Dog Helps Those (Golden Retriever Mysteries) (26 page)

I asked Van, “So you believe Rita is the one who made those posts?”

“Had to be her,” he said. “Every person I spoke to mentioned her bad disposition, and her irrational tirades. She made a lot of enemies on Wall Street, and there’s no shortage of people who are willing to say that her behavior might have verged on dementia. My article is going to chop her into little bits.”

My eyes met Tor’s. The edges of his mustache moved up a fraction. Who knows? Maybe Rita did have a touch of dementia. “Well, she wasn’t a very nice person,” I said.

“That’s what everyone told me,” Van said.

His phone buzzed, and he answered. He turned away to take the call, and when he had finished he said, “Sorry, I’ve got to run. I have an opportunity to talk to a source.”

Everyone said their goodbyes. When Van was out the door, Lili said, “Source my ass. Van’s going to hook up.”

“You caught that?” Sherry asked. “I thought it was just me.”

Tor and I looked at each other
, both of us baffled
. “
He’s meeting
a source,” I said.

“Men,” Sherry said.

Lili looked at me and Tor. “Why didn’t either of you tell Van that Rita was already dead by the time those online comments were posted?”

“She probably set those comments up to post automatically,” I said. “I know bloggers who do that. She didn’t know she was going to get killed. Maybe she wanted it to happen while she was asleep.”

Tor shook his head. “I think you can only do that when you control the site.”

“Then who posted them?” Lili asked. “And why?”

Tor and I looked at each other. We both shrugged. “When I get the information from Tor, I’ll try and find an answer to that.”

“Van’s going to look awfully stupid when the truth comes out about the time of Rita’s death,” Lili said. She looked at her watch. “If we’re going to catch the 11:00 train, we’d better get moving.”

So. Lili believed that Van was going to make a big mistake in print, and hadn’t said anything when she had the chance. I guess I didn’t have to worry about her leaving me for him.

Tor and Sherry wanted to drop Lili and me back at Penn Station, but we had time
to
walk
, and we both want
ed
to soak up a bit more city atmosphere
. “I like them,” Lili said
as we strolled past an endless row of electronics stores with perpetual going-out-of-business signs in their windows
. “Sherry’s a hoot.
And did you see that Judith Leiber purse?
”

“The scallop shell? You could tell who manufactured it?”

“From a mile away.” She patted my arm. “Don’t worry. It’s a girl thing.”

“
If you say so.
I didn’t realize how much she disliked Mary.”

“I didn’t get the feeling she hated her. Just didn’t think she was right for you.”

“And how about you?” I asked, putting my arm in hers. “Are you right for me?”

“We’ll get a further report from Sherry next weekend,” she said.

It was nearly midnight by the time we got back to Stewart’s Crossing. Rochester was eager to see us both, hopping and jumping around so much that I had to order him to sit three times before he consented to let me put his leash on. We took him for a walk around the block, and I considered how nice it was to have Lili with us. She and Rochester had bonded, and I knew it was his influence that had opened me up to love again.

When we returned to my house, Lili and I got in bed and kissed good night, and even though it was late we slid into each other and explored the possibilities of our romance. When we had spent ourselves, she turned on her side to go to sleep. I sat up for an extra couple of minutes, thinking about Mary again. Lili was a very different woman. Then I fell asleep myself.

I left Lili in bed Wednesday morning while I walked Rochester. The rainy weather had moved on, and the air was crisp, the sun sparkling on the lake at the center of River Bend. Rochester was frisky, and I let him off the leash to rampage around the lake for a few minutes, chasing ducks and squirrels. By the time he galloped back to me his tongue was hanging out and his eyes were shimmering with delight.

When we got back to the house I toasted a couple of English muffins for breakfast. I had discovered Lili liked the cinnamon raisin kind, so I always kept a package in the freezer. I was pouring the orange juice when she walked downstairs, rubbing her eyes.

“Sleep well?” I asked.

“Yes. Nice evening last night.”

“Yeah, Tor and Sherry are great.” As she sat down, I saw the framed photograph I’d bought for her leaning against the wall in the living room. While she helped herself to a muffin, I picked it up and brought it to her.

“I saw this the other day and thought you might like it,” I said.

She turned and saw it. “Oh!” She looked from the photo to me. “It’s wonderful.” She kissed me, then took the photo from me. “It’s a Francois Regaud!”

“You know him?”

“Not him, but I know his work. How did you know I’d like this?”

I shrugged. “I saw it and it spoke to me.”

“I know just where I’m going to put it. This is the nicest gift! Thank you so much.” She kissed me again, and it took us a couple of minutes before we got back to our English muffins.

“Are you marching with the faculty at graduation?” she asked.

“I’m planning to,” I said. “I was thinking I’d walk in the parade of classes first, then join the faculty at the stadium.”

The parade of classes was an Eastern tradition. About an hour before graduation was to start, the alumni present would organize themselves into their classes on the broad lawn in front of Fields Hall. Each class was led by a student carrying a banner with that year emblazoned on it. The old guard – those alumni whose graduation occurred more than fifty years before – rode in golf carts at the head of the parade.

“You’re not going to wear your cap and gown in the parade, are you? That would look weird. Everyone else will be in street clothes.”

“I guess I could carry it with me. I hadn’t thought that far in advance,” I said.

“Why don’t you give your stuff to me now,” Lili said, as we stood up to clear the table, Rochester underfoot as always, looking for scraps. “I’ll keep it at my office and then meet you at the stadium with it.”

“Good idea. I’ve got it upstairs airing out.” I ran up the stairs, Rochester right behind me, and pulled my black master’s degree gown off the hanger. With it was the hood—light blue with a white chevron, and with a white lining signifying my master’s in English. The plain black mortarboard that went with it was on the shelf above the gown.

I hurried back downstairs, Rochester once again underfoot. By then Lili had cleaned up and we were ready to go.

Rochester didn’t seem to mind climbing in the back so Lili could ride shotgun, but as soon as I dropped Lili at her house he wormed his way up front. I drove the few blocks to the Eastern campus, already buzzing with preparations for graduation. Workmen were posting directional signs and erecting tents on the back lawn. I parked in the faculty-staff lot, already emptier as the faculty began filtering away, and walked Rochester to my office.

While my computer was booting up, Rochester settled into his customary place by the french doors, his head resting on his paws. I emailed Rick to apologize for not calling him the night before, and to tell him what I’d learned about the rumors surrounding the companies Rita had invested in—and the timing of their posting.

My office phone rang. “Eastern College, Steve Levitan.”

“It’s Van Dryver. I need some help and I’m hoping you can give me a hand.”

“Depends,” I said, sitting in my chair with my hand on the top of Rochester’s head.

“I’m looking for an address and phone number for a guy named Matthew Durkheim, who graduated from Eastern.”

“Sorry, can’t help you. I’m not authorized to release any information our students or alumni.”

Rochester got his blue rubber ball between his paws and settled down to gnaw on it. “Come on, Steve. I know about you. You’ve broken the rules in the past.”

“You know what, Van? You don’t know anything about me.”

“Yeah, but I know about Lili,” he said. “Here’s a piece of advice, between you and me. I wouldn’t expect Lili to stay in Podunkville much longer. She’s got big dreams, that girl, and she loves to see the world.”

I remembered Lili’s action the night before—not telling Van about the huge mistake he was about to make. He didn’t know me, and he didn’t know her as well as he thought.

I hung up the phone without saying goodbye. I wasn’t sure which I was more angry about—his assumptions about me, or about Lili. Either way, I wished he had been in front of me, because I’d have loved to punch him in the nose right about then. Instead I banged my fist on my desk, startling Rochester awake.

“What?” I asked him. He lowered his head onto his paws and gave me a baleful stare.

A few minutes later, I got pulled into a series of meetings, and put my personal cell phone on mute. When I finished the meetings and checked the display, I noted that Van hadn’t bothered to call me back.

Before returning to my office, I detoured to the library, hoping they had a subscription to the
Wall Street Journal
. They did, and I was able to read Van’s latest article. As he’d said to us, he put the blame for the rumors on Rita Gaines. I read the whole article, then checked the comments. So far, no one had figured out that she was already dead by the time the rumors had been posted.

Should I stir the pot? Be the one to show Van up as an idiot? Nope. I’d leave that to some other enterprising reporter. I wouldn’t spit on him if he was on fire. Or provide any other bodily fluids either.

On my way back to my office, Jim Shelton buttonholed me. “Hey, Steve. President Babson wants to talk to us about these computer problems. Seems like he’s finally woken up to the dimensions of the problem and he’s going to crack down on Verri.”

I looked at my watch. It was almost noon, and Rochester would be expecting lunch. But I couldn’t ignore an executive summons; my dog and I both needed me to keep my job at Eastern.

When Jim and I walked into the President’s office, Dot Sneiss was already there, sitting across from his big wooden desk. Jim sat beside her, and I stood behind his chair.

“I wish you’d told me about these problems sooner, Dot,” Babson said. “Do you think that if we remove this Freezer Burn from all the campus computers, we can get back on track in time for graduation?”

“I’m no computer expert. But I can tell you if we don’t get rid of it ASAP, things are only going to get worse,” Dot said.

He turned to Jim and me. “Dot says you’ve been meeting about these issues with Freezer Burn and that you have additional information on the situation.”

“I got involved through Lou Segusi, one of my students,” I said. “Lou tutors at the Writing Lab, and one of the kids he works with has a work-study job in the IT department. This student, Dustin, was scared, and his fear was getting in the way of his class work. Lou asked me to speak to Dustin and see if I could help solve his problem so Dustin could concentrate on his schoolwork.”

“What was this Dustin frightened of?” Babson asked.

“I met with Dustin, and I could see he very upset. It took me a while to worm it out of him. But eventually he told me that he was doing some filing in Verri’s office and he saw a check that had slipped out of a folder on her desk. The check was from the company that makes Freezer Burn, and it was made out to Verri personally. For twenty thousand dollars.”

I waited a moment for that to sink in. I knew that Babson had a blind spot when it came to Verri, so I thought I’d better lay it on thick. “At first I didn’t believe him. I know what a dedicated employee Verri has been. I couldn’t imagine that she’d take a bribe from a vendor.”

I stole a glance at Babson’s face. It was stony, but I couldn’t tell if he was angry with me, or with Verri. I shifted from foot to foot behind Jim’s chair, then said, “I had been having some problems with the software myself, and as I spoke to other people on the faculty and staff, they confirmed that they had been having issues, too.”

“Hear, hear,” Jim said, and Dot nodded.

“I knew you were busy with graduation, sir, and I didn’t want to bother you without some concrete proof. I did some checking with a guy from Verri’s office, and he confirmed that there were a lot of problems with the software, and that he had complained to Verri multiple times and that she shut him down every time. I planned to come to you next week with all the information.”

Babson’s face was still a mask of anger. Crap. I had only done what I thought was right. I didn’t want to get fired because of someone else’s incompetence.

“What’s this staffer’s name?” Babson asked.

“Oscar Lavista.”

He buzzed Bernadette and told her to have the man come to his office immediately. Then he shook his head. “Verri has been a member of this community for decades,” he said. “I can’t believe she would do anything to jeopardize our mission. But you never know. Jim, you’ve seen these problems among your faculty?”