Saving Face (Mount Faith Series: Book 1)

by Brenda Barrett

  Natasha giggled. "That's the info?"

  "That's big info." Harry said conspiratorially. "I walked into her office today. Thought she wasn't there, ready to snoop into her files and caught her lip-locked with a young guy."

  Natasha smirked. "She's not old, she's forty years old. Same age as you."

  "He's twenty-five," Harry said, "and — drum roll please —he is Ryan Bancroft's nephew…Vanley Bancroft."

  Natasha's eyes widened.

  "That was my reaction," Harry said looking at her with eyebrows raised. "Then I backed out of the office slowly, without them knowing I was there. I think I am wasted on the Jamaica Constabulary Force. I should go into private investigation."

  "So what does this mean for her presidential aspirations?" Natasha asked.

  "I think," Harry said confidently, "this means that if she is involved with Vanley Bancroft—who by the way is an intern pastor—then she'll probably be forced to step away from the presidential race, unless she marries him. But think of the horror of a fifteen-year age difference. They are very particular with their choice of president you know."

  Natasha shrugged. "Fifteen years is not that bad. Men marry younger women all the time and nobody blinks. Besides, it would be nice to see a woman president around here. The university is too top heavy with testosterone."

  "Before you get all ‘women's lib’ on me," Harry said, "her secretary told me that she won't run against Ryan Bancroft because they used to have a thing. They were extremely close at one time."

  Natasha gasped.

  "And," Harry scratched his chin thoughtfully, "he was once the VP of academic affairs and when he left that post he made sure that he got her the job."

  "She's no threat to him then." Natasha hissed, "I am disappointed."

  Harry shook his head. "No threat at all. I checked the HR files online. It's true. After Bancroft left she got the job. She was an ordinary Associate Professor but she shot up to the rank of vice president in no time."

  "So much for women's lib," Natasha exhaled. "Is she still on the suspects list?"

  Harry shrugged. "Motive is looking dimmer and dimmer. She won't get the presidency anyhow. Unless she'd kill for Bancroft…she seems as if she's occupied elsewhere with his nephew. I would put her at the very bottom of the list."

  "I learned something about the deceased," Natasha said, "I heard that he had a secret life." She updated Harry.

  Harry nodded and listened to her silently. "You have to find out more."

  “I will,” Natasha said. “I am also going out with Dr. Jackson, who by the way, is adopted.”

  Harry had slouched in his seat and then he sat up straighter. "Natasha, why do I have the very funny feeling that Jackson is Bancroft's son? I would bet my bottom dollar."

  "I like your theory, but who would be the mother?" Natasha asked, "and does Bancroft know? Does Taj know?"

  "Taj, huh?" Harry looked at her funnily, "You said that too feelingly."

  "Okay, so I like him," Natasha said, "there is no crime in that."

  "But," Harry held up his finger warningly, "there is a crime and until we know who is our criminal everybody is hands off."

  Natasha kissed her teeth. "Too bad, I am going out with him tomorrow evening."

  Harry frowned. "Keep it professional and try to find out all you can without swooning at the man's feet."

  Chapter Five

  Taj had one of those sleepless nights where he dreamt all sorts of lurid dreams about his presentation with Ryan Bancroft. The man was formidable in the best of times. He expected him to be downright impossible when he was making his presentation. He had to admire Bancroft though, he had the kind of formidability one needed to be the president of a prestigious school. Taj had not even an ounce of what Bancroft had.

  He hurried across the garden path to Dr. Bancroft's office. His office was opposite the library, in a building that was designed by a past student who had become a renowned architect. It was designed in the neoclassical style and was somewhat of a tourist draw.

  The building housed the president and vice president's suites, several boardrooms, and a vast ballroom that was used for formal receptions whenever the university wanted to make a big impression.

  Taj paused for a while before he walked up to the impressive walkway. On each stairwell was a representative of each of the four animals from Daniel's vision in the Bible. He walked past the fearsome looking winged lion and wondered if it was covered in real gold, it certainly looked authentic. Then he passed the bear with three ribs between its teeth. He glanced at his watch; he still had fifteen minutes to spare. He admired the craftsmanship of the bear, even going as far as to fiddling with the creature's mouth.

  "Impressive isn't it?" a young man was leaning beside the beast with the four wings and the four heads. He had on blue jeans with tears at the knee and a black hoodie.

  Taj looked up. "Where did you come from?"

  The man shrugged. "From the office of the terrifying and powerful fourth beast."

  Taj chuckled. "I thought that beast was depicted by the statue at the door."

  The guy shook his head. "No it's not. The real beast is Dr. Bancroft. He crushes anything that is in his path with his large iron teeth and his ten horns. They recede until nine o'clock though, so I am sure you will be fine."

  Taj grinned. "Let me guess, you are a religion major?"

  "God, no! I am the beast's first born. Micah Bancroft. I can't tell you how many times I've made to change my surname."

  Taj laughed. "I am Taj Jackson."

  Micah walked down to where he stood. "The competition? Excellent. It's lovely to meet you. I run the Business Center on campus. I got the job purely because of nepotism, and because my father thinks that being a musician is a complete waste of time."

  "You have Daddy issues?" Taj asked Micah bluntly.

  "You really are a good psychiatrist," Micah said laughing. "What gave it away, my description of my father as a beast or the sneer that accompanied it?"

  "Both," Taj said leaning his head to one side." I have always wondered about Dr. Bancroft's children."

  Micah smirked. "Wonder no more. I can give you information about him if you want. Nothing too dirty, though. The man has no chink in his personal armor. Doesn't beat his wife, insists on having family dinner every Friday night. Sorry about that. Trust me, if I could help you I would."

  "I wasn't looking for chinks," Taj said contemplatively, "just curious." He glanced at his watch. "I have five minutes to go for the meeting with him."

  Micah inhaled and then threw off his hoodie. He had mid-length brown dread locks and a neat goatee. His face was angular and he had sunken eyes as if he was just recovering from an illness.

  "Tell you what," Micah said helpfully, "come down to the Business Center anytime and I'll give you an update on the beast."

  "Where is the Business Center?" Taj asked curiously.

  "The school's shopping center," Micah said. "We have several stores, a doctor's office, hair dressers and a restaurant. You should be more up to date on the school if you are planning to run it."

  Taj nodded. "Don't I know it. You are so right. I have to go."

  "Okay man." Micah sauntered off and Taj headed to ‘the office of the beast’.

  He passed the depiction of the beast from Daniel's vision that was so fierce that no animal in nature could be used to describe it. Was Ryan Bancroft that bad?

  ***

  "Good morning Dr Jackson, Dr. Bancroft is expecting you," his secretary said when he walked through the long hallway of cathedral ceilings and to a waiting area that was filled with expensive looking furniture.

  So, this was where the president worked?

  Taj shook his head. He should be fighting harder for the position then.

  He knocked on one of the two oak doors that had carvings inlaid in the panels and went through.

  The office space was huge. It looked more like a drawing room than a place of business. Ryan Bancroft did n
ot have the same reticence that Taj had had about personalizing his office. He had personal pictures of his family hanging on the wall and a huge portrait of himself in the background.

  He was pretty sure that the position was his, Taj concluded.

  "This is the office," Ryan Bancroft said by way of greeting. "When I am officially given the position I am going to renovate. I think Edward had questionable taste. All of these blue and green shades are too calming. I want efficiency and stimulation surrounding me. I was thinking reds and golds."

  Taj winced. He had been admiring the blue and green decor.

  "Have a seat," Bancroft indicated to a plush office chair in front of his desk.

  "Thank you," Taj murmured. Bancroft hadn't even said good morning, he started conversations as if he had just seen you without any time elapsing.

  Apparently, he didn't like to waste words. Taj knew a few people like that, but that attitude was completely disconcerting. It was intended to throw off people—make them unbalanced. It was a power ploy. Taj recognized it, but he was still thrown off. He liked to ease into conversations.

  "So," Bancroft said without preamble, "whose idea was this Psychiatry center?"

  "Actually, the institution where I was working, before this, was approached by Edward Carlisle—the past president—to start a program here. He proposed a model that was similar to what we had. A full service psychiatric center, with available service for the school population and the community. He also thought that it would be a good idea for graduates in both psychiatry and psychology to get some hands-on experience with psychotherapy and counseling."

  Bancroft nodded, "It is one of Edwards better ideas. He earmarked the funding for it; the old rectory out by the south side of the campus is being renovated for it. So tell me how did you get to be the one to spearhead this project?"

  "I volunteered," Taj said, "I had seen first hand this same project being instituted in a past tertiary institution. I know what I am doing."

  Bancroft grunted. "I have no doubt that you are experienced in psychiatry. I read your resume. Impressive. I am just not pleased with your age. You seem too young to embark on something of this magnitude. Maybe you need some more experience."

  "Pardon?" Taj asked, studying Bancroft with consternation. Surely he did not have the authority to pull the plug on the project now? He had come to present the center to Bancroft knowing that it was a done deal. He was just humoring the megalomaniac that he thought Bancroft was. Now he was rethinking. Bancroft seemed as if he did have some power.

  Bancroft waved his hand and sat back in his chair, staring at Taj through brown eyes that looked very similar to his. For a moment, Taj was disconcerted by the similarity.

  "I am just voicing a concern Dr Jackson," he had injected a soothing quality to his voice that Taj was finding annoying.

  What was he, some kind of rat to Bancroft's fat cat? He was toying with him and enjoying it.

  Taj decided to show some teeth. "With all due respect Dr. Bancroft, you are not the president yet. Just sitting in, maybe you should hold off on making personnel decisions until you are officially in the position."

  Bancroft laughed, a big guffaw that rang through his office and echoed in the empty corners. "So...the mouse finds his voice."

  There he goes with the rodent analogy, Taj thought silently, even though he had started it first.

  "I am not the president it's true," Bancroft said, "but I could create problems for you and this little project."

  Taj shrugged. "Why would you?"

  "Because I can." Bancroft said abruptly, "and I have not been this entertained in years. Do you know the reason why you are even considered a candidate Dr. Jackson?"

  "No." Taj said bluntly, he had been wondering himself. He had none of the cutthroat instincts that Bancroft had, or his list of wealthy contacts, or sat on influential boards.

  "Well," Bancroft said, "you are here because Daryl Carter hates me with a passion. He suggested candidates that he thinks would annoy me. You are merely a pawn in Daryl Carter's game. He may be the head of the board of trustees but I have several contacts there as well. You are annoying, but not a serious threat to my position or this office."

  "Is this how you've treated the other candidates?" Taj asked huffily.

  Bancroft laughed, "Akheim and Anita are the other candidates. Akheim has a thing for young girls…one of them conveniently forgot her birth control. He could marry her but there is the little problem of him being married already.

  His days at this institution are numbered anyhow. The board would take that into consideration when they are deciding." He steepled his fingers and spun his chair to view the school below. "Anita will do what I tell her. She is where she is today because of me after all. She owes me."

  He spun around and looked at Taj. "That leaves you, the unknown angle. But don't worry, I am going to investigate you thoroughly. Any skeletons that you have will be duly paraded in front of the board. In the meantime," he cleared his throat, "you are like an annoying mosquito buzzing around my ear. I could squash you but I'm feeling generous. I will let Edward's little project get off the ground. You can head it up for now. It will give you something to do."

  Taj got up. "You are so sure of yourself."

  Bancroft shrugged. "There is nothing that can stop me from getting this job. No up and coming milk mouthed brat will stand in my way."

  Taj stiffened in rage and then realized, before he exploded on Bancroft, that an angry reaction was just what Bancroft wanted. He had even relaxed in his chair prepared to see him humiliate himself. It was a form of control that people like Bancroft use all the time to bolster their egos. No doubt, Bancroft used it on his son and was confident that it would work on him.

  Taj swallowed his reaction. He did not get his medical degree in psychiatry for nothing. To be honest, how to deal with Bancroft and his delusions of world dominance was textbook stuff from first year psychotherapy classes.

  Psychiatrists were not supposed to show visual anger. He stared at Bancroft as if he were a patient and watched as Bancroft quailed under the long silent stare. Gotch ya! Taj thought. Not used to that reaction are you?

  He said aloud. "You know Bancroft, dealing with you is like dealing with a very slimy insect." He said it with such equanimity and lack of heat that it made Bancroft uncomfortable.

  Bancroft forced a laughed. He had a look of grudging respect in his eyes though. It had suddenly dawned on him that Taj Jackson was not a push over. If he had been quick to respond to his taunting then he would have dismissed him as a hot head but now he was thinking that he might offer some type of opposition.

  "Those insults are tame to what my son just called me." Bancroft said leaning back in his chair. "By the way, I hope you can make it to the annual president's reception tomorrow night. Your invitation is at my secretary's desk. They are mailed out months in advance by Carlisle. This year of course I have had to include more unanticipated guests on the list... like you for instance. Hence, the late invite."

  He waved Taj away dismissively and Taj was left standing in the room feeling as if a malevolent force of nature had hit him.

  Chapter Six

  Taj bobbed and weaved through the day drunkenly. He knew better than to allow Bancroft to get to him, but the general unease he felt after the meeting with Bancroft made him feel extremely uncomfortable. He could sense an underlying darkness in Bancroft's personality, and that darkness made him more uncomfortable.

  He called his father at two that afternoon. He wanted to be assured that there was still some human decency left in the world. He could not recall being treated like an annoying child, even when he was an annoying child. It was as if Bancroft would stop at nothing to secure the president post.

  His father answered the phone on the third ring.

  "Dad," Taj said sighing, "I am having a terrible day."

  "Why?" Gersham Jackson asked after the initial excited greeting–he had not heard from Taj for two days.

/>   "You could say that my competition for the presidency, Ryan Bancroft, is determined that I should not get it and in the process he makes me feel like an annoying mosquito. He said he's going to have me investigated and then dangle all of my misdeeds before the board."

  Gersham laughed. "You don't have any notable misdeeds. It's a dog eat dog world out there, Taj. If you really want the presidency then have him investigated as well. He does not have the monopoly on investigation. Arm yourself with information on him and dangle it before the board as well."

  Taj sighed. "I spoke to his son today, who seems as if he hates him with a passion and he said that his father has no chinks in his armor. Apparently, he is a dedicated family man. Bancroft must be confident that there is no bad information out there on him, or he wouldn't be so smug."

  Gersham whistled. "How old is Bancroft?"

  Taj contemplated. "He's forty-seven."

  "Mmm," Gersham said, "and he doesn't have anything that he is ashamed of and doesn't want in the public eye? That's nearly impossible. I am fifty-five and there are a couple of things I wouldn't want known to the public."

  Taj snorted. "But if you were running for university president would you mind if anybody knew about these things?"

  Gersham contemplated that. "Probably would. I smoked pot one year back in my twenties. I was depressed and I hadn't yet become a Christian. Maybe the board would hold that against me."

  Taj laughed. "You smoked pot Dad?"

  "Yes." Gersham laughed wickedly, "and I had a whole slew of girlfriends before I met your mother."

  "I wonder if Bancroft had a whole slew of girlfriends. He is a handsome man." Taj said contemplatively. "And he did say something about the lone female candidate owing him something. Maybe he cheated on his wife."

  Gersham snickered. "Now son, all you have to do is find an investigator to find out as much about Bancroft as he wants to find out about you."

  Taj groaned. "I don't like this. I was asked to come here to spearhead a project that I have always wanted done and now I am going to have to investigate the competition for a presidential position I am not sure I want to do that. It's not me Dad. Maybe I should just pack up and come home."