“English. The African-American Center is not funded by the university and has no official standing, though we are not opposed to it, and would be hesitant to oppose it anyway.”
“If you do find that he is hitting on young men in his class and you fire him, will there be a firestorm of protest alleging you are homophobic and racist?”
“Absolutely,” Reynolds said.
“But you’ll do it anyway.”
“There are no university bylaws that tolerate sexual exploitation of students by faculty, straight or gay, black or white.”
“I can prove he hit on a student at the community college some years ago.”
“Doesn’t help me here,” Reynolds said.
“Maybe it will,” I said.
Reynolds studied me for a moment. His eyes were both humorous and hard, like a turtle’s.
“One entry,” he said after a moment, “into the proceedings of the tenure committee would be to talk with the members. Some are fools, but one or two are quite human.”
“Who would you say is the most human?”
“Tommy Harmon.”
“Does he know all the words of ‘Hail to the Victor’?” I said.
“It’s a nickname, I believe his real name is David.”
“Doesn’t sound like you had to sort through a long list,” I said. “To come up with him.”
Reynolds smiled.
“I’ll call Tommy if you like and tell him you’ll be stopping by.”
“Do,” I said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Tommy Harmon had an office with a big bay window that gave him a sweeping vista of the MBTA station. There was a boom box on top of his bookcase and he had a CD playing.
“Carol Sloane,” I said.
“With Clark Terry,” he said. “Very good.”
He was a blocky man with a thick neck and a kind of healthy-looking redness to his face that suggested he spent time out of doors.
“I represent Robinson Nevins,” I said.
Harmon nodded.
“He thinks he was jobbed on his tenure promotion.”
“I do too,” Harmon said.
“And he asked me to look into how that happened.”
“And?”
“In the process I came to the conclusion that Prentice Lamont didn’t commit suicide,” I said.
“You think he was killed?”
“Yes.”
“Christ!”
“Which lends a larger urgency to the inquiry,” I said.
“I should say so.”
“It’s my impression that Nevins was denied tenure because of allegations that his relationship with Lamont resulted in Lamont’s suicide.”
“Nobody ever said that, exactly,” Harmon said. “And, of course, no one is required to explain or even admit their vote. What makes you think he was killed?”
“He couldn’t have opened the window he went through,” I said.
“Perhaps it was open.”
“Perhaps.”
“And perhaps I ought to stick to my area of expertise,” Harmon said. “Have you shared your theory with the police?”
“Not yet, one of my goals is to refurbish Nevins’ reputation, which I thought I might attempt, before I called the cops.”
Harmon nodded again.
“What do you need from me?”
