The Spire (18 page)

'Then one more thing,' Darrow added quietly. 'He's also your alternative suspect.'

Rusty focused on his eggs. 'I'd sure like to have a motive, Mark. Jealousy seems like a stretch to me.'

'So what was Steve's motive' Even drunks and bigots have a sense of self-preservation. Why kill her when you'd be such an obvious suspect''

Rusty looked up. Quietly, he said, 'She's stayed with you, hasn't she''

'Her face has. It wasn't a drive-by shooting, Rusty. This was personal.'

Rusty took his last bite of sausage. After a time, he said, 'Steve didn't seem like that, did he''

'Not to me.' Darrow hesitated. 'Even now, that bothers me. Especially after seeing him again.'

'So, as a lawyer, a big question is whether you'd have put him on the stand. That's what Nordlinger did. It's also what a good lawyer
should
do, if he can. I've never believed that relying on the presumption of innocence and a defendant's right to silence cuts it with a jury.'

'I agree. But the downside would have been leaving Steve wide open to whatever Farragher's got. If you make the wrong decision, he's done.' Signaling the waitress for more coffee, Darrow turned back to Rusty. 'What are the chances of looking at the transcript of Steve's trial''

'You personally'' Rusty asked in a tone of surprise. 'If you wanted to, you could'Ohio has an open-records law for old files. The practical problem is what kind of shape they're in. The last old files I dug up had been stored in an attic infested with hungry rats and sparrows'they'd converted the most critical papers into pellets and bird poop. Hopefully Steve's files aren't as appetizing.'

'What about files from the autopsy and forensics''

'Those should be fine. Our coroner's just a functionary. When an autopsy is called for, he farms it out to the ME in Columbus. Same with the crime lab. The Bureau of Criminal Investigation stores the records.'

When the waitress brought the check, Darrow grabbed it before Rusty could. 'This is on me,' Darrow said. 'I could use a favor, though. If I become a paying client, think you could copy Steve's files''

'Sure, at cost. But not without Dave Farragher knowing who wanted them.'

Darrow shrugged. 'That's okay.'

Rusty gave him a dubious look. 'Is it' You've just come back here, and you've got big problems at the school. For years Farragher served on Caldwell's board of trustees, and he's still got lots of friends there. I can imagine someone asking why you're wasting time reading the transcript of a fifteen-year-old murder case.'

'Who would care that much''

'Farragher. Our local congressman's about to pack it in, and Dave wants to take his place.' Rusty frowned. 'That was the biggest case Dave ever had. The only thing between him and Congress might be for someone to suggest that he convicted an innocent man.'

'I'm not suggesting anything, Rusty. I'm just curious about how and why Steve got convicted. Maybe the only way to ease my mind is to read the trial transcript.'

Rusty glanced at his watch. 'Up to you, pal.' He paused again, then added, 'If you're poking around, the police chief's where you can do some business.'

'Garrison' You didn't go to high school here. He despises Steve.'

'Maybe so. But George has graduated, all the way to chief of police.' Rusty leaned forward. 'Farragher pushed a white guy for the chief's job, a Republican friend of his'pushed him hard, in fact. But the mayor chose George. So there's no love lost between our chief and our county prosecutor; Farragher's still a threat to George's job, and George still has something to prove. Undoing Farragher's finest hour would not break George's heart.'

'Small towns,' Darrow said with a smile. 'All I want is a look at those files. I'm a long way from threatening anyone's ambitions.'

Rusty stood. 'Including your own, I hope. For a lot of us, Caldwell College is a very special place. We've got a stake in your success.'

'I'll remember that,' Darrow promised.

T

HE MAJOR EVENT ON D ARROW'S SCHEDULE THAT DAY WAS A midmorning meeting with Ray Carrick, the chairman of Caldwell's board of trustees. Darrow intended to spend the preceding two hours reviewing budget projections, calling prominent alumni, and scanning plans for a new science building'which, although badly needed, would require $20 million Caldwell did not have. Then a sharp knock punctuated his thoughts, and Lionel Farr leaned through his office door. In a tone drenched with irony, Farr said, 'As Sartre once remarked, 'Hell is other people.' '

'Which people'' Darrow inquired.

'In this case, your faculty. A potential charge of sexual harassment.'

Grimacing, Darrow waved him to a chair. 'What's the genesis''

'Stupidity. You took a history course from Tom Craig, right''

'Uh-huh. A good professor, I thought.'

'He still is. Also easily bored. So he decided that sleeping with a student might, as it were, help him fill the void.' Farr's tone held weary exasperation. 'The
wrong
student'a young woman from India of considerable volatility, spiked by cultural misunderstanding. Whatever the reason, Ms. Kashfi imagined that Tom planned to leave his wife.'

'Which he didn't.'

'Of course not. So our student showed up at Tom's house two days ago, threatening Anita with bodily harm. Dr. Craig has become a bystander'for Anita, the price of marital peace is having Ms. Kashfi deported.'

'Is she crazy''

Farr emitted a mirthless laugh. 'For my money, they both are. But now we own the problem.'

Darrow sighed in irritation. 'Ms. Kashfi requires counseling, not expulsion'let alone deportation. As for Craig, any time a professor's screwing a student you're risking angry parents, potential lawsuits, and the possibility of trading grades for sex. Not to mention an erosion of student respect for the faculty and damage to Caldwell's reputation. So what
is
our policy on faculty-student involvements''

'There is none,' Farr conceded. 'We have 'guidelines.' In all of these cases, you're dealing with two people who are over the age of consent''

'Granted,' Darrow cut in. 'But also with a power differential ripe for abuse. Describe these so-called guidelines.'

'We strongly discourage romantic relationships between faculty and students, listing all the reasons you suggest.' Pausing, Farr added dryly, 'In reality, we're asking for a modicum of judgment and discretion among consenting adults. For faculty, the unwritten message seems to be 'It's okay to marry a student, but please don't date them first.' At least not where anyone can see you.'

Darrow shook his head. 'That's like sitting on nitroglycerin. As we both know all too well, people kill each other over sex. What if Ms. Kashfi had shown up at midnight and Anita Craig had put a bullet through her brain' Or vice versa' And even short of murder, the whole thing reeks.

'Bring our general counsel in. We need to craft a stronger policy, clearly understood. Our faculty should know that I'll go after anyone guilty of abusing their power over students'if I could, I'd bar these relationships outright. But if any professor still insists on dating a student, we should require them to disclose that to their department head
and
to you, and to refrain from teaching anyone they're involved with. If they don't, I'll do my damnedest to get rid of them.'

'The faculty may bridle, Mark. Some will call it an invasion of privacy.'

'No doubt. But it would cut down on the threat of lawsuits and put the fear of God in married faculty that their spouses will find out.' Darrow's own voice held a trace of sarcasm. 'I'll solicit faculty responses, of course'I'm sensitive to their prerogatives, and I'll hate cutting down their dating pool. But reasonable professors will understand, and the rest will be wary of making themselves conspicuous. Especially if we cite Tom Craig's embarrassment as a teachable moment.'

Farr smiled a little. 'I'll call our general counsel, Mr. President. Are you ready to face the chairman of our board''

THE S PIRE WAS Ray Carrick's favorite place on campus, and so his tour of Caldwell's facilities ended in its shadow. He walked between Farr and Darrow, his paunch preceding him, his movements ponderous and heavy-shouldered. He had the self-satisfied countenance of a provincial worthy with, in Darrow's estimation, the sensibility to match: tough, shrewd, reliable, loyal, and wholly unoriginal. In better times, Darrow judged, he would have been a proper steward of Caldwell's affairs. But becoming a leading business magnate in a central Ohio town had dulled Carrick's self-perception and inflated his self-regard. Though no friction had developed between Caldwell's new president and its board chair, Farr had counseled Darrow to treat Ray Carrick with care.

Now Carrick turned from the Spire, facing Darrow. 'We need money,' he summarized peremptorily. 'The science building's outmoded, and so's our field house. As for Huntley Stadium, it looks more like a soccer stadium in downtown Baghdad.'

Darrow smiled. 'Never seen one, Ray. But I'll take your word.'

Carrick's mouth clamped down. 'It's no joke, Mark'we've got to get cracking on a big endowment drive. Why do you want to cancel our feasibility study' Walter Berg's all ready to go.'

'No doubt. But I don't want to pay Walter's consulting firm a hundred grand to tell me what I already know'that we can't raise a hundred million until the alumni believe that I've straightened this place out.' Glancing at Farr, Darrow finished: 'Lionel and I have talked about this. In the short term, the best way to engage our alumni is to ask them not for money but ideas. If I can enlist them in defining our needs and goals, they'll pony up when I ask them to.'

Carrick turned to Farr. 'Mark's right,' Farr said simply. 'For the next year or two we just have to keep the school afloat.'

Carrick crossed his arms, eyeing the grass at their feet and then Mark Darrow. 'You say the alumni need to know you're cleaning things up. Isn't the best way to ask Dave Farragher to indict Clark Durbin' Let's place the blame where it belongs and put the Durbin era behind us.'

'Perhaps. But I don't want to do that yet, Ray.'

'Why not'' Carrick asked with palpable annoyance. 'Most folks on the board see this as a moral issue. If Durbin won't cooperate by helping us trace the money, then he deserves a stretch in jail. Give the bastard a choice, I say. Where's the virtue in shilly-shallying when a man we trusted turns out to be a crook''

'Because Durbin's not the problem anymore. Assuring alumni that another embezzlement won't happen
is
, and I've begun to do that. As for Durbin,' Darrow continued in the same calm tone, 'he's not running off to Paraguay. Within a month the accountant I'm bringing in can help us decide what to do with him.'

Carrick's eyebrows shot up. 'What about Joe Betts's man' Doesn't he already have this buttoned up''

'Fox is good,' Darrow answered. 'So's my guy. I want him to look at this without preconceptions.'

'Durbin stole the money,' Carrick snapped. 'Isn't it obvious''

'It seems so. But there are a couple of things about the embezzlement I'd like to nail down. After that we can consider the benefits of prosecuting Durbin or letting him go quietly.' To placate Carrick, Darrow added, 'You're right about the money'assuming there's any left. If Durbin's guilty, we can give him some hard choices.'

With a dubious expression, Carrick turned to Farr. 'What do
you
think, Lionel''

Farr inclined his head toward Darrow. 'That we hired Mark to make these calls. Besides, he knows more about financial chicanery than both of us combined. If there's something here that bothers him, I think we'd do well to listen.'

Carrick wheeled on Darrow. '_Is_ there, Mark''

Darrow found himself cornered. 'I can't tell you, exactly. Maybe
that's
what troubles me. It's too neat.'

Carrick gave a snort'half laugh, half resignation. Then he turned again, gazing at the base of the Spire. 'Such a tragedy,' he said with surprising quiet. 'All our troubles started
here
, when Tillman killed that black girl. To associate a murder with such a special place makes it that much sadder.'

Darrow thought of Taylor Farr. 'The other day,' he told Carrick, 'someone asked if we'd consider tearing the Spire down.'

Carrick gave him a hard sideways look. 'Over my dead body, Mark. Over my dead body.'

'That,' Farr ventured mildly, 'is an unfortunate turn of phrase.'

Carrick shook his head. 'Damn Steve Tillman,' he said to Farr with muted vehemence. 'I wish you'd never given him that scholarship.'

'So do I, Ray. But that's how we got Mark.'

This exchange, Darrow discovered, touched the nerve ends of his guilt and obligation. Facing Darrow, Carrick said softly, 'So it was, and I'm glad for that. Once you finish those alumni calls, Mark, let me know how they went.'

The two men shook hands. Extending his hand to Farr, Carrick said with genuine warmth, 'Thank you, Lionel. Without you, I don't know where we'd be.'

Shaking Carrick's hand, Farr smiled. 'You have no idea, Ray. But neither do I.'

Carrick chuckled, and headed off for the parking lot.

Darrow and Farr watched him go. 'Thanks,' Darrow said. 'It's clear you've got more credibility than I do.'

'More years, anyhow.' Farr turned to him. 'You know how Ray is. He's smart enough to know you're smarter, and spoiled enough not to enjoy it. Mind if I reiterate a word of advice''

'Of course not.'

'Don't alienate him over Durbin. Do whatever you need to feel more comfortable, then move as quickly as you can. As a practical matter, feeding him Clark Durbin will buy you Ray's goodwill on bigger issues. It's the kind of callous act that makes a leader great.'

Darrow laughed softly. 'I'll remember that, Chairman Mao.'

DARROW PLACED ALUMNI calls through lunch, then used the afternoon to catch up with his schedule. A little after five o'clock he stuffed the budget figures in his briefcase, pledging to revisit them before he went to sleep, and left his office for the day.

The police station was new since Darrow had graduated, a two-story building constructed of red brick, its modernity suggesting that Wayne was now on the cutting edge of law enforcement. Darrow went to a reception area protected by bulletproof glass and, reminded of his visits to Steve Tillman, spoke through a grid to the receptionist. A moment later George Garrison leaned through a metal door. 'Come on back,' he said.