Tall Man Down - 16. Chapter 16

But just because you think something is nonsense, or want it to go away, doesn’t mean that will happen. Rebecca and Greg – and no doubt Larry – simply wanted to get on with the school year. They were busy enough trying to make a smooth transition from Catlin.

At least, they weren’t also responsible for having to alert the people that mattered – like academic headhunters – that they’d be looking for a new president. The Board would do that, if the national obituaries hadn’t already managed. How soon that process could or even needed to begin would also depend on the Board. It wasn’t formally set to meet for another few weeks, but almost every Board member had seen every other one at Catlin’s funeral, so they’d begun to talk. About who they’d like or, at least, what kind of person. And whether someone of that quality would be interested. That had been the issue before Catlin was chosen – how to get the highest profile president and fund raiser for largely inconspicuous Waldron.

One big asset was simply the area. It wasn’t called Happy Valley for nothing, and a lot of people wanted to live there just for the low-key life and the scenery. It also wasn’t as expensive as the city people summer places slightly further west. Plus, there was the access to the well-known colleges – Smith and Amherst – to the university, and to less prestigious Holyoke and Hampshire. The last was still something of a joke, but adding Waldron into the five college mix – not to mention the historic but still lower ranked Westfield State – would boost Hampshire.

In any case, Rebecca and Greg were primed to ignore the mysterious e-mail, so they did. And they told the few people who knew about it – Larry, Patricia, Donna, Don, and me – to keep it quiet. Then, two mornings later, a second e-mail arrived, again just to Greg. This one read, You’re not taking me seriously.

“When was it sent?” I asked, after Don had called.

“Late last night. Just as the library closed.” That was at ten.

“The same account? I thought that was closed.”

“Nope, Sdolatre. Shaun Dolatre. A junior who knew nothing about the e-mail. Still, Greg Stratton wants to bring the kid into his office, and he wants me there. And I want you.”

“When?”

“Half an hour?”

I checked the time. “Yeah, I can make it.”

“Good.”

Shaun Dolatre looked like almost any other male student on campus. A worn T-shirt with some kind of logo. Shorts at this time of year, though jeans soon enough. The same way a flannel shirt, half-open, would soon cover the T-shirt. Work boots or running shoes usually finished the outfits, and he’d picked boots. His hair was short though carefully uncombed, and he was three or four days past a shave.

Greg introduced himself. Dolatre knew who he was though they’d never talked. Then Greg introduced Don. I was supposed to be invisible, sitting on a chair in the corner, but I knew Shaun. His girlfriend was a dancer, so he used to hang out in the theater lobby, waiting for her. “I’m his body guard,” I said quietly, pointing to Don. Shaun grinned. He didn’t seem at all intimidated.

“Just an easy question, nothing to worry about,” Greg began. We were all sitting comfortably. “Did you use a computer in the library last night?”

Shaun laughed. “You gotta be kidding. I’ve got better things to do this early in the year than go to the library.”

We all acknowledged that. We also had better things to do.

“Did you use your e-mail address from somewhere else?” Greg continued. He obviously knew how people used computers.

“Which address?” Shaun asked. “I’ve probably got a dozen.”

“The one from school,” Greg replied.

Shaun grinned. “No offense, but I almost never use that. Just to register and crap.” He hesitated. “Stuff?”

Greg laughed. “Crap’s fine.”

“I mean I sometimes use it to write home – especially to my grandparents. Makes them think I’m serious about college.”

“You’re not?” Greg asked.

“Kinda. You know.” He shrugged. “I mean it’s not like this place is hard... no offense, Gil.”

Don looked surprised, but as Rebecca had mentioned, most students called me by my first name.

“My friends and I all do what we need to,” Shaun went on. “We’re gonna graduate and all – and on time. But we don’t really study. That’s why I’d never be in the library.”

I believed him. But Don suddenly laid on the heavy-handed cop stuff. “Would you put that in writing?”

Shaun turned to Don, smiling. “Oh, yeah. Sure. Why not?” He paused. “But why? Do you think I’ve done something?”

Don looked at Greg. Greg shrugged. Both realized that if they told Shaun anything, it would just get around campus.

“Someone’s been hacking the library computers and sending things they shouldn’t,” I simply told Shaun. “From your address.”

Shaun cracked up. “Porn? It’s gotta be my friends.”

“I never said that,” I insisted, also smiling.

“Do your friends know your password?” Greg asked.

Shaun had to think. “I doubt it. I mean we share a lot of things online... other passwords... for streaming and stuff. But why the college password? Its useless.” He looked from Greg to me to Don. “You do believe me?” he continued.

“Oh, yeah,” Greg said, grinning. “Don’t worry... you’re not in trouble. We won’t even tell your parents how much you’re blowing their money.”

Shaun laughed. “It’s not like I haven’t before... And, at least here, I stay out of trouble.”

“Then keep doing that. And be a good guy when you graduate – send us your money. Or your kids.”

“They’re not coming here – they’d better be brighter than I am. Or I’ll kill them.”

“Not a great thing to say in front of an officer,” I joked.

Shaun nodded. “You know I couldn’t kill anyone – ‘specially one of my own kids. Who don’t exist yet. I’m positive.”

“Can he go?” Greg asked Don.

“Sure thing,” Don agreed. Shaun got up, so Greg did, and he shook Shaun’s hand. So Don and I were quickly on our feet.

“Be good,” Greg advised.

“My dad tells me that all the time. Or be careful,” Shaun added, grinning. And he was out of there.

“Good kid?” Greg asked me.

I nodded.

“Typically Waldron,” he told Don, after the door shut. “What can I say?”

“I checked him out a bit,” Don assured us. “As he said, he wasn’t near the library last night. And he mainly texts.”

“I’m surprised Greg hasn’t gotten a text yet.”

“Probably too easy to trace,” Greg offered. “And I hope they don’t have my private line.”

“They?” Don asked.

Greg grinned. “I don’t know what I’m talking about... Just as I don’t know who’s behind this or why. Let’s just hope it goes away.”

“Get back to me if you hear anything more.”

“Absolutely.”

As Don and I headed down the steps, he asked, “Why did he want me there? He could’ve asked the questions himself.”

“He did,” I pointed out.

“And you knew the kid. You could have vouched for him.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize he was that Shaun. It’s a popular name. Besides, you know I don’t get sucked into college politics – don’t even take the time to understand them. Maybe Greg knows one of Shaun’s friends sent the notes, and he’s letting them know that, indirectly, the police are involved.”

Don laughed at that. Then he headed to the parking lot, and I went across the street. When I entered the costume shop, to pick up Pete for lunch, he asked where I’d been. “I stopped by the theater, and your office was locked.”

“You can get in.”

“That’s not what I wanted. Or what I meant.”

“I could’ve been anywhere... The hardware store.”

“You’re not usually, during the day.”

“It’s not like I’m sneaking around on you,” I joked.

“Then where were you?

I grinned and looked secretive. “I’m not supposed to tell.”

“With Don?”

“Yeah... of course... What else this week? And with Greg.”

Pete let up. “I’m actually surprised there hasn’t been more gossip about this,” he went on, as we started our short walk. “You’re the only one I’ve heard it from.”

“I wouldn’t keep secrets from you.”

“But if Greg knows, then so does Donna. And Rebecca and Patricia do. And none of them are good at keeping secrets.

“And I’m sure Larry told his wife.”

“Then maybe no one cares,” Pete decided

I thought about that. “I’ll bet the sender does. Or the notes wouldn’t keep coming.”

“It’s only been twice.”

“That’s kinda persistent for a Waldron student.”

We laughed and went upstairs to lunch.

Though walking back through the ground floor lobby afterwards, I noticed – among other things – a pad of fliers on one of the bulletin boards. I’d seen them before, maybe at the start of every semester. But since they didn’t affect me, I hadn’t paid attention. Using Your New Account, the bold type read, then gave step-by-step directions below for any incoming students wanting to use their college accounts. To start, they just had to enter their screen name and student number. Nothing like making it easy.

I tore off the top sheet as something to show Don, then, walking back to my office, I thought of something and detoured through the school library. In the computer area, there were maybe two dozen terminals though only a handful of kids were working at them. In front of the terminals, outside a small glass-fronted office was a desk. On it was a printout of every student’s name and number. The flier explained how to figure out your screen name from your initials and your student number from your school ID card. It also noted that there were places on campus where both were available, in case you’d forgotten your student number. These were the logical places you’d need that kind of information: the Registrar’s Office, the Business Office, and the Library. Also, on a shelf built into the desk, was a stack of older campus directories. Evidently, they got updated fairly often.

I grabbed the bottom most directory, figuring it wouldn’t be missed for a while, and took it back to the office. Once I got my students started on a project, I looked up Shaun’s student number in the directory and sat at my laptop. The flier clearly indicated that your student number was probably best used to gain access to your to college e-mail address the first time. After that, it was suggested that you change to a secret code. Still, I knew Waldron students.

At the college site, I entered Sdolarte and then Shaun’s student number. Right into his account. The first screen that came up said Welcome to Your New Student Account. Now, for security reasons, you need to choose a New Password – anything that can be private but easily remembered, up to eight letters. But that screen could be bypassed – evidently repeatedly, since, after two years, Shaun had never changed his password – and that’s exactly what I did. I moved on to Write E-mail, and from the list offering everyone’s name on campus, I chose my own, simply writing Test on the Subject Line and Test in the body. Then I hit Send, and the message vanished. I moved on to Sent Mail and deleted the message, then I went to Trash and deleted the message again. There was no point messing up Shaun’s mail, not that he’d probably check it for a while.

A moment later, I logged off, then went to my own college account. Sure enough: a message from Sdolarte. I left it there, stuck the directory safely in my desk, and went back to the shop. Later, just before I headed home for dinner, I returned the directory to its shelf in the library and bet that no one had ever noticed the inch-thick printout had been missing. Also before I headed home, I stopped by the police station.

“What are you doing here?” Don asked, when I turned up beside his desk.

“Sleuthin’,” I joked, and I told him what I’d found. As back-up, I had him log into my college account from his laptop and showed him the message I’d sent as Shaun.

Don was amused and said, “Yeah, I figured it was something that simple. As you keep telling me, the college isn’t the highest tech operation.”

“Catlin was working on it.”

“Not fast enough.”

“You should’ve seen it eight years ago. We were still moving like turtles.”

“Anyway, thanks.”

“Wanna come home to dinner?”

“Nah, I got work to do. And Noah’s expecting me by 7:00.”

“Give him my best.

“Always.”

And I went home to report to Pete.