Cold Rain Page 6

Affirmative Action operated under the control of the university president as an investigatory agency.

  Through its work, the president’s office monitored every aspect of the university’s compliance to federal law regarding civil rights, including sexual discrimination.

  Are departments hiring a racially and culturally diverse faculty? Are women treated without bias, provided with the same opportunities, paid according to the same scale as men? Affirmative Action’s mandate was to investigate, and naturally the office intruded into business that various professors and departments considered their own.

  At that stage, however, most of us were used to investigations. Though it was a bit intimidating getting The Call, most of us had learned to pass it off as part of the modern landscape. Having been interviewed a couple of times in cases relating to Walt, I was actually used to it, and I had no reason to believe this would be any different. All the same, I did not know Leslie Blackwell and decided to check her out through the university website the evening before our appointment. I discovered she was an acting director and new to campus that fall, complete with a doctor’s degree in law. I recall thinking that might not be a good thing for Walt, and my first impression of Dr Blackwell the following morning confirmed it.

  Leslie Blackwell was a beautiful woman, thus had endured more than her fair share of unwelcome advances. Young enough to want to nurture her career, entrenched enough in bureaucratic matters that she had confidence, she would be, I thought, the kind to confront threats of legal action head-on, and take Walt through every hoop, from complaint to early retirement. Poor Walt.

  I had it figured almost perfectly. In fact, I only missed the object of Dr Blackwell’s new passion in life.

  She placed me at the side of her rather imposing desk, smiled prettily and wasted no time informing me that two of my students, Denise Conway and Johnna Masterson, had charged me with sexual harassment.

  While I tried to fathom what in the world had precipitated a complaint, Dr Blackwell informed me that it was her job to investigate, that she needed to ask me a few questions in an attempt to verify the statements of the two women, and that I should be aware that sexual harassment was a federal crime, punishable by imprisonment in a federal facility.

  Leslie Blackwell’s queries came with all of the subtlety of a concussion grenade. Did I sometimes use the phrase bodacious ta-tas to describe female breasts? Of course not. Was I in the habit of talking about talent when I meant the woman had large breasts? Not at all. Had Denise Conway ever been in my office? Certainly. Did I talk about how much I liked her hair? I had commented on it once, as I recalled. Had we talked about the possibility of her dancing in the nude while I watched? Once, I believe. Maybe a couple of times.

  I found myself crossing my legs and settling my hands squarely in my lap at this point. I expect Leslie Blackwell got that from a lot of men.

  Had I ever been to a bar called Caleb’s with Denise Conway? Yes. Had we ever discussed the kind of movies she liked to see? Yes. Had I invited Johnna Masterson to my house? Yes. Had I invited other students? Of course. Had I ever told Buddy Elder I thought Johnna Masterson had extraordinary talent? I had. Had Johnna presented to the class a story called ‘Sexual Positions?’

  Yes. Which was about underage sex? Yes. Was oral sex involved? A couple examples of it, as I recalled, neither to completion. Had I told the class it was delightful? No. I said it was funny as hell.

  Did I refer to it, Johnna’s story, in later classes by title? I had. Had I talked to Walt Beery about Johnna Masterson’s breasts? The topic came up. Had the word, and excuse her please for being so blunt, tits come up? Yes, it usually did when I talked with Walt. And bodacious ta-tas? Walt said tits, I said the other. She scribbled excitedly. Hadn’t I denied using that word?

  No. I wasn’t in the habit of using it. But sometimes I did use it?

  ‘Use what?’

  ‘The term bodacious ta-tas.’ It actually looked like it hurt her to say the word.

  ‘Depends,’ I said, doing my best Bill Clinton, ‘on how one defines sometimes.’

  More notes. Had I tried to get Denise Conway to give up her job as a dancer, promising her I would arrange to get her something on campus in Work Study?

  I said I had made a call to Work Study to help her set up an appointment. Had I ever asked Denise about her relationship with Buddy Elder? Yes. Did I ask if they lived together? Yes. Had I inquired about their living expenses, who paid for what? Yes. Had I ever suggested that Buddy Elder was in trouble in my class?

  No. Had I asked her if the men she slept with were all pigs? Yes. Had I made jokes to Denise Conway about adultery? Yes. Incest? No. Had I told my class that in the Old Testament adultery applied only to married women, that married men sleeping with unmarried women committed no sin whatsoever? Yes.

  Had I called it the Golden Age of Patriarchy? Guilty.

  Had I ever made jokes about homosexual monkeys?

  ‘Chimps.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Homosexual chimps,’ I said, ‘tossing quarters on the shower floor.’

  After a moment of murderous contemplation, Dr Blackwell asked me if I thought such humour was appropriate?

  ‘Seemed so at the time.’

  When Leslie Blackwell had finished her questions, she capped her ink pen and gave me a cool gotcha smile. ‘I should tell you you’re entitled to legal representation.’

  ‘I guess you should have told me that before you asked your questions.’

  ‘This is just a preliminary investigation, Mr Albo.

  If the charges have any validity, I will forward them to the vice president for academic affairs, and he will conduct a formal inquiry.’

  ‘What exactly are the charges?’

  Dr Blackwell blinked as if talking to an idiot. ‘Sexual harassment.’

  ‘Sexual harassment involves unwanted sexual advances, bargaining sex for a grade, that kind of thing. Are you saying I did that?’

  ‘I’m not saying you did anything at this point. I’m simply looking at the complaints as they were filed.’

  ‘May I see the complaints?’

  ‘The actual complaints are part of my work product at this point.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning that material is not available to you until I’ve completed my investigation.’

  I WANTED TO KILL Buddy Elder, but the moment I left Leslie Blackwell’s office I had more pressing concerns. I called our lawyer and told her what had happened.

  ‘I want to know what the charges are, and they’re refusing to provide me with copies of the complaints.’

  ‘Give me the name,’ Gail Etheridge answered. I did, and Gail told me she would take care of it.

  I thought about going to Walt Beery, if only to gather courage from the voice of experience, but I decided there was an outside chance that Leslie Blackwell would actually keep the investigation confidential, as that was university policy.

  The following Monday, four days after my interview, Dean Lintz called me into his office. He shut the door and sat down behind his desk. ‘What the hell is going on, Dave?’

  ‘You tell me,’ I said.

  ‘Leslie Blackwell in Affirmative Action informs me that two of your students have brought charges against you.’

  ‘What kind of charges?’

  ‘Sexual harassment. Look, don’t play the innocent with me. I know you’ve been told what’s going on.’

  ‘Do you have the complaints?’

  ‘Of course not. That’s confidential.’

  ‘Then why are we talking?’

  ‘There’s some concern that you will attempt to approach some of the witnesses. Dr Blackwell wants you to understand that any attempt to talk to anyone involved in the investigation will result in your immediate suspension.’

  ‘Who are the people involved?’

  ‘She says you have that information. You want to be careful, David. There’s a general feeling that Affirmative Action hasn’t done a go
od job for quite a while. That’s why they brought Blackwell in. People want to see her take somebody down, and she knows it.’

  I gave Dean Lintz a relaxed smile. At least it was meant to be relaxed. ‘Wrong man, wrong case.’

  ‘For your sake, I hope you’re right. But try to show some restraint. Who tells jokes about gay monkeys in the classroom?’

  ‘So you’ve seen the complaints?’

  Dean Lintz shook his head irritably. ‘I told you no.

  Dr Blackwell wanted to give me some idea of the behaviour you’ve been up to. It’s incredible! And this thing about adultery, that it’s okay for married men and single women! You’re just asking for it with something like that!’

  ‘Personally, I’m against adultery, but there’s a lot of it going on in some of the literature.’

  ‘Well, skip it! You’re a married man, David! What are you suggesting when you say things like this?’

  If I skip Genesis, The Iliad, Agamemnon, Medea, Othello and Hamlet, I’ve lost the course.’

  ‘Don’t give me this academic freedom bullshit. You know what I’m talking about.’

  ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I don’t have a clue.’

  WALT BEERY CALLED ME that evening. What was going on? I told him I didn’t know. He said he had been called over to Affirmative Action and they wanted to know what he could tell them about Mister David Albo. ‘Don’t worry,’ Walt told me, ‘I lied like a villain!’

  ‘I can’t talk to you, Walt. You’re a witness in the case. The dean told me this morning they’re going to suspend me if I talk to any of the witnesses in this case.’

  ‘Then you better not talk to anyone. Blackwell has statements from Randy Winston, Norma Olson, Jane Trimble, and Marlene Moss. Oh, and Buddy Elder. Did you screw Denise, you bastard?’

  ‘I’ve got to go, Walt. I can’t talk about this.’

  ‘You did! You sly old dog!’ This was the stuff of laughter. I was Walt’s new hero. I had bagged a stripper from The Slipper. Instead of protesting my innocence I simply hung up.

  Chapter 7

  I GOT A CALL ON Wednesday from my lawyer. Gail had received a copy of the complaints Johnna Masterson and Denise Conway had filed with Affirmative Action. She thought we should go through them. I had a few hours before my evening class, so we scheduled a late afternoon meeting.

  Gail was in her early to mid-forties, I would guess, but they were hard years. She had gotten a bit heavier since Molly and I had first met her, but not from a lack of activity. Gail ran a small office with a couple of para-legals. She specialized in the routine business of lawyering: wills, real estate, divorce, trusts, and the whole gamut of misdemeanour crime. We had met when Molly had inherited Bernard Place. We liked her and started running all our business through her office. Because of the nature of Molly’s profession, there was a considerable amount of routine legal matters, and Gail had become part of our social circle. Gail knew I was a character. She also knew Molly and I were in love.

  I found myself sitting on the wrong side of yet another desk, but at least this time I had a partner instead of an opponent on the other side. Gail had photocopied the complaints, each hardly more than half-a-page. I read them and looked up at Gail. ‘They had more than this, all kinds of stuff not mentioned here, including some jokes about homosexual chimps.’

  ‘Chimps?’

  ‘Don’t ask.’

  ‘Tasteless?’

  ‘Entirely.’

  ‘Well then maybe over cocktails. Look, these are the complaints. She refuses to provide her notes or any witness statements, so what she has she keeps until they determine if they want to draw up formal charges against you. Right now, it’s an investigation.’

  ‘What are we going to do about getting these witness statements?’

  ‘My advice, nothing at all.’ Gail made a dismissing gesture with her hand, indicating the two complaints.

  This is what counts, David, and there’s nothing here.

  Johnna Masterson says you were talking to another professor about her breasts. Hate to tell you this, but that’s not sexual harassment.’

  ‘It wasn’t my definition.’

  ‘Well, if it is, we can jail the whole bunch of you and be done with it.’

  ‘I didn’t say these things, Gail.’

  ‘You didn’t say bodacious ta-tas?’

  ‘Not in the context she’s suggesting.’

  ‘And when you said to,’ Gail checked the complaint,

  ‘Buddy Elder that Johnna Masterson had extraordinary talent you didn’t mean… bodacious ta-tas?’

  ‘She’s got them. There’s no doubt about that, but Buddy Elder knew I was talking about her ability as a writer. Talent has that meaning, too, you know.’

  ‘Okay. They have absolutely nothing here. They’ll go through the motions of an investigation, and then drop it. Thank you very much. You don’t need me again unless they turn stupid, in which case we sue and win and can both retire from the rat race.’

  ‘What about the other complaint?’

  ‘Conway? Conway doesn’t even know what she’s complaining about. You brought up adultery in class.

  Is it in the literature?’

  ‘All over the place.’

  ‘And you called someone on campus about getting her some work?’

  ‘She asked. She said she wanted to quit dancing at The Slipper.’

  Gail blinked. ‘She’s an exotic dancer and she’s complaining that you complimented her hair?’

  ‘She asked me what I thought of it.’

  Gail shook her head. ‘This isn’t a complaint, David.

  This is a piece of paper.’

  ‘These things are supposed to be confidential, but everyone on campus knows I’m being investigated.’

  ‘You’ve been harmed by that?’

  ‘I was going to apply for promotion this year.’

  Gail thought about this. She shook her head. ‘Take the hit. Apply next year. It’s not worth the ill-will you’ll garner by filing suit.’

  I said nothing, but Gail could see I was upset.

  ‘How is Molly handling this?’

  ‘I haven’t told her about it. Actually, I wasn’t planning on bringing it up.’

  ‘Afraid she’ll think there has to be something to this, a little hanky-panky?’

  ‘Molly knows better. Look, we don’t talk about what goes on at school because she thinks the whole place is a loony bin and the only reason most of us are working there is it’s cheaper for the state to pay us a salary than keep us locked up in an asylum. She doesn’t want to hear it.’

  ‘Well, it’s your business, but I’d say it’d be a good idea to at least fill her in on the complaints. Just to be on the safe side.’

  ‘I’ll talk to her tonight.’

  ‘Good. Now, when Blackwell interviewed you, were you relatively honest? Hell of a thing if they drop the charges and bring you up for obstructing an investigation.’

  ‘I was perversely honest, Gail.’

  ‘Enlighten me. What is perversely honest?’

  ‘I answered the questions without attempting to discuss the setting or context of my words.’

  ‘You didn’t try to explain anything?’

  ‘She didn’t ask. I didn’t offer. What the hell? I didn’t do anything wrong.’

  ‘Did she record the conversation?’

  ‘No. She took notes.’

  ‘Let’s hope she knows what she’s doing and she’s honest. Otherwise, she’ll have you confessing to anything she wants you to.’

  Gail looked at her watch. We had been at it for close to thirty minutes. ‘Okay. You’re in to me for a little over three hundred bucks. Let’s leave it at that for now. If they want to talk again, tell them to contact me. Say nothing. Write nothing down for them. If they attempt any kind of disciplinary action, do whatever they say and contact me immediately. I’ll have charges filed against them so fast it will make their collective head spin. And don’t talk to anyone about this, exc
ept Molly. Are we clear on that?’

  ‘Tell me I don’t have anything to worry about, Gail.’

  ‘I make it a policy never to lie to my clients, David.’

  ‘But it’s bullshit. You think the complaints are bullshit?’

  ‘You’re the man with the farm. You know what it’s like when you step in that stuff.’

  I WENT TO A TAVERN after I left Gail Etheridge. It had been a favourite in my drinking days, and I convinced myself they had a good menu. In fact, it was a bar for the locals, safe territory. I knew the people there. It had been two years since I had crossed the threshold, but some of them hadn’t even changed seats.

  The waitress asked me where I had been. ‘Been sober,’ I said and ordered a tenderloin sandwich, fries and a non-alcoholic beer.

  ‘We don’t serve that crap, Dave. It’s the real thing or nothing at all.’

  ‘Possible to have a Coke?’

  She gave me a smile. ‘For you I’ll see what I can do. But this sobriety has to go. You’re setting a bad example for the people who keep this place in business.’

  While I waited for my order, I found myself reviewing my various conversations with Denise Conway. This was hardly the first time. In fact, less than a week into it, I discovered Denise Conway was becoming one of the most important people in my life.

  It seemed to me there were two distinct possibilities. The first involved a series of misunderstandings.

  Eager and insecure, Denise had sought me out as a familiar face. She wanted assurances that she could handle college. Having received those assurances, her insecurities began twisting legitimate praise into something sinister. The complaint she had filed supported this theory. She wasn’t quite sure what I had done wrong! Her only real problems with me she had expressed as evidence rather than a complaint.

  My second theory involved Buddy Elder. I much preferred this theory, because there was not much I was unwilling to credit to Mr Elder. In this theory Buddy manipulated Denise Conway into filing a complaint. Johnna Masterson’s complaint made more sense as well. Buddy had fed his fellow graduate student choice titbits of gossip and then coordinated a double-assault on the source of all evil, David Albo.