The Fever Cabinet, page 4
part #9 of Professor Molly Mysteries Series
Unfortunately for Harrison, his pet candidate posted what he thought was a private message wherein he bemoaned the oppressiveness and injustice of the academic job market. As evidence he offered his own predicament, which he described as “stuck at a crappy little teaching college in Hawaii.” He was promptly dropped from further consideration.
Hanson’s nemesis, Larry Schneider, backed a young man whose research focused on debunking higher-ed myths. In addition to his publications, Larry’s candidate maintained a lively blog, whose purpose was to mock fads like those espoused by Harrison’s pick. Larry’s candidate got as far as a phone interview with the Student Retention Office, after which he immediately withdrew from the search.
Rodge Cowper and I both supported Fiona Spencer; this was one of the few things Rodge and I had agreed on, ever. I liked her prestigious degree, which would go a long way toward reassuring local parents our quality was every bit as good as a mainland school. Her already-impressive research would ensure smooth(er) sailing for contract renewal and tenure. She seemed to connect well with the students during her teaching demonstration (mostly because they loved her accent).
Rodge favored Fiona Spencer because, as he put it, “No offense, Molly, but we could use some eye candy around here.”
I made sure to put the top up on the Thunderbird before we started driving. After living in Mahina as long as I have, I don’t mind a little rain now and then, but I couldn’t expect Fiona to feel the same way.
We headed out of Mahina, down the two-lane highway toward the St. Aelred School for Boys. On both sides of the road was dense forest and bushy strawberry guava and staghorn fern, punctuated by the occasional corrugated metal roof.
“People complain about the rain here,” I said, “but it doesn’t bother me. I like how it keeps everything green. Honestly, I like living on the windward side. I think the other side of the island’s too hot.”
Fiona was silent.
“The thing is, it’s warm rain, so even if you’re caught without an umbrella, it’s not the worst thing in the world.”
No comment from Fiona.
What was her problem? She’d asked me for a ride, I agreed, and she was still grumpy. Maybe her mood didn’t have anything to do with me, but when someone is sitting in the passenger seat, silent and fuming, it’s hard not to take it a little personally.
As we picked up speed, the convertible roof started to squeak rhythmically.
“Your car is squealing,” Fiona pointed out.
This probably annoyed her on top of everything else, but at least she was talking.
“I know,” I said. “Sorry about that. I need to bring it in to Miyashiro Motors. I’ve been putting it off.”
“Car servicing’s expensive here.” This could be interpreted as either commiseration or accusation.
“True,” I agreed. “Plus every time I take my car in, I have to listen to Earl Miyashiro lecture me about how there are fewer and fewer places to buy parts and I should be driving something more practical, like a two-year-old Toyota. He has no aesthetic imagination. No concept of awe or beauty.”
“Why don’t you go somewhere else?” Fiona asked.
“He’s a competent mechanic. Plus no one else on the island will even look at my car.”
Fiona seemed to lose interest in the conversation and stared out the window.
I still wondered who Fiona’s recent visitor was, the one who’d spirited her away and made her miss the budget meeting. But I’d seen how sensitive Fiona could be, so I kept my questions to myself. In any case, she’d willingly accompanied the person and had returned in one piece.
I shouldn’t let Fiona’s lack of friendliness bother me, I told myself. Of course like most people, I’d rather be liked than disliked. But as department chair, a certain amount of hostility came with the territory. It was my unhappy duty to represent the faculty’s interests to the administration, and then to turn around and implement the administration’s diktats over the objections of the faculty.
As Dan Watanabe, my dean, likes to put it, “it’s lonely in the middle.”
Almost too late, I saw the carved koa St. Aelred sign signaling the drive to the school.
“Turn in here?” I asked.
“What? Oh, yes, sorry. Right up here.”
St. Aelred’s private road was smoother and newer than the highway we’d just turned off. The glossy black asphalt drive cut through acres of velvety, perfectly-trimmed grass. We slowed at the guardhouse. The guard recognized Fiona and waved us through with a smile.
We drove on past a few single-story bungalows and classroom buildings, all decades old but perfectly maintained. I pulled up next to the administration complex, which housed the headmaster’s office. As I shut off the engine, I spotted a stout, rumpled figure carefully stepping up the side of a grassy hill.
“Who is that?” I wondered whether this was the person I’d seen hammering on Fiona’s office door.
“It’s Mr. Ferman, The science teacher,” Fiona said, just as I realized the man was someone I’d never seen before. He wore a tweed jacket with a woolen muffler, but his shock of white hair indicated he was considerably older than Fiona’s visitor.
“He looks a little unsteady,” I said. “Is he okay?”
Fiona gave a dismissive shake of her head.
“He’s potty,” she said.
“What about a potty?”
“Addlebrained. Emmett says he has a drinking problem.” Fiona tried pulling the Thunderbird’s door handle toward her to release the latch.
“Up and down, not toward you,” I said. “Hang on, I’ll get it.”
I jogged around to the passenger side and saw Mr. Ferman stumble. With effort, he got back up, looked around, and rubbed his eyes.
I pulled open the heavy door and let Fiona out.
“Are you sure he’s okay?” I asked. “Is there a nurse’s office on campus?”
We watched Mr. Ferman steady himself and make his way toward the main highway, where we’d just come from.
“I’m certain he’s fine,” Fiona said as she started across the parking lot. “But I’ll be sure to tell Emmett.”
“Do you mind if I tag along?” I said. “We’re going to be doing a recruiting push at St. Aelred’s and I’ve never been. It’d be good to see the campus.”
“If you like.” Fiona said as she walked ahead of me. “I imagine the families who send their sons here are setting their sights a bit higher than Mahina State University.”
Charming, I thought. I followed her into the administration office, a one-story building with dark wood siding and frosted-glass jalousie windows.
The young man behind the koa counter wore a forest-green St. Aelred School polo shirt. When he turned to greet us, I realized I knew him.
Bryce Kahului was a first-year student in my Intro to Business Management class. He was a sweet kid, with an easy smile.
“Is Emmett Spencer in?” Fiona asked, without bothering to address him by name.
“Oh, hello, Dr. Spencer. No, he’s not in at the moment. Oh, hey, Professor Barda.”
He grinned, dimpling his cheek.
“Hi Bryce, nice to see—”
“Do you know where I might find him now?” Fiona interrupted.
Bryce’s smile faded.
“I don’t know. Sorry, Dr. Spencer.”
“When did you last see him?” she demanded.
“Yesterday morning, I think—”
“Is Maureen here?” Fiona interrupted.
“Sorry, Dr. Spencer. She’s in a meeting.”
Fiona Spencer’s mouth tightened.
“I see. Do you know when she’ll be back?”
Bryce shook his head.
“Sorry. Would you like to leave a note?”
“No. Thank you.”
Fiona pulled out her phone and stepped outside, leaving me standing there with Bryce. I was no longer surprised to run into current and former students all over town. At my credit union, where they could see my expenditures and balance; at the pharmacy, where they know my medical history; at the Galimba’s Bargain Boyz cash register, where they offer unsolicited advice on my bra purchases.
“Bryce, I didn’t know you worked at St. Aelred,” I said.
“Yeah, I started when I was a student here.” He brightened. “It’s perfect for me. Part time, and lots of downtime so I can study.”
“So you’re an alumnus. Perfect. You know, the College of Commerce is going to be stepping up its recruiting here. Just out of curiosity, how did you happen to choose Mahina State?”
“Cheap, that’s why,” he said happily. “I wanna save up for grad school.”
“Good plan,” I said.
“Yeah, I told Mr. Spencer with in-state tuition, I could get through without taking out loans. He told me, Bryce, you’re smart enough to go to a real university.”
“He said what?”
“But I went Mahina State anyway.”
“You’re smart enough to go to a ‘real’ university?” Nice way to talk about your wife’s workplace, you undermine-y jerk.
I forced a smile.
“I’m glad you didn’t listen to him, Bryce.”
Fiona came back inside. Emmett wasn’t answering his phone.
“I’ve no idea where he is.” Fiona sounded flustered. “I hope he’s not hurt.”
Oh, do you? Because I hope he fell down a lava tube.
“Why don’t I just drive you home?” I offered. “It’s really no trouble.”
She opened her mouth to say something, appeared to change her mind, and nodded.
“I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”
Fiona: The Only Thing Worse than Being Wrong is One’s Mother Being Right
AS MOLLY AND FIONA made their way back to the parking lot, Fiona stewed. She was furious with Emmett for putting her in this position. Why had she let him decide she didn’t need a car of her own? She was angry at both Molly and Bryce, for having witnessed her humiliation. But the main target of her rage was the woman who had been right all along about Emmett Spencer. Her mother.
Harriet had seen it before they’d even married. Emmett had refused to buy Fiona an engagement ring. Harriet saw it as a red flag. Fiona had insisted Emmett was simply being sensible. The thin gold wedding band was all she required.
“You’re quite mistaken about that, darling,” her mother had countered. “Just wait until he has the chance to splash out on something he wants. See how sensible he is then.”
It was true; Emmett economised ruthlessly when it came to furniture (which he didn’t care about) and tea (which he didn’t drink). But Emmett had arranged travel for the Christmas holiday, which must cost something. He wouldn’t tell her where he was going, how much it would cost, or who else would be there. It was as if he wanted to be with her as little as possible.
The only time Emmett showed any affection for Fiona was when they were out and about.
“This is my wife, Fiona,” he’d declare proudly as he introduced her to an acquaintance.
“Your wife?” the other person would reply, looking surprised. Or relieved.
Fiona was so wrapped up in her thoughts as she made her way down the walkway, she didn’t realize Molly was no longer beside her. She stopped and backtracked, only to find her department head rummaging through a black plastic rubbish bin.
“e-waste. Hold for pickup,” a handwritten sign was taped to the stuccoed wall. Molly’s upper half had disappeared into the bin. She stood tippy toed on her pointy little shoes, her skirted backside sticking up into the air.
“Er, Molly?” Fiona approached her. “What are you doing?”
“They’re throwing away these keyboards and they’re brand new,” replied a muffled voice from inside the bin. Molly stood up, clutching an armload of black computer keyboards, which she deposited on the ground. She pushed up her sleeves and dove back in.
Fiona hesitated; she thought she should help Molly instead of simply standing there, but there didn’t seem to be room for two in there. Additionally, she had no desire to dig through rubbish.
“Got it!” Molly’s muffled voice came from inside the bin. In the next moment, Molly held aloft a small cubic appliance.
“Look at this microwave,” Molly said. “It’s practically new. It’ll be perfect for our little break table. You know, out on the landing, next to the ladies’ room? Where we have the teakettle now? Okay, I think I’m ready to go.”
“Do...you need any help?” Fiona asked.
“If you don’t mind, could you grab the keyboards?”
Fiona scooped up the keyboards and followed Molly back to the car.
“Surely we can order these things,” Fiona said as she tried to keep the keyboards from sliding out of their stack and dropping onto the ground. “Mahina State don’t expect us to pick through other people’s rubbish, do they?”
Molly turned and raised her eyebrows at Fiona.
“We cannot just order these things, believe it or not. Central admin’s only released ten percent of our projected budget. There’s zero money for office supplies. We have like twenty cents in our B budget right now.”
As they approached the car, Molly shifted the microwave to balance it on her hip and fished her keys out of her purse.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Dan Watanabe had to write a personal check to cover your last pay check.” Molly unlatched the boot and watched the massive blue lid swing up to reveal a cavernous storage area. It held a collapsible pram, a child’s booster seat, a knapsack, and a pile of carrier bags. And it was mostly empty.
“Are you saying we’re on our uppers?” Fiona asked.
“I don’t know,” Molly said. “What does that mean?”
“Insolvent? Broke?”
“Not any more than usual,” Molly said. “I think it has more to do with your not having been added to the system yet. That’s why they keep dumping construction junk in your office. Officially, your office is still unoccupied.”
“But I’ve a key,” Fiona objected. “Someone must realize I’m in there, surely.”
“I know. I’m trying to get it straightened out, but Konishi Construction says it’s a Facilities issue, and Facilities keeps telling me to talk to Konishi. Okay, here we are. Everything can go in the trunk. That’s the wonderful thing about these old cars. Not great on gas mileage, but you could stash two or three bodies back here. Hey, speaking of construction junk, here’s something to keep in mind. Some of the old fixtures in the building could be worth some money, and the Finance Club is going to help us out by selling them and taking a cut. When you have some free time, I can help you sort through the pile. Who knows, we might scrape enough together to actually send you to a conference or something. Yeah, now I’m saying it out loud, it kind of does sound like we’re broke, doesn’t it?”
“A bit.”
Fiona could have refused the position at Mahina State. Emmett hadn’t forced her to move out here. In fact, he’d warned her not to be too eager to accept the offer, to wait and think about it, to see what other opportunities presented themselves. Now she thought of it, he hadn’t been very encouraging at all.
“Do you have children?” Fiona stacked the scavenged keyboards onto the pile of bags next to the collapsible pram. Molly gave the impression of being too scattered to be a mother. One imagined her dressing a baby in mismatched socks or misplacing it altogether.
“Just one child.” Molly reached up with both hands and pushed the lid down until it locked into place with a thunk. “Francesca. She’s seven months old. Although somehow with one kid and two adults, Donnie and I still feel outnumbered. Ready to go?”
Fiona looked around once more, as if Emmett might come bounding out to the car park to stop her leaving. Emmett, however, was nowhere in sight, so she reluctantly climbed into the passenger seat.
Fiona: Not Snooping
FIONA HAD HOPED TO find Emmett at home when Molly dropped her off.
But the carport was empty. And as soon as Fiona stepped through the front door, she knew Emmett wasn’t there. The interior of the house was gloomy. This was partly because of the overgrown foliage in the disused lot next door, and partly due to the low ceilings and stingy windows of the late-1980s kit home design.
Fiona realized with some annoyance that chasing after her errant husband had put her behind on marking papers. She sat down at her computer and logged into the plagiarism-checking program. She noticed two of the papers in the batch had been flagged as identical, which only worsened her mood. She assigned zeroes to the two plagiarists, hoping it wouldn’t put her in the Student Retention Office’s bad books.
The SRO had sent a broadcast email directing professors not to assign D or F marks as doing so “discouraged” students. Within minutes Dan Watanabe, the college’s dean, had sent an email instructing the College of Commerce faculty to ignore the Student Retention Office and assign students the marks they’d earned. If anything, the faculty should show a bit more “tough love” as the college’s Friends in the Business Community had become concerned about grade inflation.
By the time she had finished marking, it was already dark outside. She wasn’t accustomed to how quickly the sun set this close to the equator. She found she had no appetite, which was just as well, as she was stuck without a car and there wasn’t much to eat in the house. Emmett never bothered to cook anything, and the few times Fiona had tried, he’d criticized her efforts. They’d defaulted to ordering out from Chang’s Pizza Pagoda.
Fiona decided to order a pizza, just to give herself something to do. Perhaps by the time it arrived, she’d be hungry enough to eat it. If Emmett came home in the next hour or two, he would appreciate having something for dinner.
