Summa Cum Liar

by Ali Franklin

  “I love you so much.” She kissed him back, the tears flowing now.

  After a moment, she sat up straight. “I’m sorry—I’m crying on you. Let me go get myself together.” She pushed away from the table and hurried to the powder room.

  She dried her face and dabbed at her makeup. Then she looked at herself in the mirror. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

  She returned to the dining room to find that Lance had cleared the dinner dishes. He sat patiently at the table.

  “How would you feel about some dessert?” she asked.

  “I’d love some—but only if you’re feeling all right.”

  “I’m fine. I just let my imagination run away with me for a minute.” She smiled at him as she walked into the kitchen.

  She returned with a bowl of creme brulee, a kitchen torch and two spoons. She finished the top of the desert and they fed each other spoonfuls until they were full.

  As they sat back in their chairs, Faith noticed Lance’s faraway look. “What’s on your mind, Honey?”

  “I was thinking about Joe Henderson. I’m going to try to talk with him about pre-cana again.”

  “Are you sure you should get involved?”

  “That’s what a church family is all about—helping each other. I believe the classes could help Joe and his fiancee.”

  Faith didn’t answer.

  “Look,” he said. “If you knew someone was making the wrong choice, wouldn’t you try to help?”

  “It might not be any of my business.”

  “As a friend, as a fellow Catholic, it is my business. I mean, what if you knew a friend was thinking about having an abortion?”

  Faith’s stomach flipped. She took a breath, stalling for time.

  “My college roommate had an abortion,” she finally blurted.

  “Did you try to talk her out of it?”

  “No. I listened as she worked it out for herself. I told her I’d support whatever decision she made.”

  “But…abortion?” He was incredulous.

  Faith grimaced as he continued.

  “Not everyone gets the opportunity to create a child. It’s a sacred responsibility, and not everyone gets that chance.”

  She bit her lip, then moved to sit on his lap. “Sweetie, I’m sorry. Of course you’re right.” She paused. “Have you been thinking about it again? About children?”

  “No. I’ve made my peace with my limitation. God’s plan for me doesn’t include fathering a child. This thing with Joe just has me off my game.”

  “You’re a good man, Lance. Your friends are lucky to have someone as caring as you. And I am, too.”

  They sat together, Faith stroking his hair, for a long time.

  Eventually, she spoke. “I may need your strength to make it through this situation at the college. Promise you won’t believe anything that comes out of it.”

  “I’m your husband and I’m always on your side. There’s nothing some anonymous coward can say that will make me not love you.”

  She hugged him again, her mouth pressed tight.

  ☐ ☐ ☐

  The next morning, David Anderly pulled his hybrid sedan into the driveway of the massive house and turned off the engine. He was far from the front door, but his sister had parked her Bentley at an angle that made it impossible for him to get any closer. He sighed.

  He hated Sunday brunch with the Anderlys. Every other week, their parents hosted David and his sister, Susan, at their sprawling estate in Dallas’s tony Preston Hollow. On the other Sundays, Susan often joined their parents at the family’s country club. The three Anderlys liked to say they made more money from schmoozing on “club Sundays” than during any other days of the year.

  David closed his eyes and took three deep breaths. Then he pulled down the visor and looked in the mirror. I am successful in my chosen field. I have a lot to be proud of. He set his expression and got out of the car.

  Winston Anderly greeted him at the door, a glass of scotch in hand. “Welcome, son. Go say hello to your mother. She’s in the kitchen.” No hug, no handshake, no eye contact.

  As per usual.

  David walked into the kitchen to find his mother and Susan leaning against the big granite island in the center of the room. They were each holding a champagne glass of barely-orange liquid. Mimosas, no doubt.

  “Hello, Mother,” he said. He walked over and air-kissed her on both cheeks.

  He looked at his sister. “Susan.”

  “David,” she said, then took a long gulp of her mimosa.

  “How are you both?” he asked.

  Susan flashed a frosty smile. “I was just telling Mother about my firm’s latest settlement. My bonus will be the biggest one yet.”

  David reached for a coffee mug. “Congratulations.”

  “Susan, tell David how you outsmarted that terrible woman who was suing your client,” said Eleanor.

  “You see, David,” said Susan, “When you’re dealing with a blue-caller worker who’s suing a big corporation, it doesn’t matter what the suit is about. If you can convince the judge or the jury the plaintiff is just in it for financial gain, they don’t have a chance.”

  David wondered what institution had mistreated an average, middle-class American this time. Was it another drug company that raised prices so high patients started dying for lack of affordable medicine? Or a fast-food chain covering up a salmonella outbreak? The details of Susan’s “success stories” usually made David sick to his stomach.

  “Some of those frivolous lawsuits really should be illegal,” said Eleanor. “I mean, what if one of those people tried to sue your father’s firm because stock prices fell?”

  Susan replied that she’d never let her father’s firm lose a suit to an angry investor. Then she looked at David. “And what new and exciting things are happening in the ivory tower?”

  David bit back an angry response. His sister knew how he despised that term. It made academia sound like it was separate from the real world, when today’s colleges and universities were more connected with business and the public than ever before.

  He debated not taking up the gauntlet with Susan, but decided he had something interesting to report.

  “I met with the dean this week,” he said. “She’s assigning me to a few important work streams that begin this summer.”

  Eleanor glanced up from perusing her manicure to mutter a half-hearted, “That’s nice, dear.”

  Susan just looked at him.

  “I’ll be making decisions that will affect the campus and the community for a long time,” he continued.

  “Wow. Making decisions that will affect the campus and community,” said Susan. “That’s…impressive.” Her tone made it clear she thought it was the exact opposite. She sipped her mimosa. “I’m still surprised you ended up being a professor, David. I remember when you had your first job at that little software startup.”

  Eleanor looked up, “We thought you’d be the next Bill Gates.”

  David did not remember that job fondly. He’d spent years crawling under desks connecting cables. Countless weekends on the phone saying, “Have you tried turning your computer off, then back on again?” Wasted time he’d never get back.

  Eventually he’d realized computers were not his passion and announced his decision to teach history. The Anderlys had been astonished. They couldn’t understand why a member of their successful, driven family would choose a quiet life so unlikely to bring renown or fortune.

  David hadn’t needed to choose a highly lucrative career. He and Susan had trust funds from their grandparents that began paying out at age thirty—just three years ago for David. And while Susan had used her money to buy into her law firm five years ago, David simply used his to live a comfortable life.

  “I’ve been mentioned in a few articles about the new book I’m writing with a professor at Harvard,” he said.

  Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “Do you think it might lead to a job at Harvard?”


  “I’m not interested in a job at Harvard, Mother.”

  Susan failed to smother a giggle.

  “The book poses a new theory about the Carolingian Renaissance in the first century,” he said. “It’s a magnificent work.”

  Susan just stared.

  Eleanor decided it was time to eat and they joined Winston in the dining room. The housekeeper had placed a variety of brunch items on the buffet next to the long table. They all helped themselves to the food and sat.

  Winston and Eleanor oohed and aahed as Susan recounted another success story from her firm. David ate his bacon and eggs and counted the minutes. Not surprisingly, Susan noticed his discomfort and pressed on with yet another story.

  Winston looked at David. “And what about you, David? Are you doing the family proud there at your little college?”

  “Yes, sir.” David knew his family had no idea how things worked at Haverwood. He looked at Susan, with her smug face and sarcastic smile. “In fact, I met with the dean this week, and she’s about to make it official: I’m going to be the assistant dean of the college of liberal arts.”

  “Your title is going to have the word ‘assistant’ in it?” asked Susan. “That makes it sound like you’re somebody’s secretary.”

  “In academia, Susan,” said David, “the key word is ‘dean.’ Being a dean is like being a vice president at a corporation. The next step after that is Provost, which is the highest academic officer. That’s like being in the C-suite.”

  Winston Anderly raised his eyebrows. “A chief, eh?” He half-raised his glass in a toast. “That sounds impressive.”

  “You mean I could tell the girls at the club you’re a vice president?” asked Eleanor.

  “It’s better than being a vice president, mother. It’s the highest office an academic can hold. I’d be responsible for every professor in the whole college.”

  Eleanor looked at Winston. “It seems our son has quietly been building his career.” She turned to David. “Congratulations, Son.”

  Susan dropped her fork onto her plate, startling everyone. “He hasn’t even gotten the promotion yet. And it’s a tiny little college in the middle of nowhere. What are you so excited about?”

  “Susan,” said Eleanor, “You should be happy for your brother. Besides, it’s not seemly for you to argue so much.”

  “Mother, I’m a lawyer.”

  Eleanor was no longer paying attention to her daughter. “That’s nice, dear.”

  Susan glared at David. He gave her a slow wink.

  When the family finished their meal, Winston and Eleanor stopped in the kitchen to refill their drinks. David and Susan moved into the living room. His sister seemed to have regained her composure. She looked daggers at David.

  “I wonder if your little college knows what they’re getting themselves into by promoting you.”

  “I work hard, and I’m a good professor.”

  “They might not think so highly of you if I told them what I know about you. You always try to seem like you’re above everyone else, playing at tree-hugging and going to yoga. I’ll bet you even give money to nonprofits. But I know the real you would do anything to get ahead.”

  David’s mouth fell open.

  Fortunately, their parents chose that moment to enter the room.

  Winston lifted his newly-filled glass in a toast. “Here’s to our two successful children. May you both continue to have long and fruitful careers.”

  Everyone raised their glasses and drank. It was the first time David remembered his father saying anything positive about his career. He concentrated on remembering how it felt.

  An hour later, David calculated he’d done his duty to his family. Pleading he had papers to grade, he said goodbye and promised he’d see them again in two weeks.

  Susan walked him to the door. “Let me know when you ink your little ‘promotion,’” she said. “I’ll make sure to tell all the eligible women at the firm what a catch you are.”

  “Thanks, but I’m doing just fine on my own.” He gently tapped the end of her nose with the tip of his forefinger—a move he knew she hated. “See ya later, sis. Have a terrific week stomping on the little guy.” He bounded down the stairs and practically skipped to his car.

  8

  Ryan began her Sunday with renewed energy. She started with a long run, hoping the physical activity would clear the cobwebs from her mind.

  She jogged past her usual turnaround point and kept going, feeling the endorphins working their magic. As they did, she thought about everything they’d learned about the Paladin so far. It wasn’t much.

  Ryan knew the key to identifying the culprit was finding out what he was after; the ultimate why behind his actions. What did he think he would gain from ruining faculty members’ reputations—and possibly their careers?

  She turned and started back toward home. Wanting to keep her energy level high, she slowed her pace and turned down a street a few blocks from her house. She was going to stop at Java Joe’s for some coffee and a croissant before heading home.

  While she stood next to the counter after placing her order, someone stepped up behind her.

  “Dean McCabe. Good morning.”

  It was Rick Jensen. The journalism professor looked exactly like he did every time Ryan saw him on campus: wrinkled chinos, a dress shirt with the sleeves folded all the way up to the elbows and eyes that darted around the room without settling on any one thing for very long. His long brown hair

  “Hey, Rick.” Seeing him triggered a thought. She turned to face him, eyes wide.

  “What?” He sounded wary.

  “It’s about the Paladin. Why can’t we get more information based on how he paid for the ad in the paper?”

  “The students and I have tried everything we can think of. We want to know as much as you do.”

  Ryan sighed. She wasn’t convinced Rick was doing everything he could. He wasn’t as connected to Haverwood as some professors. He’d only been at the college a couple of years, after spending more than ten years as a crime reporter in Chicago. She didn’t know if he had any friends on the staff, though he seemed to be a favorite of the students.

  “This is a great lesson in investigative journalism,” he said. “It’s got everything: a mysterious villain, lots of potential victims and a boatload of suspects. We’re looking at every clue we find, but we haven’t cracked it yet.”

  Ryan supposed the lack of information was good news, in a way. It meant that any other news organizations that stumbled onto the story would also have a hard time identifying the Paladin—though at this point, Ryan didn’t really care who unmasked him or her. She just wanted to prevent any unwanted revelations.

  “Don’t reporters always have informants?” she asked.

  “They do, and my reporters are all working theirs.” He smiled. “In fact, they all think identifying the Paladin would be worth a grad school recommendation letter from you.”

  “I’ll try to help them get into whatever school they want if they can help us stop this guy.”

  “At the same time, we have to be careful.” Rick’s tone turned serious. “If we ask the wrong questions or we push too hard, one of our informants might take their story off campus. Some of those Dallas stations will pay a lot for a story like this.”

  Ryan felt a wave of nausea at the thought of seeing the story on the news.

  “We have to do more,” she said. “If your old editor in Chicago had given you this assignment, what would you have done?”

  “I’d do exactly what we’re doing. And I’d be interviewing all the people he was threatening.”

  “He’s threatening the whole faculty.”

  “Right. But not many of the faculty are talking.”

  “Where would you start?”

  “With the other two people he targeted on Friday. But I don’t know who they are.” He looked at her, obviously hoping she would tell him.

  She considered it, but decided she’d get permission fr
om Bobbi or Faith first.

  Recognizing that she wasn’t going to reveal any names, Rick said, “I’d go to Oscar’s office, or the provost’s, and see which faculty members are making the most noise about it.”

  “Who thinks they’d be a target,” Ryan mused.

  “Exactly.”

  “Thanks, Rick. This gives me something to think about.”

  “If you need any help convincing someone to talk, call me. I can be persuasive.”

  “I may take you up on that.” Ryan was about to turn away when he spoke again.

  “Ryan, I know you’ve asked us not to notify any other news organizations about the story.”

  She froze for a moment. “That’s right.”

  “We can’t bury it much longer. This is news, and we can’t let some other outlet break our own story.”

  “Rick, this could start an avalanche that ends with the college having to close its doors. If that happens, it won’t matter who gets credit for the story. We’ll all be out of a job and the students will have to go to school somewhere else.”

  He didn’t respond. She tried a different tack.

  “What if the Paladin attacks you first? What if every questionable move you’ve ever made gets plastered on a website?”

  He chuckled. “I’ve never made myself out to be a saint.”

  Ryan had heard about Rick’s fondness for female grad students, but having those relationships exposed wouldn’t end his career. If the college let him go, he could just move on to his next newspaper job.

  “Haverwood’s been good to you, Rick. There must be some part of you that wants to protect it.”

  “I wouldn’t mind staying a few more years, but if this story has real repercussions, it could garner some attention. Maybe even go national.”

  He took a deep breath as he registered the dismay on Ryan’s face. “I’ll tell you what. I’m going to write my story. But I’ll hang on to it for forty-eight hours. After that, I’ve got to run with it.”

  “We may need more time than that.”

  “That’s the best I can do.”

  Ryan searched for an argument, but none came. She and Rick had different goals. Ryan needed to stop the Paladin before he published people’s secrets, but Rick wanted the best possible story. Unfortunately, that story would be more interesting if the Paladin brought down a few people before he was stopped.