Summa Cum Liar

by Ali Franklin

  “Ryan, try to put yourself in the Paladin’s shoes. He obviously wants to hurt someone, but maybe he doesn’t want to hurt the whole college. He could have put that ad in any newspaper in the state, but he didn’t.”

  She felt a rush of optimism. Rick was right. The Paladin had a specific target. Hadn’t Faith said something along those lines the other day?

  Rick continued. “If I’m the Paladin, I want everyone to know how smart I am. I’m going to expose as many secrets as I can. But my first ‘reveal’ isn’t going to be about a guy like me. It’s going to be something shocking—and it will focus on the last person we expected. That way people will keep paying attention to me.”

  Ryan was lost in thought.

  “I think I’ve given you a lot to think about, he said. “Let me know if you need any help.” He turned and walked to an empty table in the corner.

  Ryan walked out of the shop and stood on the sidewalk. She had to tell Oscar about Rick’s deadline. As she lifted her phone, she felt a chill pass through her at Rick’s words:

  The last person we expected.

  ☐ ☐ ☐

  Ten minutes later, Rick’s phone rang. He answered it with a smile. “Hey, Wallace. Hope you’re taking good care of my hometown.”

  “You know I am, brother.” Wallace’s low bass rumbled through the phone. “But Chicago’s not the same without you.”

  “I’ll be back.”

  “I know you will. Did you see the game last night?”

  “I did. The Cubs are gonna be great this year.”

  “You know what we say: We don’t care who wins—”

  “—as long as it’s the Cubs,” finished Rick. “How are things at the paper?”

  “Good, good. There’s plenty to write about, though Pearlman’s still a sonofabitch.”

  “That’s why he’s such a good editor. Hey, that piece you did on that assistant coach was nice work.”

  “Thanks. Been working on that about six months.”

  They spent a few minutes talking about Wallace’s investigation into an assistant high-school basketball coach who’d been taking bribes to “guide” his senior players to specific colleges. Then Rick said:

  “I hear Nunes couldn’t handle my old job.”

  “Yeah. He never did fit in around here. He’s the third one we’ve lost since you left.”

  “Pearlman should give me a call.”

  “After the way you quit? The only way Pearlman’s going to offer you your job back is if you win a Pulitzer.”

  “A Pulitzer?” Rick snorted. “From way out here?”

  “Okay, maybe not a Pulitzer. But if you had examples of good investigative reporting and the kind of writing you used to do…”

  “You mean before I got my heart stomped on?”

  “Before you got all jaded and cynical, brother,” said Wallace. “Lighten up. There must be some compelling stories waiting to be written there.”

  “Maybe. I am working on something here…”

  “Remember what you told me when we started: Small stories are just big stories waiting to be broken.”

  Neither man said anything for a few moments. Then Rick asked, “How’s the politics desk?”

  “It’s the same. Politics never sleeps.”

  “You know what I mean. How’s Angela?”

  “She’s good. Doing great work following one of the mayoral candidates. She’s still Pearlman’s favorite.”

  “He’s liked her ever since she dumped me,” said Rick.

  “You deserved it, stepping out on her like you did.”

  “That was the dumbest thing I ever did.”

  “I won’t argue with you, but I’ll tell you something else. You’re one of the smartest guys I know. If you really wanted to get her back, you could figure out a way to do it.”

  Rick didn’t answer for a moment. Then he asked:

  “Is she dating anyone?”

  “Some guy who owns a couple of restaurants in Hyde Park. He comes into the office two or three times a week.”

  “Does she seem happy?”

  “Maybe; but not like she was in the old days.”

  “Wallace, if I could do it all over again, I would…”

  “Who says you can’t? Find your story and make it big—whatever it takes.”

  “Whatever it takes…” Rick mused.

  “Just do it quick, before you lose Angela for good.”

  ☐ ☐ ☐

  That evening, Bobbi Herman and her husband, Paul, pulled into the east parking lot and found a spot. Paul cut the engine and turned to his wife.

  “Honey, I know you’re upset about this Paladin thing, but we don’t need to fight about it. If it will help, I’ll just go home. I can come back and pick you up when the dinner’s over.”

  Bobbi forced herself to unclench her fists. “This ‘Paladin thing’ is only the biggest threat the college has ever seen. Your belittling it just proves you don’t care about my career.”

  “I respect your career and I respect the college.” He reached over and took her hand. “I hope you know I’m always on your side.”

  She took a deep breath. Paul had supported her taking the job at Haverwood almost twenty years ago and encouraged her every moment since then. She’d been taking out her frustration—her sense of helplessness—on the person closest to her.

  “I’m sorry, Paul. Please come to the dinner with me. I could use a shoulder to lean on, and you know how much Victoria loves you.”

  He smiled. “I’d love to.”

  A few minutes later, the couple walked into the SUB’s Grand Ballroom. Blue and black streamers hung from the ceiling, accented by strings of sparkling silver lights. Round tables dotted the floor. Each was covered in a white tablecloth with blue napkins and a hurricane-lamp centerpiece.

  They’d arrived right on time. Many of the deans and department chairs were already there, talking in groups of two or three. Nervous scholarship recipients and their parents signed in at the reception table and attached name tags to their chests. Each recipient stepped into the ballroom to be greeted by a student ambassador. The ambassador escorted them to their table and introduced them to a faculty member.

  It was the annual Presidential Scholarship Banquet. Tonight’s guests were potential incoming freshman who’d been offered full-tuition scholarships on the basis of their academic and co-curricular records. The faculty’s job tonight was to encourage the students to accept the honor and commit to attending Haverwood.

  Bobbi and Paul were talking with a student ambassador when they heard a striking female voice.

  “Paul, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  They turned to see Victoria Roux, Haverwood’s provost. As usual, the tall, elegant woman looked like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine. She wore a sangria-colored designer suit with a wide belt. An understated diamond necklace adorned her throat. And she was smiling from ear to ear.

  “I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages.”

  “Victoria,” said Paul, accepting her hug. “It’s been too long. I hope you’re doing well?” He grimaced. “All things considered, of course.”

  The student ambassador’s shoulders stiffened, and he looked around quickly. “Excuse me.” He practically ran toward a student who was just entering the ballroom.

  “I suppose you know all about our problems with that Paladin scoundrel,” said Victoria.

  “Bobbi’s been telling me how nervous everyone is.”

  Victoria looked at Bobbi. “I’m calling a meeting of deans and selected department heads first thing in the morning.”

  “Do you have news?” asked Bobbi.

  “Chief Statton tells me they’re no closer to finding the Paladin, so we need to contain the damage if information starts getting out.”

  “You’re a small college in a small town,” said Paul. “The worst thing this guy can say is that a professor or two had an affair with a student.”

  “I wish I could agree with
you,” said Bobbi. “But I have a feeling it’ll be worse than that. He’s hinting at big revelations—plural.”

  “We could be busy with impropriety cases for a while,” agreed Victoria.

  “Moral turpitude or impropriety” was a term included in all faculty contracts. It ensured that the college could dismiss a professor—even one who had earned tenure—if the faculty member “gravely violated the accepted standards of the Haverwood College community.” These cases were usually brought against professors who used their authority to gain some kind of “favor” from students.

  Bobbi, Paul and Victoria fell silent as they imagined the possibilities. A student ambassador caught Victoria’s eye and gestured.

  “Excuse me a moment.” Victoria walked over to the student and they fell into conversation.

  Paul laid a hand on Bobbi’s arm. “Are you so on edge because you think the Paladin knows about your…past?”

  She grimaced, not wanting to think about those bad decisions made so long ago. “We have no idea what he knows. But I’ve been in recovery for fifteen years. I have my chip to prove it.”

  A student ambassador approached with a young man and his parents in tow.

  “Dr. Herman, I’d like you to meet Max Curry. He’s an incoming anthropology major.” The ambassador turned to the young man. “This is Dr. Herman, dean of the college of liberal arts.”

  The high-school student reached out to shake Paul’s hand. Paul, Bobbi and the ambassador laughed.

  Bobbi took the student’s hand. “I’m Bobbi Herman. This is my husband, Paul. He’s also Dr. Herman—a cardiologist.”

  The young man looked like he was going to throw up.

  “It’s okay,” said Bobbi. “People get us mixed up all the time. Why don’t you tell us how you became interested in anthropology?”

  Paul turned to the student’s parents, and they were soon deep in discussion about the latest cholesterol drugs.

  A few minutes later, the student’s mother asked Bobbi about crime on campus.

  “I should introduce you to our chief of campus police,” said Bobbi. “I think she’s here tonight. She came to us from the Los Angeles Police Department. I’m afraid Haverwood is rather tame compared to L.A.”

  She glanced around and spotted Nicki. “There she is—the tall woman with short blond hair. She’s talking with our dean of students.” She waved toward the two women who stood toward the back of the room.

  ☐ ☐ ☐

  Across, the room, Nicki waved back at Bobbi and smiled. “I hope she doesn’t want us to go over there.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’d rather talk to you.”

  Ryan grinned. “That’s very flattering, but we’re supposed to be talking with these students about coming to Haverwood this fall.”

  “I know. But all I can think about is us going on our first real date.”

  Ryan’s smile widened as Nicki continued.

  “Do you want me to give you some options, or should I just make the plans and surprise you?”

  Ryan was about to answer when a student ambassador approached.

  “Dean McCabe, I apologize for interrupting. I’d just like to introduce you to Sierra, who’s going to be starting with us next semester. She’s interested in joining a sorority.”

  Ryan turned and met the student. She spoke for a moment about how Haverwood’s sororities supported their members and the community. Then she settled a frank gaze on the young woman.

  “Listen, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about Greek life from my point of view. You’d rather hear about it from someone who’s right in the middle of it all.” Ryan looked back at the student ambassador. “I just saw Heather Wayne walk out to the patio. Why don’t you take Sierra out there so she can hear about sorority life from an active member?”

  Both young ladies thanked the dean for her time and moved quickly to the patio.

  Ryan turned back to Nicki. “Okay, where were we?”

  “You were about to tell me whether or not to surprise you for our date.”

  Ryan settled her gaze on her friend. She was still surprised she’d agreed to go out with Nicki—or with anyone, for that matter. It was less than a year ago that Ryan had started dating again after years of self-imposed exile. The first woman she went out with turned out to be a murderer. The second was a county detective who then left her for an FBI agent. What made her think this was a good idea?

  “Nicki, you know I haven’t had the best luck with dating.”

  “That’s because you always picked the wrong women.”

  Looking up into the taller woman’s face, Ryan couldn’t deny her attraction. The chief was out of uniform tonight in a gray suit and teal-colored top that complimented her fit physique and made her green eyes look even more piercing than usual.

  But Ryan still had doubts about her own ability to nurture a relationship. “I’m serious. This year’s been hard on me.”

  “I know it has.” Nicki leaned her head even closer to Ryan’s. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, but this will be different. We already know each other. We can skip right over that awkward phase.”

  Ryan let out a quick laugh. “That is a plus.”

  She remembered all the late nights she’d spent working with Nicki on campus issues, as well as the few times she’d spent the night in Nicki’s guest room when they weren’t sure it was safe for Ryan to be in her own home. They were comfortable together.

  A new voice joined the conversation.

  “I am so glad to see you two. I need an escape,” It was Teddy.

  “What’s going on?” asked Nicki.

  “I’ve been positively held hostage by Woody Nichols for the last twenty minutes. He and Linda are getting a divorce.”

  “Wait,” said Ryan. “Didn’t they just have their twenty-fifth anniversary last year?”

  “They did. Do you know they’d been together since high school? The way he talked about her, it was like he’d spent a quarter-century in the eighth circle of hell. He couldn’t manage to say one decent thing about her.”

  Ryan felt a little pang in her chest. Woody and Linda had always seemed so committed to each other.

  “I guess you never really know what’s going on inside someone else’s marriage,” said Nicki.

  “That’s the truth,” said Teddy. “But if I ever talk that way about Summer, feel free to slap me.”

  Another faculty member caught Teddy’s eye from across the room and motioned to her.

  “Oh, there’s Kathy. I need to go talk to her for a sec. See you later.” She vanished as quickly as she’d arrived.

  Ryan had that breathless feeling she often had when Teddy blew in and out of a conversation.

  Nicki smiled at her. “I can see I’m not going to get an answer out of you about our date. Let’s just agree that I’ll make the plans and we’ll have a great time.”

  Ryan looked up at her, feeling like she’d missed part of the conversation. “Sorry, what?”

  “Our date. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Ryan nodded but didn’t answer. She was staring at Woody Nichols. “That’s weird about Woody and Linda, right?”

  “I guess so, but sometimes people get divorced.”

  “They’d been together for so long. You’d think they’d know before twenty-five years had gone by that they weren’t really meant for each other.”

  Nicki didn’t answer. They lapsed into silence as they watched the crowd.

  Finally, Ryan looked back at Nicki. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”

  “—Don’t say it.” Nicki lifted a hand to stop her. “Don’t say we shouldn’t go out just because some couple we hardly even know are getting divorced. They have nothing to do with us.”

  “But I’m not good at dating.”

  “You don’t have to be. We already know each other.”

  “I know.” Ryan waved her hands in frustration. “But…but…”

  Nicki stared. Ryan stared back.


  Then Nicki leaned in and put her lips right against Ryan’s ear like she was going to tell her a secret. “Oh, how I want to kiss you right now,” she whispered. “You are so adorable when you’re flustered.”

  A jolt of electricity shot through Ryan’s body. She took a step back, eyes wide. Nicki’s unexpected honesty—and her breath on Ryan’s ear—had smothered her doubts as surely as if Nicki had carried out the threat.

  “Okay, okay,” said Ryan. “We’ll go on our date. But you’d better make it good.”

  Nicki just smiled.

  ☐ ☐ ☐

  On the other side of the room, Bobbi was still talking with the prospective anthropology student and his parents about campus safety.

  “Wasn’t there a dead body found on campus recently?” asked the mother.

  “They found a skeleton when they tore down the old humanities building a few months ago. Our staff helped solve a thirty-year-old mystery.” She turned and pointed out one of the large windows that made up the west wall of the room. “That’s the new building going up over there. There will be offices and classrooms when it’s finished, including state-of-the-art anthropology facilities for students like you, Max.”

  “Haverwood has an excellent reputation,” said the student’s father. “We’re awfully glad our boy has been offered this scholarship.”

  “It’s quite an honor,” said Bobbi, remembering her responsibility to try to close the deal with each prospective student. “We feel every Presidential Scholar has the potential to do something exceptional in the world.”

  The parents looked at their son with pride. “We think so, too,” said the mother.

  They heard a tapping noise and turned toward the front of the room.

  Oscar Martinez stood at the podium. He welcomed the evening’s special guests and thanked everyone for attending. He introduced the two student musicians who would play through dinner. Then he invited everyone to take their seats and enjoy the meal.

  Bobbi whispered to Paul as the student and his parents sat, “I’m glad no one’s heard about the Paladin yet. That could ruin our chances of enrolling these students.”