319 Winesap Lane - 6. Chapter 6 - Aftermath

Geoff’s POV

The insurance agent showed up a little after nine o’clock and reviewed all the damage. He called a local contractor to come in and cover the front window with plywood and write out an estimate for repairs to the living room and the bedroom above it. Luckily, neither mine, Jerry’s, or Erik’s bedroom was damaged from the fire, though there was definitely the smell of petroleum scented smoke throughout the house. The agent said he would arrange for a cleaning company to come in and wash the walls, floors, and draperies. We’d have to take care of our clothes.

Jerry and Erik had gone to Warnton Unitarian Church for Sunday services, so that left me to sit on the front step and watch cars drive by and slow when they saw the damage from the fire. Much to my relief no one stopped and I just stayed there until the boys walked back up Winesap from the church. They seemed happy, which made me glad. At least two of us were happy. They came up the front steps and sat on either side of me.

“Well?” I asked. “You two seem awfully happy about something.”

“I saw Gerry and he introduced me to Patty,” Erik said. “We talked for a while and I met her parents. They asked about the house.”

“Yeah, the pastor said a prayer that we will have peace, the perpetrator will be found, and that justice will be served,” Jerry said.

“Well, that’s good, but, personally, I very much doubt the police will ever find out who did this,” I said.

“What are we going to do about the dinner?” Jerry asked.

“I don’t know; I really don’t know. We can’t use the living room and the rest of the house smells like smoke. Frankly, I’m not much in a mood to celebrate the beginning of the school year, which usually is the whole point of the first dinner.”

“But, Patty and her parents are coming over,” Erik said. “Her father works for Social Services and wants to talk to you about your application to be my foster father. I told him there were probably going to be quite a lot of college students in attendance, but he said that didn’t matter. He wants to meet you. He said that there was something very important for the two of you to discuss.”

“Okay, I can talk to him; now, what’s this all about?” A sheriff’s patrol car pulled up in front of the house and a deputy got out. She walked up and stopped at the foot of the steps. “Can I help you, deputy?”

“I just wanted to let you know a we’ve found a suspect in the arson,” she said. “He was picked up for speeding and driving erratically on the Thruway. When the state police interviewed him they noticed he had a bad burn on his hand and, with the preliminary word out on the arson, they took him into the station, read him his rights, and had a nice interview. The conversation got around to where he was from, where he was heading, and how he got burned. He tried to play an innocent card, but they knew it was just an act that fell apart rather quickly. About that time the medics arrived and he was hauled off to the hospital for treatment of the burn. This morning they went back to the hospital and the perp’s lawyer was there, some high falutin Jewish lawyer from the City. I guess he stated the perp was driving fast because of some supposed family emergency in Woodstock …”

“Dave,” Jerry said.

“Excuse me?”

“A guy I met in one of my classes at the college. We had sex yesterday and halfway through he took off his condom. Now, I have to be on the lookout for HIV and STDs. He came back yesterday evening and Geoff told him to go away and never come back. I guess he threatened Geoff in some way.”

“I gave all of that information to the deputy last night after the fire,” I said.

“Good, I’ll pass that on to the state police; I’m sure that will help them in their investigation,” the deputy said. “I just wanted to come by a keep you up-to-date on the progress of the investigation. My normal route takes me along 104 so I’ll stop in now and then to keep you updated until the DA’s office contacts you. Goodbye.”

“Thanks, deputy.”

She walked away and I wondered if she would be here tomorrow when the students had their rally on campus. But, today, was another story. I had a contractor coming to board up the living room and work up an estimate for the insurance company. And, I had to figure out what I was going to do about the smell of smoke in the house.

“Okay, boys, you need to do your laundry to see if you can wash out the smoky smell from your clothes. Both of you have school tomorrow and we can’t have you smelling like you’ve been out camping this weekend.”

“But, we have been camping,” Erik said. “We’re camping next-door with the Campbell’s.”

“Yes, but their house doesn’t smell like a fireplace. Also, open up the windows so we can get some fresh air moving through the house, maybe that will help with the smell. I suppose this is the contractor.”

A crew cab pickup had pulled up in front of the house with a work trailer behind it. Four men got out and while three of them went into the trailer, the fourth, the driver, came up to the steps.

“Hi, I’m Mark Andrews of Mark Andrews and Sons Construction,” the man said. He was a little over six feet tall with broad shoulders, thick arms and thighs, thinning black hair, clear blue eyes, and a prominent chin. “Dad said Harry Wilson called and said you had a fire and needed your front window boarded up. Anything else we can do for you today?”

“Well, Harry said you were going to work up an estimate for him, but other than that, I think we can take care of what needs to be done,” I said.

“How about the carpet; would you like us to pull that up? That way the sub-floor can dry out so we don’t have to redo that, too.”

“Are you sure that will be okay with Harry? I don’t want you guys to be doing a lot of work and end up not having the insurance covering it.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, everything will go on the estimate. We’ve been working with Harry for years, Dad longer than me and Jim. If you gentlemen could find some place out of the way, we’ll get to work.”

“Jerry, Erik, go on and get busy on your laundry and open up the windows,” I said.

“Only one of us can do laundry at once,” Erik said. “What am I going to do in the meantime?”

“Open windows and doors, Jerry you go down in the basement and see how much water is down there. If there’s too much, I may have to run the sump pump.”

“Don’t worry about that, sir, I’ll send Javier down to check out your basement,” Mark said. “We’ll need to see if there’s any water damage to the underside of the subfloor.”

“Oh, okay, that’ll work. Erik, why don’t you go next door and ask Mrs. Campbell if you can use her washer to wash the smoke out of your clothes.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

The boys ran inside and suddenly I didn’t have anything to do. I followed Mark into the house and he began just sort of looking around. The walls around the front window were blackened from the fire, as was the ceiling above it. I saw where the firemen had pulled down the ceiling plaster and lath. About half of the living room had been damaged from either the fire or the water used to put it out, including a sofa, two end tables, a wingchair, and a small table that had a small sculpture of an eagle on it that was broken in pieces on the floor.

A tear came to my eye when I remembered Tim giving me it a year before he died of AIDS. He had been fighting HIV for a couple of years, but it finally got the best of him. He went home to his sister’s house in North Park and died. I squatted down and picked up pieces of the sculpture trying to see if there might be some way to put the shards back into some semblance of their former beauty, but it was plain to see nothing could be done.

“Special memory?”

I looked up and saw Mark standing there.

“Yes, a friend from high school gave it to me seven years after I moved in. That was a year before he died. I wish there was something I could do to.”

“I know of a friend of a friend who is a ceramic artist. If we can gather up all the pieces, maybe she could do something with them. It’s worth a try.”

“Yes, thank you, let me get a bag from the kitchen.”

When I returned he had all the little bits in a small pile and the larger ones set aside. I brought along some paper towels to wrap up those pieces and he took one. We worked side-by-side for a couple minutes until we had all the pieces in the bag.

“Thank you for the help,” I said. For some unknown reason my gaydar was sending signals to my brain and I was consciously checking out the clues offered by Mark. Just when I thought about moving from mere speculation to investigative inquiry, I noticed the gold band on his third finger: married. I got to my feet in anticipation of leaving.

“How long have you lived here?” he asked.

“Oh, let’s see, nearly thirty years I guess. It’s been a long time.”

“You’ve lived in Warnton for thirty years and I’ve never met you before? Where do you hide, in one of the closets?”

“No, up until Friday I was a professor at the college. My life has pretty much revolved around the house and working there.”

“My youngest daughter attends Warnton. She was telling me last night there is going to be a big rally on campus tomorrow in support of a professor who was forced to resign. Normally, I wouldn’t think too much about something like that, but one of the elders at our former church is the provost at the college and from what Dad said he told the congregation this morning, I guess he plans on some major changes on campus. I would never have guessed, but I think he’s very much against gays and people like that. You wouldn’t have heard anything?”

“Actually, I am the professor your daughter was talking about. It wasn’t a matter of being forced out. It’s a difference of opinion. Every four years or so I hire a freshman to be my houseboy and he accused me of having sex with the boy. I told him I wasn’t and he chose not to believe me. As far as I’m concerned, a man’s honor is his bond and that was questioned by someone in authority. At this point in my life, I figured now was as good a time as any to sever my relationship with the school. It is a shame that the students are going to have that rally. It will only turn into a media feeding frenzy.”

“From what Sarah was saying that’s the whole point. Warnton College has an excellent tradition of making fine scholars of its students and the thought that someone wants to turn the college into some sort of religious school is beyond what Sarah wants from an education at Warnton. Personally, I think she’s right and I hope it turns out for the best of the school. If it came up in a conversation, would you be willing to do an interview?”

“Am I to assume Sarah is one of the organizers of the rally?” I asked. What would be involved in giving an interview? Would it be a lot of reporters or just one or two? Or, would it only be for the school rag? “I’m a very private person and do not want a bunch of reporters up here when you and your men are trying to repair my house, but I might consider an exclusive interview with, say a local television station, or maybe the student paper.”

“I’ll let Sarah know and stress that you’d rather not give one, but you’re willing to give your opinion. Supposedly, she’s going to some professor’s house this evening for dinner. I guess it’s some Warnton tradition and to get an invitation is something to be cherished. You wouldn’t happen to know who that might be?”

“Yes, I’m afraid it’s me, again. I have these dinners every few weeks, but at least once a month. Today was supposed to be the first, but the house is in no condition to hold somewhere in the neighborhood of eighteen guests for dinner. I think the dining room is okay, but there’s no room here for that many people. I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.”

“I’ve got an idea. There’s plenty of room in our family room for that many people, all we’d need is tables and chairs.”

“Well, there’s the table and chairs in the kitchen and on the screened porch. My dining table is too big to move without dismantling the thing.”

“Let’s go look.”

And, that’s what we did.

* * * *

Mark got under the table and found the bolts that were holding the dining table together and with the help of two of his men had the silly thing broken down into two manageable table sections, six legs, four inserts, and all eighteen chairs. So much for the seating for the guests. His brother called his son who brought over their pickup and blankets to cushion the table and chairs. They got it all loaded and the boy waited until Mark and the crew finished with what they were able to do with the living room today. Mark gave me his address and cell number and I promised to call him when I started coming to my senses from having my home torched and the subsequent damage caused by the firemen putting out the fire.

I went up to the third floor and opened windows and doors; and, then I went into my room. Even though it was on the opposite side of the house from the fire, I was surprised at the strong odor of smoke that permeated the room. I went out into the hall and opened the door to the attic. I followed the smell of smoke up the steps and once at the top, I opened all four windows to establish a cross-breeze and vent for the air from the lower floors. I suppose the weather could have helped a little more as there was barely a breeze moving through the house.

Back in my room I picked out some clothes I figured I would need for the next few days and carried them down to the kitchen where I put them into a plastic garbage bag. Then I went out into the mudroom where Jerry was running a load of clothes in the washer while another was in the dryer.

“You might want to hang that next load outside since the dryer won’t be done,” I said.

“Okay,” Jerry said. “Geoff do you think it was Dave that did this?”

“We don’t know for certain, do we? Personally, I don’t want to think it was him, but you never know how bad some people can be.

“I think it was him. If he lied to me about being a virgin, he’s certainly capable of trying to burn your house down.”

“There’s nothing we can do about it, now. It’s up to the police to make a case and the courts to determine guilt. The only thing I’m concerned about now is putting this house back in order.”

“And, having your first Sunday supper?”

“Yes the Sunday supper. I suppose I’d better call Mark and get things figured out. Could you do my laundry?”

“I guess so, but why can’t you?”

“Mostly because I have to get things ready for the supper. Plus, you have to be here to direct all the people over to Mark’s place.”

“Where does he live?”

“Let’s see, he wrote it down for me. Oh, here it is, 413 West Lakeview Terrace. I wonder where that is in relation to us?”

“Do you have Google Maps on your phone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let me check.”

Jerry took out his phone and punched the screen a few times. Then he scrolled around the image and punched the screen, again. He pursed his lips in concentration and glanced up at me. Creases spread up his forehead as he moved his finger over the screen.

“It’s down by the high school on the other side of the football field,” Jerry said. “I’ll go up to my room and write out some directions for the people who come here.”

“No, wait, it might be easier to use my computer and printer,” I said. “Come on, I’ll show you how it works.”

“Hello? Is anybody here?” a voice called out from the front of the house.

“Yes, I’ll be right out,” I yelled. “I wonder who that is?”

“Maybe someone coming early,” Jerry offered.

“Maybe.”

I walked back into the kitchen and to the main hall followed closely by Jerry. I was shocked to see the Chair of the Warnton College Board of Trustees standing in the foyer. She was nearly six feet tall; wore her shoulder length gray hair in a breezy cut; in no way was she muscular, but she gave the appearance that she could take care of herself in a dark alley; her bright steel blue eyes pierced to your core in the most unnerving way; but her smile was as warm as fresh milk. Reportedly, she had old money on her side of the marriage in addition to her husband’s old money. They had a fairly large orchard operation over on the other side of Wolcott.

“I’ll go back and figure out your computer,” Jerry said and he turned and left.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Frazier?” I asked.

“Geoffrey, we’ve known each other long enough to be so impersonal, you may call me Madelyn,” she said as she walked up to me and took my offered hand. “I have a problem, Geoffrey, I’ve lost an internationally recognized scholar at my institution and I have a renegade administrator.”

“I’d offer you a seat in the living room, Madelyn, but I’m afraid that’s been trashed by the firemen. Please, come into the kitchen and we can go back to the screened porch and talk there. Can I get you something to drink?”

“No thank you, something’s afoot and I’ve come to ask if you know anything about it. First, why did you leave Warnton after all these years? You could’ve stayed and we would’ve given you an emeritus position.”

“To put it succinctly, the Provost asked if I was having sex with my new houseboy and I said I wasn’t. He chose not to accept my word. I could see no reason to continue my relationship with his institution. And, now, I’ve heard that some students are going to have a rally on campus with the purpose of getting me hired back and showing support for Warnton Pride, the LGBTQ support group that the Provost wants to do away with.”

“Do you have any idea of who might be behind this rally?”

“Yes, I believe I do.”

“And, who is it?”

“I’d rather not say, without her permission?

“Could you arrange for me to meet with her?”

“I could try, one moment.”

I took out my phone and called Mark. After he answered, I got to the point.

“Mark, is your daughter, Sarah, there? I have someone with me who would like to speak with her.”

“Sure, may I ask who is it?”

“The Chair of the Board of Trustees.”

“Madelyn Frazier?”

“Yes, do you know her?”

“My father does; just a minute I’ll go get Sarah.”

“Madelyn, she’ll be right with you,” I said.

“Who will I be speaking with?” she asked.

“Sarah Andrews.”

“Mark Andrews’ granddaughter?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know the Andrews?”

“Their company will be doing the repairs to my house. I believe it is the son who volunteered to host today’s Sunday supper, since my house is in no condition for that may guests.”

“Well, that was nice of them, considering …”

“Ms. Frazier?”

“Just a sec, Sarah,” I said as I handed the phone to Madelyn.

“Sarah Andrews? This is Madelyn Frazier, what exactly do you have against my institution? … What if I told you that gentleman is no longer going to be associated with my institution as of Monday morning? … Yes, well, you see, some people are more important than others. Take Geoffrey Johnson, he’s an internationally recognized scholar of comparative linguistics. He could have gone to any number of institutions after receiving his PhD, but he chose to come back to Warnton and if I have my way he isn’t leaving so easy as to just quit because some religious sicko chooses to disbelieve him. … So, this rally you have planned, can you stop it? Will you stop it if I assure you the Provost will no longer be at this institution after Monday morning and you can keep your Warnton Pride as long as you wish? … How is your grandfather these days? … No kidding? I’m sorry to hear that. Sarah, I want you to have a good Sunday. Do you have a Warnton email account? … I might want to send you an email someday to get your opinion on the gay perspective of an issue affecting Warnton. … Yes, my dear, LGBTQ perspective. Thank you for speaking with me; I truly believed if I had a chance to speak to you directly we could solve this amicably. Goodbye.”

“A darling girl, for an Andrews,” Madelyn said, as she handed me the phone.

I wanted to ask what was the problem with them, but thought better of the idea. If she had a problem with Mark Andrews, Sr., it might not apply to Mark Andrews, Jr., and his family. No use in getting in the middle of something I had no business in.

“So, Mrs. Frazier, where does this leave me?” I asked.

“I want you back, Geoffrey,” she said. “But, how about if we wait a bit. I’m going to need a new provost; do you want the job? You can cut back your coursework if you’d like. We’ll make you a professor emeritus and next spring we’ll give you an honorary doctorate. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“Well, my personal situation has changed rather radically since Friday morning.”

“How so?”

“I have a fourteen-year-old foster son and I’m going to have to go to classes to learn how to be a parent. That is going to take up a lot of my time, now. An emeritus position is tempting, if only because of the continuing scholarship in my field, but I don’t want to be an administrator at Warnton.”

“How about I give you a week to think things over. We’ll get your classes covered, even if we have to go to Rochester or Syracuse to get temp instructors. Okay, Geoffrey, give me a call next weekend and let me know what your life looks like.”

“Sure thing and thank you for coming all the way over here on a Sunday.”

“You’re one of my favorites and I do want to keep you.”

* * * *

I called Mark back and we discussed the prep work I needed to do to get the supper ready. It was nearly two and time was running out. The roast had to go in right now. He said he had a large oven that could hold our roast and another oven that could be used to cook the various potato and vegetable dishes I had planned. I told him I was leaving the boys here to finish their laundry and that I would be over in a few to get things going. Surprisingly, he said he would be happy to help. The recent memory of his wedding band made me wonder why he didn’t volunteer his wife.

I loaded the car, let Jerry know I was leaving, and told him to go over and tell Erik what was happening. He said he’d move out to the front porch with a bunch of direction sheets for the guests who came to the house. I thanked him for being so understanding and willing to help in such an unexpected situation. His kiss caught me by surprise, but I didn’t admonish him. All of this had been very trying and I wasn’t going to put him off just because he wanted to show a bit of affection.