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XII
The Second Monday
Doctrine links individuals to certain types of utterance while consequently barring them from all others.
Michel Foucault
Charlie was at the department by nine. He set up his laptop and then went to get coffee and a danish. He was back by quarter after. He checked his email, deleting spam and answering messages. McKay was precisely on time. Charlie invited him to sit down.
"We should start with some basics. You said you needed two make-up courses to enter the M.A. program. Do you plan to do both this term or first one and then the other?"
"I want to start with the epistemology course."
"Have you done any reading in epistemology before now?"
"Not really. I got interested in it when I read a book on the sociology of knowledge. I'm intrigued by the idea that our assessments of situations are determined by historical factors, that there's no objective truth to be learned. I read military history and have puzzled how different authors can present the same campaigns as successes and failures."
"So you've moved into philosophy because of questions about historical veracity."
"Yes. Barrett thought I was going down some slippery slope into postmodern relativism. Frankly, I'd come to have reservations about doing the epistemology course with him because he seemed unwilling to even consider that perspective is all-important in doing history. We had a lot of arguments. I was always defending authors who tried to give a fresh look at a particular campaign or war, and he was always defending authors he thought got it right."
Charlie was impressed with what McKay said, and thought it interesting that his concern with epistemology was basically the same as Foucault's. It must be galling for someone who's taken part in a successful or failed campaign, even as a mercenary, to find it represented differently by the media or some scholar. McKay's interest seemed a legitimate spur to doing some philosophy. He didn't think McKay would find the answers he sought, but he was sure he could help McKay to a better understanding of how perceptions and assessment are shaped by influences that are usually invisible to those they affect.
"That makes me wonder why you approached Barrett about the make-up course."
"First of all, I knew him before either of us came to Kingsford, and it wasn't just me going to him. After one argument he said I argued like a philosopher and that I should think about enrolling for graduate work. He knew I had time and wasn't hurting for money. I didn't take it too seriously at the time, but thought more about it later. I went to the administration people in the graduate school and found out what I needed to do. I told Barrett and he worked up an epistemology reading-course for me. We left the ethics for later."
At that point Charlie knew in his bones that the list he'd found in Barrett's office had nothing to do with the proposed course. It was about something else, though that didn't mean it didn't involve McKay.
"I think this might work. I'll draw up a reading list. You come back Friday at this same time. Feel free to bring a list of books that interest you. Then we'll put something together. The way I do reading-courses is that I give you some titles to read and we meet once a week for a couple of hours and discuss the readings. When you finish the assigned readings, you do a term paper. I'll give you a mark based on the term paper. If that sounds okay to you, I'll see you Friday."
Since that was all they had to talk about, Charlie thought he'd take a small chance.
"Is there anything else you'd like to discuss? I might have some suggestions about the ethics course and who to approach."
"I'd like to wait till I'm well into the epistemology course before doing anything about the ethics one, but I appreciate the offer. There is just one thing I suppose I should mention. I know you had your differences with Barrett, but I hope that my friendship with him isn't going to be a problem. As far as philosophy goes, I don't know enough for him to have influenced me much at all. As for the personal side, we were friends, but I don't think there's anything about that side of things that will get in the way of working with you."
"Chet, if I may call you Chet, nothing to do with Barrett and me will get in our way in the academic context. What you've said so far has impressed me regarding your motivation and interest, and Barrett just doesn't figure into any of that. If you ever feel there's a problem, please be frank with me."
McKay thanked Charlie and got up to go, saying he'd be back on Friday. After he left, Charlie pondered for a few minutes and decided that not only was McKay's interest genuine, but there was more to the man than he'd thought. Charlie was surprised to see it was after eleven and thought he'd just have time to write a couple of letters before lunch. He didn't want to think about his class. A bit on impulse, Charlie called DeVries.
"My meeting with Chet McKay went well and I'm going to do the course with him. He impressed me, and I confirmed that he and Barrett met before either came to Kingsford. I learned that Barrett was partly responsible for McKay starting on the M.A. program. The only thing a bit out of the ordinary, though to be expected, was that he said he hoped his friendship with Barrett wouldn't be a problem. Of course I reassured him it wouldn't."
"Well, maybe you'll learn something later."
"Right, but if you've got a minute I'd like to quickly review what I've put together: Barrett and McKay met when McKay sat in on a course Barrett gave at a community college. Barrett then came to Meredith and rented that apartment on the water. Somewhere along the line Barrett got involved with Milford and she moved in with him. Then McKay turned up in Kingsford. Milford, from what she said, resented McKay. Barrett had parties for some students and McKay seems to have been a permanent fixture at the parties. From what I know about his status in the department, Dalton comes into the picture some time after Milford and McKay. Things go along for some months, then things changed radically, and I think this is the right order: Barrett comes out of the closet or gets converted or is seduced or whatever and gets sexually involved with Dalton. I don't know what McKay thought about that, but Milford isn't having any of it. She moves out and buys a house in Coulton. Barrett, perhaps worrying about being too visible in his downtown apartment, also moves out and buys a house, but he can afford one in Kingsford. Then the holiday break comes along, Barrett meets someone in his office, and gets himself shot. Okay so far?"
"Yes; Dan or I could have given you the same summary. You've learned some details we didn't have and we know a number of things you don't, but we're on the same page."
"Well, if we are, then you and Bolster have the same problem I have, which is that there are four possibilities: Milford shot Barrett for betraying her; Dalton shot Barrett because of some tiff; McKay shot Barrett for some reason; or someone we don't know about shot him. Milford's motive looks the most straightforward. Dalton's is not only less clear, I for one don't think he's the killer. McKay's motive remains a mystery, as does that of the possible someone else."
"Top marks, Charlie, but let me ask you this: is there anyone in the department, faculty or student, you think might be the killer? The reason I ask has to do with access to Dr. Wilson's office when the building was locked. Otherwise, it looks as if Dr. Wilson had to let his killer into the building."
"Yes; what does suggest Barrett letting someone in is that it's very unlikely he'd go to his office during the break. And McKay would need to be let in, unless Barrett gave him a key to the building. You might ask if Barrett got an extra key; we're all given only one."
"We did ask; he didn't get an extra key. But he could have had one made. Some locksmiths aren't fussy about 'Do Not Copy' keys."
"As far as the department goes, I can't think of anyone, faculty or student, who'd shoot Barrett. I might consider someone getting into a fight with him and inadvertently killing him - you know, he hits his head on a desk or something - but I really can't see anyone cold-bloodedly shooting him. What about Milford?"
"We did consider Ms. Milford, but we don't think she could have don
e it. I shouldn't be giving you specifics, but the medical examiner believes Dr. Wilson was killed some forty-eight hours before you noticed the smell on Tuesday. That means he was killed on Sunday, the thirty-first, probably in mid or late afternoon. Ms. Milford's neighbors vouch for her having been hard at work in her house during the critical time. She would have had to drive up from Coulton and then drive back, and we accept what the neighbors say because she apparently made a nuisance of herself on New Year's Eve borrowing a ladder and various other tools from them. In fact, we even thought perhaps she'd worked at being noticed in order to establish an alibi when Dr. Wilson was killed. The problem with that is we've not been able to connect her solidly to anyone who might have done the deed."
"So it's McKay, Dalton, or A. N. Other? Does McKay have an alibi for that afternoon?"
"No. He says on Sunday he slept in and had a late lunch in his apartment. He didn't see anyone until he went out in the evening to a New Year's Eve party. Mr. McKay lives in a studio apartment and the apartment is next to one that's empty, so his nearest neighbor is a well down the hall. No one on his floor saw him that day."
"What about the mercenary angle?"
"He was in campaigns mostly in Africa. He also several times worked as a weapons or tactics instructor. He's now been in Kingsford nearly a year, though, apparently not doing much at all."
"How did he get started as a mercenary?"
"Mr. McKay went to Africa with a buddy not six weeks after getting his B.A. He was trained by a legendary old Cuban who made a reputation for himself in Angola. He's thirty-eight, so has been a gun for hire for a good while. His work for his B.A. focused on military history and one of his old professors expected him to go for a commission in the armed forces. Instead he went right to whatever hot-spot there was at the time."
Later, Charlie wasn't sure but he thought that, if anything, there were more students in the room than there had been the previous Monday. His initial reaction was to feel pleased at their interest, but then he thought of the work involved. The department fielded seven or eight courses graduate courses each year; the M.A.s had to do six half-courses and a short thesis for their degree, and the Ph.D students four half-courses and a substantial dissertation. The group of students Charlie was facing was out of line with usual enrolments. He'd expected that given the topic, he'd draw three or four, and had been concerned that he wouldn't draw any. Now he was looking at reading and marking some eighteen papers and meeting with several students each week to follow up on discussions.
"All right, it seems that everyone's come back after last week's meeting and perhaps a couple are here for the first time. I'd like a show of hands of how many are just sitting in."
No one raised a hand.
"Okay, let's have a show of hands of those here for the first time."
Two hands went up.
"How many of you have actually registered for the course?"
Charlie counted fifteen hands.
"I see. Well, here's the acid test. How many of you have bought the text for the course?"
The same fifteen hands went up.
"I'm rather surprised. Given the analytic tradition of this department, I'd really like to hear from one or more of you why you've chosen to do a course on Foucault."
Several students put up their hands and Charlie nodded at a woman he thought was first.
"I've studied Quine and Strawson, Davidson and Kripke, Dennett and Searle, but I know nothing about continental philosophy. When I tell friends from other departments that I'm doing philosophy they ask me what I think of Foucault or Gadamer or Derrida and I have to admit I've not read them. The closest I got was a critical article Searle did on Derrida."
Charlie noted the nods of agreement from others. He called on another student who'd raised his hand.
"Everybody I talk to outside this department asks me about Foucault and Rorty when I say I'm in philosophy, and I've never yet been assigned anything by either of them."
There were more nods.
"Okay, I get the picture, so here's how we'll proceed. You can all stay, but we'll go with just a term-paper. I won't be marking weekly discussion notes. For your part, you come to class prepared: you read the assignment and write your comments so you'll have something to contribute to the discussion. Everybody understand? Any questions?"
There were no questions and the mood seemed right to just start in.
"Perhaps the place to start is with what I mentioned last week: Foucault's question about the point of intellectual activity and his belief that it must be to learn how to think differently. That captures something essential to his thought. We have to start with the idea that his objective was to push the limits of human reflection as far as he could, to bring novelty to philosophy and other intellectual pursuits."
Before he realized it, Charlie had spoken for some forty minutes. He caught himself and explained that since they'd not done any reading, there was little point in attempting a productive discussion. He assigned the reading for the next meeting and let them go.
Charlie and Kate went to Sandoval's. When they got to the restaurant Derek wasn't there and they were served by Jackie, a pleasant woman, but one who didn't know Charlie's various preferences the way Derek did. She brought him butter with the bread-basket and he had to ask for olive oil and Kate had to remind him to tell Jackie that he wanted his fish cooked through. Then Jackie was slow in bringing an ice-bucket for the New Zealand sauvignon-blanc Charlie had ordered, explaining she'd assumed they wouldn't want it too cold. Charlie liked his whites well-chilled and didn't like being second-guessed.
Kate listened avidly while Charlie related everything McKay and DeVries had said. He also told her a little about the class. Kate focused on DeVries' remarks.
"What it comes to is that they don't have a suspect."
"They don't. McKay was obviously of interest initially, but I don't think they've found a motive or reason to focus on him, other than his being a mercenary. Milford had the likeliest motive, but Bolster and DeVries think her alibi is good. One scenario is a tryst between McKay and Milford, her establishing an alibi and he shooting Barrett, but I've seen no reason to tie up McKay and Milford like that."
"I just don't know. I'm still not sure about her. I'm probably making too much of how she looked, but there was something false. She knew we were going to see her; she could have cleaned up a bit. It's also a little odd that she was so ready to talk to us. I called her on the spur of the moment, but I didn't really think she'd go for it. Maybe she did just want to talk, or to distance herself from McKay and we provided an opportunity."
"That part about distancing herself from McKay is perceptive; didn't occur to me. If they are entangled and McKay shot Barrett, Milford would want that."
When Charlie and Kate got home both headed for their respective current books. As Charlie read his, he began thinking that real sleuthing wasn't as much fun as in the mysteries he read. Somehow, Rendell's Wexford and James' Dalgliesh had the sort of conversation he'd had with DeVries but came away from them with new ideas; Parker's Spenser and Sandford's Davenport didn't have a lot of conversations but got results from rattling cages. All he'd gotten from talking to DeVries was the feeling that she and Bolster didn't have a clue, literally, as to who'd shot Barrett. Neither did he. Maybe, like in the books, somebody else would get killed and connections would emerge.
"Charlie, you're just staring at that book."
"Oh, I know; I was just thinking that trying to make some headway on Barrett's murder isn't at all like the cases I read about. Bolster and DeVries seem to be at a dead-end and I can't think of anything that might help. And you know, Barrett's death is sort of receding; it's more like an academic problem now than a practical one. It's sad that his being gone doesn't seem to matter much. So far Dalton's the only one I've spoken to who is grieving for Barrett. Shwayder was nasty about his death, but I don't think it was because of feeling a great loss. I expected McKay to express some regret, but his onl
y references to Barrett were about the course and how he hoped their friendship wouldn't mess things up with me. And of course Milford is probably glad he's dead. Unless something else happens that's clearly connected to his murder, the whole thing might just fade away."
"What else do you think could happen?"
"I'm not serious, but it occurred to me someone else might get killed and then Bolster and DeVries would find a connection between the two murders and come up with a suspect."
"That's awful!"
"I know; it's just that in all my mysteries there never seems to be just one murder."
"Well, let's hope this isn't like your mysteries. Anyway, I'm going to bed."
"I'll be up shortly; I want to watch the late news."
As usual, the news was doctored more to entertain than to inform. Charlie stood it until the first commercial and then turned it off. Not yet ready for bed, he sat down and wrote up notes on what he'd learned so far about Barrett's death. He kept things brief and was struck by how little it came to. No wonder Bolster and DeVries weren't getting anywhere; he doubted they had much more. One thing that struck Charlie was that Barrett's life before his appointment to the department at Meredith remained vague. Charlie booted up his laptop and Googled Barrett. Aside from his relatively few publications and previous jobs, there were few hits and nothing noteworthy. Likely Barrett had been careful about personal information, just as Charlie was and most people he knew were. Charlie next tried the web-site where students ranked their professors. He was again disappointed. There were only eleven postings for Barrett; four favorable, the rest critical.
Shutting down the laptop Charlie let his mind wander, hoping something might come to him. After a while he found that the only thing that kept coming up was that list of books. It then struck Charlie that there was one thing the titles had in common: with the exception of von Clausewitz' book, they were all very old and early editions would be valuable. As for the Principles of War, a signed copy could be worth a lot. Maybe that's what linked Barrett and McKay, regardless of how they first got together; maybe they owned or had access to some collectible, and no doubt costly, books.
Excited about his new idea, Charlie booted the laptop again and searched for one of the titles he remembered from the list, Thomas Aquinas' Summa Theologica. Most of the entries he found had to do with the book's contents and importance, but he came across one that listed an edition to be auctioned by Christie's. The estimated range for a successful bid, converted from pounds sterling, ran from $114,940 to $164, 200 dollars. That convinced Charlie he was onto something. He had to check the other titles.
Barrett and McKay had talked a lot about books. Charlie initially thought that had to do with their respective interests, but now it looked as if they'd had a common interest: valuable editions. Therefore, Barrett's meeting with someone over the break and his murder probably had to do with the books on the list rather than something about Barrett himself. McKay likely was the connection between Barrett and the books. Barrett's getting shot, then, meant that McKay too was in danger, unless he was himself the killer.
It now seemed fairly clear that neither Dalton nor any other student were involved with Barrett's death. The killer was someone who'd been dealing with Barrett or the two of them. Tomorrow Charlie would call DeVries and tell her about the list. He had little doubt he now had a handle on what had happened. And it most likely wasn't over.
The adrenaline-surge caused by the realization about the list suddenly wore off and Charlie decided to go to bed. He'd search the internet for the rest of the books tomorrow.
As he was dropping off to sleep, Charlie thought that the most probable scenario was that whoever had killed Barrett would be on to McKay next. Bolster and DeVries needed to keep a close eye on McKay. He'd call DeVries first thing in the morning. That was more important than looking up the value of the other books.