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XVI
The Third Friday
Knowledge, rather than opening itself up to the truth of the world, is rooted in the 'errors' of life.
Michel Foucault
Charlie deposited his laptop in his office and went for coffee and a danish but stopped in the main office on his way.
"Jodie, put on your gossip cap. Kate and I were at Grimaldi's and saw Shwayder with an attractive woman named Laurel Hamilton. Are they an item? I assumed he was married."
"Dr. Douglas, you've got to keep up! Dr. Shwayder isn't married. But I don't know anything about this Ms. Hamilton. I thought he dated a woman in the Business School; she's the dean's secretary. I only know her first name: Camille. Maybe that's over."
Charlie didn't want to push it so he just asked Jodie if she wanted a danish or something. She answered that she wouldn't say no to one, so he went off, telling himself not to forget.
When he finished his coffee and pastry Charlie rang DeVries. For a change she was in her office and he was put through.
"Good morning. I don't know if this is of any interest to you, but Kate and I stumbled on an odd connection. Jack Shwayder and Laurel Hamilton have been out at least once; we saw them at Grimaldi's. Perhaps Shwayder recommended her to Barrett as a realtor."
"Thanks, Charlie. It's always good to round out the picture. I'll keep this in mind."
Charlie didn't think DeVries had been very interested in the connection and regretted having called. He looked up the number of New Vistas and asked to speak to Hamilton.
"Ms. Hamilton, this is Charlie Douglas. I'm calling about a condo. We've not met, though we did have a little run-in at Grimaldi's when Jack Shwayder and I traded verbal jabs."
"Um, yes, Mr. Douglas, or is it Dr. Douglas? I do remember. I guess I'm surprised you called me, though I'd certainly be happy to show you some condominiums."
"What happened was I was looking at some realtors' sites on the net and I recognized your picture. I don't know any realtors nor have had any recommended, and when I saw your picture calling you seemed better than picking a name out of a hat."
To Charlie's delight Hamilton laughed and sounded more relaxed when she spoke again.
"I see; yes; I might have done the same thing. What sort of condo are you looking for?"
"Well, two bedrooms and at least one-and-a-half bathrooms, but it has to be in the same neighborhood as we're in now. We're at 57 Lower Slater Street."
"That's a very nice area. There are condos available, but I have to warn you they're pricey. How big is your house?"
"Small. It's one of the town-houses on Slater that my wife insists on calling row-houses."
"Those are very attractive, but you'll realize a significant amount less for the house than a condo in the area will cost. It's got nothing to do with value and all to do with demand."
"We'd like to look at one or two condos, and of course get a rough estimate of what we might get for the house. I have to tell you, though, we're by no means settled on this. You may well be wasting your time."
"Not to worry; that's all part of the realty business. Can we set up an appointment?"
"Do you actually have something in the area right now?"
"I have a potential I can show, really a likely sale, within a couple of blocks of your house. The only one I have that is now for sale is about ten or eleven blocks away from the lake. There are a few condos we have that are cross-listed with other realtors. Why don't we start with the likely sale and go from there?"
"Sounds good. Any day next week is fine, except Monday."
"What about this weekend?"
"That'd be fine, except for Saturday afternoon. We have something on, then."
Charlie wasn't about to explain he wouldn't give up his Saturday lunch for a condo walk-through or a bit of sleuthing.
"If you give me your home phone or cell I'll give you a call tomorrow evening. The condo will be free on Sunday and we can look at it in late morning or early afternoon."
Charlie gave her his cell number, thanked Hamilton, and rang off. He was going to call Kate and tell her about his talk with Hamilton but decided he really had to get some work done. Charlie opened his notes for the Monday class and started reviewing the assigned text. The morning slipped away and he was soon on his way to lunch.
Mort Hanson, a member of the law faculty, was at the club table and Charlie asked him whether he knew anything about the Barrett case.
"Charlie, I'm not even here, today. My wife will swear we had lunch together at home. You're hallucinating all this. Now, buy me a glass of wine to compensate me for my expert opinion."
"Mort, did you go to law school or is it genetic?"
"I'll have some shiraz, Charlie, and thanks. Now, what was the question?"
Charlie ordered two glasses of shiraz.
"I just wondered whether you privileged lot know any more about the Barrett case than I've been able to learn."
"We haven't had any hot tips from the cops, but I can tell you the university has a problem. They haven't been able to track down Wilson's only next-of-kin, a brother, I think. That means they're going to have to tidy things up themselves or let the authorities do it. Trouble is, Wilson had a savings account, owned some stock, and a good chunk of the house he bought recently, but Wilson died intestate. The university doesn't want to let any of that get away. Technically, the brother inherits the estate, and if they can't find him the whole thing could drag on for years. In the meantime, Meredith is out for the burial."
"Hmm. But you don't know anything about the investigation?"
"Just that the two detectives handling the case aren't getting anywhere. And as you know, there's been another murder; some guy who was a friend of Wilson's. Apparently there's been no progress on that either. They aren't even sure the killings are connected."
Charlie certainly didn't think he'd gotten a glass of wine's worth of information, but he forgot all about that when Jodie stopped him in the hall.
"Dr. Douglas, we just heard that Richard Dalton's been admitted to emergency. He was unconscious and I think he still is. He seems to have overdosed on something."
"Is he at the General or the Borden?"
"The Borden."
Kingsford's Borden hospital had started as a clinic incorporated into the then-new medical school. It was now much larger than when it began and served more than the university community. Borden was located at the edge of campus and Charlie got there in a few minutes. When he arrived he found Amanda in the waiting room.
"Nothing new, Charlie; he's still unconscious. The doctor came out a little while ago. They're trying to determine what he took."
Charlie sat down and he and Amanda waited.
It was over an hour later that the doctor finally came into the waiting room.
"Professor Rankin. I'm afraid your student didn't make it. He suffered a cardiac arrest about forty minutes ago. We revived him once, then it occurred again and we once more got his heart beating. Unfortunately, it happened a third time not five minutes later and then he didn't respond. We did everything we could. I am sorry."
Charlie didn't notice Amanda's reaction to the news because his own shock surprised him. He stood frozen for a moment then followed the doctor out of the waiting room and spoke to her in the hall.
"Doctor, do you think it was a deliberate overdose? I'm Professor Charlie Douglas, by the way. I knew Richard."
"I see. Well, I don't suppose there's any reason not to tell you, though I ask you to be discreet. I won't commit to what Mr. Dalton took, but it was a massive dose and possibly of more than one drug. Only an autopsy will determine that."
Charlie thanked the doctor and went back to the waiting room. Amanda looked dazed.
"Charlie, what's happening? First Barrett, now Dalton, and there was that McKay person who was a friend of Barrett's."
"Amanda; you mustn't jump to conclusions. Barrett and McKay were shot. It's almost certain Dalton did this to hi
mself - perhaps even deliberately."
Back in his office Charlie called DeVries yet again. She wasn't in so he left a message, saying in case she missed it, Richard Dalton had died of an overdose an hour earlier.
Could Dalton have been so devastated by Barrett's death that he'd take his own life? Charlie didn't see Dalton as a regular drug user who might make a mistake in how much he took. Plus the doctor had said he might have taken more than one drug. That made it sound deliberate. Charlie had understood Dalton was upset and grieved for Barrett, but he hadn't thought Dalton might be suicidal. Could someone have drugged Dalton? Perhaps slipped something in his drink and then injected him with something else when he couldn't resist?
Charlie did some half-hearted work on his notes, answered some emails, and kept an eye on the clock. On Fridays the club had TGIF, which consisted of a mini-buffet of tapas and lower prices on the house wine and beer. He walked to the club at a little before five.
Kate was waiting for Charlie at the club. While he got them wine - not the house stuff - she cruised the tapas table. Like Charlie, she was going to let the snacks do for dinner. When he got back to where she was sitting, he put down their glasses of wine and went to get a plate for himself. Seated, he told Kate about Dalton.
"That's either a very strange coincidence or he did it deliberately because of Barrett."
"He was pretty broken up, but enough to kill himself? Let's say Barrett's and McKay's killer wanted him out of the way. An overdose would be one way to do it and not have it look like a murder epidemic. And what more likely than a student overdosing? Even if he had no history of it, many would think he misjudged on his first try. The thing is, the doctor said more than one drug killed him. Someone might have spiked his drink with one drug and then injected him with a lethal dose of another. Or maybe it was all taken orally; that would make it less likely someone else did it."
The main floor lounge of the faculty club was laid out very much as was the main dining room upstairs, except that instead of tables for four there were groupings of four and six wing-back chairs around small tables. There were only two or three sets of two chairs with a small table between them. People tended to gather in groups of four or six. Charlie and Kate had taken one of the pairs of chairs by a window and were interrupted by a man on his way back from the bar to a group sitting in a corner of the room.
"Hello, Charlie, and you must be Kate. All by yourselves? Or are you celebrating an anniversary or something?"
Kate gave him one of her cooler looks. "No, just old lovers having a drink."
Charlie smiled and let that be answer enough and after an awkward moment the man continued across the room to his friends.
"Who was that intrusive jerk?"
"That's Stephen Mason; he's in math - well, statistics, really. He's cursed by being humorless and insensitive. He sometimes lunched with Barrett."
"He was a friend of Barrett's?"
"Not really. He supported Barrett's crusades, but I don't think they were friends. He's into something called 'presentism'; something he got from Barrett. It's a view that holds that only judgments about the present can be true or false, not judgments about the past or future. I asked him once just what 'the present' is, and he gave me a complicated story about physics supporting the view that there are temporal quanta, so the present is a single quantum, what he called a 'chronon.' I pointed out that no human mind could conceivably make a judgment in a single chronon, so there couldn't be true or false judgments about the present either. Then I asked him if it could be that the present is the experienced present, what William James called 'the specious present' and which he claimed had a duration of about twelve seconds. Mason just said I didn't understand. Anyway, never mind him. What's your gut-feel about Dalton?"
"I think someone killed him; probably because he knew too much - whether or not he knew what he knew, if you see what I mean."
"I think it's likely you're right. Want to hit the tapas table again?"
"No, not really. I think I'd rather go home."
When they got to the house Charlie checked the phone and there was a voice-message from DeVries. She had left a number he could call until ten. Charlie quickly dialed.
"Hello, this is Charlie; I'm returning your call."
"I'm glad you got in early. I wanted to ask you, what's your take on Dalton and drugs?"
"A surprise. I wouldn't have thought he used them at all; maybe a joint at a party."
"Everyone else I've spoken to agrees with your impression. Now, what's your best guess as to what Richard Dalton might have known that someone didn't want revealed?"
"I don't think it was so much a matter of Dalton knowing something in particular. I think it was more a matter of him being able to connect people and perhaps having been privy to a discussion someone would prefer not be recounted. If Dalton was killed, it was because of something he knew or could put together but likely didn't know he knew."
"I am again impressed, Charlie. That's pretty much what Dan and I concluded. Trouble is, we still don't know what killed him, and depending on what it was its administration by someone else may be plausible or implausible. The autopsy is being rushed, but it still won't be done till Tuesday or Wednesday. I will let you know whatever I am able to tell you. One last thing: Richard Dalton's closet held not only his clothes but also some women's clothing. The medicine cabinet held mascara and lipsticks and one drawer was stuffed with women's underwear. So either he was a cross-dresser or a woman was staying with him some of the time. We're watching the apartment, but no one has gone in. Do you know if he was involved with anyone before his involvement with Dr. Wilson?"
"Sorry; I've no idea, but I can ask around. But not till Monday."
After hanging up Charlie told Kate about the conversation.
"So they're suspicious, too. This is getting curiouser and curiouser, don't you think?"
"Well, as you said, it's either a hell of a coincidence that Dalton should o.d. just now or likely another murder. Of course, it could well have been deliberate."
They both settled in with their books after Kate made decaf. Later, Charlie mused again before sleep. Barrett and Dalton had been lovers for a while. Could Dalton have been killed because someone suspected Barrett told him too much about the book deal? Or was it likelier that Dalton was heartbroken enough to do himself in?