CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Dear Vaughan"
Bail was set at fifty thousand dollars. Beadles emptied his bank account and walked free. Using Ruby's cell he phoned Betty and went straight to voice mail.
"Miss you, babe. I'll be home shortly."
A talon of concern sunk into his neck. Betty should have been there to pick him up. Her folks were watching Lars, weren't they? Ruby offered Beadles a ride home.
"So what's the story, Professor? What else is lurking out there aside from the shoplifting charge?"
Beadles ran a hand through his hair, which felt both greasy and gritty. "I got busted for grass in college. I did community service and it was supposedly expunged."
"Holding or selling?"
Beadles stared out the window. "Selling. A goddamned ounce to some fuckin' weasel who turned out to be a police informant."
"How'd you get out of it?"
"I had good grades. It was a first offense. My dad had some clout."
They traveled south on Raymond Road. Shops dwindled to schools and then neighborhoods. Ruby turned west onto Maple St.
"Your folks still alive?"
"Dad passed away four years ago. He was seventy-eight. Mom lives in a retirement community in Naples. I was a late baby."
"Siblings?"
"None that I know of, Phil! No. They were pretty damned surprised when I came along."
"Okay here's the deal. This manslaughter charge is bullshit. It's going away. They're left with grand larceny, which is debatable, and violating university policy. A case could be made that the university itself is liable for not insuring the collection did not contain noxious pests.
"I doubt you'll serve any jail time."
"Great. I'll lose my fucking job."
"Probably."
"Did you talk to the maintenance supervisor? Anatole Cerveros?"
"I was told Cerveros walked off his job on Friday and hasn't been heard from since."
A brain freeze descended on Beadles' skull.
He looked out the window. A little boy menaced his GI Joe dolls with a plastic scimitar. Beadles shook it off. Anatole was an Indian. There was no point trying to understand them.
So much for anthropology.
Beadles was glad his father wasn't around to see this. But some malicious bitch at The Hamlets was bound to find out and spread the news. He faced a grim choice--let his mother Ethyl find out from malicious bitches or tell her himself. The early signs of Alzheimer's had appeared and the doctors warned him what to expect. He'd been planning a July trip but now he had to see.
Beadles vowed to phone his mother.
They pulled up in front of the house. No police tape. No Ford or the folks' Buick either. Beadles got a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
"Have you been in touch with Betty?"
"No I have not. Haven't you spoken to her?"
"Not today."
Ruby shut the engine off. "Would you like me to come into the house with you?"
"I'm fine."
"Well okay. I'll let you know as soon as the PI comes up with anything about the Byrd girl."
"Oh god, the PI. What's his name?"
"Rolf Panny." Ruby dipped his fingers into his inside jacket pocket and produced a card.
Beadles took it and got out of the car. "Thanks for the lift, counsellor."
"I'll be in touch," Ruby said.
Beadles sensed neighbors' eyes as he walked up his steps. Certainly the Carsons across the street, whose twelve-year-old son Beadles had caught trying to take his bike one night when he'd accidentally left the garage door open. Beadles let the kid go with a warning but he was the type of pasty-faced little loser who would poison the whole neighborhood if he could.
Beadles resisted the impulse to turn and look. He glanced up and down the block. Couple small children playing with a puppy four houses down. A couple cars. He removed his keys, unlocked the door and went inside.
The house was empty. And there it was. A white envelope on the dark dining room table. Betty wouldn't just leave a note. No. It had to come in a fine linen envelope. He opened it up.
Dear Vaughan:
I've accepted Mom and Pop's offer to stay with them in Elgin until you get this thing under control. You know I love you and I have always supported you but I feel that Lars and I would only be a distraction to you during this difficult time.
I will call you tonight after we have settled in.
Talk soon.
Love,
Betty
So much unsaid. Betty was about to become a vice president at Jackson Loan and Guaranty, an extremely conservative organization. Was it possible she was laying the groundwork for a divorce?
Of course it was possible. Betty had always looked out for Number One. As long as the good times lasted she would cling to the last drop but once the bank account was emptied she was outta there. She wasn't about to support some unemployable academic thief.
It was crazy! Whom the gods would destroy they first make mad. Beadles was furious all right. Furious at his faithless bitch of a wife. Furious at Liggett and the university. Finally, he was furious with himself. He'd flown too close to the sun. He never should have tweaked Liggett or courted that reality show. The alumni considered it vulgar.
He wanted a shower and a drink. He went to the basement door and turned on the lights. He went downstairs. The room had been turned upside-down and his hard-drive was missing. He sat in the old kitchen chair in front of his desk, opened the center drawer and reached all the way to the back. His hand closed around the velvet bag and felt a hard disc inside.
A tremendous relief flooded through him, a cleansing rain. At least this larceny had escaped notice. He pulled it out and shook the medallion into his palm. Well fuck you, Creighton! And fuck you too Professah Liggett, you sea slug! This was the least the university owed him.
Byrd, Byrd, Byrd. He dug around in his files until he found copies of last year's essays, which counted for thirty percent of the student's grade. Over 300 essays caused the file to bulge like an accordion. He flipped through them one by one until he found Byrd's essay. "Did Ancient Aliens Populate the Americas?"
He'd given her a 'F.'
Upstairs he heard the kitchen phone ringing.
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