Package Deal(64)
“Can I help you with that?”
“Oh! Hello, Marc.” Greg grunted from the effort. “No need.” He banged on the side of the drawer and gave it another yank. “Got it. Sometimes these drawers get stuck and then I’m effectively locked out of my own files without a key!” The white-haired gentleman chuckled.“Are you here with a report on Amanda’s little girl?”
“I’ll give you that, but I’d rather talk about something else, if I may.” He sat down when invited.
Greg turned his full attention to Marcus. “I’m listening.”
“I believe you may have a sex predator in your department.” He outlined what Cecelia had finally revealed. “What I’m telling you is in strictest confidence. The cops won’t do anything unless Amanda makes a complaint and I doubt she’ll do so if it means Cecelia has to testify. It took a therapist weeks to get her to open up and I don’t think she’s out of the woods yet.”
Greg sat back in his chair. The professor’s white hair fell forward as he looked down at his hands, his fingers forming a tent. “I’m not sure what we can do about this. Carl had a one-year appointment with an option for an extension to the usual three years. I told him he had to complete his thesis by the end of fall quarter. He didn’t make that deadline, although he did submit it in April. But the last full month of the spring term, he never came in.”
“The cops said they couldn’t find him. Damn!”
Greg nodded. “I had to assign his classes to the other faculty on a rotating basis—not something I’ve ever done before. But since that’s how we covered Amanda’s classes before she was able to come back, and it worked well, we handled his the same way. His students seemed relieved that he wasn’t there. Their reaction sealed it for me. We probably made a mistake offering him that one-year appointment.” He frowned.“I had Beatrice call him again, just the other day. He left several files in the office he was sharing with Amanda, and I wanted to return them to him. Beatrice said all her messages went to voice mail.”
Marcus frowned. “That means he could be anywhere. The thought of him preying on other children turns my stomach.”
“I share your sentiment. How is Cecelia?”
“Much better. And, Amanda’s looking forward to teaching second summer session.” He paused before asking, “Have you hired a replacement for Carl?”
The older man nodded. “We have an excellent candidate coming in for final interviews on July first. He has great references and Amanda may know him. He was part of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop three years running and is a budding novelist. Maybe you could ask her about him—Evan Workman’s his name. Perhaps she’ll see her way clear to showing him around.”
“I’ll mention it to her. Will she have to share the office if he’s hired?”
“No. The renovations are done. Please assure her the office is hers alone, as of now. I’ve taken out that extra-large desk and replaced it with a regular one.” The chairman stood and waved in the direction of the door. “My appointment is here. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to support Amanda. And tell her this. Even though she missed several classes spring quarter, her evaluations were excellent. The students missed her. They made very clear they wanted her back. Several of the upperclassmen, majors, have requested that she offer some special seminars next year. I’ll want to discuss that with her.”
“I’ll let her know. Thanks, Greg.” He waited as a student entered Greg’s office then rubbed the head of the Shakespeare sculpture as he departed.
Ten minutes later, he parked in front of the apartment where Carlton lived. Maybe if he could find him …
“When was the last time you saw Carl Winslow?” he asked the man who was directing students into a nearby door.
“It’s been a while, maybe three or four weeks. I think he’s gone, and he never paid his last month’s rent.” The man grimaced.
“Mind if I take a look inside? He asked if I’d send his things to him. I’ll be happy to tell him you’re still waiting for the rent.”
“As if it’ll do any good. Go on in. I have to clean it anyway—before it can be rented.”
Marcus entered the apartment. It was awash in garbage and litter. He must live out of pizza boxes and visits to fast food joints. He wandered into the bedroom. Other than the dirty bedclothes and a pile of laundry in the corner, nothing caught his eye. The kitchen yielded nothing of interest, either. As he was preparing to leave, he spied the half-open door of a small closet. A raincoat was hanging from a hook. Almost hidden from view, a ski jacket lay draped over a small box in the corner. He pried open the untaped side. Inside were newspaper articles from Madison, Wisconsin, describing the search for an eight-year-old girl, whose body was found near a river some days after she had been reported missing. She had been strangled and sexually assaulted. Also in the box was a scarf, stiff with rust-colored stains, and a short hank of rope. Marcus closed the box and carried it to his car.