Tall Man Down - 20. Chapter 20

The phone rang a bit after eight. If Josh was awake, he was playing quietly in his crib, in his room down the hall from ours. Pete and I had been sleeping. Phones didn't normally ring at that hour in our house, especially on a Saturday, and I was tempted to answer, “This better be a wrong number.”

It was Larry. “Can you do me a favor?” he asked.

It was unexpected, but “Sure thing,” I said, reflexively. I rarely refused friends. “Big or small?”

“I don’t know, really. I’m thinking about... No, I’m about to do something... and I could use a couple more pieces of information.”

I wasn’t sure what I could tell him. Our fields hardly overlapped. And it was doubtful he and Marcia needed remodeling advice. “Wanna meet for breakfast?” I asked. “Give me a half-hour?”

“I’d rather you come here.”

“Campus? Your office?”

“Home. It’s more private. And if Pete wants to come along, that’d be great. Marcia’s been wanting to see the baby. And you’re welcome to have breakfast here. I know it’s early.”

“I’ll ask Pete. We’ll get right back to you.”

“Thanks. Really.”

“Not a problem.”

I told Pete what little I knew, and he said he needed an hour to prep Josh. I called Larry back, he said he was comfortable with that, and a little after nine-fifteen, Pete and I were standing at Larry and Marcia’s front door. Well, kind of. Josh had just flung a toy from his stroller, and I was fetching it from the bushes.

“Not your best side,” Larry joked, when he saw me crouching.

“Not my best hour, either, but what can I say?”

We were soon sitting around the dining table – Larry, Marcia, Pete, and I. Josh was still in his stroller because it seemed the best way to both feed and control him, and it was parked between Pete and Marcia.

“I want another baby so badly,” Marcia said. “But I know that makes no sense.”

They already had four kids, ages six to fourteen, fairly evenly spaced. They only intended to have two, and when they had a girl and boy had been very happy. Then Marcia wanted one more.

“I hate the idea of never being pregnant again,” she’d told us, some years earlier. “Besides, if we can manage two, we can stretch to three.”

Their kids were off somewhere in the house, either already fed, still sleeping, playing some kind of games, or watching TV. Though instead of talking about what Larry wanted to, we all sat around and comfortably chatted. Finally, finished with breakfast and coffee, Larry gestured me to the back porch.

“Mind if I take this?” I asked, raising my coffee mug.

“Not at all. And just ask if you want refills.”

When Larry asked me to follow him, Pete just smiled and nodded. He must have figured, as I suddenly did, that this had something to do with police work.

Well – again – kinda.

“I’m thinking of resigning,” was the next thing Larry said, after we were settled in padded rattan armchairs. “No, there I go again. I am resigning. There’s no question.”

“From teaching?”

“No – not that. I couldn’t afford that if I wanted to. Besides, I’d miss it too much.”

“Then from what?”

“Being Assistant Dean – well, Acting Dean. I could have managed the assistant, and maybe they’ll still let me do that, depending on their choice. And from the union.”

“But you’re the head. Not only that, you’re the core. Without you, it’s just the usual gang of people fighting.”

“I know that. And I feel guilty enough. But I can’t do it.”

I wanted to ask “Why?” and it was the natural question. But it also was an invasion, and I thought he’d tell me if he wanted. Besides, I didn’t think that’s what he wanted my advice about.

“Well, you know what’s best,” I said. “And I don’t think you need my thoughts about it.”

“No. That’s not why I called you,” he admitted. But then he was silent. Finally, he went on. “How well do you know Don Burris?”

How well? That’s not what I’d been thinking about at all. It was at first, when we were still on the phone. But as soon as Larry mentioned the union, I shifted to campus politics. Now I shifted again.

“How well?” I repeated, giving me a moment to think. “Well, I met him the first year I was at Waldron. Even though I’d left the force two years earlier, I was still in withdrawal. So I tried not to, but I finally stopped by the police station to introduce myself. And of all the officers I met, he was the one I hit it off with.”

“Do you trust him?”

“You mean, ‘Is he honest?’ Absolutely. I’ve seen nothing to show otherwise.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” Larry continued. “Closer to ‘if I take myself out of the mix... if I simply resign from public view, from any kind of nominal authority, and the calls and e-mails suddenly stop... will he just let this go?’”

That brought up too many questions for me to quickly answer. Even trying to separate them was hard.

“Why would the calls and e-mails stop?” seemed the simplest. So that’s what I asked.

“Because I’m sure they’re all political. I can’t prove it right now, but I think someone like Greg’s behind them.”

“But he got the first call.”

“That doesn’t mean anything, and you know it.”

Actually, I didn’t. I hadn’t even thought about it that way. But I could see where it could be twisted to fit.

“Why would he do that?” I asked.

“Well, I’m not completely sure he did. But someone like him... who was following the orders of the Board... or was at least anticipating them and trying for favor... Someone who knew that if I were Dean – even Acting Dean in this crucial year for the union... If I were Dean and head of the union, well, that might push things so much more strongly in our favor.”

“Yeah, Greg told me as much soon after Catlin died.”

“He said that?”

I grinned. “Yeah. He’s not the dumbest person on campus.”

Larry laughed. “I never said he was. I’m just surprised he was that open. Did he say what he planned to do about it? About what the Board planned.”

I grinned again. “He wasn’t that open.”

While Larry nodded and seemed to think, I wondered what this had to do with Don. Then Larry continued, almost thinking aloud.

“I knew the Board anticipated having trouble with me,” he said. “And I knew they wouldn’t be at all pleased with having me as Dean – that they might not even want me to continue as virtually powerless assistant to Rebecca. Though that might be in their favor because I could both continue to help things go smoothly, and it would show their impartiality. Still, I figured I could handle all that. But not these phone calls and the publicity.”

“Why? You’re good at handling exactly that sort of politics. In fact, you’re great at it.”

“Thanks, but...” And then he didn’t go on – at least, not in that direction. “But getting back to Don Burris...”

“Yeah?” And I waited for him to make the connection.

“Well, if I disappear, and that makes the calls and e-mails stop – and I’m sure it will. Will he just drop this investigation?”

And that’s where I was stuck again. Which investigation did Larry mean? The imaginary one in Don’s mind? Or the one that I thought was over immediately – as soon as Abby found Catlin had drowned.

“What investigation are you thinking about?” I hedged.

“The one about the phone calls and e-mails.”

Ah. The easiest one. “No one believes those,” I assured him. “You said that yourself.”

“There’s a lot of things no one believes that get a lot of publicity.”

He was back to that.

“Greg thinks it’s good for the college. At least, it’s not harmful because it gets us attention. And the Board agrees.”

“So would I, if I weren’t in the middle of it.”

“But you’re not. You successfully ducked a probably dumb TV interview – while Rebecca and Greg grinned through theirs.”

“I think Greg came off best – though Rebecca looked better. Greg always looks like he’s just had sex. Shirt half tucked in. Hair a mess. Half-assed grin.”

I laughed. “I’ve never thought about it that way.”

Larry shrugged. “You’re not around him all the time. And he always smells like adolescent aftershave.”

I couldn’t stop grinning. “I’ve got to tell Pete that. I hope you don’t kind.”

“No... not at all. You’re not the first person I’ve told that to.” And he seemed pleased with himself, clearly liking the fact he was being funny. “But do you think Don Burris will just walk away from this,” he went on. “If all the political stuff vanishes?”

“Trust me. He’s not interested in campus politics.” I could say that honestly

“Good. Then I’m out of this. I have my letters written. I’ve asked to continue as Assistant Dean, explaining how I can be useful that way. But emphasizing that being Acting Dean – even for as little as a year – will really unbalance the campus mix. And just so they can’t say, ‘Well, it’s more important that you be Dean this year than to worry about this union nonsense,’ I’m throwing in both stepping down as union head and resigning from the union completely.”

“Why would you do that? Quit the union?”

“Because if I’m still in it, I’ll have authority – people will still turn to me. I’ll still act as mediator, and the Board, and Greg, and anyone else with half a brain will know that still makes me dangerous. But if I completely strip and say, ‘See, no weapons,’ I totally eliminate that. I just can’t take this publicity.”

It was the third time he’d mentioned publicity, so I knew that was the real reason behind everything. But I couldn’t figure out why. Maybe Pete could help me make a connection. Meanwhile, I knew not to embarrass Larry.

“I’ll talk with Don this afternoon,” I promised. “I’m sure I can get in touch with him – he may even be working. But a lot of this seems to depend on the phone calls and e-mail stopping. So until that happens...”

“They will. I’ll absolutely bet you on that.”

“You seem to be betting two thirds of your career – you were on certain path to Dean.”

“With Rebecca as President? That would never happen. People are already cringing about the next year.”

“I meant another president – the new one. He or she might look around the way Catlin did and realize who the bright people were.”

“They wouldn’t make me Dean after the nuisance I was about to make about the union.”

“Maybe Waldron wouldn’t... But a more sophisticated college – or university...”

He seemed to think about that. “Well, it’s not going to happen now. You make your choices.”

He seemed to want it left at that. So I again assured him I’d try to find Don that afternoon. And then we’d have to wait.

“You’ll be surprised at the quiet.”

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “How soon are you planning to resign?”

“I was just waiting to talk with you. I’ll call Rebecca and Greg immediately – and follow up with my letters to the Board and the union people.”

“I feel like I’m watching a suicide.”

“Maybe that’s what Steve wanted.” Then he fiercely shook his head. “No... I didn’t mean that at all – and I don’t really feel that way. I was just feeling the tiniest bit sorry for myself, and there’s no need – not when you consider everything I have.” He extended his arms as if to include his family.

“Does Marcia know about this?” That seemed safe enough ask.

“Of course. I’d never do anything this big without her.”

I knew the same thing about me and Pete. But then I’d never consider being any kind of dean. I wasn’t interested.

“Well, I’m really curious to see what happens. And I hope you’re wrong.”

He smiled but let it go at that. And we went to find Marcia and Pete.

Later, when I told Pete what Larry had said as we were driving home in the car, he couldn’t make any sense of it, either.

“But he’s so good at what he does,” Pete said, almost directly repeating what I’d told Larry.

“I know. And so does he.”

“Then why?”

I didn’t want to stress his fear of publicity. I still thought that was at the center of it, but also thought that was too personal. But when I did chase Don down, he made it clear in a second.

“You do know he’s a deeply closeted gay man.”

So that’s what that first look between them had meant. I almost laughed, wondering if Don had had sex with Larry. I really didn’t care. All I said was, “You and Noah need to come over for dinner soon. It’s been too long.”

Don knew what I was really talking about.

“Nothing ever happened,” he said. “And this was years ago – when I was still married to Sharon. Larry and I recognized each other from a bar we both used to go to in West Springfield. That’s why we always stayed apart at your house.”

“That makes sense.”

“And this is hard, but could you not tell Pete about this? Noah probably remembers – we swapped war stories years ago, when we were first dating. And I probably reminded him when I first ran into Larry at your house. But there’s no reason to put Larry and his wife through what Sharon and I did. And I’m not sure they’d go in that direction anyhow. Our kids were older, and maybe I wanted to be with guys more. But if Larry’s willing to give up all this, try and let him keep this private.”

“I will.”

Don looked at me for a moment, then said, “You’re too nice a guy to be a cop.” And we both laughed.