All Around the Town (11 page)

THAT NIGHT, back at college, in order to repack her tote bag Laurie dumped its contents on her bed. Textbooks, spiral pads, and loose-leaf binders tumbled out. The very last object was the one that had been concealed at the bottom of the deep carryall. It was the missing carving knife from the set on the kitchen wall.

Laurie backed away from the bed. "No! No! No!" She sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands. "I didn't take it Sarewuh," she sobbed. "Daddy said I mustn't play with knives."

A jeering voice crashed through her mind. Oh, shut up, kid. You know why you have it. Why not take the hint and stick it in your throat. God, I need a cigarette.

Chapter
36

GREGG BENNETT told himself that he didn't give a damn. Being honest, what he really meant was that he shouldn't give a damn. There were plenty of attractive women on this campus. He'd be meeting plenty more in California. He'd have his degree in June and be on his way to Stanford to study for his MBA.

At twenty-five Gregg was and felt considerably older than his fellow students. He still looked back in bewilderment at the nineteen-year-old dope who had quit college after his freshman year to become an entrepreneur. Not that the experience had hurt. Even getting his ears pinned back had been a long-range blessing. If nothing else he found out exactly how much he didn't know. He'd also learned that international finance was the career for him.

He'd been back from England a month and the January blahs had by now caught up with him. At least he'd been able to get in some skiing at Camelback over the weekend. The powder snow had made the runs great.

Gregg lived in a studio apartment over the garage of a private home two miles from the campus. It was a nice setup that suited him well. He had no desire to share a place with three or four other guys and end up with constant partying. This place was clean and airy; the pullout couch was comfortable for both sitting and sleeping; he could prepare simple meals in the kitchenette.

When he first arrived at Clinton, he'd noticed Laurie around the campus. Who wouldn't? But they'd never been in a class together. Then, a year and a half ago they'd sat next to each other in the auditorium at a showing of Cinema Paradiso. The picture had been terrific. As the lights went on, she turned to him and asked, "Wasn't that wonderful?"

That was the beginning. If a girl that attractive gave him the signal that she wanted him to come on to her, Gregg was more than willing to make the next move. But there was something about Laurie that held him back. He'd known instinctively that he'd get nowhere if he tried anything too quickly; as a result, their relationship had developed more as a friendship. She was so darn sweet. Not sugar sweet---she could be bitingly funny and she could be strong-willed. On their third date he told her that it was obvious she'd been a spoiled kid. They'd gone golfing and the starter had overbooked They had to wait an extra hour for tee-off time. She'd been sore.

"I bet you never had to wait. I bet Mommy and Daddy called you their little princess," he had told her. She'd laughed and said, actually they had. Over dinner that night she told him about having been abducted. "The last thing I remember was standing in front of my house in a pink bathing suit and someone picking me up. The next thing, I woke up in my own bed. The only problem is that was two years later."

"I'm sorry I said you were spoiled," he'd told her. "You deserved to be."

She'd laughed. "I was spoiled before and after. You hit the nail on the head."

Gregg knew that to Laurie he was a trusted friend. It wasn't that simple for him. You don't spend a lot of time with a girl who looks like Laurie, he thought, with that marvelous ripple of blond hair, those midnight blue eyes and perfect features, without wanting to spend all the time you'll ever have with her. But then when she started inviting him home some weekends, he'd been sure she had begun to fall in love too.

Then suddenly it came to an end one Sunday morning last May. He remembered it clearly. He had slept late, and Laurie took it into her head to stop by after church with bagels and cream cheese and smoked salmon. She rapped on the door, then when he didn't hear, yelled, "I know you're in there."

He grabbed a robe, opened the door and just looked at her. She was wearing a linen dress and sandals and looking cool and fresh as the morning itself. She came in, put on the coffee, set out the bagels and told him not to bother making up the bed. She was driving home and could only stay a few minutes. After she left, he could sack out all day if he wanted.

When she was leaving, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him lightly, telling him he needed a shave. "But I still like your looks," she'd teased. "Nice nose, strong chin, cute cowlick." She'd kissed him again, then turned to go. That was when it had happened. Impulsively Gregg followed her to the door, put his hands on her arms, swooped her up and hugged her. She went crazy. Sobbing. Kicking her legs to push him away. He dropped her, angrily asked her what the hell was the matter. Did she think he was Jack the Ripper? She ran out of the apartment and never even spoke to him again except to tell him to leave her alone.

He would have liked to do just that. The only problem was that over last summer, working an internship in New York, and during the fall term, studying at the Banking Institute in London, he'd never gotten her out of his mind. Now that he was back, she was still adamant about refusing to see him.

ON MONDAY evening Gregg wandered over to the cafeteria at the student center. He knew Laurie sometimes dropped by there. He deliberately joined a group that included some of the people from her residence. "It makes sense," one of them was saying at the other end of the table. "Laurie goes out about nine o'clock a lot of weeknights His wife stays in New York during the week. I tried kidding Laurie about it, but she just ignored me. Obviously she was meeting someone but she sure wasn't talking about it."

Gregg's ears pricked up. Casually he moved his chair to hear better.

"Anyhow, Margy works afternoons in the administration office. She picks up a lot of dirt and knew something was up when Sexy Allan came in looking worried."

"I don't think Grant is sexy. I think he's just a very nice guy." The objection came from a dark-haired student with an air of common sense about her.

The gossiper waved aside the objection. "You may not think he's sexy, but a lot of people do. Anyhow, Laurie certainly does. I hear she's been sending him a bunch of love letters and signing them 'Leona.' He turned the letters over to the administration and claims that everything in them is fantasy. Maybe he's afraid if she's writing to him about their little romance she might be blabbing to other people too. I guess he's making a preemptive strike before anything gets back to his wife."

"What did she write?"

"What didn't she write? According to the letters, they were making out in his office, his house, you name it."

"No kidding!"

"Well, his wife's away a lot. These things happen. Remember how at her parents' funeral, he went racing down the aisle after her when she fainted?"

Gregg Bennett did not bother to pick up the chair that he knocked over as he strode from the cafeteria.

Chapter
37

WHEN LAURIE CHECKED her mailbox on Tuesday, she found a note asking her to phone the Dean of Student Affairs for an appointment at her earliest convenience. What's that about? she wondered. When she made the call, the dean's secretary asked if she was free to come in at three o'clock that day.

At the end of the ski season last year, she'd bought a blue-and-white ski jacket on sale. It had hung in her closet unused this winter. Why not, she thought as she reached for it. Perfect for this weather, it's pretty and I might as well get some use out of it. She matched it with blue jeans and a white turtleneck sweater.

At the last minute she twisted her hair into a chignon. Might as well look like the sophisticated senior about to leave the halls of learning for the great world outside. Maybe when she was out of the college atmosphere and among working adults she'd lose this crazy feeling of being a scared kid.

It was another cold, clear day, the kind that made her take deep breaths and throw back her shoulders. It was such a relief to know that Saturday morning she wouldn't be sitting in that damn office with Dr. Carpenter trying to look kindly but always probing, always digging.

She waved to a group of students from her residence then wondered if they were looking at her in a funny kind of way. Don't be silly, she told herself.

The knife. How had it gotten to the bottom of her tote bag? She certainly hadn't put it there. But would Sarah believe her? "Look, Sarah, the stupid thing was stuck between my books. Here it is. Problem solved."

And Sarah would reasonably ask, "How did it get in your bag?" Then she'd probably suggest talking to Dr. Carpenter again.

The knife was in the back of the closet now, hidden in the sleeve of an old jacket. The elastic cuff would keep it from falling. Should she simply throw it away, let the mystery go unsolved? But Dad valued that set of knives and always said they could cut anything clean as a whistle. Laurie hated the thought of something being cut clean as a whistle.

As she walked across the campus to the administration building she mulled over the best way to place the knife back in the house. Hide it in a kitchen cupboard? But Sarah had said that Sophie had looked everywhere in the kitchen for it.

An idea came to her that seemed simple and foolproof: Sophie was always looking for things to polish. Sometimes she'd take the knives down and do them when she was going over the silver flatware. That was it, Laurie thought! I'll sneak the knife into the silver chest in the dining room, way to the back so it won't be seen easily. Even if Sophie had looked there, she might think she'd missed it. The point was Sarah would know that was at least a good possibility.

The solution brought relief until inside her head a derisive voice shouted. Very clever, Laurie, but how do you explain the knife to yourself? Do you think it jumped into your bag? The mocking laugh made her curl her fingers into fists.

"Shut up!" she whispered fiercely. "Go away and leave me alone."

DEAN LARKIN was not alone. Dr. Iovino, the Director of the Counseling Center, was with him. Laurie stiffened when she saw him. A voice in her mind shouted. Be careful. Another shrink. What are they trying to pull now?

Dean Larkin invited her to sit down, asked her how she was feeling, how her classes were going, reminded her that everyone was aware of the terrible tragedy in her family and that he wanted her always to understand that the entire faculty had the deepest concern for her well-being.

Then he said he'd excuse himself. Dr. Iovino wanted to have a little talk with her.

The dean closed the door behind him. Dr. Iovino smiled and said, "Don't look scared, Laurie. I just wanted to talk to you about Professor Grant. What do you think of him?"

That was easy. "I think he's wonderful," Laurie said. "He's a great teacher and he's been a good friend."

"A good friend."

"Of course."

"Laurie, it's not uncommon for students to develop a certain attachment to a faculty member. In a case like yours, where you especially needed compassion and kindness, it would be unusual if in loneliness and grief you didn't misinterpret that kind of relationship. Fantasize about it. What you daydreamed it might be, became in your mind what it is. That's very understandable."

"What are you talking about?" Laurie realized that she sounded like her mother the time she became annoyed at a waiter who had suggested he'd like to phone Laurie for a date.

The psychologist handed her a stack of letters. "Laurie, did you write these letters?"

She skimmed them, her eyes widening. "These are signed by someone named Leona. What in the world gave you the idea I wrote them?"

"Laurie, you have a typewriter, don't you?"

"I write my assignments on a computer."

"But you do have a typewriter?"

"Yes, I do. My mother's old portable."

"Do you keep it here?"

"Yes. As a backup. Every once in a while, the computer has gone down when I had an assignment due."

"You turned in this term paper last week?"

She glanced at it. "Yes, I did."

"Notice that the o and w are broken wherever they appear on these pages. Now check that against the broken o and w that regularly appear in the letters to Professor Grant. They were typed on the same machine."

Laurie stared at Dr. Iovino His face became superimposed with the face of Dr. Carpenter. Inquisitors! Bastards!

Dr. Iovino, heavyset, his manner one of all-is-well-don't-worry, said, "Laurie, comparing the signature 'Leona' with the written addenda to your term paper shows a great similarity in the handwriting."

The voice shouted: He's not only a shrink. He's a handwriting expert now.

Laurie stood up. "Dr. Iovino, as a matter of fact, I've let a number of people use that typewriter. I feel this conversation is nothing short of insulting. I am shocked that Professor Grant leapt to the conclusion that I wrote this trash. I'm shocked that you would send for me to discuss it. My sister is a prosecutor. I've seen her in court. She would make mincemeat of the kind of 'evidence' that you purport connects me with these disgusting outpourings."