Death of a Department Chair: A Novel

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34 4 Diversity is a word carelessly flung about by people who have never held a standard in their lives. As if skin color, sexual orientation, and gender categories were markers more significant than raw intelligence. There is no universal! they cry. If they’d only admit it, they’d claim the universal position in a heartbeat. They don’t despise us successful white heterosexual men so much as envy us every day of their lives. Richard Lester, at lunch in the faculty club with Sigmund Froelich and Collin Freed Aday after the discovery of Isabel’s body, Dennis lay in bed with Carter, his longtime partner. He opened one eye cautiously, hoping it wasn’t anytime near morning. A shaft of light streaked across the bed; somewhere outside the window a lone cardinal loudly defended its turf. Dennis blinked and opened both eyes to half-mast. Carter, blue eyes shockingly alert, stared at him, a dimple creasing one side of his lean face. “It’s true,” Carter said, kissing his neck. “It’s too early to get up. And you’re already late.” “And you’re a sadist,” Dennis moaned, hugging his pillow tighter. Carter threw his long legs over the side of the mattress. “As Blake would say, in your dreams.” He reached over and lightly slapped Dennis’s blanketed rump. “Honey, it is time to get up. But if you don’t want to, don’t.” A stream of water hit the tiles in the adjoining room as the shower splashed on and Dennis heard Carter’s muffled voice: “I don’t have a choice. Today’s advisory board.” The phone rang next to the bed. With a grumpy sigh, Dennis cocked the receiver in the direction of his ear. “What?” He drew in a 35 sharp breath. “You think I—? . . . WHAT?” His hand shook as he placed the phone back into its stand. Carter’s head and shoulders, towel-covered, appeared in the doorway. “Who was that?” “Bettina.” “Yes?” Carter prompted. “The investigation into Isabel Vittorio’s death—everyone who was in Helmsley Hall for the past five days is engaging counsel.” The towel fell away from Carter’s finely molded neck. “Good Lord.” “She was murdered,” Dennis said flatly. “Can you imagine?” Carter, of course, had heard that fact before, the news having gushed through campus and community like a flash flood. But in deference to his spouse’s seeming inability to digest this happening, he considered the announcement afresh. A faint smile shadowed Carter’s face and then disappeared. “Well, yes, I suppose I can. I’m sorry. I just know how difficult she was.” “She was difficult. She was also a terrific advocate for faculty when the stakes were high. I don’t think I would have been promoted without her. But, God, she was tough.” Dennis chewed a finger and then jammed it under his armpit. “I’m frankly scared to death.” “Why?” Carter quickly came back to the bed and sat down. “I was in the building when they removed the body.” Carter waited. “So?” he finally asked. “I don’t know. Even though it was apparently many hours after the . . . the deed itself . . . it worries me that I was anywhere near the vicinity. After all, I don’t work in that building.” Carter’s face creased in a puzzled frown. “Well, no, but it doesn’t mean anything really, that you were passing by at that time. Hundreds of people were I imagine.” “Carter.” Dennis’ voice dropped to a hollow bass note. “I have to tell you something. I had an appointment with Isabel at four o’clock on the Friday before she died.” “Ah. So now I see.” 36 “No, I don’t think you do. I met her in her office. We had a disagreement . A loud one. Anyone could have heard us yelling at each other.” “But why would you fight? She’s not your chair. She has no power over you.” “Not directly. I was on a search committee: for a joint appointment . Fifty percent Literature and Rhetoric, the other fifty with us in Drama. The committee wanted a very accomplished woman, African American, from Georgetown. We’d voted—it was one vote short of unanimous, actually. At least it was until Isabel decided that she didn’t want her. She did originally, then reversed her position.” Carter...