CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Phil Ruby"
This time Beadles had a cell to himself. Betty came to see him in the afternoon. They ushered him into a common room with a formica counter running down the center and individual cubicles separating the inmates from visitors with a thick, plexiglass shield. There was a slot at the bottom like they have in box offices but everything was done under the watchful eyes of two armed guards and cameras in every ceiling corner. There were three other guys on his side spread out among the six slots.
Betty wore jeans and a loose-fitting plaid blouse and looked worn without makeup, her hair gathered in a ponytail. They pressed their palms together on the plexiglass.
"How's Lars?" Beadles said.
"He's upset. He knows there's something wrong, but Mom and Pop arrived and are trying to jolly him up."
"How you holding up, baby?" Beadles said.
"I can't believe this is happening. Don't worry. Mel is getting Phil Ruby, a big-time criminal attorney to take over."
Beadles did a mental audit of his bank account and assets.
"We can afford him," Betty said. "Mom and Pop are willing to help out if it goes to trial."
"It won't go to trial. This is absurd. Listen. I've had a lot of time to think about this. You've got to find that girl Stephanie."
"The babysitter?"
"Yes! She had plenty of opportunity."
"But why, Vaughan? Why would she do something like that?"
"I don't know. Maybe Liggett put her up to it. He's hated my guts ever since he overheard me doing my impression of him at a faculty meeting."
Betty bit her bottom lip. "That thin-skinned son of a bitch."
"I don't know it's him. It's all I've got. Maybe the girl had her own motives. Maybe I flunked her, I don't know!"
Betty nodded. "I understand. What was her name again?"
"Stephanie Byrd. First thing you do, tell the new attorney about her, okay?"
"You got it, big guy."
She looked like she was going to say something else but she didn't. "I love you," she mouthed as she stood and went to the door, waiting for one of the guards to buzz her out. Three other guys on Beadles' side of the partition watched her go.
Beadles was released into the day room with the other non-violent offenders. Three blacks, two Mexicans and three white guys. The three blacks huddled together laughing loudly with big hand gestures. The three white guys sat in plastic chairs bolted to the formica floor in front of the flat screen television fastened high up on one wall watching the Quality Value Network. Two breathless blond cougars hawked ersatz emeralds in Empire settings.
Beadles had no intention of joining the Aryan Brotherhood. The two Mexicans sat in the back row talking quietly in Spanish. Beadles sat in the back row at the opposite end. The Mexicans glanced over once and looked away. Nobody else paid any attention. Cameras hung from the ceiling corners.
Was it possible? Was Liggett a psycho who would plant stolen goods in his house? It was the move of a desperate man and not something that could withstand scrutiny. If Liggett were responsible, this would mean the end of his career. Beadles expected full exoneration and permitted himself a daydream of assuming the chairmanship of the department.
Why not?
It was only just. He was the star academic. He was the one who'd landed the Azuma Collection. He'd even been in talks with the Discovery Channel about doing his own show, out in the field. People loved that sort of thing. They were willing to watch men fish off Alaska, surely they would watch anthropologists and archaeologists uncover lost civilizations.
Mel would know a good show biz attorney. At six everyone returned to his cell and received a boxed dinner: two Arby's roast beef and cheddar sandwiches and a bag of chips. Beadles drank water directly from the faucet.
He fell into a shallow sleep near dawn and dreamed he stood in a desert as flat and as hot as a restaurant griddle. The sun blazed so brightly that he couldn't see. Something was coming for him but he couldn't see it because the glare was everywhere. The glare surrounded him as if he were standing inside the sun. He tried to run away but he could barely move--like a cripple dragging one leg. That thing was closing in. Anxiety, sweat, thirst, running in place.
A baton running across his barred window woke him. His clothes were drenched with sweat.
After breakfast a guard took him to the visitor room where Phil Ruby waited. Ruby was a short man with a full head of wavy hair over a boxy face and square glasses. He had a surprisingly high voice.
"How are you doing, Professor Beadles? I'm Phil Ruby."
"Thank you for seeing me."
"I'm sorry I couldn't get here any sooner. I was downstate. Your wife told me about the babysitter. Ms. Byrd seems to have disappeared. Her roommate said she left late Saturday night right after coming home from your house. I have contacted the state police and informed them that she is a material witness. Unfortunately, they pointed out that since she is our witness, it is up to us to produce her. With your permission I'd like to hire a private investigator."
The words echoed from a great distance. Beadles felt trapped. How had this happened? "Are you shitting me?" he said.
"No sir."
"What about Liggett? Did he split too?"
"No, but Professor Liggett has not returned my phone calls. I believe he has retained an attorney of his own."
"Why does he need an attorney?"
"To protect himself from false accusations, he said."
Beadles felt a vein throbbing on his forehead, sending jabs of pain into his eye. "You don't think I did it, do you?"
"It doesn't matter what I think, Professor. But I must warn you--if this goes to trial that old shoplifting charge is bound to come up. They will go over your past with an electron microscope. If you were ever stopped for a traffic or drug beef they will find out. I hate surprises. So I want you to tell me the straight story. What are they going to find?"
The throbbing had assumed Olympian proportions. Beadles felt as if his head would explode. "Can't that wait until I'm out of here?"
"You're scheduled for arraignment this afternoon. I'll see what I can do."
***