I strolled over to him. When he spotted me, he sat up with a look of mingled relief and anxiety. I probably looked much like that at my first school dance—terrified of being a wallflower and even more terrified that someone would invite me to dance and find out how awful I was at it.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“Fine.” He blinked in surprise. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Well, you seem to be the only one here who really knew the late Dr. Wright very well.”
“The only one who’s not relieved at her death, you mean.”
His bluntness was startling and almost refreshing. I couldn’t immediately think what to say next. Luckily a small knot of dancers across the room burst into laughter, drawing our eyes and saving me from having to say anything. When I glanced back at Dr. Blanco, he was frowning, but then the frown dissolved back into a look of gloom.
“Not their fault,” he said, nodding at the dancers. “I gather there is very strong opposition to some of the standards Dr. Wright was trying to enforce.”
“Did you agree with her?” I asked.
He drew back slightly. Did I only imagine the brief gleam of panic in his eye before the bureaucrat in him rallied?
“I certainly supported her position as she explained it to me,” he said. “Of course, since then I have come to appreciate that there were other points of view that had not been made available to me.”
“Well weaseled,” I wanted to say. But I didn’t think it would help the drama curriculum’s cause.
“Will you continue to advocate her position, then?” I asked aloud.
“No,” he said. “The whole thing’s really an internal English department issue and should be left to the faculty of that department, don’t you think?”
I was tempted to point out that it had always been an internal issue and should have been left to the faculty members—all of them, not just one particularly fanatical one with a grudge against the theater. But if he’d decided to cede the field, who cared what words he used?
“It must be difficult for you here,” I said, waving my hand to indicate the activity around us. “I suppose the chief wants you to stay around?”
“I imagine I could convince him to let me go home,” Dr. Blanco said. “But the president indicated he’d like me to stick around. Keep my finger on the pulse, as it were.”
Just then Rose Noire bustled up.
“You haven’t eaten a thing,” she said to Dr. Blanco. “Why don’t you let me bring you a plate?”
“No, thanks,” he said.
“Would you like something that isn’t on the buffet?”
Something not on the buffet? I glanced over at the four overflowing tables. Was there any food not represented there?
“Really, I’m fine,” he said. “I’m just not very hungry yet.”
“But you need to—”
Blanco’s phone rang. His eyes lit up.
“I beg your pardon, but I must take this. It’s the president.” He stood up as he flipped the phone open. “Just a moment,” he said into the phone. “Let me find someplace quieter.”
He scurried across the barn floor and out the door.
“Poor man,” I said.
“He has a very forlorn aura,” Rose Noire said. “Nothing like Dr. Wright’s. I think the students are mistaken to dislike him so much.”
“He’s a pilot fish who’s lost his shark,” I said. “Weak, not evil. And probably not very dangerous. At least not until he finds another shark.”
“He needs to open up and talk to someone about what he’s experiencing,” Rose Noire said. “But he’s very resistant to the idea.”
I sighed. Apparently Rose Noire was practicing therapy without a license again. Had Blanco’s phone really rung or had he just been trying to escape Rose Noire?
“Well, I suppose we should give him some space for now,” Rose Noire said. “I wanted to ask you—do you think I’m to blame for all this?”
“To blame? Why?”
“Well, I was the one who brought Tawaret into the house,” she said.
“You didn’t force anyone to pick her up and attempt homicide with her,” I said.
“Yes,” Rose Noire said. “But she’s quite protective. Perhaps she sensed that Dr. Wright was a danger to you and the babies. And of course she comes from an age when people were a lot more direct about life and death. And less respectful of human life. Perhaps it was a mistake, bringing her into such a fraught situation. Of course, I didn’t know at the time it was fraught, but still—”