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XVIII
The Third Monday
The political question…is not error, illusion, alienated consciousness or ideology; it is truth itself.
Michel Foucault
Charlie awoke thinking he had a class today; not much time to dwell on the murders. He got up, showered, prepared coffee for Kate, and went to the department. He went for coffee and a danish and thought he'd call Hamilton a little after nine. Today's class was the first full-fledged seminar. Definitely no wine at lunch; he had to be in top form.
"Ms. Hamilton? Charlie Douglas. I was wondering if you could meet me for lunch at the faculty club. I realize it's short notice, but it'd great if you can make it."
"I'd be delighted. The only thing is I'll have to leave no later than quarter-after-one; I have a showing at one-thirty."
"No problem. Why don't we meet there at noon sharp. I'll be there a little early in case you are."
Charlie was reviewing his notes when Jennifer Pullen knocked on his door.
"Dr. Douglas; I'm sorry to bother you, but if you've got a minute I'd like to talk to you."
Charlie invited her in and noted that she closed the door before sitting down.
"When you asked me about Wilson I felt you were very understanding. I just need to get a few things sorted out about Rich Dalton. I didn't realize how much I'd miss him."
"Certainly, Jennifer. What's worrying you?"
"There are some nasty stories going around about Rich. The trouble is that thanks to some of the questions the police asked about who might have been staying with him, it got out that he had women's clothing in his apartment."
"I did know about the clothing, but assumed he was seeing someone who stayed over."
"No; that's just it. He wasn't seeing anyone. I knew from before that he wasn't going with anybody. At first I thought that was odd because he was a good-looking guy. Then I realized he just wasn't interested, if you know what I mean. We started talking when he got together with Wilson; I think it was all new to him. It was like he'd learned about sex for the first time. I think he felt comfortable with me. At first he was evasive, only wondering what people would say if they learned he was in a relationship with a man, but it soon emerged the man was Wilson. That really put me off, but for his sake I didn't let it show. Later he told me he wanted to try cross-dressing, to see if there was something he was missing about himself. I felt so sorry for him but didn't let on. Anyway, we went to a mall and I bought stuff for him. At first I felt very strange, then I kind of got into it, then later I felt strange again, but I helped him. I told the salespeople I was buying for my sister, who was two sizes bigger than me. We got two different outfits and some lipstick. The shoes were tough because he couldn't try them on. I made a good guess and picked out low-heel pairs that fit pretty well. The wig was easy; we pretended to joke around and I tried a couple on him. That was the only time we did anything like that."
"Did he go out dressed as a woman?"
"Yes, but he didn't go to gay bars or anything like that. He'd go to the mall and walk around or at most to a coffee-shop. He did it just to do it, you know, not to meet up with someone. I'm sorry to lay all of this on you, but I needed to get it off my chest and it's important the police don't waste time looking for a non-existent girl-friend. I just can't tell them myself, so I thought you…"
"Don't worry about it, Jennifer. I'll make sure the detectives get this information."
"Wilson's death shook him badly; it made him feel left alone. I couldn't see Rich going to gay bars, you know, trying to pair up with someone. The thing with Wilson was a real turn in his life and he didn't know how to go on by himself. Am I making sense? I don't see what he'd do after Wilson's death; he never struck me as interested in sex for its own sake; he was more like a woman that way. It's sad, but the police shouldn't make more of his death than it was: a man who glimpsed a different way of life and had it taken away."
"I think you're being perceptive, Jennifer, and I agree with you. I'll talk to the detectives. As for the talk about Dalton, ignore it. It'll be done soon and it can't hurt him now."
Pullen thanked Charlie and left and he dialed DeVries' number. She wasn't in and he left a message, saying he'd be leaving his office at eleven-forty-five and wouldn't be back but would be home at five or a little after. At a quarter to twelve Charlie went to the club.
"Ms. Hamilton; glad you could make it."
"Please, Dr. Douglas, call me Laurel."
"Okay, Laurel, and I'm Charlie."
Charlie had reserved a table earlier and when seated he offered Hamilton a glass of wine; she declined because of her showing and they ordered the day's special entrée.
"Your wife didn't like the condo."
"Hey, don't we have to talk about the weather for a few minutes first? But no, she didn't. She found it unappealing and was put off by how much we'd have to come up with and how much more we'd be out per month. I've been undecided about the whole condo thing and I have to say I wasn't won over either."
"So you don't want to look at any more?"
"Well, I wanted to bring you to lunch to thank you for your time and to ease into it, but that's right; I don't think we do."
"I don't blame you at all. You have an attractive and comfortable town-house that suits you both and it's in a great area. I don't see that you'd be ahead moving into a condo. It'd be different if I could get you $325,000 for your house and you bought a condo for $200,000. That, though, would mean moving to the west or south side of Kingsford. When I saw your house I didn't think it was going to work, so lunch is icing on the cake."
"We haven't eaten yet and we're out of conversation?"
"Oh, I don't think so; I think you're curious about me and Barrett Wilson."
"You're scary!"
"No, it's just that if I were in your place I would be, too. I don't know if you and Barrett were close, but I'll be frank: I didn't like him. I found the house for him, and it wasn't easy because he had several requirements. I made a good commission, though. He invited me to two or three of these little parties he had for students - or rather to these dual gatherings he had. He'd invite some students and park them all in the living room, then he and Chet McKay and I and a student named Rich would have our own little gathering in his study. Mostly he and Chet talked. I first went because he asked me and we'd not settled the house business yet, and I also had someone looking for an apartment like his. Later I went because Chet would be there. Finally, Chet asked me out for lunch and wouldn't you know it, Barrett came, too. We did that a few times, then I gave up."
"You liked Chet McKay?"
"He was the sexiest man I'd met for some time. I thought the attraction was mutual, but he only half-worked at it. I expected he'd take me out, without Barrett, but he never did. I'm not even sure if Barrett came along of his own accord or Chat asked him to.
"What were Barrett's requirements?"
"He wanted a house in a quiet neighborhood; one with mostly older people - no kids. And it had to be two-story; no bungalows. It also had to be secure, as he put it. Touch of paranoia, no doubt. Anyway, it took a while; I think I showed him six or seven houses. It was a relief when he finally settled on the one he bought. Of course, the price was right, too; the owner had died and it was an estate sale."
"Did you get to know Janet Milford at all?"
"No. At first she would stay around and talk a bit; then she would just pass out drinks and snacks to everybody and disappear. I never saw her again after Barrett took up with Rich and she moved out. That surprised me, by the way. I even thought maybe Barrett had eyes for Chet, got nowhere, and settled for Rich. But now I'm being mean - especially since they're both dead, for Heaven's sake! But tell me, why so curious about Barrett?"
"We didn't get on, but I'm really intrigued as to why he was killed. Oh, and McKay, too. I have this idea that they were involved in some scheme."
"Wouldn't doubt it. I think Chet wasn't above a little dicey wheel
ing and dealing. He didn't have much to say, except when he was arguing with Barrett. My interest in him was pure lust."
"Well, don't be afraid to say what's on your mind."
Hamilton laughed and looked at her watch.
"Charlie, I have to go. I enjoyed lunch and talking with you. You've got my card. If I can be of service, do call me."
Charlie assured her he would and walked her to her car. As he headed back to his office to collect his books and notes he reflected that two factors now seemed dealt with: Dalton's death didn't seem to have anything to do with Barrett's or McKay's, and Hamilton didn't seem to have a major role in the whole affair. Thinking back on his two encounters with McKay, Charlie wondered if other women found McKay as attractive as Hamilton obviously had. He had to ask Theresa; she'd be honest about it.
Back in his office Charlie gathered his stuff but couldn't resist picking up the phone.
"Theresa? Listen, I've only got about thirty seconds but have a quick question. When you saw Chet McKay with Barrett, would you describe him as attractive to women?"
"Still sleuthing, Charlie? I'd say some women would have found him attractive. He was okay looking and seemed like one tough dude. Some women would like that a lot."
Charlie thanked Theresa and went to his class.
"Before we turn to the comment sheets, I want to say a little about how Foucault has influenced thinking well beyond philosophy and intellectual history and how his ideas have been incorporated into contemporary thinking. The heart of his contribution to the political realm isn't entirely his own, but he was perhaps the one who best articulated the fundamental idea. Foucault argued that power shouldn't be thought of only in top-down terms, as is traditional. It is best rethought as not only emanating from elevated authorities, like the state or kings or parliaments or despots, but as beginning in the commonplace actions and interactions of ordinary people. That's something you have to keep in mind when you read his work. You need to appreciate how power is an environment of actions that influence everyone's actions. Otherwise you won't understand how power works, and you won't understand how attempts to govern and to manage people have unexpected and often undesired results. Now, who wants to lead off?"
As usual, there were no volunteers but Charlie followed his practice of waiting them out. That worked most of the time and had the added advantage of prompting the better students to identify themselves by kicking things off. After a minute or two it became obvious to the students that Charlie wasn't going to call on anyone and a woman seated at the front said she'd go first. Her comment sheet struck Charlie as perceptive, and it was productive in that it prompted two others to ask her questions and then to read their own sheets. The discussion got off on the right foot and after that several others read their comment sheets and more questions were raised. The time went quickly and soon Charlie found himself assigning the reading for the next class.
"Dr. Douglas, did you do your dissertation on Foucault?"
The woman asking was the last student to leave the room and Charlie didn't think she'd spoken during the seminar.
"Oh, no; I did it on D. M. Armstrong."
"Armstrong? You were into central-state materialism? I can't believe that - not that you did it, but that you could change so radically."
"When I got interested in Foucault, most of my colleagues wrote me off. After my first book on Foucault, I got called a 'pomo'; that's a post modern. For anyone doing analytic philosophy, if you think truth and reason itself are historical products, you're crazy. Armstrong once said it was a violation of mental hygiene to read Foucault."
"Think you'll ever swing back?"
"It's not like that; I'm not a disciple. I just think Foucault has to be taken seriously, not that he's right on everything. Too many in philosophy become disciples, followers. They lock themselves into a mode of thought and read only certain authors."
"You know, I'm glad I'm taking this course. Thank you, Dr. Douglas."
When he got home he told Kate what he'd found out about Dalton and Hamilton and asked if DeVries had called. She hadn't.
Charlie and Kate had just decided to eat in when the phone rang. It was DeVries.
"Charlie, do you have some news?"
"The women's clothes were Dalton's. According to Jennifer Pullen, after he took up with Barrett, he did a little experimenting. She helped him buy the clothes. She also thinks the overdose was deliberate because Dalton felt lost after Barrett was killed. She was convincing about that. The other thing is I had lunch with Laurel Hamilton. I got her to show us a condo yesterday, and at lunch today I told her we weren't interested. I intended to pump her about Barrett but she beat me to it, guessing what I was up to. The gist is she helped Barrett buy the house and hung around because she found McKay very attractive. Unless she's an awfully good liar, I think that her role was just what she said it was."
"It's good to know about the clothing. As for Ms. Hamilton, I'm going to do a little more digging, but so far she's come up clean. On another matter, one reason I didn't call before is that Dan and I were in Coulton. Ms. Milford and the sheriff let us examine her house. We had a good look and we're sending a couple of techies down tomorrow, but I'd bet whoever searched it was the same person who searched Dr. Wilson's. I think he or she used a crowbar to smash in the walls. There were some streaks that Dan thought looked just like some in Dr. Wilson's house. We didn't find a crowbar at either place, which suggests it was taken to the houses and taken away, which tends to support the view that it was the same person."
Over dinner Kate and Charlie talked about what he'd learned and DeVries' call, but it was clear to him that she didn't feel like pursuing the matter. Later, in bed, he reviewed what he'd learned and came to the conclusion that while he now understood the connection between Barrett and McKay better, and that poor Dalton's death wasn't another murder, it was still a mystery who had shot Barrett and McKay. Charlie had no doubt that what they'd been up to was selling the books. As for why they'd been shot, and clearly before the person who killed them had the books, that likely had to do with disagreement on terms. The bottom line was there wasn't a clue as to who the killer was.
With that thought in mind Charlie stared into the darkness for longer than it usually took him to go to sleep. Something was niggling at him. He was just about to turn over and make an effort to sleep when it hit him and he quickly sat up.
"Charlie? What's the matter?"
"Sorry I woke you. I just realized something. I couldn't get to sleep and it came to me why Hamilton was so forthcoming about Barrett and McKay: she was preempting questions about Shwayder! By telling me about Barrett and McKay she distracted me from asking about Shwayder. She wasn't being candid; it was a ploy and it worked. I even told DeVries I didn't think she was involvement beyond selling Barrett the house."
"Charlie; for heaven's sake. This can wait till tomorrow."
Kate turned on her side and went back to sleep but Charlie thought about things for a while. If he was right, why would Hamilton be concerned to avoid talking about Shwayder? Why not admit she knew Shwayder? Instead she'd gone to some lengths to avoid doing so. In retrospect Charlie found her professed interest in McKay less credible. Hamilton was decidedly back in the picture.