If possible, Tex’s face clouded more. “What’s on your agenda today?” he asked.
“I thought I’d check on Faye. What about you?”
“I’m going to go see the dean. Hopefully my famous hangover remedy will get me in the door, and I can do some unofficial snooping.”
“Shouldn’t you have offered that yesterday?”
“I tried. He didn’t answer the door.”
“Is that suspicious?”
“Not after the way he drank Saturday night. I’d be surprised if he got out of bed.”
Our conversation was interrupted by a spry older man who climbed out of the pool next to us. “You young people want the lane? I’m all done.”
“Sure,” I said at the same time Tex said, “No, thanks.”
“Better figure out which one it is,” the man said. “Got an eager crowd heading this way.” He pointed at the locker room, where three eighty-year-old ladies in floral bathing suits had emerged.
Tex stepped back and gestured to the empty lane. “It’s all yours.”
“Why’d you come if you weren’t going to work out?”
He raised one eyebrow and slowly scanned me in my bathing suit. His gaze returned to my face. “Have a good swim, Night.” He winked and left.
28
I swam long enough to work out the kinks and then added half an hour to clear my mind. By the time I finished, every lane was full. I changed in the locker room, collected Rocky from the puppy room, and left.
Checking on Faye hadn’t been a full-blown plan until I said it out loud to Tex. It struck me after the fact that Faye hadn’t been with anyone at Kanin’s. She left with me and hadn’t mentioned saying goodbye to friends. She’d been up and down in class, acting uninterested one moment and asking questions in lecture hall in the other. The same night she’d commented on the value of older men, she stormed out of the class as if she had no intention of returning. It added up to one thing: she was troubled by something.
I parked the truck in a vacant space two blocks from where the golf cart had dropped Faye off and prepped Rocky for whatever we might find. The sun was bright, and the quad was hot. It was a perfect late September day, not too humid, and I wondered how easy it would be, on a day like this when classes were in session, to blow them off and enjoy the weather. A few students entered or exited the library, but for the most part, the campus was quiet.
I pulled a small vest out of my handbag and slipped it around Rocky’s torso. The benefit to having been in a number of dangerous situations was that it was easy to have Rocky registered as a service dog. People were often surprised, as I was, to learn there was no formal certification required. Nor was there a training protocol. What I needed was a disability that directly affected my quality of life and a dog to perform tasks to help with said disability. An ACL, torn multiple times, some while fighting off killers, fit the bill. Rocky, having gone for help not unlike Lassie, was a shoe-in. The truth was I didn’t require his assistance for much other than emotional support, and the ADA didn’t count that. Apparently they’d never met fifty-year-old murder magnets.
We walked to the apartment building and rang the bell. A few minutes later, Faye came to the door. She was dressed in a cropped Van Doren sweatshirt and Batman pajama bottoms. “Madison,” Faye said. She seemed surprised to see me. She hunched over and wrapped her arms around her torso. “I don’t feel like being around people today.” She’d attempted to use makeup to hide dark circles and gaunt cheeks, but the colors were a mismatch to her natural coloring and left her looking like she’d come from a community theater.
“How do you feel today?” I asked. “I don’t mean to pry, but you had a rough Saturday night.”
“Don’t lecture me,” she said. It was unclear if she planned to invite me in. It was also unclear if Faye remembered much from Saturday night, including me walking her home.
I’d experienced an unfamiliar form of ageism amongst some of the students, and the feeling returned now. “Take it easy,” I said. “We’ve all had too much to drink at one point or another.” I smiled. “You’ll feel better by the time classes resume tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to classes tomorrow. I’m dropping the whole MBA program.”
“You lost your scholarship?”
“Not exactly,” she said. I allowed the silence between us to balloon, hoping she’d fill it with an explanation. She did not.
“Faye, you’re a bright student, and if you were on a scholarship, then you’re obviously qualified for the program. Don’t let Professor Gallagher’s comment shape your view of business. I don’t want to be insensitive, but he’s not your professor anymore.”
“I’m pregnant,” she said suddenly.
She didn’t look at me. She kept her head bent down and her eyes fixed on the concrete stoop where I stood. She wrapped her arms around herself, and she hunched her shoulders again. I recognized what I’d mistaken all along: she hadn’t had too much to drink last night. She wasn’t hung over today. And now, because of an error in judgment, she faced decisions far bigger than how to succeed in business without even trying.
“You’re sure?” I asked.
She nodded. “Three positive tests and a confirmation by the health center.”
“May I come in?” I asked.
“I’ll come out,” she said. She joined me on the stoop and pulled the front door behind her. For the first time since I arrived, she seemed to notice Rocky. “Why do you need a service dog?” she asked.
“You know how necessity is the mother of invention?” I asked. She looked at me questioningly. “I’m the girl who invented the necessity for invention.”
She laughed. It was the first honest-to-goodness laugh I’d heard from her since I met her, and it took both of us by surprise. “You’re nothing like I expected,” she said. “That first day when you came into class, I thought you were the teaching aid. I was jealous because you were going to spend a lot of time with Professor Gallagher.”
“Eric thought that too. I guess you don’t get a lot of people my age in class.”
“That’s for sure,” she said. I smiled at her ignorant insensitivity. We walked side by side across the street and onto the quad. Despite Rocky tugging on the leash, I sensed Faye wanted to rest. “Let’s sit,” I suggested.
She lowered herself onto a wrought iron bench. “Why did you enroll in school?” she asked.
I sat down and tipped my head back to feel the sun on my face. I closed my eyes and thought back to the day I’d been rejected by every bank in town. It was a little over a week ago, but it felt like months. One small step forward, just acknowledging that maybe I didn’t know everything I needed to know, had led me through the gates of Van Doren, and that led me to Gallagher’s class. Everything had unfolded in a way I never could have imagined and all because I let go of the notion that I knew what I was doing.
I opened my eyes and stared straight ahead. “Remember the question you asked in lecture hall on Friday? About following your instincts and making a decision that’s unpopular with your team?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t have a team. It was just me. And I made a mistake that cost me my company. I made the mistake myself, and I thought I could fix it myself. I soon found out the financial world did not share my opinion of my business acumen.”
“You should put that in your eight-hundred-word essay,” she said.
I smiled and then pointed across the street to the Dallas First National Bank. “See that building?”
“The bank?”
“Yep. They were the last ones to reject my loan application.” I pointed at the entrance to the college campus. “See those gates?”
“Yes.”
“That was what I saw when I left the bank. After a day of rejection, I felt like I didn’t know anything about business, so I came to the one place where I could learn.”
Faye leaned back against the bench and kicked her feet out in front of her. “I applied to school
here because my friends all applied to school here. My scholarship isn’t for academics. It’s for volleyball. Pretty soon, I’m not going to be able to play, and I’m going to lose the money anyway.” She shrugged.
“You’re already here. Don’t give up on your opportunity to learn.”
“Maybe I’m not cut out for business school,” she said.
Her words had a ring of familiarity about them. I’d said the same thing to Eric at the club.
Faye continued. “You have this drive that I don’t. Everybody in that class does. I would have died if a professor put me on the spot the way Professor Gallagher did to you.”
“You said you were jealous of me when you thought I was the teaching aide because I’d be spending time with him. Wouldn’t you like if he singled you out?”
“Not like that. He does that to students to test them. To see how committed they are to the subject matter.”
“Did he ever do it to you?”
“No.” She stuck her feet out in front of her and tapped the toes of her sandals together. Her toenails were painted pale pink, and her feet were tan. A shiny silver toe ring decorated the second toe on her left foot. “He didn’t see the same thing in me he saw in you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. When Dean Wallace told me to drop the class or I’d fail it, he said Professor Gallagher suggested it in his notes.”
“Do you know why?”
She shook her head.
My phone buzzed. I pulled it out. The name Rex was on the screen. When had Tex reprogrammed my phone?
“He likes you,” Faye said, not hiding that she’d looked at my screen.
“Who?”
“Rexford Allen. The new guy from class.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I saw the way he watched you at Kanin’s. You thought—everybody thought—I was drunk, but I wasn’t. I just wanted to go out like a normal college student. But I felt nauseous, and, well, you found me in the bathroom. You know I got sick.”
“I thought morning sickness happened in the morning.”
“You’ve never been pregnant?”
“No,” I said. “Motherhood wasn’t in the cards for me.”
She misunderstood my answer and gave me a sad smile. We sat next to each other while the sun cast fading rays across the grass. Despite our contrast in ages, we’d tiptoed up to the brink of girl talk, so I took the liberty of jumping off the cliff. “Does the father know?” I asked softly.
She shrugged.
“Faye, you need to tell him. He has a right to know.”
“I can’t talk to him. Not anymore.”
Considering how close they had to have been to make this happen, the follow-up conversation should have been easy. “You feel alone right now. Like you can’t talk to anybody. You just told me, and that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She shook her head but didn’t look my way. “You don’t have to be alone if you don’t want. It’s your choice.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t talk to him. He’s—”
“He’s what? Whatever you think, you’re probably imagining the worst.”
“He’s dead. The father was Professor Gallagher."
29
“You... and Professor Gallagher?” I asked. It seemed almost unbelievable.
She looked at me with fearful eyes. “You won’t say anything, will you? Not to anybody?”
It was a promise I couldn’t keep. “Faye, you need to talk to someone. Not just because of your circumstances but because of what happened to the professor. It’s a lot to process.”
“The last time I talked to someone about this, something bad happened.”
It no longer felt like we were having a casual conversation between students. Tex had said something—what was it?—that Gallagher had accusations of sexual harassment from students at the last school he worked for. Even if Faye was of age, this information would have been potentially damaging to his career. I immediately understood why he would want it to stay quiet, but I also wondered what someone might do if they knew.
“Faye, who did you talk to?” I asked.
“Barbara. At the admissions desk. She caught me going into William’s office from the back door and confronted me, and I broke down.”
It took me a moment to realize the William in her story was Professor Gallagher, though based on what she’d just confessed, it made sense that they might have been on first-name basis. “What happened?”
“I told her I thought he and I had a relationship, but then he just turned his back on me, and I didn’t understand what I did wrong.”
A faint memory returned, the sound of a door slamming inside Gallagher’s office the day I went to get his permission to join his class. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary at the time, but someone could have accessed his office and confronted him, or even just brought him a cup of coffee that was heavily laced with an antihistamine.
Barbara knew Gallagher’s schedule and had even made mention of the blonde who met with him after class. At the time, I’d written her response off, but she clearly had an opinion about the professor and his extracurricular activities. How many times had she seen something like this? How easy would it have been to keep looking the other way?
“What did she say?” I asked. I took extra care to modulate my voice.
“She said not to worry about my classes or my scholarship and to take care of myself. She was nice about the whole thing, nicer than I expected. She’s usually so stern, but she said she’d talk to the professor for me. And then—”
And then he’d been killed.
I had questions. Lots more questions. But Faye wasn’t the person I needed to ask. As if she recognized the shift in my energy, she dropped her feet to the ground and stood up. “I have to go.”
I put my hand on her arm. “Faye wait.” She didn’t leave but didn’t make eye contact. “Will there be a memorial for the professor tomorrow?”
She shook her head. “I asked around, but nobody cared enough to plan one.” She swiped a tear from her eye and then stepped away. “I have to go.”
I tried to follow her, but Rocky had wound his leash around the bench, and after two steps in Faye’s direction, the tension on the leash pulled me back. Faye hurried across the quad toward the campus housing.
Faye and Professor Gallagher?
Faye and Professor Gallagher.
Was that why he made notes in his file that she wasn’t suited for the class? A crisis of conscience, or was this a pattern with him? Was that the risk he took for reward? And what exactly had transpired during that conversation with Barbara? Had she accused him, or threatened to turn him in, or did she have it in her to do something worse? I couldn’t see her sabotaging the professor’s car, but I didn’t discount the possibility that she could hire someone else to do so. A mother hen, surrounded by roosters, might be moved to take extreme measures to protect her chicks.
I returned Tex’s call. After answering, he said, “We’re done with your car, but you need to take it to a body shop.”
“I talked to Mickey this morning.”
“Did you take the Mustang?”
“I took the truck.”
“Mickey owes me fifty bucks.”
It always surprised me how the police were able to maintain their interest in bets while conducting a murder investigation. “I’m at the college, and I—”
“Not now, Night. Thanks.” He hung up.
I understood the delicate nature of dating the captain of the police. By proximity, I was privy to information the general public would not know. And depending on who was in the office with him, he had to be careful about what he shared with me. But this information from Faye related to his case, and I had to make sure he knew about it.
I called the front desk. “Lakewood Police Department,” Imogene answered.
“This is Madison. Is Captain Allen available?”
“He was just going to call you about your car. He’s in his of
fice with the police commissioner. Do you want me to interrupt them?”
That explained Tex not being able to talk. “No, that’s not necessary. Can you give him a message? Let him know I have new information regarding the murder of Professor William Gallagher.”
She dropped her voice. “Can you tell me?”
“I think it’s best if the information goes directly to Captain Allen. Let’s let him decide what he’s willing to share. Is there a tip line for the case?” For the first time since Professor Gallagher died, I realized how far removed I’d been from the news. “If there is, I must have missed it.”
“There is, and guess what? It’s me. I mean, it’s a machine, but I screen the messages as they come in and give the captain updates as needed. I guess you can tell me after all.”
I’d feel a whole lot better about this if I’d heard it from Tex, but it was clear he wasn’t available. “Tell him Faye Talbot is pregnant and Professor Gallagher is the father.”
“Faye—pregnant—Gallagher—father. Got it. Is he hot?”
“Who?”
“The professor. College girls always want to sleep with the hot professors.”
“You do know Gallagher is the murder victim, right?”
“Doesn’t mean he can’t be hot. It adds more to the plot. Were his colleagues jealous? Was this a pattern for him? Did any of the parents know? Was he married? Is the college afraid of a lawsuit? If he was a dud, then some of that drops away. Hold on.”
The phone went silent, and I sat impatiently, wondering if Tex and the commissioner had finished their business. The phone clicked again, and Imogene returned. “Sorry about that. You gave me an idea for a plot twist.”
“Have Captain Allen call me when he’s done,” I said. “And good luck with your book.”
I didn’t hear from Tex for the rest of the day. It wasn’t for lack of trying. After leaving messages on each of his phones, I went home. The fumes from Saturday’s work were gone, and the knotty pine walls were dry. I stood in the center of the room and turned in a circle, imagining the rest of it. I stopped when I reached the front window. I’d been looking for an opportunity to order from Beauti-Vue’s Retro old stock of woven wood, and this room would be perfect.
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