, edging toward the door, giving Alice a nod as I slipped past her in the doorway. “I expect you have a lot of catching up to do after being out of town. I’ll be in touch. The board wants to make a quick decision about funding you.”
Ellis turned his attention away from Alice and back to me. “That would be great,” he said. “Maybe we could talk more this afternoon? I’ve got a couple appointments, but I’ll be free after three.”
“Actually, I thought I’d take another look at that Boreal site in the daylight,” I told him. “The one where … uh … Dr. Rahr …”
Ellis nodded. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? I just can’t get my mind around it. I keep thinking Andrew’s going to walk in the office any time now and say it wasn’t him they found up there. He’d hate to have his work left undone.”
He threw a quick glance at Alice, who was still standing in the doorway.
“Alice, could you find me a cup of coffee, please?”
“Certainly!” Alice made a quick about-face and headed off down the hall.
“Good help is hard to find,” I commented.
Ellis sighed. “You can say that again.”
I got the clear impression he wasn’t including Alice in the “good help” category.
“Maybe we could have a drink later this evening and talk about the study,” I suggested. “I understand there’s a new spot on the North Shore. I promised a friend I’d check it out.”
“The Splashing Rock,” Ellis said. “It’s excellent. What time do you think?”
We settled on eight o’clock.