Publish and Perish

Book by Wright Sally

Tuesday, November 22

"Did you see him the day he died?"

"Briefly. On his way out the door." Nancy Shaffer pushed her black leather headband farther back on her head and squinted across the English department office toward the watercooler. "He had two classes that morning, and his Blake tutorial."

"Do you remember the name of the graduate student?"

"Frank Marquez."

"Did they meet in Richard's office?"

"Not Friday. They went to Dr. West's house. He'd made doughnuts, or coffee cake or something. You know how he liked to bake."

"So you didn't actually talk to Dr. West?"

"I just said hello to him a few minutes before eight. He had that lunch meeting later, and then he was driving to Columbus."

"Why?"

"I know he was planning to visit the University Museum. Maybe it's the Anthropology Museum. The one where they have the Mound Builder displays? One of the anthropology professors is a friend of his."

"Ah. Waldo Hubbard."

"That sounds right."

Ben had only met him once, but he was an old friend of Richard's, and he was struggling through the last stages of Parkinson's disease. "Was Richard planning to go anywhere else?"

"He didn't mention anything. I know he often went to the zoo. Of course I don't know if he meant it, you know how he joked with a straight face, but I remember one time he said he was teaching a parrot to say Ludwig van Beethoven."

"Yeah, he probably was."

"Friday he just said he wouldn't be back in the office before I left for the day, so he'd leave me a note for Monday, if there was anything special he wanted done first thing."

"Didn't he have office hours on Monday?"

"Ten to twelve. But I get in at eight, while he's teaching, and if he leaves me a note, I can get started."

"You do all the department work?"

"He was planning to hire someone part-time. Now that I've moved into Sarie's job."

"I was surprised to hear she'd left."

"It was a surprise to everybody." Nancy dropped a pen in her center drawer with a carefully neutral expression.

And yet it looked to Ben like she was trying not to say something more. "So why do you think she quit?"

"You want my honest opinion? Or you want me to be discreet?"

"I'd like to hear what you really think."

"I think she was too wishy-washy to work for Dr. West." Nancy's broad hands had gripped the edge of her desk, and she was watching her thumbs slide back and forth. "You know what he was like, he'd toss instructions at you over his shoulder as he ran out the door. Sarie couldn't take it in that fast. My father was a lot like Dr. West, so it didn't bother me that much. I'd holler at him and drag him back if I didn't understand what he meant, and then he'd apologize for not explaining. There's nobody in the department who can replace him. And I hope they don't make a big mistake."

"But Sarie never talked to you about it?"

"Not directly." Nancy bent her large, gray-haired head and began lining up the edges of the papers on her desk, making neat symmetrical piles with equal distances between them. "To tell you the truth, I think they drove each other crazy. She was slow and disorganized, and that was frustrating for him because he did everything so fast." Nancy smiled and shook her head and her face lost the tight, set lines. "He'd say things like, 'Get me that guy Smith on the phone!' And I'd say, 'Wait a minute, which Smith?' I thought it was kind of funny, myself, but Sarie would just sit there and stare at her hands."

"Does she still take care of her father?"

"I think it's her uncle. He's an invalid, but I don't know what's wrong with him."

"It's good of her, to do that." Ben picked a piece of lint off his corduroy pants and laid his right ankle on his left thigh, before looking to see how Nancy reacted.

"Oh, I know, she's a nice person. But there was a definite personality clash."

"Did Richard pick up his mail Friday?"

"He must have. There were several things in his mailbox, and they were gone Saturday morning."

"You remember anything in particular?"

"Nothing special. One or two political letters. He was always writing senators and congressmen and the chairman of the Foreign Relations Committee."

"And wondering why nobody else did. Did he type his personal correspondence?"

"He was very particular about that. I did everything that was related to the university, but he used the typewriter he bought for his personal correspondence, as well as the early drafts of his literary articles and political essays."

"Did he keep copies of his own letters?"

"He was careless about that, in my opinion. He made carbons of his political letters, and his financial correspondence, but other than that, he never bothered."

"What time is the mail delivered?"

"Early afternoon. I get it in the boxes by two usually."

"It was still in his pigeonhole when you went home at four?"

"I think so." Nancy adjusted the cuffs of her suit coat, while gazing at a cactus on a filing cabinet as though she were trying to visualize Richard's mailbox. "I mean, I didn't notice, especially. But he hadn't come in."

Ben had already gotten up and walked to the window, where he picked up the cord to the old venetian blinds and gazed across campus toward The Coffee Cup. "Do you remember if he'd gotten a package?"

"Seems like he did. I do everybody's mail at once and I can't say I recall for sure, but someone got a package, something I had to work to fit in the box."

"Do you usually come in on Saturday?"

"If there's anything pressing. My husband went hunting, and I just thought I'd come in and clean up a few odds and ends. I'm glad I did. I wouldn't like to think of Dr. West lying there all weekend."

"But finding him must have been a shock. You have a key to his office?"

"I gave it to the police. The door was unlocked, though. And now that I think about it, the janitor would've found him when he came in to clean. I nursed during the war, so that stood me in good stead. You know what I mean. When I opened the door."
"Ben! Ben, over here! Sorry I didn't get to talk to you after the funeral, but I had an alumni meeting." President James Cook smoothed his tie with a practiced hand and the gold ring on his little finger flashed for a second in the sun. "I saw the long arm of the law walking your way, and I couldn't wait."

"How are you, Jim? How's Mary Ann?"

"She's fine. She's taken the children to Florida to visit her family for ten days, but she'll be back Sunday. Her father's not very well, and she felt she ought to go. You haven't seen the kids in a while, have you? We just got their school pictures back this week." Jim pulled his wallet out of the breast pocket of his suit coat and handed Ben two small color prints.

"Boy, they're growing up. How old are they now?"

"James is nine, and Sarah's seven."

"They're both very good-looking."

"They are, aren't they? They must have inherited it from their mother." Jim looked at the snapshots for a second himself, and then put them back in his wallet. "I feel terrible about Richard."

"I know. I do too."

"It's such a shame, Ben. Why did he have to be his own worst enemy? I remember when he was as skinny as a rail. Remember, back in Bloomington? He looked like a starving Swedish farmer, instead of a doctor's son from the best side of Chicago."

"I suppose it would've helped if he'd lost thirty pounds, but he inherited the heart condition. His father was thin, and he died when he was forty-five."

"Did he? I guess I'd forgotten that. Of course, Richard didn't talk to me about personal matters the way he did you. I don't think he ever felt the same about me after he got back from the war." Jim moved his smooth, narrow briefcase from one hand to the other, and looked past Ben toward the grove of trees outside the administration offices. "To tell you the truth, I don't think he ever forgave me for being 4F."

"He never felt that way!"

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely. Richard didn't blame you for what you couldn't help. We were all just different after the war. We enlisted as kids and we came back old men. Of course I was much younger than the two of you!"

"Don't rub it in! By what, five or six years maybe?"

"Yeah. But seriously, he never held it against you."

"I do think there was a feeling of strain between us. Not always. But sometimes."

"You disagreed on several fundamental principles of education. Tenure. Budget priorities. Graduate tutorials. With you being president and him the head of the English department, how could there not be conflict?"

"Perhaps. I hadn't thought of it in quite those terms. But what a great character he was! There'll never be another like Richard West. He really had a remarkable mind, Ben. Even if I did take exception to his opinions from time to time. And as I'm sure you know, his passing is a real blow for the English department, and it'll take a while to repair the damage. So when are you leaving for England?"

"I don't know. I'll postpone it until after the first of the year anyway. I accomplished quite a bit while I was there, and several thin...