Read Murdering Americans Online
Authors: Ruth Edwards
Tags: #General, #FICTION, #Mystery & Detective, #Suspense
Murdering Americans (7 page)
‘I’m a bit fogged about the distinction, Marjorie, but it sounds like good news. Now why is this dinner so early?’
‘It’s the normal time. Do you eat later in England?’
‘Blimey!’ The baroness looked nervously at Marjorie, to whom fortunately the blasphemous origins of the word seemed unknown. ‘We certainly do. Now what’ll I do?’
‘I’ll take you back to the hotel and wait while you change into your glad rags.’
‘Thank you,’ said the baroness, as she headed for the door. ‘What’s suitable? Top hat? White tie? Tails?’
‘You needn’t put on the Ritz, Lady Troutbeck,’ said Marjorie with a smile. ‘A nice frock will be just dandy.’
*. It needed only that.
***
‘Who’s going to be there, Marjorie?’ asked the baroness, now resplendent in an intricately knitted Missoni dress of red, mauve, and purple. Since purchasing an entire job-lot of designer garments that had been donated to a Cambridge Oxfam shop by a woman of her own generous proportions, the baroness was beginning to develop a reputation as a bit of a fashionista.
‘Didn’t the Provost give you the list?’
‘She gave me a ton of paper, but I ignored it. She’d been reading me some stuff I thought was guff, so I assumed all this was guff as well and anyway today I had pressing matters to attend to.’
‘In that case you’d better bring all that paper along to the office tomorrow and I’ll show you what’s important. You need to know your schedule. As for tonight, there will be you and the other three DVPs as well as the President, several deans, a half-dozen or so senior professors, and Martin Freeman, who’s the Chairman of the Board of Trustees and whose family bankrolled the university. Some wives will be there as well.’
‘Will Professor Godber be there?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Just something I heard about him made me interested in meeting him.’
Marjorie looked at her curiously. ‘I don’t know. Warren Godber doesn’t socialise much. And I don’t know that he’d be invited anyway. It’ll be mostly people…’ she chose her words carefully, ‘closer to the administration.’
‘Will we have speeches inflicted on us?’
Marjorie gave a slight smile. ‘You sure will. After all, you’ll be making one yourself.’
‘I will? Shit! What about?’
‘Didn’t the Provost tell you?’
‘Maybe she did, but what with all the travel and jet-lag and general fuss, I’m afraid I didn’t take it in. What do I have to do?’
‘Just five minutes or so on why you’ve come here and what you hope to do should be fine.’
‘I wish I’d given that some thought, Marjorie. However, no doubt something will occur to me.’
***
‘President Dickinson, may I present Lady Troutbeck?’
Dickinson—expensively coiffed, orange-tanned, and smooth-faced—wrung the baroness’s hand firmly and gazed into her eyes with an expression of deep sincerity. ‘May I bid you a hearty welcome to Freeman University, Lady Troutbeck? We are honoured to have a person of such distinction visiting with us.’
‘Greetings from the United Kingdom, President. It’s an honour to be invited to be part of such a fine institution, even for such a short time.’
Dickinson introduced her cursorily to his more darkly tanned wife, an anxious bottle-blonde with enormous lips who looked half his age, and then began a welcome speech to Rowland Cunningham.
‘Can I get you a cocktail, Lady Troutbeck?’ asked Traci Dickinson.
‘You certainly can. Gin and tonic…no, no, on second thoughts, I’ll have whisky. Large, bottled water, no ice.’
Her drink arrived quickly. As she took it from Traci, she was impressed by her nails, which were painted fuchsia, elaborately etched with a yellow that matched her dress, and were so long they seemed almost to encircle the glass. Within a few minutes, the chore of listening to Cunningham, who was oozing unctuousness, caused the baroness to request another whisky. The discovery that she also knew and despised the other two Distinguished Visiting Professors caused her to ask for a second refill. The third she took to the dinner table, for she had seen with alarm that there was, as yet, no sign of any wine. Just ubiquitous jugs of chlorinated iced water.
She was placed between Dickinson and the pleasant, rubicund Martin Freeman, who seemed anxious to tell her about Indiana’s history. ‘I’m a Hoosier through and through,’ he explained, ‘and proud of it.’ As she was about to request an explanation for this perplexing statement, the President asked the gathering to bow their heads and said grace. ‘Now,’ he added, ‘before we tuck into a hearty meal, we are fortunate that our four distinguished visiting professors have kindly consented to share with us their mission statements.
‘Before I call on our speakers, can I just welcome all of you this evening, particularly our DVPs, who we know will add lustre to our campus. To them I say that here at Freeman U we have three goals we pursue passionately: the welfare of our students, the embracing of diversity, and the lighting of beacons of excellence that lead all our young people to high educational achievement. Our DVPs are four such beacons and we know they will inspire our students to strain every sinew to bring academic and sporting credit to their beloved school.
‘As I always remind my colleagues, we can never stand still at Freeman U: innovation will always be at the forefront of our strategy, along with the challenge of change. There will always be enemies who will seek to undermine our great mission, but we will take them on and we will win.’
He paused for sycophantic applause, which was forthcoming.
‘Now, I call on Lady Ida Troutbeck. All our DVPs are remarkable people, but even by their standards, Lady Ida is exceptional. Not only does she head up the University of Cambridge, but she’s a senior member of the British parliament and an aristocrat. We are more grateful than we can say that she has taken time out of her busy schedule to be with us for a half-semester. Lady Ida.’
***
‘It wasn’t an absolute catastrophe,’ she explained later to Mary Lou. ‘But it was close. I had expected to speak after dinner, not before, and probably last because of alphabetical order, and my mind was reeling with the discovery that in addition to the appalling Rowley Cunningham, the other members of the job-lot of DVPs—as we are known—that Helen Fortier-Prichardson acquired on her trip to England were that ghastly New Labour stick-insect Constance Darlington….’
‘Oh, that’s funny. What was it she said about you during that debate about House of Lords reform? I seem to remember you two had a particular face-off.’
‘Don’t remember. The usual stuff about dinosaurs and the Stone Age, I expect. I remember denouncing her as a constitutional and cultural illiterate and vandal, which of course she is, but she took it rather badly. The cow has no discernible sense of humour, naturally. Like all lefties.’
‘What about Woody Allen?’
‘He doesn’t count.’
‘Oh, get on with it, Jack.’
‘There’s worse.’
‘Worse than what?’
‘Worse than Constance Darlington.’
‘Who could that be? Jack the Ripper?’
‘Jimmy Rawlings.’
‘You’ve made my day, Jack. Mind you, I should have guessed she’d want someone ethnic.’
‘That ethnic? Burn-out-whitey ethnic? Allah-the-merciless-who-will-root-out-the-infidel ethnic?’
‘That’s religious rather than ethnic. Anyway, your Provost was probably as ignorant about him as she is about you. Perhaps he’ll liven things up.’
‘He may do so. How he got into the country is beyond me when you think Horace was almost clapped in chains. Anyway, as you can imagine, I was somewhat preoccupied between wondering what a Hoosier was….’
‘You can’t have done two seconds reading on Indiana if you didn’t know that’s what the natives call themselves.’
‘I haven’t. So be it. Stop interrupting. Do you want to hear about my speech or not?’
‘Oh, I do. I do.’
‘I hadn’t thought of anything to say—and since I hadn’t even looked at my time-table I hadn’t a clue what I was expected to be doing while I’m here or even what faculty I’m assigned to, and I had to start by correcting the President’s mad claims about me. By the time I’d managed that—without, I hope, making the idiot feel as silly as he deserved and me seem disappointingly unimportant—I burbled about the common cultural values of Britain and the United States and then explained that my mission was to learn more about their wonderful country.
‘I thought a bit of light relief wouldn’t be a bad thing, so, since it’s much on my mind, I explained I’d been having cultural difficulties with their cuisine. “There was a stage earlier today,” I told them at one point, “when I thought New Paddington was a culinary desert and that I would end my stay as skinny as Lady Darlington. I couldn’t even get an egg that tasted of anything.” Then, to make them laugh, I added that I’d even toyed with the idea of driving out into the prairie to scratch around for a Red Indian who had free-range chickens. I thought I detected bafflement, so I pointed out that if you couldn’t find an Indian in Indiana, where would you find one.’
‘Oh, God. You didn’t. I’m surprised you haven’t been deported.’
‘Well, a combination of a boo from Jimmy Rawlings and a general sharp and noisy intake of breath made me realise something was wrong, so I muttered something about having found a wonderful delicatessen that had solved all my problems, added that everyone was warm and welcoming and that I was sure I would be very happy in New Paddington, and sat down to what was only just a light patter of applause. The smarmy president then explained that Lady Troutbeck would in time come to love the unparalleled and diverse cuisine of Indiana and that I needed to know that at Freeman U, Indians were called First Citizens, since these were the people from whom the country had been stolen. Then Rowley Cunningham made a leftie speech about world peace and the evils of neo-imperialism that went down well with everyone except Martin Freeman, who turns out to be a Republican. Constance droned on mind-numbingly about human rights and Jimmy Rawlings said his mission was to eradicate inequality and discrimination from the face of the universe or something like that and to stand up for victims everywhere.’
‘How did the rest of the evening go?’
‘Great mounds of horrendous food and a very little horrible wine. Still, I made myself a modest feast of salami and cheese when I got back here and the California merlot I’ve acquired is really rather good.’
‘I wasn’t asking about food.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘Get on with it, Jack.’
‘Oh, all right. Freeman was OK. He’s the fourth generation of Freemans, who’ve been the main funders of this university for decades. The family firm continues to make a fortune out of spare parts for cars and Freeman is a big time philanthropist. I hope I may in due course be able to charm a couple of million out of him for St. Martha’s. Freeman likes England and was pleasantly surprised that we were on much the same side in politics since he thought all academics were left-wing. I made quite a speech to him about my respect for American self-reliance and can-do, which went down well.’
‘Did you get any gossip about the university from him?’
‘Not really. He talked mainly about the history of New Paddington. Apparently it was once a steel town. When the mills died, New Paddington died. Any questions I asked about the university were batted away. He seemed uneasy talking about it at all.’
‘And the President?’
‘Regurgitates platitudes rather than conversing, ex-Wall Street, lives for fund-raising and has no discernible interest in anything of the mind. However he got lively once. When the first lot of plates were removed, revealed in front of each of us was a circular piece of paper with a picture of a sword in a rather elaborate silver scabbard, on which was written “TRUTH” in gold and, on the hilt, an acronym—“VCR” or something.’
‘This was an ad for video cassette recorders?’
‘No, no, no. It certainly wasn’t an ad. Judging by Dickinson’s barely contained fury, it was more like a threat. Wait a minute and I’ll get my copy—which I held on to despite Dickinson’s best efforts.’ She was back in a moment. ‘It’s VRC, not VCR. And no, I’ve no idea what it stands for except that it made the President and the Provost cross, Gonzales was breathing fire, and Martin Freeman looked thoughtful. I asked Dickinson what it meant, and he said something curt about student pranks and told me to throw it away. So obviously I immediately hand-bagged it.’
‘VRC? VRC? We had a Video Resource Centre in my university.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything? It might as well be Vassar Rowing Club. However, no doubt all will be clear in time. It was, in any case, a welcome episode, though soon I was back to chit-chat with the president about his dreary goals. I’d have fallen asleep at the table had it not been that the whole event mercifully ended at 9.15. I gather that they all get up at about 4.00, so I may have to become less nocturnal.’
‘Then you should go to bed now, Jack.’
‘I intend to. Any word from Robert?’
‘They’ve reached the Czech Republic. They seem to like it. Then on to Slovenia or Slovakia or one of those places.’
‘Did he say anything about Indiana?’
‘Just that it sounded like the last place on earth he wanted to visit.’
The baroness bit her bottom lip. ‘Pity,’ she said. ‘Tell him that things are hotting up and he and Rachel still have time to change their minds.’
Within two days, the baroness and Marjorie had reached an understanding. Having swiftly accepted that her secretary was intelligent, sane, and ultra-competent, the baroness had surrendered herself into her power where all practical matters were concerned. For her part, Marjorie appreciated having her worth recognised: while the baroness deferred to her, the other three DVPs treated her like a flunkey. And once Marjorie had cross-questioned the baroness about how she ran St. Martha’s and they had established that maintaining academic standards was a joint passion, they became partners in bile. ‘I wouldn’t pee on the Provost if she was on fire,’ was a sentiment Marjorie produced on the third day with which the baroness heartily concurred. Dr. Ethan Gonzales—who, it emerged, liked to be known as The Enforcer—she referred to as the Goon.
‘Are Provost and Goon an item?’
‘They deny it. They’ve worked together for years and they call themselves a team. I don’t know if they screw. But that would break the rules so they wouldn’t admit that anyway.’
‘Is he as much of a plug-ugly as he looks?’
Marjorie cast her eyes to heaven. ‘Is Bill Clinton a skirt-chaser?’
‘I may have led a sheltered life, Marjorie, but though I’ve met many academics, I’ve never come across one who acts like an understudy for Mike Tyson in a bad mood.’
‘Academic? The Goon’s dumber than a box full of hammers, Ph.D. or no Ph.D. Just because you put a boot in the oven don’t mean it’s a biscuit. He’s just a jumped-up minder, but he’s good at bein’ frightenin’.’
‘And is that essentially his job?’
‘Yep.’
‘This campus takes some getting used to. Even Horace is a bit subdued.’
‘Wouldn’t it be simpler to have a permanent cage for him here, Jack? That way you could transport him in his carrier rather than hoistin’ that cage over and back.’
‘But where would I get a cage? It’s been difficult enough to get bird seed.’
‘You leave that to me. And don’t you worry about payin’ for it. I have enough money in the DVP expenses budget to burn a wet dog, as my granny used to say. And the others are already dippin’ in there good.’
‘For what?’
‘Rawlings spends a lot taking people out to eat. I don’t know where he finds so many people.’
‘He’s probably financing the local Islamist terrorist cell.’
‘And limo hire for the three of them. They wanted a proper chauffeur, not a student.’
The baroness frowned. ‘Does that reduce Betsy’s income?’
‘I guess so.’
‘In that case I want her given as many hours as she needs working as my research assistant.’
‘I’ll organise that.’
‘And will the budget run to buying me decent food?’
‘Don’t see why not. You need your nourishment. Give me some idea of what’s involved and I’ll organise an allowance for your special dietary requirements.’
‘Thank you very much, Marjorie. You’ve cheered me up and God knows…sorry, Marjorie…dear knows, I need cheering up. The President’s trophy wife has asked me and Constance Darlington to dinner tonight to keep her company while her husband’s in Chicago. Goodness knows why.’
‘Because Traci Troutpout….’
‘Her surname is Troutpout? Extraordinary. I wonder if they’re related to the Troutbecks. I hope not.’
‘It’s a nickname for what your lips look like if you overdo the collagen implants.’
‘Ah, that’s why they’re so huge. I thought she’d maybe had some Negro ancestry. Ooops, no, I’m not allowed to say that, am I? I should be saying “African-American.” Really, Marjorie, normal conversation is very difficult in this country.’
Marjorie smiled indulgently. ‘Don’t let it worry you. It’s not as if you’re looking for tenure. Anyway, it’s nothing to do with Traci’s ancestry. Just her busy cosmetic surgeon. And the reason she’s invited you two, I guess, is that she can’t stick her husband bein’ the centre of attention, and she wants to show you two that with the rooster away, she’s the queen-of-the-walk in the henhouse.’
‘How will she do that?’
‘Showin’ off. She’s that dumb she thinks she’ll impress you with her acquisitions. She shits and flies, that woman.’
‘You’ve lost me, Marjorie.’
‘Granny again,’ said Marjorie, smiling. ‘It means new money showin’ off. You’ll find out tonight.’
***
‘Hey, Lady Troutbeck. You’re looking good today.’
‘You too, Betsy. Are you well?’
‘I’m good, thanks. And thanks for inviting me to lunch.’
‘You need building up. Right, I’m finished here. ’Bye, Marjorie. See you later.’
‘Before you go, Jack, here’s your cell phone.’
The baroness peered at it suspiciously. ‘I don’t know how to use it. It’s different from my mobile back home. Looks very complicated.’
‘Why don’t you stop grumblin’ and go get lunch? I’ll teach you later.’
‘All right. Come on, Betsy, we’ll walk to the hotel.’
‘Like walk?’
‘Like walk.’
‘That’s totally cool.’
The baroness saw and learned a lot during the walk that depressed her. ‘Why do students eat all the time?’
‘Do they?’
‘Look. That one’s eating crisps. And the one with her is scoffing a bar of something. And half of them are glugging something out of a bottle.’ She stopped. ‘Look at that crowd beside that building. They’re all eating hamburgers.’
‘That’s because they’re like going to have to fast in a minute. Look at the banner.’
The baroness squinted into the sunlight. ‘PLAY POVERTY. What’s that?’
‘It’s like a sociology programme. You get a credit for like spending lunchtime role-playing being poor, so you don’t get much to eat.’
‘You’re having me on.’
Betsy shook her head. The baroness was so appalled she didn’t speak for two minutes. Then she burst out, ‘Why do they all dress so horribly?’
Betsy was puzzled. ‘Horribly?’
‘Look at that group.’ They stopped and surveyed it. ‘Those girls in long, skin-tight rubber knickers, whatever they’re called?’
‘They really are, like, called knickers. They’re for sports. You know, cycling and that.’
‘Where are the bicycles?’
‘They probably don’t do like sports. People wear them cos they like them.’
‘My God, how can they like them?’ cried the baroness. ‘Look, the thin girls can just about get away with them, awful as they are, but look at that fat one. She’s bulging out all over.’
Betsy shrugged. ‘People wear what they want.’
‘This place is turning me into a body fascist.’ The baroness jabbed her finger towards the group. ‘Look at those boys with those hideous long, baggy shorts.’ She shook her head. ‘Yecchh! And those grotesque multi-coloured ones?’
‘Oh, they’re board shorts. Everyone thinks they’re like really cool.’
‘Why are they called that?’
‘I think it’s to do with them having been like invented for surf boarding.’
‘If you’re surfing, at least the waves cover you. What possible excuse is there to wear them to class?’
Betsy shrugged again. The baroness looked at her in despair. ‘Are you telling me you could see one of these as a sex object?’
Betsy shot her a startled look. ‘You mean would I like date one?’
‘Look at that fellow there. He’s got a Hawaiian shirt. And that one. His stomach’s flopping over his waistband. And like all the other clones, he’s wearing a stupid baseball hat backwards. Whey do they even need hats? I’m not suggesting they dress like Cary Grant….’
‘Like who?’
‘He’s an elegant dead film star, Betsy, whom, being a realist, I’m not suggesting they emulate, but why do they have to dress so repellently? Or am I just so old-fashioned I don’t realise they look divine.’
Betsy laughed. ‘I’m not too keen on the look either. I think guys look cuter in like jeans and sweatshirts and showing their hair.’
‘So what’s the reason for the fashion?’
‘Fashion’s fashion. Why are my shorts frayed? Because it’s fashion. It’s the way it is.’
‘But you look good in them. Mind you, you’d look good in anything.’ Another group of students passed in front of them. The baroness shook her head. ‘That’s another thing—though I admit this is not peculiar to the U.S. Why do so many people pay good money to wear advertising slogans? Isn’t that the wrong way round? Shouldn’t you get the advertisers to pay you?’
‘I never thought of that.’
The baroness lost interest in her own rant. ‘What’s that building?’
‘The undergrads’ library.’
‘And what’s that flag flying from the top? It’s not the Stars and Stripes. Is it a university flag?’
‘No.’
‘Well, what is it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Can you make out the lettering? It’s too small for me.’
‘Sorry, Lady Troutbeck, I can’t make it out either.’
‘How good is the library?’
‘They say it’s got hundreds of thousands of books, but they’re like going to get rid of most of them because there isn’t much demand.’
The baroness stopped dead and gazed at her in horror. ‘How can students do without books?’
‘We don’t get assigned them much. We get handouts of the bits we need or we like do research on the web. The Provost told the student newspaper that undergrads don’t need books. They need…what did she call it?…software suites.’
‘Which are?’
‘Computer centres, I guess. The Provost said like students needed to acquire skills that suited their career path. And they came from like computers, not books.’
‘The woman’s a barbarian. That’s not what I think a university education is about.’
‘In Freeman it is,’ said Betsy quietly. ‘Nowadays people think you’re like a freak if you read. That’s why I’m hoping to make it to Honour College. I’ve heard it’s different there. They still have reading circles and all. Though I heard the Dean’s cracking down on what they can read. A lot of books have like been banned as inappropriate.’
The reason Betsy had failed to get into Honour College as a freshman, she explained, had to do with so much of her time at high school being given over to cheerleading.
‘Why didn’t your parents insist you spend more time on study?’
‘My mom insisted I spend more time on cheerleading,’ said Betsy bleakly. ‘You ever heard of soccer moms?’
‘Mothers who get over-enthusiastic about how their sons do at soccer?’
‘Something like that. Well Mom was the cheerleading equivalent. She took me to cheerleading gyms, to cheer camp, we watched cheer competition tapes. She never like let up. Not for a minute.’
‘Did you enjoy it?’
‘Not really. I wasn’t that good so I was always anxious. But Mom said I just had to try harder so I did and I got like the scholarship so I could go to college.’
‘But did you want to get to college to cheerlead?’
‘I had to get to college. If you don’t get to college you’ve no future. No one will like hire you except to fill shelves at Wal-Mart.’
‘Ridiculous.’
‘Isn’t it like that in England?’
The baroness grunted. ‘The bloody government is trying hard to make it like that. But it’s all wrong. Universities are for people who genuinely want to learn. Not for people who want a piece of paper.’
‘I’d like to learn. But being a cheerleader doesn’t like leave much time for study. It was as much as I could do to complete basic assignments. It’s not just the practising and the performing. It’s like the socialising. You can’t like get out of it if you want to be popular and if you’re not popular, you won’t be picked for the team. “You work hard. You play hard. You get on the team.” That’s what Coach was always saying.’
‘But you were fired.’
‘Yep.’
‘Because you weren’t popular?’
‘Something like that,’ said Betsy, opening the hotel door for the baroness. ‘Anyway, I’m glad really cos this job takes less time and you don’t have to worry about like breaking your leg.’
***
When she was satisfied that Betsy had had enough to eat, the baroness said, ‘I’m curious. People have said things to me about low standards on campus. What’s your experience?’
Betsy looked at her nervously. ‘I work for the Provost’s office, Lady Troutbeck.’
‘I’m not going to tell the Provost—or anyone else—anything you say.’
‘But there’s been like hassle about this and Dr. Gonzales said if I said anything to anyone I’d be in trouble.’ She shuddered.
‘Are you talking about the stories in the
Sentinel?’
Betsy relaxed. ‘So you’ve seen it. I thought all the copies had been like removed from campus. And the hotel.’
‘They may have been. But some enterprising person brought in some more last night and I happened to pick up a copy.’
‘So that’s why you invited me to lunch?’
‘It’s why I invited you to lunch today. I’d have invited you soon in any case. I like you.’
‘Even if I’m Pollyanna.’
‘Maybe it’s because you’re Pollyanna. There’s not that much going on that I find it easy to be glad glad glad about. However, I’d be pleased if you wouldn’t look on the bright side when you’re telling me about campus standards. I’d like the dirt.’
‘If I promise to tell you, will you order me up some cheesecake from downstairs?’
The baroness groaned. ‘You exact a high price, Betsy.’
***
‘It’s a Faustian pact.’
Betsy swallowed her last forkful of cheesecake. ‘What’s that?’
‘Faust was a chap who sold his soul to the devil in exchange for knowledge and power. In this case, your teachers—though that’s clearly the wrong term—sell their souls to the students in exchange for a job.’
‘It’s like tough for them, Lady Troutbeck. They’re on contract and they won’t get renewed unless they get like the numbers and the positive student assessments. And they won’t get the numbers and the positive assessments unless the students like them. And the students won’t like them if they make them work and don’t give them like good grades.’
‘Unless the students want to learn and the teachers are inspirational?’
‘Sure. But if you’re going to college because you have to go to college, if you like just want your degree or you have to pay your own way or you just like want to drink and screw around all the time, what kind of teacher are you going to want? Most kids totally want the one that gives you the handouts that mean you don’t like even have to go to the library, that tells you the questions before the test, that doesn’t care if you like copy stuff off the net, that lets you have a half hour to do a test that’s supposed to be done in five minutes, that tells you bad spelling and punctuation don’t matter, and that rounds the marks up.’