Fool's Journey (26 page)

She
looked at Manny, framed in the golden light of the doorway.
If only he
could be her future. The university seemed a cold and hollow place now that
she'd spent a day where warmth and kindness counted. She'd experienced
something like this feeling of utter contentment when she read her favorite
books, but had always been certain that such a life could never be hers.

Manny had said
he loved her. But he didn’t know her, didn’t know the hateful memories that
curled like vipers around her heart. She wasn’t even sure if she was capable of
returning love pure enough to be worthy of his.

She was so
tired. She hadn’t known how tired she was. She wanted nothing more than to go
to the lighted doorway and forget the trials the darkness held.

           
She
remembered, though, the passage she had read days ago about the tarot, the
words that addressed the Fool’s Journey
:
Do not forget that we have been sent here to learn. We
cannot accomplish that goal in a state of comfort. Only by facing fear, and
doing battle with it, do we advance.

The past had
made a coward of her.

“I need to go
home, Manny,” she said as she stepped toward him. “I’ll get my things if you’ll
call a cab for me.”

He felt his
heart fall to his stomach. “You don’t have to call a cab. I’ll take you home.”

She shook her
head. “If I let you go with me, I know I won’t go in. And I have to.”

He opened the
screen door and stepped out into the night with her. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

She took his
hand. “Nothing has ever been this right before. I don’t want to turn this—” She
stopped, searching for the right word. She gripped his hand tighter and looked
up into his eyes. “I don’t want to turn this
start
into an escape.”

He cocked his
head at her. “And leaving by yourself isn’t escaping?”

“I can see why
you might think so. But do you want to know what my deep dark escape fantasy
really is? It’s never going back to my life again, not to my apartment, not to
the university. I want to stay here and dress in your t-shirts and old jeans,
curl up on your bed and watch you study for the bar exam. I want to take those
children trick-or-treating. I want your aunt to give me sweet sleepy time tea,
and tuck you and me in together for the night. How’s that for sexy?”

“Sounds pretty
sexy to me, but I’m an old-fashioned boy.”

“I have fears
to face, or they'll never go away. Do you see why I have to leave?”

He tilted her
chin up so that she was looking him in the eyes. “No,” he said, “but I believe
it’s important to you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re not
taking a cab, though. I’m driving. I promise you I won’t try to talk you out of
your decision.”

XXXII.

Driving away
from Deirdre’s apartment, Manny watched the lights of the neighborhoods flicker
by again, like a film running in reverse. His heart had grown heavy as he’d
checked each room of her apartment and tested the windows and doors. She’d
huddled into a corner of the sofa, while he completed his search. When he was
done, she simply followed him to the door, and gave him a whisper of a kiss. Nothing
more.

He had tested
the deadbolt. It was a good one. There was no reason he should feel uneasy
about her safety there, but as he heard the bolt slide home with a leaden
click, panic spiraled in his gut. Words formed clearly in his brain:
I will never see her again.

He didn’t head
for home immediately, but instead drove aimlessly up and down the streets
surrounding the campus where she taught, as if some trace of her presence might
linger there for him to protect. As he drove past the university, he saw that
the lights were on throughout the English Department. The custodial staff had
begun its nightly foray into the academic jungle.

When a siren
whined somewhere behind him, Manny veered to the edge of the road to let a
patrol car pass. A moment later, another sped by.

Easing the car
back onto the street, he turned onto campus. “Let’s see what’s up,” he
muttered.
 
He followed the flashing
lights through the tree-lined lanes until he reached the narrow access road
that led onto the campus green. There, the officer pulled his patrol car across
the entrance, blocking the way.

Manny parked
the car and peered out over the top of the steering wheel. An older man holding
a shuddering poodle stood watching from the sidewalk. Manny swung his door open
and went over to join him. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Must be
busting another frat party,” the old man said. “Trixie and me, we drive up here
every night and take a walk on the campus—lots of trees for piddling—and you
wouldn’t believe the goings on. These are the future leaders of our country,
these college boys. They don’t know ‘come ‘ere’ from ‘sick'em.’” He shook his
head. “And these professors they got. You know, they don’t work every day. From
what I hear, they get paid full price, top dollar, to show up two, maybe three
times a week. Good work if you can get it.”

An ambulance
arrived and the patrol car backed up to let it pass.

“Must be a hell
of a night on campus. I got a police dispatcher in my car–” The man nodded in
the direction of an old Buick. “Got it for my birthday last year. Hey, Trixie,
let’s go have a listen. Come along if ya like,” he said to Manny. “Never know
what you might hear.”

Manny followed
him to his car and leaned inside. The air snapped with static as the little
black box was flipped on and muffled voices filled the air.

All
available units in vicinity of Northwest University respond Code 10.

All the lights
were on at the English Department, Manny remembered. Looking over again, he
could see beams of light playing up and down the building’s façade.

           
“Pretty good stuff,” the old man
chortled. “Wish the wife was here–she’d get a kick out of this. She loves those
cop shows.”

           
“Right,” Manny said automatically.
Although the streets leading onto campus were all blocked now, he could see
students walking in groups of two and three, headed in the direction of the
campus green. Crowd control wouldn’t be easy. If he was going to get a closer
look, it had better be now.

           
Saying goodnight to the man, he cut
diagonally through the trees, making a beeline for the English Department.
There, two officers stood in front, instructing the gathering crowd to stand
back, while another pair circled around the back. One of them looked familiar.

           
“Is that you, Malone?” he called.
The officers spun around and trained their flashlights on him. “It’s me, Manny
Ruiz.”

           
“It’s okay, Mike,” one of them said.
“I know this guy from that night class at the law school last year.”

           
“What’s up?” Manny asked.

           
“Got a call about fifteen minutes
ago. Said there’d been a homicide in the English department, but everything’s
locked up here. Could a been a prank, but we’ve gotta check things out. Still
waiting for campus security to get here to unlock the doors.”

           
“Aren’t you gonna bust ‘em down?”
Two students had appeared from the trees and were standing with their arms
folded, watching the proceedings.

           
“You kids step back,” the other
officer barked. “You see anything, you report it to the officers in front.”

           
“You don’t need to wait for a key,”
one of the kids offered. “If you have a credit card, you can just slip the
lock.”

           
Malone sighed. “Sounds like you’ve
got experience.”

           
“Just need to deliver late papers
once in awhile.”

           
“Yeah? Well clear out. Bud,” he said
to his partner, ”you take them ‘round front and make sure they don’t drag their
cleats through the evidence.”

           
Malone watched while the trio
disappeared around the corner. “What are you doing on campus, Ruiz? You don’t
have enough to do for your regular classes?”

           
“My girlfriend works in this
building. She asked me to drop by and grab some papers she’d forgotten.”

“You know the layout of the building?”

Manny nodded and the officer fished a
credit card out of his wallet.

           
“I know this isn’t usual procedure,
but if someone’s dying up there, I don’t want to take the heat.”

           
“You won’t hear any complaints from
me,” Manny said.

           
A simple flick of the card between
the door and its frame triggered the lock, and they opened the door.

           
“Mustn’t have much to steal,” Malone
remarked.

           
“The classics aren’t in as much
demand as they used to be.”

           
“Don’t touch anything,” the officer
cautioned.

           
“I’ve seen Dragnet.”

           
“Right.”

           
Manny led the way up the back stairs
and headed in the direction of Deirdre’s office. He didn’t know what he thought
he was going to find there, but instinct tugged on his lead and he followed it.

           
As they rounded the corner, he
wasn’t surprised to see that the door to Freemont Willard’s office stood wide
open. A cold breeze whipped down the hall with them, carrying a few dry leaves
in its path. Malone pushed his way in front of him and stepped quietly down the
hall, weapon drawn. Manny could already smell powder and the coppery sweetness
of blood. He sensed there would be no need for Malone’s revolver.

           
“Shit! Take a look at this.”

           
Manny came up behind him. Sure
enough, Freemont Willard sat in his chair, just as he had a few nights ago, but
his head was thrown back and two bullet wounds gaped from his chest and another
had left a crimson stain in his crotch.

The window behind the body was propped
wide open with a thick poetry anthology. Someone wanted to make sure the soul
left the building.

           
“You know him?”

           
“Professor Freemont Willard,” Manny
said. In death, Willard’s skin had collapsed in gray folds. Stepping closer, he
could see that the corpse’s eyelids were held shut with cellophane tape. The
desk before him was clear of all paper – odd, especially if he had been here
working.

Thank God Deirdre had been busy with
Manny all day. She wouldn’t be dragged into this. Maybe she could relax. Maybe
everything would be better now.

           
“You hear anything?” Malone
whispered.

           
Manny cocked an ear. A faint tapping
came from farther down the hall. “Someone’s working late. You said another
professor called this in?” Manny asked.

           
“That’s what the dispatcher said.
That must be who it is. Where the hell’s my back-up?” Malone stepped to the
window and looked out over the campus. “There’s the problem. Must be four, five
hundred kids out there. The boys‘ve got their hands full. I’d better find out
who else is in the building.”

           
“Looks at least an hour old,” Manny
said, indicating Willard’s body. “Whoever did this is long gone, I’d guess. I
can help you check the floor. It’s a labyrinth up here–offices cobbled together
hit or miss. Lots of cubicles and closets.”

“Well, I don’t want any kids snooping
around here, that’s for sure.” He paused a moment, considering. At last, he said,
“You go that way – if there are any students, just make ‘em sit tight till I
get there. But that’s all. Don’t ask any questions.”

           
Manny nodded and headed down the
hall. He passed Deirdre’s office. The door was shut and, trying the handle, he
found it locked. Good. He followed the sounds of typing down the hallway to a
door that was partially ajar. The sign read "Prof. Bess Seymour". He
tapped on the door.

           
“Come in.”

           
As he entered, a gray-haired woman
looked up from her computer keyboard. Her eyes seemed a little unfocused. “Are
you the police?” she asked.

           
“No. I’m a friend of Deirdre’s.”

           
“Ah,” she smiled. “Good for her. I’m
glad she’s got someone. Things are going to get exciting here pretty soon. You
might want to get out of the building.”

           
“You mean because of Willard?”

           
She nodded and yawned. “Published
and
perished. I killed him about an hour
and a half ago. He was going to hurt Deirdre, but everything will be all right
now. I’ve gotten rid of his evidence, trashed the hard drive on his computer.”