Tangled Web - A Mystery - 2. Chapter 2 - Events take a turn

Who was this merry soul in Mr. Marcus’s office? The rest of the business staff conjectured as to what could have happened to make such a change in the poor gray man. Even those who had known him since his own undergraduate years could not recall even a day of such spirit. Still, it was Mr. Marcus, even if this one smiled and laughed, seemingly at his own unspoken jokes. The normal minor infractions of punctuality that had been the old Mr. Marcus’s pet peeve went unnoticed. In the words of Gladys, “I don’t care what he’s doing, I just hope he keeps doing it.”

What had begun as a twice a week dinner had evolved into nightly trysts, with Cal discreetly arriving after dark and departing before dawn. Mr. Marcus had concerns about propriety, Stu and Cal didn’t care. After three weeks and one dreadful drenching rainstorm, Cal moved into Stu’s house. Cal assumed the character of a domestically contented man. Stu fussed over him. Cal was a man of great appetites. Stu struggled to accommodate his wants and needs.

Stu was torn when Cal asked to borrow the car for a weekend away, torn between giving to Cal and being separated from him. Cal returned late on Sunday night, tired and reserved. Stu was concerned, only relieved when Cal penetrated him and ejaculated, filling Stu with cum and reassurance. Cal didn’t offer any explanation of his weekend away, Mr. Marcus never asked.

What Mr. Marcus did know was that the car had been washed, vacuumed, and gassed up. Groceries and treats had been brought back for him. By Monday morning Cal was as affectionate and unassuming as ever. Stu understood that every man deserves privacy and put his fears away. There was no doubt his life was happier and more content than ever before. People reacted to him with a friendliness that was new to him. He began to feel a part of campus life.

The next weekend, Cal suggested they go out. For Mr. Marcus, it was one thing to be seen around the college, but he was not ready to be ‘out’ in the world. Cal suggested a bar and dance club across the river. That should be far enough away to be discreet. Cal used every wile to coax Stu out of Mr. Marcus. Stu finally agreed to go.

The club was very dark. The only exception was a small, spotlighted dance floor in the center of the vast room. On the floor, various shirtless young men were lost to the pounding ‘house music’. Mr. Marcus longed for his quiet living room and ancient opera recordings though Stu was beginning to feel the beat and Cal tried to coax him onto the dance floor.

“I can’t dance,” Mr. Marcus protested.

“Come on Stu, loosen up. You’re in a gay bar. We’re all friends here.” Cal tried to be persuasive.

A group of students from the college spotted Cal and came over to talk with him. Mr. Marcus was relieved to not have to dance, but terrified at being seen in a gay bar. He prayed the bar was dark enough.

“Hey Mr. Marcus. You here with Cal? We love coming over here. Nothing like it on our side of the river.” Mr. Marcus recognized the student from a class he taught in an earlier semester. The student didn’t seem shocked or concerned in any way about his presence in the bar or that he was here with Cal.

“Don’t worry, Stu, they think anyone over twenty-five is too old for sex. They think we’re here to be friendly.”

“Still, this is more than I bargained for.” Mr. Marcus sought to flee.

“Okay Stu, drink up and we’ll get going. Hey bartender, can we get another round?”

Mr. Marcus fretted until Cal had finished his drink, ignoring the extra drink before him. Then Cal took him by the hand, pausing to wave to the friendly students and left the bar. Outside in the lot, Cal was sorry for pushing Stu to do more than he was comfortable. Cal caught Stu in his arms and kissed him deeply. Stu loved it, Mr. Marcus was terrified. Mr. Marcus sulked the entire drive back to his house. When they got inside, Cal caught him in his arms and began kissing him.

“Stu, I love you. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. But I’m proud that you are my lover. I’d tell the whole world. But I love you enough to respect your concerns about how you will be perceived. I’ll try to be content with just loving you here.”

Stu melted in Cal’s arms. “Fuck me Cal, I need you to love me right now.”

The tension between them transformed into lust. They couldn’t wait to disrobe, Stu tore off his trousers and led Cal to the living room. Cal dropped his own pants, his cock already raging with hardness. Stu lubricated himself from a dish of olive oil they had left on the coffee table after sharing wine and hors d’oeuvres earlier in the evening. Cal plunged into Stu’s ass, their need to love overcoming any caution. In the heated state, they thrashed about, banging into the coffee table, upsetting an unfinished bottle of wine. Stu grabbed at Cal’s back, demanding to be penetrated deeper. Their climax came together, Stu blasting between their locked bodies, Cal filling Stu’s ass with bolt after bolt of his cum.

“Oh god, that was good.” Cal slowly withdrew his cock.

Stu lay back on the couch, ass dripping olive oil and cum. “Interesting salad dressing you made Cal.” Stu laughed and then became serious. “I love you Cal. You know, we’ve never said that before. Nothing in my life has been truer.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, lover so we can go to bed and make love again.”

***

One morning as Stu, got ready to go to his office, Cal called to him. “Stu, I forgot my password cheat sheet in my office on campus. I need to get a report and some student papers that are online. Can you log me in so I can get these? My first class isn’t until 1 PM. And you’ve been hogging the bathroom consequently I’m not dressed yet.”

“I guess so. Do you think my access will work for you?”

“I’ll bet you can get to anything on the network. You’re the ‘go to’ man for everybody at the college. Don’t you know how important you are?”

“I’m just the accountant.”

“Yeah, just the accountant that the Provost, Dr. Waldheim, knows by name and every department head depends on for budgets and board presentations, and every faculty member depends on for payroll and expenses, and every student prays will help when he’s short on payments. Just the accountant. This college can’t function without you. I knew that the first day I was here. Anyone I asked about anything told me, ‘See Mr. Marcus.’ I admit that it wasn’t a complete coincidence that we met on that bench.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I was seeking you out for payroll stuff. But there you were, sitting like a contented cat in the sun. You were so cute, my heart melted. Then I had to come up with a way to get to know you. You made that easy when you offered your kitchen. I still can’t believe it took four weeks to get you to invite me to move in. I was using my best stuff. It was strange to be among the students creeping back to their dorm rooms during the early hours of the morning ‘so no one will know’. We all got to know each other pretty quick. Thank god for ‘gentlemen’s honor’. Though it was hard not to get to giggling when one of my fellow skulkers and I caught each other’s eye in class.”

“You’re here now and that’s all that matters. I’m going to be late, so gotta run. Make sure you turn off the computer before you go. We need to be sure the college’s records are safe.” He bent over the seated Cal and kissed him goodbye, even though they would be in adjacent buildings all day and would surely be back together for some time in the gym later in the afternoon.

***

Winter’s coming was heralded by passing flocks of geese, frosty mornings and the falling of the last leaves. Stu and Cal warmed the home of Mr. Marcus. Stu had come to be Mr. Marcus’s only personality, though he was still addressed by all as Mr. Marcus, with the exception of the Provost and Cal. The college had come to accept Stu and Cal as a couple, the relationship as normal as any on campus and demonstrably more affectionate. They tried to meet each day for a few short moments on what they came to call ‘their bench’.

Cal made a few more weekend trips and Stu fretted until his return, lost in the solitude for two days, a reminder of how he had lived for years. The sun of their relationship shown again upon Cal’s return and the time alone was quickly forgotten.

One chill morning, as they lay in each other’s arms, calming down after a morning session of loving, Cal suggested they skip the gym that day and have an early dinner. There was a good movie on the television and they could make out by the fire. Stu thought he could get away early and agreed to the tryst. Cal volunteered to go into town to get a few things for dinner, his entire afternoon being free.

Stu walked to the campus, still treasuring the feeling of their loving, warm and deep in his body. He wondered if people could tell what he and Cal did together. They’d never know how it made him feel, he thought. Anyone seeing his face would know well how he felt.

He went to the office as usual and set about his usual duties. He sat at lunch with other faculty members of the Economics Department. He was now comfortable considering himself one of them. They asked after Cal, he not lunching with them. Stu assured them of his well being. The afternoon passed slowly as Stu anticipated the afternoon with Cal. A frequent erection kept him behind his desk much of the time. He managed to collect himself enough to dash out in time to meet Cal.

As he walked through the failing light of the afternoon, he was surprised to see a car in his driveway. Four men were in the process of getting in, not having found anyone at home. As he hurried closer he recognized the Provost and waved a greeting. A worried look was returned. The Provost walked to meet him, the look intensifying. Stu felt a chill of foreboding. The men produced badges and identified themselves a agents of the FBI.

“We’ve been looking for you, Stuart. It’s fortunate that you came along” said the Provost.

“What’s this about?” Mr. Marcus was confused.

“We need to ask you some questions.”

“Perhaps we could go inside?” suggested the Provost.

“Of course, gentlemen, come inside.”

“May we look around?” asked the lead agent.

“Certainly, gentlemen, but I can’t imagine what you’re looking for.”

The Provost and Mr. Marcus sat in the living room while the FBI agents moved around the house.

“This the only computer?” asked an agent indicating the desktop in a corner of the living room. Without waiting for an answer he began to dismantle the computer, taking the CPU and modem out to the car.

The agents addressed each other from the bedrooms. “Hey chief, this place looks like it’s been scrubbed by pro’s. We won’t find any evidence here.”

“Oh, my house guest has a thing about cleanliness. I thought I was a good housekeeper until he came along. The bathroom positively gleams. I admit I let him do it.” Mr. Marcus said lightly.

“And your ‘house guest’ as you called him, where is he now?”

“I expected Professor Stephenson back by now.”

“Mr. Marcus, have you accessed student records on this computer?”

“Certainly not” he replied fastidiously. “I am told that the system security is top notch, but I’ve never been comfortable accessing privileged information outside my office in the administration building. We are entrusted with a great deal of confidential information and I honor that trust.” Mr. Marcus then paused and said thoughtfully. “There was one time when Cal, Professor Stephenson asked me to log on, but that was just to check some reports or papers related to his position in the Economics Department.”

“When was that?”

“About a month or so ago, yes before Thanksgiving.”

“Did you allow Stephenson to access the system using your id often.?”

“No, that was the only time. Dr. Waldheim, I realize it is technically a breach of security procedures, but I cannot believe anything untoward of Cal’s accessing the system. He was trying to get some work done from here. It’s unimaginable that this requires the attention of the FBI.”

“Unhappily, Mr. Marcus, student records had been reviewed on this computer and one of those students disappeared a few days ago.”

“I think it’s preposterous to suggest that Cal had anything to do with that.” Mr. Marcus was indignant. “He has always had the welfare of students paramount in his mind. He could never do anything to harm a student or anyone else, for that matter.”

“Nonetheless, Mr. Marcus, we must thoroughly investigate every aspect related to the student and his possible abduction. It is inordinately suspicious that your computer was likely used to gain information about the missing student and that your home has been cleansed of fingerprints and traces of human occupancy typical in even the most fastidious house.” The agent’s cell phone rang. “What? The office, too? Damn. Stephenson’s office has been stripped, too. Well Mr. Marcus, what do you say to that?”

Mr. Marcus sought the Provost’s face for some sign of reassurance. Finding none, he fell into despair. Could Cal, the man he loved, be guilty of such a horrific crime? That surely was not possible, and yet, where was he? And what was behind his excessive cleaning? And why had he cleaned this morning?

“Mr. Marcus, it’s routine to take samples of DNA for validation and testing. With the way things have been ‘tidied up’, we’d appreciate any suggestions on your part as to how we might obtain some. You seemed to know Stephenson well.”

Mr. Marcus felt again the feeling deep in his core that served as a reminder of his making love to Cal. The blood drained from his face.

“Stuart, if there is anything, anything at all we can do to help this investigation, we must do it. There is a student out there whose very life is at stake. Please Stuart, you have to help” the Provost pleaded.

Mr. Marcus looked at his shoes. He began to speak quietly. “This morning, Cal made love to me. We haven’t been using condoms for some time, since we’ve been cleared of any possibility of disease. His semen is still inside me.”

The senior FBI agent was on the phone immediately. “Get me a proctologist, now. There’s got to be one at the local hospital. Never mind why, get one and an examination room. We’ll bring in the subject. Shouldn’t take more than ten minutes to get there. Now move!”

Mr. Marcus allowed himself to be led out of his home. He scanned the area to see any sign of Cal in the hope he would show up and clear up this incredible mess. He thought for a moment he saw someone in the woods across the path. No one emerged. He concluded it was just the breeze moving the shrubbery.

“I’ve got to check-in a minute” said the lead FBI agent. He walked a distance from the car and took out his cell phone. “Yeah, it looks like a real pro job, totally cleansed the house and the professor’s office. We got a lead on some DNA, though, though we have to extract it from a witness’s ass. I’ll explain later. No sign of him around. Marcus doesn’t seem to know anything. He’s real upset. I guess the suspect was his boyfriend. I’ve already alerted the local cops. We’ve got to get this area locked down. Yeah, that’s right. An APB for the missing student and now we can add this Calvin Stephenson. Too many links, he’s got to be involved.” He got into the car next to Mr. Marcus, looking for any tell tale reactions. Nothing.

Mr. Marcus had lost his spirit and allowed himself to be packed into the car and taken to the hospital He was put on a stretcher and whisked to an examination room. There a doctor, already in surgical attire asked him to disrobe.

“No need to be nervous, Mr. Marcus. This is a very routine procedure. Tell you what, let’s get an intravenous going so we can give you something to help you relax. It will all be over in no time.” The doctor wrote some instructions on Mr. Marcus’s chart and asked a nurse to complete the pharmacy order and administer the sedative. He excused himself to attend to another patient, promising to return shortly.

The nurse was gone only a few minutes and returned with an IV setup and some small phials. She expertly inserted the IV needle and completed the process, injecting the contents of the phials into the IV. The preparation room had another patient who called for the nurse’s assistance. As the nurse went behind a curtain dividing the room, a doctor she did not recognize came in. The doctor greeted her in a friendly fashion. The nurse looked at the doctor’s badge to be able to call her by name and welcomed her to the hospital staff. The patient called again, and the nurse went to help.

Mr. Marcus had begun to feel woozy from the drugs. He looked up to see a female doctor examine the chart at the foot of the bed he lay upon and do something to the IV. She then lifted the sheet covering him and seemed to touch his ass. She recovered him and left the room.

As she left, a large man came into the room. He leaned over Mr. Marcus and spoke quietly in his ear, “I’m sorry Stu, I’m so sorry.”

Mr. Marcus recognized that voice from within the deepening confusion of the drugs. He replied, “Cal, Cal” and lost consciousness.

***

The unconscious Mr. Marcus was wheeled into the examining room. As the doctor began the procedure of obtaining the semen sample from Mr. Marcus’s rectum, he knew something was wrong. “My god, he’s got no pulse.” The doctor called for assistance from the emergency room. They arrived in less than a minute and began a heroic effort to revive Mr. Marcus.

“How can this happen? You’re just going up his ass with a swab and he dies?” The FBI agent was furious.

“It’s impossible to say until we have an autopsy. I gather he was under significant stress. People react differently to even minor procedures with minimal anesthesia” the doctor replied defensively.

“Did you get the sample?”

“Yes, it’s already been sent to the lab. I’ve cleared everything but emergency analysis. You should have initial results within the hour. DNA matching after that is up to your laboratories.”

The FBI agent had commandeered a doctor’s office to review the DNA analysis that came an hour later. After a moment’s review, he leaped to his feet and stormed off to find the lab.

“These results can’t be right.”

“I agree that the results seem unlikely. I ran the test four times and had my supervisor run the test again. It’s not conclusive, but it is certain that the sample provided contained semen from at least six men and perhaps as many as a dozen. I’ve only seen this kind of thing once before, and that was an instance of a gang rape. Horrible.”

“Where will I find the hospital administrator?” the FBI agent demanded.

“All the admin offices are behind the welcome desk at the main entrance.”

The FBI agent was on his cell phone as he marched along the corridors toward the administrator’s office. “Better broaden that search perimeter. I want every way in and out of this area locked down. The local airport, train stations, highways, hell hiking trails. This thing is getting out of hand. The State Department is weighing in? Just who was this kid anyway? Diplomat’s son? Those kids seem to get in more trouble. And one of those foreign royals? I wondered what all the noise was about. Stephenson shouldn’t be hard to identify, six two or three, 220, buzz cut, voice like a church organ. Not fat, built. I’ve got a situation here at the hospital I’m on right now. I’ll call you back.”

He had arrived at the hospital administrator’s office. “Look, I need you to get everyone involved with this ‘simple procedure’ in a room to get the facts straight. This is a high profile case and the lead witness just died – while under the care of this hospital.”

The proctologist, the head of the pharmacy, and the attending nurses were all summoned. Once in the room, the FBI agent paced back and forth, shooting questions. Nothing out of the ordinary was reported. The pharmacist was adamant that the correct prescription for the anesthetic had been provided and that the FBI was welcome to verify and audit their procedures. The agent assured him that would be done.

Then the nurse who had prepped the patient shyly raised a hand.

“Yes?” demanded the agent, “You know something?”

“Where is that new doctor? I thought everyone who had worked with this patient was to be here.”

“What new doctor?”

“Doctor – oh I can’t remember her name. I tried to read it off her badge, but it was one of those long, foreign names. She seemed very nice.”

The FBI agent scowled at the administrator. “You’ve left someone out?”

“No, no one else was involved with this patient.”

“Better round up all the female doctors that fit the description – ‘stat.’ Anything else you should tell me?” he said to the nurse.

“Well I didn’t see anything else, but when I was attending to the other patient in the room, I heard a voice from Mr. Marcus’s side.”

“You heard a voice?”

“Yes, the rooms are divided by privacy curtains and I heard a man’s voice say something like ‘I’m sorry’. Then another man’s voice, it could have been the patient said, ‘cow’. It doesn’t make sense to me. I checked in on the patient a moment later and no one was there.”

“Was the voice distinctive in any way? You could tell it wasn’t the patient’s voice.”

“The voice was very deep, like a bass opera singer.”

“Stephenson! Get an autopsy done, now” he shouted at the administrator.

The FBI agent was on his cell phone again in a second. “This case has just gone to a new level, chief. Our lead witness died and it looks like Stephenson was in the room minutes before. I’d say it’s beyond suspicious. We’ve got the APB out now, but we’ve got a probable murder to add to our charge of conspiracy to kidnap. I’ll get the autopsy moving and an audit of the pharmacy to rule out accident, but this looks like pros at work. You think that’s necessary? I guess so, if there’s one murder, it might not be kidnapping.”

The agent redialed his phone. “Yeah, Larry, we’re not hearing back from any of the local or State police. And the lead suspect was at the hospital. So unless this kid was cooperating with the kidnapping…alert the down river cops and Coast Guard. And drag the lake.”

The hospital administrator caught the agent’s eye. He confirmed that he could absolutely identify the whereabouts of each of the female foreign doctors on his staff during the critical period. Two had been in surgery, one teaching a seminar to fifteen interns and the fourth had been at a nearby elementary school giving inoculations. Who the nurse says she saw he couldn’t verify. The nurse was fully qualified and reliable. The hospital security procedures were fully in compliance with the law and above industry standards.

A short while later a report came in. Local cops had found Stephenson’s bicycle near the river, not far from the train station and a bridge. A search of the area did not locate the suspect. Local police were out on the river, now looking for two bodies. Three trains had gone south and two north since the suspect was last reported at the hospital. The agent directed the searchers to focus on the city bound trains, the most likely route of escape. Radio contact with the north bound trains reported no one matching the descriptions of the suspect or student travelling together or alone had boarded at the station.

The autopsy report came a few hours later. The FBI agent reviewed the results. He went back to the administrator’s office. “Can you call in your team, please? I want to confirm all the facts.”

The administrator complied. The group quickly gathered, including the proctologist, the nurses, the pharmacy staff, the coroner and his assistant.

“This report says Mr. Marcus died of an overdose of anesthesia. Is that right?”

“There is no question of the cause of death” confirmed the coroner.

“And you say that the correct amount was provided to and administered by the nurse.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“And you’re sure that all other supply of drugs is accounted for.”

“Absolutely, as your own staff can attest” said the head of the pharmacy.

“So, the drug came from somewhere else or Marcus came in here with it already in his system.”

“That seems the case.”

“I think it unlikely that the patient arrived with it already in his body,” said the proctologist.

“I agree” said the coroner.

“I had a brief conversation with Mr. Marcus on his arrival. While very nervous, he seemed lucid. The amount of drug indicated in the autopsy would have rendered him insensible.”

“That’s right. He would have lived a matter of minutes after having that volume of drug injected.”

“And there was no evidence of other injections?”

“None.”

“So someone with knowledge of anesthesia and access to the drug came to the hospital with the intent to kill Mr. Marcus?” asked the agent.

“So it would seem” affirmed the administrator.

***

The FBI agent called in his fellow agents to report on what had been learned through the day. Most had little to report, though great effort had been made to find Stephenson, the missing student, and now a missing female doctor. The college security detail added little more, though one detail was curious. In the woods, near Marcus’s home were two bags of groceries, containing perishables and bottles of wine, recently purchased. They appeared to have been dropped by someone in a hurry.

The curious outcome of the DNA sampling rankled the senior agent. He put the issue before his colleagues for their insight.

“Clearly, someone was trying to corrupt the DNA sample we were taking from Marcus.”

“Who would know we were looking inside the guy’s ass for the sample?”

“Could someone have overheard our plans?”

“I doubt it, though I think I mentioned it when on my cell outside Marcus’s house.”

“Who else knew?”

“Dr. Waldheim, the Provost, was there when Marcus told us. He knew we were headed to the hospital for the sample.”

“Where would you get semen from ten guys?”

Several of the agents looked at each other with mild disgust.

One finally volunteered, “Guys, it’s a college campus. I don’t know what you did when you were in school, but if you can’t find a hundred used condoms on a college campus, well I fear for the future of the country.”

There were nods of understanding and some of fond remembrance.

***

The next day the FBI agent found the Provost in his office on the campus.

“It looks bad for Stephenson. He had access to the computer that accessed the student’s files. He was pretty clearly indentified at the hospital. He’s nowhere to be found. I need to interview anyone on campus who might have information that will assist with the case.”

“I may be able to quickly identify faculty, staff and students who were close to or had regular contact with the Professor Stephenson. We can start with the faculty and staff. I think we should wait until this afternoon to interview the students. Word about Mr. Marcus’s death has already gotten out – I don’t know how. We’re having a memorial service in the chapel,” explained the Provost.

“Normally I’d not want to wait, but with your permission I’d like to attend the service. Is there someplace I can observe who attends the service without being seen?|

“The balcony should suffice,” the Provost replied with distaste. “One more thing, I will need to be in attendance during any interview. In the interest of time, I can serve as in loco parentis to protect the interests of the students. Otherwise, you will need to wait until parents can be in attendance.” The agent reluctantly agreed.

“By the way,” the agent continued, “did you mention our taking Mr. Marcus to the hospital for the DNA test to anyone?

“I believe I mentioned it to the college President, Mr. Worthington. I was updating him on the situation. Everything is very delicate. Generally, he does not concern himself with day-to-day college life, his primary responsibility being fund raising and the management of the endowment, but this whole series of events is extraordinary. He already seemed to know about the missing student, however, though I don’t know how he came by that information.”

The Provost then identified members of the faculty and staff. Their information correlated well. Professor Stephenson was a conscientious teacher, liked by his students, friendly and open. Many thought his temporary position should be extended and that he showed promise to become an outstanding faculty member and contributor to the college community. His personal relationship with Mr. Marcus was known, but not seen as of any great importance, but had been of visible benefit to Mr. Marcus. Universally, it was hoped that he would quickly return.

***

The memorial service was scheduled for the mid-afternoon. Most of the faculty, many of the long-term staff members, and a few students gathered in the college Chapel. The Provost climbed to the dais in what had been the apse. His steps were leaden. He took a few minutes to compose himself before addressing the gathering.

“Friends. For that is what we were, Stuart Marcus and I. He has long seniority over me here at the college, over most of us, I dare say. He came here as a student and returned a few years after graduating. He gave us unfailing service and dedication. To me, to the students now attending, to all alumni past and that will come. The success of this institution is wholly dependent upon the contribution of Stuart Marcus and those of us who endeavor to follow his example of service.

“These past few months have been special for Mr. Marcus, Stuart, as he was known to me. I think we have all remarked upon a joyful caste to his countenance, a light spirit that informed his interaction with us all. I am comforted that my friend Stuart had found something, someone special for his life. And I am saddened that he enjoyed it for so short a time. Still, to leave life loved and fulfilled, that is a gift. As Stuart’s life was to us all.

“Please join me in moment of silent remembrance of Stuart Marcus.”

The FBI agent scanned the crowd below. He ticked off on a list the people he recognized from earlier interviews, though the clutch of students was his focus. These would be persons of interest. He climbed down from the balcony to be able to see faces as the gathering broke up and filed out the door. The last was the Provost. The agent nodded his sympathy, then spoke to the Provost.

“Dr. Waldheim. I think we should start with the students who attended.”

“I assumed as much and have already prepared a list.”

“You know who was here?”

“I know most of the students by name. I could have reasonably guessed who might attend.”

“Was there anyone here whose attendance you did not expect?”

“Ahhh, I see your point. A few. If you’ll permit me to check in with my office, I can obtain their schedules. I’d like to approach them myself, to invite them to my office for the interview.”

The first few interviews with students confirmed what had been said by the faculty and staff. Most had taken the accounting class given by Mr. Marcus or had received consideration in a difficult time. The FBI agent was conscious of time passing quickly, with no significant information being added. Everyone talked about the relationship between Marcus and Stephenson, but in such terms that it could be meaningless. Certainly nothing that shed light on Stephenson’s behavior and nothing that pointed to the disappearance of the student.

As the agent and Provost were waiting for the next student to arrive, the President of the college stormed into the Provost’s office. “Have you solved this thing yet? Where’s that student and where’s Stephenson? I’ve got several important donors who want answers on this. This could jeopardize the capital campaign.”

“Who, other than ourselves, know anything about this?” the Provost demanded.

“I have you know I am well connected in Washington. I have been contacted by several members of the international community who have an interest in this boy’s welfare. I want that Stephenson arrested immediately so we can close this thing down.” The president stormed out.

“Dr. Waldheim, there’s a student waiting for you” a receptionist said as she dodged the exiting president.

“Just a moment please” the FBI agent requested of the receptionist. “Who the hell has he been talking to?”

“I have no idea. I did have some reservations about informing Mr. Worthington, but as president, he is my superior, if only nominally. He does seem to have a fair amount of information beyond what I have shared with him.”

The Provost escorted a student into his office. The student, Alex, was wide-eyed with panic when the Provost introduced the FBI agent.

“Sit down Alex. We’re helping with an investigation about some strange matters here at the college. Unhappily, Mr. Marcus’s death is one. Professor Stephenson has apparently disappeared. And another, about which I must ask you to not relate to anyone else. A student has also disappeared and we fear for his safety. I am here on your behalf, on behalf of your parents. You have nothing to fear in sharing anything you may know about Mr. Marcus or Professor Stephenson.”

The FBI agent began, “Alex, is it? Alex, do you know anything about the relationship of Mr. Marcus and Professor Stephenson.”

Alex broke into sobbing tears. The agent and the Provost exchanged glances of wonder. The Provost put a hand on Alex’s shoulder to comfort him. “Alex, whatever it is, you must tell us.”

Struggling against the flood of emotion, Alex spoke lowly, “I saw them. I saw them together.”

“Marcus and Stephenson?”

“Yes. It was at Mr. Marcus’s house. I went over to…” his words trailed off. Summoning courage he continued. “I went over to talk with them after I saw them at a bar, across the river.”

“A bar?”

“Yes, the gay bar over near the State University. I saw them there and thought I could talk to them. Professor Stephenson was filling in as my advisor, and everyone talked about them being a couple. I thought I they would listen to me.”

“About what?”

“Oh god, this is so hard. I think I am, no I know I am. I’m gay. I’ve never been with anyone, but I know it.” He broke down into tears again. The Provost put his arm around Alex, offering more comfort.

“You say you saw them at Mr. Marcus’s house.”

“Yes, after seeing them at the bar, I followed them back. It took me a bit to park my car and walk over to Mr. Marcus’s house. The house was dark when I got there, but there was some light coming through the curtains of the window that looks out onto the porch. I was going to knock, but I heard something, someone call out. Hell, I was scared.”

“I know, it must have been very difficult to seek their help” the Provost encouraged.

“Anyway, I looked through the gap in the curtains and saw them.”

“They were inside?”

“Yes, on the couch, having sex.”

“Oh, my;” the Provost exclaimed.

“You’re sure?”

“They were going at it, even knocked into a table, spilling wine all over. I was angry that they were together and I was alone. I needed their help. Oh, god, forgive me. I’m so sorry. Now Mr. Marcus is dead. What about Professor Stephenson? He’s okay, isn’t he? And what student is missing? What’s this all about?”

“I’m afraid I can’t give you any information, we don’t know much. Our first concern is that all students are safe.” The Provost escorted Alex to his dorm room, reminding him of the need for discretion and encouraging Alex to contact him any time day or night with any issue. “And Alex, I know how hard it was to tell us all you did today. Thank you for trusting me. I know you are a fine young man and you will find your way. I am here for you and will try to be worthy of your trust.”

The last planned student interview opened a new line of inquiry. While he himself did not know Stephenson, he did see Stephenson pick up a student in Mr. Marcus’s car.

“When did this happen?”

“It was a Friday night, over in town. I was coming out of the café and Thibaud was standing in front. We said ‘hi’ and as I was about to leave, Mr. Marcus’s car came up with Professor Stephenson driving. Thibaud kind of winked at me and got in. Off they went. I don’t know who was luckier, the Professor or Thibaud. They’re both really hot. Oh, excuse me, I probably shouldn’t have said that.”

“How did you know it was Mr. Marcus’s car?”

“I was stuck down at the train station last year. I was coming back from break and that big snow storm hit. There weren’t any cabs and it was too far to walk in the storm. I called up the office and only Mr. Marcus was still there, everyone else had been sent home. Mr. Marcus came and got me. So I know his car. I rode in it once. He was always like that, Mr. Marcus, he’d help a guy out.”

“Yes” said the Provost, “he was like that. He performed countless small acts of kindness, most of which no one else ever knew. Thank you for your help. I’ll see you out.”

Upon his return the FBI agent said with raised eyebrows “Tea bow?”

“Thibaud, a French name. I’ll just go get him,” answered the Provost.

The Provost entered the class room quietly. “Excuse me, Professor, but I must interrupt to speak to one of your students. Thibaud, could you accompany me to my office, please.” Thibaud mocked a look of worry in return to the several teasing comments from other students. “I’m afraid this is a serious matter, but all will be clear in a few minutes” the Provost explained.

Once inside the Provost’s office, following the introduction of the FBI agent, Thibaud was interviewed about his contact with Stephenson.

“You know Professor Stephenson?”

“Sure, I know Cal.”

“You were seen getting into a car with him?”

“I suppose so, we had a couple of weekends together,” Thibaud said nonchalantly.

“Where did you go?”

“Cal took me to this kind of resort place in Vermont.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-two. I’m an exchange student and have already completed my Baccalaureate in France. I am attending here to continue my education, improve my English and be closer to things American. No need to worry about crossing state lines with a minor. Vraiment.”

“What did you do on these weekends?”

“How graffic do you want me to be?” He waited, but was met with silence. “Okay, Cal picked me up and we drove up to Vermont. He mostly talked about his life with Mr. Marcus. For a while it was sweet, but did nothing to put me in the mood. Once we got there, we’d have a nice dinner then go to the room and screw.”

“That’s it, dinner and relations?”

“On Saturday afternoons, while I soaked it up at the spa, he’d go off somewhere. He did not offer, I did not ask where. Another dinner, more fun in the sack and then back to the campus. We’d stop along the way at a big grocery store and buy all kinds of things for ‘Stu’, Mr. Marcus. But that was the weekend. I got to get off campus and eat real food, I got to get it on with a major stud, and that’s fine with me.”

“Can you provide me with the name of the resort where you stayed.”

“Sure, it’s the Solstice, near Burlington. Anything else?”

“When was the last time you saw Professor Stephenson?”

“I passed him as I came out of the Economics building around ten this morning.”

“How did he seem to you?”

“Handsome as ever.”

“Did he appear under any stress?”

“No, nothing out of the ordinary. He was a pretty relaxed guy, except when, you know, we were together.” Thibaud winked.

***

The FBI agent sat across from the Provost. “What can you tell me about Stephenson?”

“As everyone has mentioned so far, he was a good professor, well liked and respected by his colleagues and students. He came to us to fill an emergency vacancy due to an illness of one of our faculty” the Provost explained. “I was surprised by the source, however, Mr. Worthington, the college president. As I mentioned earlier, Mr. Worthington has little to do with the college or how it is run. That falls under my purview, including finding and selecting faculty, with the approval of department heads. Mr. Worthington came in to my office with Professor Stephenson’s complete curriculum vitae and letters of recommendation. On paper he looked acceptable, he interviewed well, and since classes had already begun, we acted to bring him on. It did disturb me, however, that Mr. Worthington considered him all the more acceptable for being, as he put it, ‘easy to fire’. Apparently there had been some friction among the faculty at UCLA where he had done his graduate work. Professor Stephenson alleged that some of the papers being presented by senior faculty had been, in fact, his work. As a graduate student, one has little influence. Further, there seems to have been some untoward interaction between Professor Stephenson and a graduate student and while that is beyond the interests of my office, Mr. Worthington made a point of mentioning it on several occasions. I was pleased to fill the position on short notice and then to have Professor Stephenson do an outstanding job.

The FBI agent continued, “And the student, Samir as you call him.”

“Oh my yes, Samir. Where can he be? He came as a freshman nearly four years ago. He has been a good student and is also well liked. While I knew him, as I try to know all the students, when a student is well behaved, he and I have relatively little interaction. I did keep a somewhat closer eye on him, with his special status as a foreign national of expressed interest to his embassy, but I made a point of not drawing attention to the fact in order to allow him as normal and full an experience as any student.”

The FBI agent thanked the Provost for his information and help through the process. He promised that while the investigation would continue, he had instructed his staff to be as subtle as possible. He then asked the Provost if there was an office he could use to collect his thoughts prior to reporting to the FBI brass. The Provost made the necessary arrangements.

***

Alone in the borrowed office, the FBI agent reviewed his notes.

The missing student, known as ‘Samir’ to the college community, was an enigma in several ways. He was the second son of the first son of the king of a small, but wealthy Arab nation.

The first son had died tragically a few years before, ostensibly at the hands of his own nation’s secret police. He had been a graduate student in California when suddenly recalled to his country. A few days later he was reported as having committed suicide by leaping from a palace rampart. The international community was in uproar, alleging that the young man had been murdered for suspected Western leanings and a possible homosexual affair.

The death of the first son was attributed by some to an ongoing rivalry between an emerging liberal and democratic movement and old guard nationalists. In the local culture, homosexuality was forbidden and any taint could undermine the legitimacy of the royal family. The nationalists made frequent, unveiled use of the secret police to enforce its political agenda.

Now the second son had been abducted and possibly killed. The testimony of his roommate and close friends indicated that they knew nothing of his royal background. He had been at the college since his freshman year, had performed well academically and was well liked. It was reported that he spent occasional weekends at the State University nearby, but whether that was with a social group of his own country, a girl friend or whomever, they did not have any information to share. The second son had kept that part of his life very private.

***

The FBI agent fretted as his staff, one by one, reported nothing. The student had not been found, either in the search of the roads and public transportation. Neither had a body been found. Stephenson had similarly disappeared. There were no stolen or rented cars. No one who appeared to know him had lent him a car. Marcus’s car sat in his garage. The female doctor had not been seen, though that seemed a minor detail. They would continue the searches, but after the thoroughness of the search so far, he did not expect to learn anything new.

He made his report to his seniors at the FBI. They told him that the State Department had made many inquiries into the missing student and demanded that his abductor be identified and detained. They implied that this case of was of particular interest to important foreign governments.

As much as the FBI agent would like to find the student, apprehend his abductor or killer and close the case, the investigation wound down without results.