The Spire (28 page)

'That would have been a waste,' Darrow answered with a smile. 'Think he knows what's going on''

'With us' I'm not sure. But if we continue like we did the other night, he will.'

Within this comment, Darrow sensed, lurked a question about their relationship and one unspoken aspect of it: in other circumstances, that Farr was Darrow's provost would be inherently problematic. Tilting his head, Darrow asked, 'What would you like to do tonight''

Taylor bit her lip in pretended thought. 'Well,' she said at length, 'I suppose I could always shower at the museum of bad taste you call home'there's a change of clothes in my duffel bag. What do
you
want to do''

Leaning across the net, Darrow kissed her. 'I was hoping for a rematch,' he told her.

AS SHE STEPPED into the shower after him, Darrow gazed at her in open appreciation. Everything about her, he thought, was beautiful: her face, her elegant neck, rounded breasts with brown areolas, flat stomach, womanly hips that tapered from the black fur in the midst to long, slender legs. An athlete, he thought again, or a runway model'both and neither. She was uniquely Taylor Farr.

She looked into his face, not shy. 'Have you never showered with a girl before''

Not since Lee, he thought. 'It's as I said, Taylor. Sometimes you don't leave room for anyone else.'

'For me,' she answered simply, 'there's no one else in the way.'

After the shower, they slipped into bed.

The sheets felt crisp and cool, Taylor's skin warm. Darrow's lips found her stomach, her nipples, the hollow of her neck. He could feel her breath catch, hear the soft murmur of desire in her throat. When at last he entered her, she spoke his name.

After that, the only sounds were not speech but guides to the movements of their bodies, synchronized by instinct until both shuddered as one. Eyes opening, Taylor looked up into his face. 'Mark Darrow,' she murmured. 'So nice of you to find me after I grew up.'

QUIET, T AYLOR LAY in his arms.

As he held her, Darrow found himself remembering doing this with Lee, lazy Sunday mornings at their town house in Boston. He felt a moment of confusion: the tug of past loyalties, eroding the sweetness of this moment with Taylor; and yet the sense that, by replicating an act of tenderness he had once shared with his wife'and, at last, by wishing to'he was slipping further away from the past. 'What are you thinking'' Taylor asked.

'Many things. Including about you. I was also remembering Boston, and the place I used to live.'

'And where all your things still are.'

Not just his things, Darrow thought; as Taylor's remark implied, the house was filled with memories. He supposed that was why he never brought another woman there. 'Speaking of Boston,' Taylor told him, 'I had some news yesterday. The Museum of Fine Arts has offered me an interview. Seems they're developing an interest in post-modernism, after all.'

Darrow was surprised. He propped his elbow on the pillow, cradling his head in his hand. 'I thought you didn't like Boston.'

Taylor smiled. 'Now that there's some interest there, I've decided I just don't
know
Boston. So I told them I'd come in.'

'When are you going''

'I'm not sure yet. We're still working that out.'

Darrow thought for a moment. 'Why don't we go together. My former partners want me to consult on a couple of cases I turned over, and I owe my town house an inspection. If you like, I can try to fit my dates with yours.'

Taylor gave him an inquiring look. 'Is that something you really want to do''

'Sure,' Darrow said, even as he realized that they might be crossing another bridge. 'I can show you around a little. It might be fun for us to get away from Wayne.'

Taylor kissed him. 'As long as you can find us a place to stay.'

THAT AFTERNOON, as was now his custom, Darrow visited Steve Tillman at the penitentiary. Speaking through the slits in the Plexiglas, Steve asked sardonically, 'So how was
your
week''

Darrow did not blink. 'Fine, Steve. And yours''

Steve gave him a crooked smile. 'They're great believers in structure here. We're a 'special needs' community'surprises might unsettle the student body. As usual, I've been using my leisure time to read.'

'Anything in particular''

'My current area of concentration,' Steve said with mock gravity, 'is twentieth-century Europe. Specifically, the rise of the Nazis in Weimar Germany. The topics include the role of World War I, the Versailles Treaty, inflation, economic collapse, and, of course, anti-Semitism. Hanging over all this, naturally, is the specter of the Holocaust'the central question being 'Why Germany'' A lot for me to think about, wouldn't you say''

However ironic, this disquisition was so unlike anything that might have issued from his college friend that, again, Darrow was overcome by a sense of waste. 'Actually, I've been thinking a lot about the Hall case.'

Steve stared at him. 'I
always
do, Mark. For you, it's optional.' He paused, then spoke more evenly. 'Don't think I held a grudge about what you told the police. That part you couldn't help. What sticks in my craw is that you just disappeared'fewer visits, then letters, then fewer letters, then nothing. You did a very thorough job of moving on. Maybe that's what you're best at.'

Stung, Darrow tried to distance himself from his own emotions. 'Sometimes I wish I were better at it. But about drifting away from you, no excuses. Except maybe for the last couple of years, when it felt like I was seeing the world through a very thick pane of glass.'

'Like Plexiglas'' Steve gibed. 'From where I sit, you seem pretty okay to me. Better than you did when you first showed up.'

Darrow waited a moment. 'Let me ask you something, Steve. Do you know anything about Angela keeping a diary''

'No. What was in it''

'I don't know. But her mother says she kept one. If so, it's disappeared. Which is also what Angela herself began doing, late at night, in the weeks before she died. Was any of that time spent with you''

Steve inhaled, eyes fixed on Darrow. 'Mark,' he said slowly, 'I don't have a fucking clue about any of this. If Angela and I had been screwing in the dorm, you'd have known about it.'

'Yeah, I guess so.'

'Guess'' Steve's laugh, though brief, held a hint of humor. 'How many times were both of us in and out of each other's rooms' Remember when I walked in on you and Connie Coolman''

Darrow smiled. 'That
was
a bad night'for Connie, and for me. She was so embarrassed she completely lost interest.'

'Connie was always old-fashioned. Guess she didn't count on
two
guys seeing her naked.' Steve's expression darkened. 'Wish you'd barged in the night I was with Angela. By now all three of us might have been able to laugh about it.'

The sad image silenced Darrow for a moment. 'Before that night,' he asked, 'had you ever called Angela at home''

'No. I don't think I even had her number.'

'Then how did you ask her to the party''

'I was at the club when she was tending bar. I had a couple of drinks, and it began to seem like a good idea.' Steve looked down. 'This may sound pathetic, but I still didn't know her all that well. I don't even know what I had in mind. We just seemed to like each other.'

Darrow nodded. 'That fall, I don't remember you going out with anyone. Were you''

'No,' Steve answered curtly. 'Maybe you've forgotten, what with all you've had to think about in life. But I spent a whole damn year brooding over Laurie Shilts dumping me for that asshole Betts. If anyone held a grudge, it should have been me.'

At once Darrow remembered this: the hurt of losing Laurie had compounded the wound inflicted by the sudden end of Steve's football career, accelerating his downward spiral. 'Have any idea why Joe was so pissed off that night''

'About me and Angela' Betts didn't need a reason. It only took a drink or two to release his inner jerk.'

'Did they have some sort of relationship''

'Not that I know about. Betts was still with Laurie, remember' I couldn't figure out why he wanted Angela. Except maybe that she was with me.'

'Maybe so. But I ran into Laurie that night, Steve. She and Joe had just broken up.'

'No shit' Did she say why''

Darrow hesitated. 'Not directly. But for her part, Laurie was very clear that she and Joe were through.'

Intent, Steve pondered this. 'Then maybe it
was
about Angela. Guess you'd have to ask Laurie. Any idea where she is''

'No. But I could find out easily enough. To escape our development office, you have to enter the witness protection program.'

Steve did not smile. 'If you find her,' he said softly, 'tell Laurie I said hi.'

To Darrow, the statement was at once wistful and bitter. 'I know you've gone over this a thousand times,' he said. 'But do you have any idea at all why Joe said he'd seen you outside the dorm''

'Besides that he's spiteful enough to lie'' Steve's voice became hard. 'I've thought about that for fifteen years'my brilliant lawyer made quite a point of asking who would have killed her, then carried her body all the way to the Spire. But he never gave the jury an answer. Thanks to him, I've had the time to develop one on my own. Joe Betts.'

Though Darrow had been expecting this, hearing it spoken aloud was jarring. 'It's a theory,' he allowed. 'But Joe would have had to maintain an insane level of anger for several hours, wait for her outside the dorm, then strangle her. That's obsessive to the point of madness. It also raises the question of where you imagine Angela was going.'

A new brightness made Steve's eyes glint. 'Still, I can see I'm not alone. You've thought about it, too. So who strikes you as likeliest to kill a woman' Betts or me''

Darrow did not answer. 'Is there any way that you could be innocent and Joe still be telling the truth''

'How' Because I blacked out, and sort of sleepwalked out of the dorm' Or maybe wanted a gulp of air at the same time Betts did' Or maybe I followed Angela in a drunken stupor to the Spire, changed my mind about killing her, then left before somebody else did. And then literally forgot about it.' Steve shook his head in seeming bewilderment. 'Of course, I forgot a lot of things that night. The last thing I remember, or
believe
I remember, is Angela saying she had to leave. And what sense does that make''

'I don't know. There are a few things about this no one can make sense of.'

'One person can,' Steve said succinctly. 'The guy who actually killed her.
He
knows everything. Including why he did it.'

That night, alone again, Darrow pondered this. He could not seem to sleep.

T

HE FIRST TELEPHONE CALL OF D ARROW'S WORKDAY SURPRISED him.

'Mark,' the thin voice said, 'this is Clark Durbin.'

'Hello, Clark,' Darrow said phlegmatically, then waited for whatever might come next.

Faced with Darrow's coolness, Durbin sounded shaky. 'I wanted to congratulate you. I mean, you're my successor. It feels odd we haven't talked.'

'Not so odd,' Darrow answered in an even tone. 'You're accused of stealing nearly a million dollars. That's why I'm here. Given that, I have a say in whether you're indicted. It's not as though you're passing me the baton so I can run a victory lap.'

A brief silence ensued. 'That's why I need to talk to you,' Durbin said.

The simple statement held a pleading note. 'Under the circumstances,' Darrow said, 'I can't meet with you alone. There can't be any misunderstanding of what either of us may say.'

Durbin exhaled. 'All right.'

Darrow glanced at his calendar. 'I've got an hour free at ten. Meet me at my office'I'll ask Lionel to join us. Bring a lawyer, if you like. In fact, I'd advise it.'

'All right,' Durbin repeated. He sounded like a beaten man.

Hanging up, Darrow called Farr. 'Durbin wants to meet with me,' he said.

'No surprise,' Farr said with an edge of disdain. 'He's been insisting, however incongruously, on his innocence. You're a new audience, potentially the difference between jail and mere penury. No doubt he wants to appeal to whatever quantum of mercy you haven't lavished on Steve Tillman. The only question is whether he'll try to make you feel like you're about to execute Bambi, or whether he'll float all the sympathetic reasons he chose to steal our money. Perhaps he was drunk.'

The remarks were so caustic and so comprehensive that Darrow laughed aloud. 'Ten o'clock,' he said. 'My office. After that you can tell me which president of Caldwell is the bigger fool.'

TO D ARROW'S SURPRISE, Durbin came alone.

Darrow sat behind his desk; Durbin, in one of two wing chairs facing him. Farr settled in the other, studying Durbin while the former president focused on his successor. Always slight, Durbin looked diminished, his hair dyed an unconvincing black, heightening the contrast with his thin but sagging face. With a tepid smile, Durbin said, 'I can't help but think about the first time the three of us met together. Strange, isn't it''

Darrow thought so, too. Then, he had been hardly more than a boy, sickened and confused, grateful for Durbin's kindness; now, at least in theory, he was the most powerful man in the room, Durbin his supplicant. 'Well,' Darrow said, 'at least this time no one's dead. But the school's been shafted. If you were me, what would
you
do about you''

Darrow caught the flicker of Farr's arid smile, perhaps at the toughness of his prot'g', perhaps because the reversal of fortune was so complete. But the chill look in Farr's blue eyes suggested that he was not amused by the subject of the meeting'or, Darrow surmised, by the fact that it was he who had once saved Durbin's presidency. Still watching Darrow, Durbin leaned slightly forward, fingers steepled in a precatory gesture. 'No matter what you have been led to think,' he said slowly, 'I did not do this.'

'Clark,' Darrow answered softly, 'there's a paper trail that followed you here. The orders are from your e-mail. Money went to your bank accounts''

'I didn't send those e-mails,' Durbin interrupted. 'I didn't open those accounts''