The Spire (29 page)

'Don't bullshit me,' Darrow cut in. 'For that to be true, some mastermind would have had to know where Caldwell had parked nine hundred thousand dollars in CDs, used your personal computer to ask Joe Betts to transfer them, and forged your signature for two different banks, all in an elaborate effort to frame you. Got anyone in mind''

Durbin ignored his sarcasm. Stubbornly, he said, 'It would have had to be someone on the investment committee.'

'That certainly narrows down our list of suspects, doesn't it' Aside from you, that leaves Ed Rardin, Paul Johns, John Stewart'and Joe, of course. None of whom live in Wayne. Which one had access to your computer''

Durbin seemed to rock in his chair. 'None that I know of. But they were often here.'

'Let's skip over that, then'as well as the slander inherent in suggesting that one of four honorable and wealthy men is a crook. Who among them has the skill to forge your signature''

Durbin grimaced. Tightly, he said, 'Someone could have traced it.'

Farr, Darrow saw, was staring at the rug, as though he could no longer stand to look at Durbin. 'Clark,' Darrow said with renewed gentleness, 'your investments went bad. Your son was in rehab for heroin addiction. Your wife was terribly sick. You needed money.'

Durbin shook his head. 'I'm not a thief, Mark. If I were, I wouldn't be that stupid.'

Darrow gave him the glacial stare he had perfected in the courtroom. 'Desperate men do stupid things. You had no other source of money. In my experience, embezzlers imagine they can cover themselves before they're caught, often by moving around more cash. This embezzler was smart enough to game the system'which, as you pointed out, suggests an insider, someone with access to the information held within the investment committee. Which gets me back to the question you can't answer: which one had a key to your office''

'I don't know.'

'Then I can't help you. So help yourself, Clark. Tell us where the last eight hundred and fifty thousand went.'

Durbin stared at him, his expression slack. 'I don't know
where
the money is.'

'Too bad,' Darrow said in a pitiless tone. 'Should you remember, please come back. Bring a lawyer with you next time, and do be quick about it. After this morning's performance, I'm an hour closer to calling up Dave Farragher.'

Mechanically, Durbin rose, not trying to shake hands. 'By the way,' Darrow inquired casually, 'who was supplying your kid with smack''

Durbin's eyes were moist. 'I don't know that, either. But maybe it was Carl Hall. Ironic, isn't it.'

Still sitting, Darrow shrugged.

Farr stood, opening the door for Durbin. As Durbin paused there, looking back at Darrow, Farr placed a hand on his shoulder, a gesture that, to Darrow, combined a fleeting compassion with a reminder to leave. Somehow this moment reminded Darrow that, just yesterday, he had heard another plea of innocence. Perhaps there was nothing else Steve Tillman or Clark Durbin could have said.

Farr closed the door behind Durbin. 'Human wreckage,' he remarked, then looked at Darrow intently. 'I haven't seen that side of you.'

'A professional necessity. If Durbin's smart, he'll drop the fantasy that he's somehow getting away with this.' Darrow waved Farr to his chair. 'Can you stick around a minute' There's something else we need to talk about.'

Farr sat back down. 'Concerning''

Darrow paused a moment. 'Taylor,' he answered. 'We've been spending time together.'

Farr's expression was neutral. 'So I understand. I'm pleased you've become friends.'

'We're certainly friends. But this may have a little more texture.'

Farr raised his eyebrows. 'How so''

Darrow considered how to answer. 'When I'm with Taylor, I don't think about Lee. For the first time in a long while, a greater part of me is living in the present.'

Farr seemed to look inward, as though monitoring his own reactions. 'Can I ask how far this has gone' Emotionally, I mean.'

'It's still very new. But we're going to Boston together.' Darrow waited until Farr met his eyes. 'This isn't the Dark Ages. In any other situation, I wouldn't owe Taylor's father an explanation. But it's you, and you're the provost'college presidents generally don't pursue their provost's daughter. I'm not sure if the fact that this involves you and me makes it better, or more awkward.'

Farr smiled slightly. 'Some sort of incest taboo, you mean''

'Jesus, Lionel. That
is
weird.'

'Excuse my wan attempt to make light of this.' Farr paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. 'Given our relationship, the idea that you, as president, are involved with my twenty-eight-year-old daughter doesn't qualify as a scandal. The main complication for me is that I care for you both'I want both of you happy, and neither of you hurt. The chances are good that one of you will be; that's the inevitable outcome of almost every romantic relationship between a man and a woman. And either outcome would be hurtful to me. So forgive me for having mixed feelings.'

Darrow felt deflated. 'You mentioned happiness. The only way to get there is by assuming the risk.'

Farr studied him. 'Then how do you assess the risk with Taylor''

'To her' Or to me''

'Both.'

Darrow leaned back. 'For myself, all I can say is that I feel more open. Even before I had to deal with Lee's death, I never found it that easy. I very much want to see where this goes.'

'And Taylor''

'I'm not sure yet. There are remarkable elements to her personality.'

Farr nodded. 'I agree. Like her mother, Taylor has many gifts. But I also worry that she has a tendency toward melancholy that perhaps you've yet to see.' Pausing, Farr added quietly, 'Also like her mother.'

Darrow managed a smile he did not feel. 'Are you warning me off''

Farr frowned in thought. 'Merely cautioning you. For your own sake, but also for Taylor's. I believe that life has made both of you more vulnerable to hurt than others might be.'

Darrow watched him. As remarkable as the conversation was, he sensed that there was a second conversation hidden beneath the first, the words to which remained unspoken. 'Is that all there is''

Farr looked down, studying a patch of sunlight on Darrow's Persian rug. 'Perhaps not,' he said at last. 'Perhaps, in a non-Oedipal way, I'm a little stung'or at least saddened'that your new relationship with Taylor may be stronger than my own. I hope that's not affecting me. But self-knowledge is, at best, imperfect. Never more so than when the entire truth about oneself may be less attractive than one hopes.'

Darrow felt a wave of sympathy. Though armored in his confidence and reputation, Farr might well be lonelier than he allowed. 'That's only human, Lionel. Thanks for being honest.'

Smiling, Farr stood. 'Then I've fulfilled my obligations'as provost, father, and friend. Should you and Taylor defy the odds, nothing would please me more.'

Darrow nodded. 'I know that.'

Farr looked relieved. 'Then go with God, my son. And do go over those budget figures I prepared.'

When Farr left, Darrow gazed at the door, lost in thought. Then he picked up the phone and called Mike Riley in Boston.

'I'm coming to town,' he told the accountant. 'Can you make time to see me''

'Always. You still grappling with this embezzlement''

'Yes. Durbin came to see me today, to assert his innocence. It was fairly pathetic. He tried to blame some unnamed person on the investment committee, as I'd guessed he might. So I challenged his suggestion with several questions, none of which he could answer.'

'Did you expect him to''

'Of course not. But I thought you might be able to do better.'

Riley chuckled. 'Still not quite convinced he did it, are you''

'Not quite yet. I'll put all my questions in an e-mail. If I give you a couple of days, can you look over all the documents and tell me what you think''

'Sure. What brings you back to Boston, by the way''

'The hope of better meals.'

'You might try San Francisco,' Riley said, and got off.

Pensive, Darrow placed another call. 'This is nice,' Taylor said cheerfully. 'I woke up this morning, and there was nothing to look forward to but my thesis. What made you think to call''

'I've been bonding with your dad,' Darrow informed her. 'I told him. He seems to be feeling a little tender, even threatened. Like he's become the odd man out.'

Taylor was quiet. 'Do you find that a little curious'' she inquired coolly.

Against his will, Darrow heard Farr say,
She has a tendency toward melancholy
. And then heard Taylor telling him,
I worry about losing myself, or giving any man too much power over me
. In a casual tone, he answered, 'I think he means well. But Lionel's a complicated person. As are we all, I suppose.'

'Him most of all,' Taylor responded in the same voice. 'Don't worry, I'll tread lightly with him. In the end, we're all he has.'

O

N W EDNESDAY EVENING, D ARROW SPOKE TO A HUNDRED alumni at a hotel ballroom in Columbus. 'Almost everyone,' he told them, 'had a professor who influenced the course of your life, like Lionel Farr did mine. That's why you're here; it's why I'm here. So my first mission as president of Caldwell is to earn your trust. My second mission'which I hope becomes yours'will be to ensure that Caldwell has the resources to build state-of-the-art facilities, endow chairs for the most gifted teachers, and fund scholarships for any deserving student who entrusts us with her future.

'Next year I'll be back with a blueprint for this endeavor. If you'll give me your help, together we'll build a Caldwell College that offers the next generation of alumni even more than it gave us.'

The crowd's applause was warm, its questions respectful. But, as at several recent events, the good feeling was punctured by an aggressive businessman who asserted that
his
trust was contingent on the prosecution of Clark Durbin. Deflecting the question, Darrow guessed that these challenges'similar in wording'reflected a pressure campaign orchestrated from within the board of trustees. Whoever it was, they meant for Darrow to yield Durbin on their timetable.

Afterward, Darrow mingled with the group, connecting stories with names and faces and, he hoped, lodging each detail in his memory bank. Then a bleached blonde about his age approached him with a smile at once bright and tentative, as though worried she would evoke no response. 'Mark, I'm Laurie,' she said. 'Laurie Shilts. Would you have recognized me''

Fifteen years and twenty pounds added up to 'maybe not''at least if Darrow had not asked alumni relations to ensure that Laurie was coming. But the blue-green eyes were still those of the sad and angry girl with a dull bruise on her face, telling him at the fateful party about breaking up with Joe Betts. Kissing her on the cheek, he said, 'With those eyes' Always.'

She drew back, examining him with the proprietary expression of a fond old friend. 'Imagine this'you as the president of Caldwell.'

Darrow grinned. ' 'The Decline of the West,' ' he said lightly. 'Can I buy you a drink' Meet me at the bar in fifteen minutes, and we'll review the last fifteen years.'

Laurie's smile contained a dollop of flirtation. 'Better late than never,' she said.

IT WAS A half hour before Darrow entered the bar, delayed by several pledges of increased support for Caldwell. By the time he sat with Laurie at a small but unsteady wooden table, she had a glass of white wine in front of her, and a flush to her cheeks that suggested this was not her first. Signaling the waitress, Darrow ordered a glass of cabernet.

Laurie summoned a smile of knowing sadness. 'So how
are
you, Mark''

He could not miss the allusion to Lee. 'I'm okay. As I guess you know, I lost my wife.'

She touched his hand. 'I do know. And I'm sorry.'

Darrow shrugged. 'A lot's happened to all of us since we left Caldwell.'

Laurie sipped her wine, pensive now. 'A lot happened before we left.'

'I remember,' Darrow said quietly. 'What I don't have a clue about is the rest of your life.'

With a faintly rueful laugh, Laurie said, 'Oh, that.'

'That. So start anywhere you like'job, married or single, kids, where you live, hobbies, criminal record, bizarre quirks you're concealing from your neighbors.'

In truth, Laurie's alumni file had already told him much of this. Leaning forward, she said, 'Let's skip the fetishes and the conditions of my parole. My ex-husband was'and is'a drunk. So I'm a single mom with a twelve-year-old daughter.'

'Twelve''

'I started making mistakes early.' Quickly, Laurie amended this: 'Or
continued
making them. Not Chloe'her dad, the deadbeat. It's not easy raising an adolescent girl alone, especially on a teacher's salary.'

'I can imagine. Which grade''

'Ninth-grade English in a nice suburban high school filled with largely uncurious white kids. They're probably not so different than me at that age, though I find that more depressing than comforting.' Her smile resembled a grimace. 'The prospering classes move there to escape. I guess it's some comfort that their kids are smoking pot with their socioeconomic peer group. But why should I complain' The school's safe, and so's my job.'

'And Chloe''

'She's bright and pretty'actually, she's beginning to look like my old yearbook pictures, back in more innocent times.' Laurie frowned. 'But she's getting a case of the sullens'if my teenage self is any guide, she'll spend the next six years despising me, all the more so because I'm the only parental game in town.' Her voice softened. 'It's sad for both of us, I guess. For a long time she was my only company'I leaned on her more than I should have. No boundaries, as they say.

'But now she makes me feel lonely. I guess that's what girls and their moms endure on the way to becoming human again.' Laurie summoned a falsely bright smile. 'Tales of a Mundane Life. I shouldn't squander the chance to see you on feeling sorry for myself.'

Darrow shook his head in demurral. 'Sometimes being alone is hard.'

She gave him a solicitous look. 'For everyone. On the surface, you still seem like the golden boy, so good-looking that I was always surprised by how nice you were. But maybe that helps you cover pain. Even back in college.'