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VII
The Second Tuesday
The central issue of philosophy and critical thought since the eighteenth century has been, and still is… What is this Reason that we use?
Michel Foucault
A Freudian might explain Charlie's sleeping in on Tuesday as unconscious reluctance to take the next step in learning what he could about Barrett Wilson, but that wasn't the reason it was almost nine when Charlie staggered out of bed. It was nearly ten-thirty when he walked into the department. Charlie had only the one course in the second term, so he didn't need to be there, but he went in pretty much every week-day. Aside from his research, he felt an obligation to be available to students. As it was, there was a woman waiting for him wanting to talk about the course. Charlie was pretty sure she'd not been at the first meeting, something she confirmed as soon as they were in the office.
"I, like, wasn't at the first class, but a bud of mine said it looked like a cool course, so I, like, want to register. Is the text very expensive?"
"You're a fourth-year student?"
"Sort of. I didn't quite complete one of my Fall term courses, uh, Dr. Wilson's phil. of language. I was doing a paper for him over the break to finish off the course, but, now, like, I don't know what's going to happen. I did the paper, but, like, he's not going to mark it, so I don't know. I did do it, though, so I should get credit for it."
"Yes, but this is the second term; if you were taking courses last term, it would have been as either a third-year or a fourth-year undergraduate, so which was it?"
"Yeah, well, that'd be the normal thing, but, see, I transferred to Meredith last January, so my fourth year started, like, last Tuesday. And I'll be registered as a fourth-year student if I get that credit because Dr. Wilson's course was my last third-year course."
"I see. Well, tell me what interested you in Foucault."
"I did a film course and we read something by him."
"A film course. What did you read?"
"Uh, actually it wasn't actually by Foucault, you know, it was, like, about him."
Charlie had had enough and told her he'd wait until she knew if she would have fourth-year standing, fervently hoping she wouldn't and wondering about admissions policies. The moment she was out of the office he pulled out the departmental directory and tried Richard Dalton's home number. Voice-mail kicked in and Charlie hung up. He then tried the teaching-assistant office, asked for Dalton, and was told to "wadeaminid."
"Richard? This is Dr. Douglas. I'd like to speak to you for a few minutes. When could you come up to my office?"
The T.A. offices were on the first floor and basement of the building, so if Dalton didn't have a class, he ought to be able to see Charlie in the next few minutes.
"Professor Douglas? I could come up now, if you want. I don't have a class till this afternoon."
Dalton appeared at Charlie's door and entered looking a little puzzled. Charlie was a bit surprised because Dalton looked disheveled and as if he hadn't slept.
"Richard, thanks for coming. Sit down. It may seem a little odd my wanting to speak with you, so I'll be candid. I'm rather disturbed to realize that I barely knew Barrett Wilson despite our having been colleagues for some years. I know he was your supervisor, and I assume you got to know him fairly well. I don't want to intrude, but I was hoping you might fill me in a little about what Barrett was all about, especially who he was outside the department. I'm sure you know that he and I had our differences, and now that he's dead, I'd like to better understand Barrett the man. I was shocked by his death, as we all were, and I don't like remembering him only as a kind of academic sparring partner."
To Charlie's astonishment, Dalton looked at him, not with puzzlement or even irritation, but with grief and tears in his eyes. A full minute passed before Dalton spoke, during which Charlie feared that he might just walk out.
"I, I think I understand. I know you two didn't get on, and I'm touched by your wanting to have a better picture of Barrett."
This response made Charlie cringe for his hypocrisy. The lame story he'd spun had not only been accepted, it had been appreciated. Dalton's next words made it clear that he wasn't really talking to Charlie; he was voicing his grief to a convenient listener.
"Barrett Wilson was everything I wanted to be in philosophy. He was very hard on me about my thesis, but I know it was to force me to do my best work. I tried to tell that to some of the other grads, but they didn't like him and wouldn't listen. Barrett was much more to me than just my supervisor. He was a model for me to emulate. I admired him tremendously. I can't believe he's dead. Every little while I think about something I'm going to tell him, and then realize again that he's gone."
"I'm sorry to put you in this position, Richard. I just wanted to know a little about him as a person, and I've obviously caused you pain."
"It's okay; actually I'm glad you asked. I've been needing to tell someone how I feel. Around here everybody seems relieved he's gone or indifferent. I don't understand. He was murdered, but it's as if he just left for another job. I feel there should be real mourning. I can't handle everything going on just as before. Barrett is dead. I'll never…"
Dalton choked up and covered his face with his hands. Charlie was staggered by the deep emotion Dalton was showing. They must have been very close. Only that could explain the state Dalton was in and especially his willingness to talk like this on so flimsy a pretext as Charlie had provided. Could they possibly have been lovers? That would explain Dalton's emotional condition and the departure of Barrett's female partner. It suddenly occurred to Charlie that it would also explain Barrett's move from downtown to a more secluded location.
Charlie felt very uncomfortable thinking those thoughts and all he wanted now was to get rid of Dalton as gently as possible. Dalton was staring at the floor and wringing his hands.
"Richard, I don't know what to say, but you're clearly upset. Can I get you some water or a cup of coffee?"
"No, thank you; I'll be okay. Now I feel I'm imposing, but I really appreciate you listening to me. I needed to get this out and I couldn't before. There wasn't anyone who'd listen. Worse than that, I couldn't seem to start; do you know what I mean? It's as if I needed prompting to voice my grief."
This last made Charlie feel even guiltier and the two sat silent for several minutes before Dalton continued.
"I haven't answered your question. Barrett was quite different away from the department. He didn't have a lot of friends, but he had good times with those he had. They weren't from the university. They didn't say much about their own lives, though, so I can't tell you much about them."
Charlie was working out how to prompt Dalton to say more about Barrett's friends when a knock on the door jolted him.
"Dr. Douglas?"
"Yes? Come in."
Jodie entered to hand Charlie a thick envelope. Dalton's back was to her, and by then he was more upright, so she didn't seem to notice anything odd and left immediately. The envelope contained some proofs Charlie had been waiting for, and he was delighted they'd arrived but irritated at the interruption. When he looked at Dalton he knew he'd get no more. Dalton was collecting himself, no doubt embarrassed by his own candor.
"So Barrett had a social life outside the department. I'm glad to hear that. I regret having upset you, but I'm glad if it gave you an opportunity to get something off your chest. Are you going to be okay? And thank you."
"I'll be fine. This was actually a help. Part of the awfulness of all of this is that I really can't let anyone know how I feel; they wouldn't understand. I hope you…"
"Don't give it a thought, Richard. We had a private conversation, period. If you want to talk some more, just find me, okay?"
Charlie meant it, and as Dalton left he realized that he had a problem. He'd learned something that might be important to the investigation, but he couldn't violate Dalton's confidence, could he? Charlie stewed for a while and then worked out a compromise with h
imself. He would tell DeVries about Barrett's possible involvement with Dalton without saying how he'd come to that conjecture. He was sure DeVries wouldn't press him. He might find she had other sources for the same information. He'd call her later; first he wanted to find out more about Philos. 110. The simplest thing to do was ask.
Charlie got his coat and closed his office. Since finding Barrett's door unlocked he'd begun double-checking that his was locked. It was nearly lunchtime, and he'd pop into the main office on his way to the club.
"Jodie, I had a ditzy student in this morning asking about my course, but her standing is in doubt. She was finishing up a course for Barrett. What's going to be done about his courses? And while we're at it, do you know anything about a course numbered Philos. 110 that Barrett was thinking of giving, perhaps as a reading-course?"
"I know who you mean; that's our dear Samantha. She's been nothing but trouble since she came. Anyway, Dr. Rankin is assigning Dr. Wilson's pending papers and marks to others. I still haven't been given a list or anything, but I think Dr. Shwayder got saddled with Samantha from the way he was talking to Dr. Rankin in her office this morning. I don't know anything about a 110. Let me just check the computer… No, there's no Philosophy 110 on the books for this term or next year or for previous years. Maybe Dr. Wilson never got around to proposing the course."
Happily Jodie didn't ask why Charlie was interested. He'd banked on her wanting to go to lunch and he'd been right. Now, as he walked to the club, Charlie puzzled about the folder in Barrett's desk. Why did he have a folder for Philos. 110 and what surely was a reading list if he wasn't giving a course? The folder hadn't looked like one that had been sitting in Barrett's desk for some time. Suddenly Charlie found himself more intrigued by the 110 folder than by Barrett possibly having been involved with Dalton. He was certain DeVries would be much more interested in the possible relationship than in the 110 folder, but to him it was the folder that posed the bigger question.
The club table that day was a mixed blessing. There was a physicist whom Charlie liked and who had a sharp wit, but also an obnoxious economist with the sensitivity of a brick and an irritatingly loud, artificial laugh. Things looked up after he sat down, though, because Emma came in and sat next to him. Emma Leighton was a chemist who managed to combine a searing sexuality with great research success. Charlie had been astounded more than once at the amounts she casually mentioned when talking about her grants. He knew she was supporting five or six grad students. For a while Charlie was pleasantly distracted.
On his way back to the department Charlie was having second thoughts about talking to DeVries. Dalton hadn't said or implied anything about being Barrett's lover. Should he pass on what was only a suspicion based on no more than Dalton's emotional state? Perhaps he'd be better advised to wait until he talked to Barrett's other students.
Back in his office he retrieved the list and decided to next try Jennifer Pullen. He again called the T.A. office and asked for Jennifer. He got another "wadeaminid."
"Yes? This is Jenn."
"Ms. Pullen, this is Dr. Douglas. I wonder if you could spare me a few minutes; there's something I'd like to discuss with you."
Charlie was sure that would puzzle her because, as far as he knew, they'd only exchanged pleasantries in the time she'd been in the department. In any case, she said she had a class but would drop by his office at four-thirty. That suited Charlie well enough and he spent the balance of the afternoon going over the proofs he'd received. In fact, he quite forgot she was coming and when she knocked on his door it took him a moment to pull himself away from the proofs and ask her in. She sat in the same chair Dalton had used, one of only two "guest chairs" in the office, and looked at him expectantly.
"Thanks for taking the time to see me. I'm going to be up front about this, and hope you'll respect my confidence. I'm assuming you knew Barrett Wilson fairly well, since he was your supervisor, and I'm trying to learn a little about him. The police have asked me a number of questions, quite ordinary things they clearly expected me to know about, and I didn't. I'm sure you're aware that he and I didn't agree on most things, and I feel rather embarrassed that I know almost nothing about the man. If you're willing, I very much would like to learn a little more about him as a person."
"Sure; I don't mind. Barrett Wilson was a shit. He was hopeless as a supervisor and barely competent as a teacher. He thought he made it up to us - well, to some of us - by having us over for free booze and a toke or five, but he didn't have a clue. I've been trying to figure out how to change my topic to get another supervisor, and I'm glad that now I won't have to. Wilson tried to dominate everyone, especially his students. If he could do it by showing he knew more than you, that's what he'd do. Otherwise he played head-games. The exception was Dalton; they seemed to get on fine. In fact, Dalton seemed to think very highly of him. Wilson was on Casagrande's committee but he did nothing for her. She turned in two chapters of her thesis to him ages ago but never got anything back. I'm not even sure she's still enrolled. I mention her because I don't think Wilson likes - liked - women. He was glacial returning my stuff, and even more acid about it than to Casagrande. That's pretty much it."
"What about the social side? Were these gatherings you mentioned just for students, or did he invite some of his friends?"
"I went to some of his little parties at his apartment. I don't think he had any at his new house, at least not that I was invited to. Anyway, I only went because it'd be fatal not to, but I never enjoyed them. I can't handle more than a couple of glasses of wine or beer, and I'm not into pot or coke. I used to leave as early as I could. Why don't you talk to Rich Dalton? He really liked Wilson and Wilson treated him more like a friend than a student. I even thought… No, that's none of my business. As for friends, there was one guy who was there every time I went, and a blond woman who was there once or twice. They were never introduced to me nor, I think, to anyone else. They were usually in another room where Wilson spent most of his time except when he was glad-handing the students and passing out drinks."
"I'm quite surprised Barrett allowed drugs at student parties."
"Well, the stuff was just there with the wine and beer and snacks. Wilson didn't, you know, offer it. No one overdid it, at least not while I was there, so I suppose it was safe enough to look the other way. In case you're wondering, I don't know if Wilson himself ever did a line or smoked a joint."
"If you don't mind my saying so, you seem angry."
"No. I'm angry because of the time I wasted on the thesis. I didn't get anywhere with Wilson, and now I need to start all over again with someone else. Anyway, I actually feel better having said all this. I hope it helped."
"Okay, I said I'd be upfront, so I'll tell you how it's helped. You've confirmed that there were two different sides to Barrett."
"Oh no; no, no. I thought that for a while: that there was the academic Wilson and the social Wilson. But that's a misimpression. There was just one Wilson, the shit. It's that he acted like he thought he should in the department, and like he thought he should outside it. See, it was always an act. You couldn't get behind the facades."
"Do you think Dalton got behind the facades?"
"I think so. What I was going to say before… Well, it's really just a guess and maybe a nasty one at that, but I thought Rich might be, you know, involved with Wilson. I really don't know, but I did think that was why Wilson and his partner split up."
"Jennifer, thank you. I really appreciate this, and I think what you said about Barrett not really having two sides is quite perceptive. Look, it's after five. Can I drop you somewhere? I put you out dragging you up here; the least I can do is give you a lift home or wherever you're going."
"Thanks, Dr. Douglas, but I've got my car here. While I'm at it, I'll tell you that I've heard really good things about you as a supervisor. If our interests were closer, I'd be working with you and wouldn't have gone near Wilson. I tried to read The History of Sexuality after I heard you rea
d a paper on Foucault at the colloquium, but I just couldn't get my head around what he was doing."
"Foucault was telling a different story about sexual behavior. He was doing so in order to show that we actually manufacture the sexual nature we think we discover and which we then believe defines who we are and what normal sexual behavior is."
Jennifer looked at Charlie and he could virtually see her thinking it through.
"So he wasn't claiming he'd learned how things really are; he was telling a new history to demonstrate there could be different ones. I wish I'd seen that - and that I'd talked to you two years ago. I'm going to have to try it again, and one of your books. Anyway, I hope I was of some help and thanks for the offer of a lift."
As Charlie closed the front door of the house and hung up his coat Kate called from the kitchen.
"Detective DeVries called not five minutes ago."
"Did she want something in particular?"
"Just asked for you, and when I said you weren't home yet, she said she'd call back."
Charlie opened a bottle of merlot and was just starting a serious debate about dinner when the phone rang.
"Dr. Douglas; Charlie, I wonder if you'd like to have a coffee with me sometime tomorrow morning. I could meet you at ten-thirty at that same shop, if you're free."
They arranged to meet and Charlie got back to the dinner debate. After he and Kate decided on staying home, Kate began sautéing the tilapia she'd been thinking of preparing. The merlot wasn't right with fish, so Charlie opened a bottle of sauvignon blanc. It was more the wine than a conscious decision, but Charlie started telling Kate what he'd learned.
"I'm not playing amateur sleuth. I just did what I thought might help the cops, and also I admit to being very curious. So tell me what you think; I'd really like your take before I talk to DeVries. I'll keep it short. First of all, I was puzzled by hearing different things about Barrett. On the one hand, he was a four-letter word in the department, on the other he seemed to be congenial outside. Then I learned that he'd suddenly moved out of an attractive apartment and bought a house out of town, shedding his partner in the process. I've learned that Barrett had an odd reading list for a course that doesn't exist. I suspect Barrett was sexually involved with a male grad student. Another student he was supervising surprised me by hinting at the same idea. She also dissipated my impression that Barrett had two different sides to him. She thinks that Barrett's department persona and his social persona where both fronts. Finally, Barrett supplied pot and coke at his parties, though it's up for grabs whether he used either himself."
"So, Barrett was a bisexual social fraud who was soft on drugs and had a strange reading list?"
"Right, but I don't know where the list fits in or what any of this has to do with his murder."
"Well, Charlie, the drugs could have involved some unsavory connections. As for the relationship, it could have prompted serious anger or jealousy on someone's part, though
I don't see why you include the book list in all of this."
"It just bothers me. All I found… that is, learned was the course number and the list of book titles. The list bugs me because it bears no relation to Barrett's academic interests."
"Did you snoop in Barrett's office? How did you get in?"
"Are you getting clairvoyant? Okay, the door was unlocked and I had a quick look."
"I knew you'd get involved. Anyway, someone shot Barrett. Given the locked building and the slim pickings in an academic building, whoever shot him wasn't there to steal what he could or was just wandering through the building with a gun in his hand. It surely was a deliberate act. Of what you've found out, the sexual relation with a student has to be the most important. And it does explain the move out of town and the partner's sudden departure. The pot and cocaine seem less interesting; too common now. As for Barrett's different behavior in the department and with friends, that also seems unimportant. If I were you, I'd tell DeVries about the sexual thing and leave it at that. She and Bolster seem to be on to Barrett and the drugs. As for the list, I suspect it isn't important and is probably just distracting you."
"So, bottom line, what's most notable is that Barrett was likely sleeping with a male student?"
"Yes; that's my best shot. What about the student? I take it you met with him?"
"Rich Dalton. He was a wreck. I gave him some bullshit about wanting to form a better picture of Barrett and it was like opening the floodgates. He actually teared up."
Lying in bed before going to sleep Charlie thought Kate was right. He'd tell DeVries about Barrett and Dalton and perhaps about Pullen's near-enough confirmation. The next thing was to talk to the students on whose committees Barrett had served.