who'd done little more than sit in a classroom with one of the victims, and who'd been in Burrwith's class. She also showed them registration forms indicating that another of the victims had taken Burrwith's class. This overzealousness was a sure sign that she was hiding something. Jessica wondered if the dean's secrets had anything whatever to do with the case; much more likely they had to do with the angry scene the student had referred to, the argument involving Plummer, Burrwith, and the third English professor, Locke, at the Brick Teapot.
“Dr. Donatella Leare may be able to give you some additional insights, as I said.” Plummer continued talking as they made their way to the car. “Meanwhile, I can continue to delve into such things as student records.”
“Thank you, Dr. Plummer.” Jessica attempted a smile. “You've been most helpful, indeed.”
“And perhaps you should talk to Dr. Locke, Lucian Locke. We call him Lucky.”
“Lucky?” asked Kim. “How is he lucky?”
“In the vernacular of some of our students, 'He de man,' “ replied Plummer, standing now under a brilliant blue sky and a blinding, fiery setting sun from which she guarded her eyes. “Sir Lucky. Just won the well-funded if less than history-making R. J. Reynolds teaching fellowship. 'Lucky' Strikes, you see.”
“A fellowship to teach, but isn't he teaching now?”
“This will afford him the opportunity to teach and write in Japan.”
“I see.”
“That makes him number one on this campus. Reflects well on the entire university, you see. Makes my department shine. It's called professional development. We don't like our faculty to stagnate, you see.”
“Publish or perish?” asked Kim.
Jessica replied, “In the case of our killer, it's publish and perish.”
“Guess I'll be packing my bags soon, hey, Dr. Plummer?” It was Dr. Burrwith. He'd exited the building from a basement door, a door that led out to the parking lot; as he stood at the top of the flight of stairs, his body was silhouetted against the light. He'd come up from behind them, but none of them had noticed, so quiet was his footfall.
“There's no need to deride your own work here, Dr. Burrwith. No one knows the classics like you. We all know that.”
“Lucky Lucian, ladies,” said Burrwith, unmistakable anguish in his voice. “L-U-C-K-Y with a capital dollar sign. The tobacco industry's latest weapon in their public relations war-fund literature and literacy so they can point to their investment in people's ability to read the surgeon general's warning label on their products. Thereby further excusing themselves for selling addiction and genocide.”
“Let's not minimize the fact that our colleague has just won one of the biggest fellowships in all of academia, Dr. Burrwith,” Plummer soothed. “Queerly enough, everyone in the department has taken Locke's victory personally, as if it means a professional blow to others. Why is that, Detectives? You know human nature better than most. Why does one man's or woman's success have to be viewed as another's failure?”
“I'm sure I can't say,” replied Jessica, surprised by the question. She now sensed there was far more rancor in the relationship between the dean and her colleague than she at first realized.
“Insecurity on the part of the second party,” said Kim Desinor. “Textbook psychiatry, chapter one.”
“Usually Dr. Lucky is in by now, but he hasn't bothered showing up for his office hours since the big windfall,” said Burrwith. “Fortunately for him, the dean here is, in his case, lenient about such matters.” The implication that Dr. Lucian Locke was either figuratively or literally in bed with Dean Plummer was far from subtle. “His office is next to mine. It's the one office from which I haven't yet been displaced.”
Jessica wondered momentarily if such professional jealousy and bickering could spill over into murder and an attempt to frame someone.
Burrwith swung out with his briefcase and strode off, his head held high. If he had at one time been infatuated with Plummer, he appeared well over it now.
“Pay him no mind,” said Plummer. “The students have all flocked to Dr. Leare and Dr. Locke, you see, and Garrison has been left with lecture classes the size of tutorials. I fear Dr. Burrwith has lost his touch with the young. His communication skills, while always questionable, are now definitely on the wane.”
“The other instructors are more in tune with the students?”
“The students persist in calling them a team, Locke and Leare, they say. If you've had Locke and Leare, you know you've covered the territory.”
“Then Locke… he's a good teacher as well as an award-winning poet?”
“Good? Good? He brings literature to startling life, and the man's forgotten more about the classics than I ever learned. Good man, fantastic teacher, really, and I think he, like myself, enjoys the work tremendously, and the rewards cannot be weighed. He loves his students.”
“As do you?”
“To keep my hand in, I continue to teach one course per semester, and yes, I do-love my students, that is. That's what makes this sordid business all the more shocking, to lean that two-no, three-of the victims were enrolled here. I found it rather astonishing, absolutely astonishing”-Jessica thought, Yeah, public-relations-wise-”to learn of the connection, while that smug Garrison Burrwith pretends he never had the least inkling this kind of thing was going on, which made me suspicious of him, you see. How can someone claim to know not the slightest about these horrible incidents? It's a bold-faced lie.”
“There has to be more reason for your suspicions of Burrwith. What are they really, Dr. Plummer?” pressed Kim. He… he and I once had a thing, a romantic thing, you see, and well, as I mentioned before, he liked using a pen on me.”
“Using a pen on you?”
'To excite me; he would use a pen… down there… pretend to write in the area of my thighs, the lip of-well, you get the picture. At first it struck me as odd, but so is Burrwith. After we broke it off, he withdrew into himself, and when I learned how these young people, some our students, had died, he just naturally leaped into my mind. You will keep this private, won't you?”
“As much as possible, yes, of course,” said Jessica.
Kim bit her lip, saying nothing.
“You will be discreet, won't you?” pressed the dean.
“Of course.”
“You never know around here if your job is secure, and should my superiors learn of… Well, they wouldn't be, how shall I put it, liberal in their thinking.”
“We may have to speak with you again, Dr. Plummer. You don't have any plans for leaving the city, do you?”
“Oh, gracious no. Are you suggesting, I mean, does this mean that I am… a suspect?”
“No, not really.”
But she wasn't listening. “How unusual. Wonder how one adds being a suspect in a murder investigation to one's curriculum vitae?” She half smiled at her own little joke and added, “Imagine, questioned in relation to a homicide investigation. What will the trustees think?”
“We'll keep this as businesslike and as discreet as possible, I assure you, Dr. Plummer.”
“Thank you. Truth be known, Locke and I, we've visited some of the coffeehouses on Second Street, to 'plug in,' as he says.”
“To plug in?”
'To the youth thinking-the 'scene,' as they call it. We may well have been seated next to the victims, and then one night Garrison showed up. It's horrible to think of.”
“Did you ever notice anyone there who struck you as out of the ordinary, unusual in any way?”
“Only him-Burrwith. He made a scene one night at the Brick Teacup. Confronted me before Locke. It was most unpleasant.”
“Did he in any way threaten you?”
“He stalked me for several weeks after our breakup. That was threat enough. That night, I made it clear that in no uncertain terms… that whatever we had at one time was dead, absolutely and completely dead and over with. He got the message, believe me.”
“He felt replaced by Dr. Lucian Locke?” asked Jessica.
'To say the least, yes.”
