Saving Face (Mount Faith Series: Book 1) (3 page)

"Hot, hot, hot, guy," Natasha completed before Harry could say anything more.

"Don't drool on the paper." Harry said warningly. "This candidate is supposed to be heading up a research and treatment psychiatry center. He is also doing a few lectures."

"He couldn't be a suspect," Natasha said, "he's too hot."

"I am doubting he's a suspect," said Harry, "but not because he's ‘hot’, according to you. He was in Florida when Dr. Carlisle died and he's pretty young. I have no idea why the board asked him to consider the presidency and that makes me suspicious."

Natasha grinned and looked down at the picture again. "He could be a model. See that intense sultry stare?"

"He could be related to Ryan Bancroft." Harry said bluntly, "look at his mouth and his eyes. They are almost identical. There is something not quite right here. Is he a relative of Bancroft? Did Bancroft suggest him for presidency knowing he would have one less person to compete against?"

Natasha glanced at the picture of Ryan Bancroft then back to Taj Jackson's. "They do resemble a bit. Taj is many more times handsome though."

"Find out what's the connection," Harry said.

"With all pleasure," Natasha licked her lips obscenely.

Harry laughed. "Women! The other two candidates are: Dr. Akheim Winter, 42 years old. He's VP for student services…"

He handed Natasha a photo, she looked on it, reluctantly putting down the photo of Taj Jackson.

"I don't think Winter is going to get it," Harry said contemplatively. "There is a rumor that he got a student pregnant. That is a strike against him. Apparently, they only hire presidents who are above reproach, as would most universities and getting a student pregnant is a no-no. The next candidate is Dr. Anita Parkinson, 40 years old." He handed the photo to Natasha. "She is VP for Academic Affairs."

"She's pretty," Natasha said, "maybe she got close to the old president intimately and then poisoned him with potassium."

Harry shrugged. "According to Greyson's snitch at the university there is a rumor that she's a lesbian."

Natasha gasped. "Wow, that can't be true. Isn't this a Christian university that we are talking about?"

Harry gathered the papers. "You know we don't deal with rumors or assumptions. We are going to have to investigate every one of these people and check them out thoroughly. We'll need warrants for bank accounts and house searches. We will also need to find out what their family background is like. We have a long couple of months ahead of us. Are you up for it?"

Natasha grinned. "This certainly feels more like what I was expecting when I got promoted to detective two years ago."

"Well get cracking then," Harry said. "By the end of next week we should have gathered all the information there is to know about these people before we enroll as students at the school and meet them face to face."

Chapter Three

"Remind me again why I decided to come back to Jamaica." Taj Jackson was talking to Shemar Kerr, his friend and confidante.

"You said you wanted to start up that Psychiatry Center, and of course there is that president position." Shemar recited dutifully. He was in the gym that he owned in Mandeville working out in the early hours of the morning. When Taj called, he had not been surprised. Today was supposed to be Taj's first day as an official lecturer.

"And why do I want to start up a new center, or even be president?" Taj asked. He had Shemar on speakerphone and was fixing his tie.

Shemar chuckled. "Wasn't it the board that contacted you and suggested that you make yourself available for the position?"

Taj frowned. "And that has been troubling me for a while. Why would they have contacted me? I have no experience in school administration. It has been only two years since I finished residency and have been working at the Behavioral Center. Shemar, something just does not add up."

"Are you doubting yourself Taj?" Shemar asked panting. He was on the treadmill jogging.

"Not doubting myself," Taj said running a comb through his hair, "just curious as to how they knew about me. Two weeks ago I went to a senior staff meeting with the current residing president and I could not help but feel as if I shouldn't be there. He is seriously presidential. He knows everybody. The whole thing just seems tailor-made for him. Why don't they just give him the job and be done with this whole process?"

"April and I are glad you are here," Shemar said. "Think about the weekends. We can all hang out, or you and I can go and take in a cricket match now and again."

Taj sighed. "I am glad to be in Jamaica and relatively close to you guys. I know I am being fanciful but I can't shake the feeling that something is not right."

When Shemar hung up Taj walked slowly out of the house that had been assigned to him. He had been quite surprised that the university had extensive staff housing, about one hundred and twenty tastefully designed houses in what was called Mount Faith Drive.

It was a whole community of faculty and staff and their families. Some staff members had opted out of living in such close proximity to their colleagues so it had not been hard for Taj to get a four bedroom tastefully furnished house all by himself in what was loosely known as Faculty Boulevard. Staff owned most of the houses on this boulevard. A retired professor who no longer lived in Jamaica owned his house.

When he had arrived on the quiet street lined off with weeping willow trees, he had realized that the school was seriously wealthy. He walked slowly to the rented car and made a mental note to go get himself a new car.

He had been in Jamaica just three weeks but he wanted his own car. He could walk over to the school, it wasn't far from the housing development, but he preferred to drive because he had a lot of books and paraphernalia.

The building for the Psychiatry Center was under renovation. He had outlined his plans already and only needed to present it to the interim president, who had scheduled the presentation for tomorrow morning at nine.

Taj drove to the Social Science center and parked. It was almost six-thirty and the fog was still heavy on the mountains surrounding the school. He stepped out of the car and headed toward the building. It was seriously nippy. He was extremely grateful that he was wearing a jacket and even then, he could feel the freezer-like air wafting its way to his skin.

When he stepped into the building he looked around. The lobby area was covered in a dark maroon colored carpet. There was a receptionist area and a sort of lounge area where students could wait between classes. He walked toward his office at the far end of a very long hallway, which contained several small classrooms. From his tour some weeks ago he had learned that two stories above were several sound proofed lecture theatres and in the basement area were several well-equipped laboratories.

He entered the area where his office was. He shared a circular space with five other offices and also shared a common secretary with the other professors who worked in Psychiatry Department.

They were also going to be working with him on a rotational basis in the new Psychiatry center. He would have to meet with them and at least four other psychologists later in the week, to discuss the rosters and schedules.

His first official day of academia.

He sighed and let himself into the office marked T. Jackson and put down his books and briefcase. He had two classes today, an eight o'clock class in Introduction To Clinical Psychiatry. At one o'clock, he had an Anatomy and Physiology class with undergraduates. Why had he volunteered to teach that class? He had no time for undergraduates, and had the option of saying no.

He sat in his plush leather chair and looked at his highly polished empty desk. He was reluctant to personalize the desk in anyway. Pretty soon, after this semester, he would be moving office over to the Psychiatry center, or to the president's office. After two years, he would evaluate his life and determine where to go next.

He took out his laptop and swiftly compiled his lecture notes.

"Dr. Jackson?" a voice said at the door.

Taj looked up. "Yes, may I help you?"

"My name is Anne Carter," the lady said eagerly. "I am the secretary for these offices for this semester."

"Oh hello," Taj smiled at her, she was a neat lady in a navy suit. She was tall and slim. Her curly hair was caught up in one. She was devouring him with her eyes, a hint of tears in them.

"How may I help?" Taj asked her calmly. She seemed as if she was about to leap across the desk and kiss him or something.

She sighed and came further into the office. She laughed nervously. "Oh forgive me Taj, I mean Dr. Jackson." She sat in the seat across from him. "For a while you just seemed so familiar." She sat in the seat across from him. "You have class at eight this morning…I shouldn't be taking up your time."

"Oh, you know my schedule?" Taj asked.

"Yes," Anne was still looking at him with uncomfortable intensity, "I know the schedule of everybody in these offices. Don't hesitate to call me for anything. I am at your service anytime."

Taj nodded, opening back his laptop. "Mrs. Carter, I am told I need to hire a student worker to help me out."

Anne Carter was looking at him so long that he was raising his eyebrows in consternation.

She laughed uncomfortably again. "Oh, sorry Sir. Usually, choosing a student assistant is left up to the professor."

Taj nodded.

"You have such a beautiful voice," Anne Carter said.

Taj shifted in his chair uncomfortably. Was his secretary coming on to him? "Er...thank you."

Anne smiled and got up. "Do you want some tea? You left your house so early this morning."

"You know where I live?" Taj asked, his discomfort raising twofold. He had dealt with some patients while in internship who had become fixated on him to the point of stalking. He wondered if his own secretary had traces of the problem.

"Oh yes," Anne said shaking her head vigorously. "I live right across from you."

"Oh," Taj relaxed slightly, "I could do with some peppermint tea."

Anne looked at him again, her eyes softening perceptibly. "Coming right up."

***

Taj entered his Anatomy and Physiology class late. His fellow Psychiatry colleagues, who were eager to welcome him into the fold, had detained him. They were a happy bunch of people, he had to admit, and quite pleasant too. After chatting for some minutes, he had to practically run down the hallway and upstairs to his first class.

He walked to the front of the class. The class was very near his office and he felt a slight twinge of regret that he had not made the effort to reach there on time. He liked to start as he meant to go on, and he didn't want to have a reputation as the professor who was never on time.

"Good afternoon class."

There were thirty of them in the class. His eyes roamed over them and then widened a bit as he saw the girl in the front. She looked like a darker version of Alicia Keys, with a sleek bob haircut and exotically slanted brown eyes. She looked saucy. He could see it in her eyes. She was taking care not to gaze at him but he found her coyness intriguing.

His eyes kept roaming back to her and he hurriedly took out the register to mark their names, just so he could find out what her name was.

When he said, "Natasha Rowe," she raised her hand and looked at him fully. She had been avoiding looking at him directly and he smiled at her. She hurriedly lowered her eyes again and Taj almost forgot that he had the other names to mark.

It was almost a relief to start the class, to get the lesson out of the way so that he could assess his attraction to an undergrad student.

He felt ridiculous and mixed up at the same time. It had hit him out of nowhere, this attraction. He sat at his desk and waited until the students filed out. He deliberately took his time putting back his papers in his briefcase, waiting for her to walk by, but she sat packing up her books slowly. Her cellular phone was on vibrate and she ignored it. Ever so often, he saw it buzz and the lights flash on and off as it made that sound, like she was getting a text or a call.

He wondered if it was her boyfriend calling. What was her story? Everybody had a story and some amount of relationship baggage. She looked to be in her early twenties—no ring on her finger—very attractive. Usually these days that meant a whole lot of baggage.

He usually stayed far from 'baggage.' In fact, he hadn't dated anyone in the past two years. He was perennially single and a part of that had to do with his job. His job as psychiatrist was messing with his perception of people, especially women. He had the tendency these days to analyze everything about his dates.

He had already self-diagnosed himself as being on the verge of paranoia. So usually he admired women, appreciated their looks but a part of him was very wary to get involved.

That he found himself more curious about this one woman than most was a miracle. Then again, he was not even sure she was a woman—maybe she was a teenager. The thought made him get up hurriedly. His first day of school and he was attracted to an undergrad, teenager.

He needed to get a life.

"Dr. Jackson," she said ruefully. She was looking at him now. When she stood up he noted that she was tall, and shapely. She looked lean and toned like one of those native statues that were displayed at the front of the art's building.

He blinked, when her voice intruded on his thoughts.

"I was wondering, have you chosen a student worker yet?"

Taj shook his head. He found his gaze wandering to her cropped top. She had raised her hand and he had gotten a peek at her belly button. His lower anatomy instantly switched to red alert.

He cleared his throat. "Follow me to my office if you will, Miss...er..." he pretended that he couldn't remember her name.

"Natasha," she smiled, "Natasha Rowe."

"Okay," he spun around and walked briskly to his office with Natasha in tow. Anne Carter was at her desk, a phone to her ear. She glanced up at him and then to the girl behind him and a smile broke out on her face.

"I know you," she said.

"Yes Mrs. Carter we met this morning," Taj said.

She laughed at that. "Not you Dr. Jackson-- her." She pointed at Natasha. "What's your name again?"

"Natasha Rowe." Natasha was smiling at her.

"We'll talk later," she said to Natasha and went back to her phone conversation. Taj let himself into his office, leaving the door opened for Natasha to follow him.

"So you know my secretary?"

Natasha grinned. "Yes Sir. She used to live in my old district in Parottee."

Taj nodded. "I've heard of that place, that's near the sea, right."

Natasha nodded again. "Yes, mostly fisher folk are from that end of the island."

"So your parents are into fishing?" Taj asked interestedly. He sat at his desk and put down his briefcase.

"Yes Sir, my mother is a fish vendor and my father a fisherman. Well he was. He died three years ago."

Taj leaned back in his chair. "How old are you?"

"Er..." Natasha fidgeted a bit. She and Harry had agreed to be as honest as possible with their basic information; they were always better off that way. "Twenty-seven."

Taj's eyes widened. "You don't look it and usually I am a pretty good judge of ages. So, what are you doing here at Mount Faith University?

"Psychology." Natasha said easily. She had done Anatomy and Physiology when she did Forensic Psychology.

Taj grunted. "I am not sure this is the right place for you, Natasha." He steeled himself to say it because he found her extremely attractive. If she worked for him he would see her everyday, even when they didn't have classes together on Mondays and Wednesdays.

"You are probably better off over at Social Sciences. That's where you would most likely get the best out of assisting a professor."

Natasha shook her head. "Please Sir. It is only for the semester."