The Grim Steeper: A Teapot Collector Mystery (3 page)

Dana eyed her critically. “Yes, there is.”

Eli, a tall, dark and handsome fellow, looked on with a bemused smile as Dana proceeded to order Sophie around, swapping her fashionable boots for Sophie’s Uggs, and her leather coat for Sophie’s jean jacket. She took the string of pearls from Cissy’s neck and hung it around Sophie’s, then stood back and looked her up and down. “Better. We can’t do anything about your jeans, but you at least look moderately chic and put together.”

“Those are my grandmother’s pearls!” Cissy complained, clutching at her naked neck.

“Then we know they came from the dollar store. Thelma Mae Earnshaw never spent more than a buck for anything in her life,” Dana said. “Stop whining; you’ll get them back.”

Eli chuckled and hugged Dana to his side. She gazed up at him with adoration.

Jason returned to the group of friends. “They’re opening up the reception room. We’d better go.”

Wally took Cissy’s arm. “Jase, maybe it would be better if we skipped the reception, and just you and Sophie go. Unless you really want us there we’ll just be a distraction; you’ll be busy with the others anyway.”

Jason nodded. “You have a point.” He included the others in a glance. “Thanks, guys, I really appreciate you showing up early like this, but Wally’s right. You may as well just enjoy the game.”

“And besides,” Dana said with a sniff, “Now
I’m
the one who’s underdressed!”

“You coming, Soph?” Jason asked, pointing toward the reception room off the lobby, where some of the college staff was already headed.

“I’ll follow you in a sec,” she said, and he smiled, then turned and headed across the lobby.

“We’d better go and get our seats,” Wally said.

“But you . . .
you
go and mingle with Jason and the other professor types,” Dana said, giving Sophie a little shove. “Make a good impression.”

“Thanks Dana, Cissy, for the loan,” Sophie said, touching the pearls and tugging at the jacket, which was a little loose, since Dana was more voluptuous than she. “Do you know anything about this trouble?”

Wally nodded, but Dana gave him a look and shook her head. “Keep your mouth shut, Wally. Jason will tell Sophie.”

Sophie watched them walk away and head toward the sports floor of the arena, deserting her in her hour of need. She joined Jason and the other college professors and spouses who were now lingering near the reception room door. Jason introduced her as she waited to discover what her purpose was for being there with him. She met Dean Asquith, the tall, handsome, silver-haired gentleman in a well-cut blue suit, and his wife, Jeanette Asquith, also tall, silver-haired and handsome; she wore a cocktail-length dress in some shiny blue fabric, with chunky silver jewelry. A sullen-visaged, dark and swarthy fellow wearing a tweed jacket over a Cruisers team shirt was introduced to her as Heck Donovan, the new basketball coach. His wife, whose name Sophie didn’t catch, appeared fortyish and wore glasses. She had a ravaged complexion, mousy hair done up in a messy bun, and she dressed dowdily in a blue jean skirt and oversized sweater. Sophie said hello to Julia Dandridge, the English department head—smartly dressed as always—and her husband, Nuñez Ortega.

“A few more of the teaching staff will be joining us, but shall we move in to the reception now?” Dean Asquith said. “I’d like Coach Donovan to speak briefly.”

As the group followed the dean, Sophie took Jason’s arm.
“What is going on?” she asked. “You
have
to tell me what trouble you’re in. No one would say!”

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” he muttered as they entered a long meeting room, lined on one side by buffet tables laden with treats and urns of coffee and tea. “Let’s say that tonight I need to make good with the dean. He is
furious
with me right now. Julia invited me tonight because she’s doing her darndest to help me out, but she can’t do it all alone. Soph, I’m sorry, but I have to go toady up to the dean and his wife. He quite literally holds my fate in his hands.” He squeezed her hand and followed Dean Asquith to the mahogany bar at one end of the room.

That was all she was going to get out of him it seemed, so, always interested in food, she drifted over and scanned the offerings. There were the usual squares, tarts and cookies on a scarred foldout table—awfully tacky for a private college reception—and unfortunately they all looked like they came out of a food factory.

“They’ll be from some commercial bakery in Buffalo or Rochester,” Julia Dandridge, who had also drifted to the food table, said.

“Don’t they believe in supporting local business?” Sophie said, with a slight smile to acknowledge the other woman.

“Officially they say they don’t want to appear to be playing favorites, but I think the convention organizer who works for Cruickshank is getting kickbacks from a food factory.”

“Kickbacks? Like, bribes?” Sophie asked, wide-eyed. “You can’t be serious. At a college?”

“Hey, if Jason is being accused of taking bribes, I guess it could be happening in food services, right?”

Chapter 3

S
he grabbed Julia’s sleeve. “What do you
mean
bribes? Julia, nobody is talking to me. You have to tell me, why is Jason in trouble?”

The professor, an undecided expression in her eyes, hesitated, staring down at Sophie’s fist bunching her suit jacket. “If he hasn’t told you . . .” She shook her head.

More people were entering the meeting room, some talking in clusters, others touring the mounted jerseys from bygone sports heroes that lined the wood-paneled wall, illuminated with small spotlights. Sophie took a deep breath and explained to Julia about her grandmother’s illness, and why she thought Jason had refrained from telling her what was going on in his life. When she finished, she could see the sympathy in the older woman’s blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea! I knew you had gone to the Hamptons to work, of course, but I didn’t know why you
came back to Gracious Grove. I had heard Rose was ill, but I didn’t know how serious it may have been. I’m happy she’s better.”

The hum of conversation in the room was amping up. Sophie glanced toward the bar area at the end of the room, where Jason lingered on the fringe of a group of professorial types. “He said he’d tell me, but he needed to go over and talk to the dean first. I know that Jason would never do anything dishonorable, and he wouldn’t do anything that would shame the college. He loves his job, and he loves Cruickshank.” She met Julia’s gaze. “Please tell me what’s going on so I’m not lost when I talk to these people. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

Julia took Sophie’s arm and drew her away to a quiet corner of the room, since people were now starting to inspect the snacks and drinks table, munching on tarts and canapés. “And to think I was sidling up to you to pick
your
brains. I’m worried about this upcoming Fall Fling tea party, whatever it’s supposed to be. I’m out of my depth with running our tearoom,” Julia said ruefully.

“We can talk about that, too,” Sophie said. “But first I need to know what’s going on.”

Julia glanced over at the group. Her husband, Nuñez, a dark-haired, dark-eyed property developer, was talking to the coach, but he glanced over and smiled at Julia. She smiled back and touched her stomach. “Okay, here it is,” she said, turning back to Sophie. “Cruickshank was a big deal in college athletics back in the fifties and sixties. I understand that in the last few decades the school had drifted away from athletic focus. The chess team was doing better at national tournaments than the basketball team. But college-level sports bring prestige and big bucks, both in
donations and, for successful teams, merchandising. The Board of Governors and alumni association have been pressuring Dean Asquith to improve athletics at Cruickshank—”

“So they hired this new basketball coach, Heck Donovan,” Sophie interjected, to speed the story.

“Right. They decided to start with the basketball program. Heck has been here for almost a year.” Julia’s attention was caught by someone who strode through the door, a tall, lanky, redheaded fellow, probably not more than twenty, wearing a Cruickshank College team tank shirt and baggy shorts.

“Who is that?” Sophie asked, as he looked around the room and caught sight of the coach. The younger man beckoned and the coach hustled over. They bent their heads together—or rather the basketball player bent from his lofty height and the coach looked up at him—and talked about something intensely, moving away from the crowd.

“The Cruisers’ star player, Mac MacAlister. He’s at the center of Jason’s problem.”

“Which is?” Sophie asked, beginning to get impatient. There was a stir in the room, and the chatter was louder. Some folks drifted out, and it was clear that the reception would soon end, as people found their way to their seats to watch the basketball game.

“After some poor showings academically, the dean was pressured by the state education department to more rigorously enforce their academic standards to maintain eligibility for scholarships.”

“What is the standard?”

“C or better; let their grade slip below that, and they’re supposed to be benched. Heck Donovan was none too pleased when the board decided that in future, his bonuses will be tied to his student athletes’ academic standings
rather than their performance on the court. I hear he was considering suing Cruickshank, because he says that’s rewriting his contract.”

“Does he have a point?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t paid much attention to any of this until Jason’s name was brought up. Miraculously, MacAlister squeaked by with a C plus in the spring semester. But a writer for the student newspaper, the
Cruickshank Clarion
, accused the college of fluffing up MacAlister’s grade to keep him eligible to play. He got an A in one of Jason’s courses. If he hadn’t gotten that A, his average grade would have fallen below the C, and he wouldn’t have been allowed to start on the team this fall.”

“So they think that Jason gave him an inflated grade?”

Julia nodded.

“He wouldn’t do that. He cares about teaching.”

“I know, but there’s no disputing that MacAlister’s grade was somehow inflated. Jason says he gave Mac a D, but that’s not reflected in the official transcript recorded at the registrar’s office. There’s the registrar there,” she said, pointing toward a man who was watching Mac and the coach talk, his expression betraying agitation. “That’s Vince Nomuro.”

Sophie eyed the Asian-American gentleman, a fellow of mid height, salt-and-pepper hair and thick dark glasses. He wore a
GO CRU
ISERS!
T-shirt over a dress shirt, and under a tweed sport jacket. As she watched, a younger woman with curly dark hair and metallic-framed glasses stormed into the room and approached the registrar, tugging at his sleeve and talking in an urgent fashion. He shook his head, said something sharp and pulled away from her. She stomped back out.

“And that excitable young woman was the assistant registrar, Brenda Fletcher,” Julia said in an amused tone. “She works up a head of steam on a weekly basis.”

“Couldn’t the mark be a simple mistake?” Sophie asked. “Like, a typo?”

“Unlikely. As department head I have to approve the mark, but routinely don’t question them. I rely on the professors and academic advisers to get things right. My records show that Jason gave Mac an A while he swears it was a D.” She sighed. “I blame myself for this mess.”

“Why?”

“If I’d been paying attention, I would have questioned the grade, given Mac’s past failures in English literature courses. I’ve been spreading myself too thin for quite a while now. That was right when I was in the midst of buying the building and converting it to become SereniTea. I had some medical things I was dealing with . . . and now . . . well, Nuñez and I . . .” She blushed and smiled, putting one hand on her slightly rounded belly. “We’re expecting.”

Sophie gasped, then said, “Congratulations! I can’t believe Jason didn’t tell me!”

“He doesn’t know,” Julia said. “It took us eleven years. This was my third—and last—round of IVF. It’s expensive, and hard on the marriage. I feel like I wasn’t there for the rest of my life, the academic side, and I relied on my instructors and professors though it, even though they didn’t all know what I was going through. It finally took, but I’m just barely at the second trimester. I haven’t told anyone but family, so far.”

Sophie was taken aback. Why had she then told her, a virtual stranger?

“I know we’re not exactly friends, Sophie,” she said, turning to her and clutching her forearms. “But I feel like we
could
be. I see you out with your girlfriends shopping and at the bakery, and I wish I could join you.”

Her tone was wistful. Sophie realized in that moment
that the professor was actually lonely. “Julia, please
do
join us anytime you see us! The girls would love you.” Sophie said, not sure if that was true. Dana might, but Cissy would likely feel intimidated and unsure of herself. As always. However, months ago she had decided she couldn’t cater to Cissy’s insecurities and self-doubt. “You don’t have family in Gracious Grove, do you?”

She shook her head. “I moved here for Nuñez several years ago. It took me two years to get a job, and then I wasn’t sure that Cruickshank was where I wanted to be.”

“What’s wrong with Cruickshank?”

“Nothing, really. But Dean Asquith and I—he’s the dean of faculty, so I have to deal with him all the time—don’t see eye to eye. Dr. Bolgan, the dean of arts and humanities, agrees with me. We’d like to see more rigorous class requirements in our department and some new, more-challenging courses.” She sighed. “Even at Cruickshank, we have some undergrads who are reading at a high school level, and that’s being generous. It’s gotten worse since this push for athletic scholarships has gotten stronger.”

“So, does that mean that other athletes are getting grades they didn’t earn?”

Julia shrugged. “I’d love to see Cruickshank make a name for itself academically so it can attract more-dedicated students and become a prestigious school. But the dean sees the English literature department as padding, preferring our business and economics school.
He’d
like Cruickshank to become a mini Wharton, but he feels he needs to play ball with the alumni association and the Board of Governors if he’s ever going to expand the business program.” She rolled her eyes. “Like that is going to happen. He has ambition, I’ll say that for him. He’d like to replace President Schroeder when he retires in three years.”

“Is that likely to happen?”

Julia shook her head. “I don’t see it. He lacks gravitas.”

Sophie eyed the dean. “He sure seems dignified to me.”

“He’s aping President Schroeder. If you’d met the college president, you’d see that Asquith is performing a poor copy.”

Sophie pondered Jason’s problem as she watched him from across the room. He caught her watching him and shrugged.
Sorry
, he mouthed, no doubt realizing the discordant reception was not her idea of an entertaining evening. She smiled and fluttered her hand at him in reassurance. “Is this serious, Jason’s problem?” she asked, turning back to Julia.

“People keep saying no one ever gets fired for this kind of thing, but I don’t know if that’s true, especially given that he’s had a few run-ins with Dean Asquith before.”

“Run-ins?”

“Jason has been extremely vocal in his support of Dr. Bolgan’s and my attempts to beef up the literature curriculum, though he doesn’t have our standing and isn’t even on tenure track at this point, and won’t be until he gets his doctorate. The dean is
not
pleased with him. He’d love to weaken our support and may see this as a handy excuse to point a finger, give Dr. Bolgan and me a stern warning,
and
take Jason down before he completes his PhD and gains professorship. And if he gets fired, he may not be able to find another job in the US, or at least, not one that pays decently. Adjunct positions are notoriously poorly paid. Others have had to go abroad to universities in Europe, the Middle East or Asia, to make a decent living.”

“I need to help him, if I can.”

“I don’t see how anyone can, at this point. We’ll have to sit tight while the grading thing is investigated. I don’t believe for a moment he altered the grade. A rigorous investigation will point that out.”

If
it was an honest investigation. Sophie didn’t like to think that Julia was naive, but who was to say the dean wouldn’t imply that he investigated and found out Jason was the culprit? “I wish Jason had told me before.” She realized that she didn’t know a lot about his work; she had been intimidated by the whole atmosphere of the college, and so had avoided it.

But this was his life, and she cared. Witnessing Julia’s close friendship with Jason, she had regarded her almost as a competitor for his affection, but she was wrong. This woman was a friend, and maybe she would become Sophie’s friend, too. “Julia, we won’t have time now to talk about the Fall Fling tea party, so why don’t you come by Auntie Rose’s sometime this week and we’ll talk then? You can pick Nana’s brain. She’s been in the business for forty years, and there is nothing she doesn’t know about running a tearoom. Maybe we can coordinate our block for the townwide tea party?”

“I’d like that. Now go and join Jason.”

“But what should I say to people? What can I do?”

Julia smiled and said, “Just be yourself. I’ve watched you, Sophie; you’re a people person, a natural charmer. Professors are just people, you know.”

“I know, but when Jason gets going, I’m not even sure what he’s talking about after a while. He’s so different than he was when we were teenagers. I was the one who read poetry back then, but it was usually some summer reading list assignment from my boarding school, though I guess I never told him that.” Her insecurity about that and where she stood with Jason came out in her words, voicing thoughts she hadn’t expressed to anyone. She felt it was safe to say these things to Julia.

“First, there are all kinds of intelligence, Sophie. And second . . . professors need to be brought down to earth
every once in a while. That’s what Nuñez does for me. As a property developer and construction guy, he sees things in concrete terms. The college community is insular. There are friendships, but there are more enemies, gossip, rumors, backbiting and competition. Just because they’re academics doesn’t mean they aren’t human.”