Nondisclosure Page 4
“That would have been what, about ten thirty, when you were leaving?” Karen asked. “What were you doing in your office? Do you usually work late like that?”
“No, I usually leave by six or six thirty. But sometimes things just take longer. I had a bunch of emails stacked up that I wanted to deal with that night, so I took the opportunity to clear my inbox. Plus, I didn’t really want to go home right away.”
“I can appreciate the hard work,” I said. “We all put in nights at the office.”
Karen nodded. “Okay, I get it. But why do you say you didn’t want to go home after dinner?”
Singer looked just a bit sheepish. “My wife is part of a neighborhood poker group, and it was her night to host the game. I really don’t like it, and if I’d gone home at nine, I’d have been stuck in the middle of it. As it was, I got home a little after eleven—I live in Lexington, so it’s about a half-hour drive. By then, people were leaving, so all I had to do was exchange some greetings. Then I went up to bed.”
Karen smiled at him. “I can understand wanting to miss the poker game. Do you mind giving me the names of the people who were at your house?”
Singer shook his head. “You really are thorough. Sure, if you have some paper, I’ll write them down.”
I gave him a piece of paper and watched as he wrote some names on it. Then he handed it to Karen. “Is there anything else?”
“No, this is fine,” Karen said. “I’m sorry if I seemed too aggressive, but I appreciate your cooperation. Do you have any questions for us?”
“There is one thing. The work Carol and Emily have done is really quite important.” He looked over at me. “Did you hear her seminar today?”
“I did, and I agree. It has the potential of being a truly major advance.”
“Which is why I hope it can be protected from the disgrace that’s going to fall on Upton. There’s no doubt that he needs to be punished, but it would be a tragedy if his misbehavior obscured the importance of our findings.”
“I’ve already been thinking about that,” I said. “Rest assured, I’ll make it a priority to keep the science separate from Upton’s behavior.”
Singer turned to Karen. “These things usually end up in a negotiated settlement, don’t they? With the guilty faculty member agreeing to resign and everyone signing a nondisclosure agreement? Could that agreement be set up to protect the science? I don’t want to see Emily and Carol’s discovery tainted by this kind of scandal.”
“You’re right,” she said. “Negotiated settlements are common in cases like this. Which I hate because all too often, the guilty party winds up at another university and does the same thing all over again. But I agree that we have to protect the work of our students. I’ll keep it in mind as things proceed and we talk with the dean about a resolution.”
Singer got up. “Thank you, and don’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything further I can do. That bastard can’t be allowed to get away with this.”
When the door closed behind him, Karen said, “He’s an interesting character. But I don’t think there was anything unexpected or inconsistent with what he told you earlier, right?”
“No. The only new thing he said is that there may be a history of Upton harassing students.”
“Right. That’ll be worth our following up on. Starting with Carol. When’s she coming in?”
“Three thirty.” I checked my watch. “About forty-five minutes from now.”
“Good, I need a break. Is there anywhere nearby that I could get a quick bite to eat?” Her eyes twinkled. “You’re right, I do need more than scones in my diet.”
“Sure, there’s a Starbucks in the Interdisciplinary Research Building, the shiny new glass building a block down to the right.”
“Perfect. I’ll be back in time for Carol.” She got up and headed for the door. Then she stopped and turned around with a smile. “Unless you’d like to come have coffee or something with me?”
I looked at the stack of correspondence Kristy had piled on my desk, including two complicated-looking spreadsheets with little red stickers demanding urgent attention. But what the hell, there was something intriguing about Karen Richmond. The paperwork could wait.
I returned her smile. “Sure, why not?”
I felt a little twinge of anticipation as we left the office.
5
Starbucks was almost empty, so we got our food quickly and settled into a table in the back corner. A grilled chicken and bacon sandwich with some kind of a large, iced drink for Karen. Medium black coffee for me. I watched with amusement as she dug into her sandwich like a hungry teenager.
“Looks like you needed that. Are your days often so hectic that you don’t have time to eat?”
She held up a hand and finished chewing. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be a pig. But yes, sometimes things can get pretty crazy. And right now, I’m starved.”
She took a gulp of her drink. “One good thing is that Singer has a solid alibi.”
“Did you really think he’s a suspect? Even though he’s the one who told me about it?”
“Probably not, but we need to consider the possibility, even if it’s only to rule him out. After all, he’s the only one besides Upton who makes sense. He knew Emily was knocked out, and all he had to do was to go back to her apartment later.”
I pondered that for a minute while she went back to attacking her sandwich. “Okay, but then how solid is his alibi, really? His students can presumably confirm that he went back to the lab and then left an hour and a half later. But during that critical ninety minutes, all we know is that he says he was in his office. Why couldn’t he have gone back to Emily’s apartment during that time?”
She looked up from her sandwich with a grin. “Ah, but he said he sent out a bunch of emails, right? That’ll be easy for me to confirm on the university’s server. They’ll have the times they were sent and the IP address to verify that they came from his office computer.”
I smiled and inclined my head in appreciation. “Of course, I didn’t think of that. Pretty quick of you to jump on it.”
She shrugged and went back to her lunch. “I’ve been doing this for a while. Computer records are often a big help.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how’d you get into this? You don’t seem like someone who belongs at a university. You’re more like a trained detective.”
“I am a trained detective. But how I got here is a long story.”
It felt like she wanted to say more, so I gave her the invitation. “We still have twenty minutes before we need to go back. And knowing your background might help me work better with you.”
She hesitated for a minute, then said, “Okay, you asked for it. A quick life story. I graduated from college in 2001 and was headed for law school. Then came the 9/11 attacks, and I felt like I had to do something to fight back. My dad was a cop, so I took the obvious course and joined the police department. I was good at the job, especially when it came to figuring things out, and I made detective after six years on the force. I sort of became a specialist in sex abuse cases and made my reputation by solving a big serial rape case that had everyone else stumped. So there I was, moving full speed ahead and loving the job.” She paused and looked me straight in the eyes. “Then my lieutenant decided that my way forward was in his bed.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re kidding!”
“Afraid not. I tried to deal with it tactfully, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Eventually, I filed a complaint.” She took a sip of her drink. “Bad move. That was 2008, and accusing a superior officer of sexual harassment wasn’t something that cops did. The rest of the unit ganged up on me, and my husband took the opportunity to show his loyalty to the department.”
“What do you mean? Didn’t he try to help you?”
“He was a cop too. And the only person he tried to help was himself. He filed for divorce and testified in support of the lieutenant’s claim that I had come on to him.”
She noticed and touched my arm fleetingly. “It wasn’t much of a marriage anyway. He was more interested in teenage girls than in me. But it finished things off for me in the department, and I resigned.”
I shook my head. “How awful.”
“It wasn’t the best period of my life—a double whammy of divorce and losing my job.” She looked down at the table. “Eventually I pulled myself together and started thinking about what I could do next. The idea of joining a university police force appealed to me, and I applied for a couple of jobs. Almost gave up when I got turned down by men who checked with my former lieutenant for a reference, but the chief here was a woman. She listened to my side of the story and gave me a chance, so here I am. And it’s a good place for me. Sexual harassment is a big problem in higher education, where there are so many situations in which one person has power over another. Faculty over their students, tenured faculty over nontenured faculty, graduate teaching assistants over undergraduates. I’ve had my hands full, but I think I’ve helped some young women avoid what I went through.”
“That’s quite a story, Karen. Impressive.”
She snorted. “Oh, c’mon, Parker, cut the crap. And speaking of work, we need to get back and interview Carol.” She got up and headed for the door. Then she turned to me with a smile. “Thanks for listening. Next time, it’s your turn.”
I followed her out of the coffee shop. Next time sounded good.
Carol was waiting for us when we got back, so I led her to my conference table and made the introductions.
This time Karen took the lead. “I think we should start by telling you that we talked to Emily this morning. She says nothing happened that night and that her text to you was just, well, she called it a spoof. What do you make of that?”
Carol fidgeted with her hands. “I know. She told me the same thing. But I don’t believe it.”
“What do you mean?” Karen asked. “You heard from her again after you got the text you showed Professor Singer?”
“Yes. She called me after you guys talked to her today. She was really angry that I showed her text to anybody. And this time she said it wasn’t true. She was just playing with me. And I’d acted like a jerk and caused a lot of trouble.”
“Why don’t you believe her?” I asked. “Maybe this is all a false alarm.”
Carol shook her head emphatically. “No, I really don’t think so. Her first text was so hysterical and upset that I just don’t think it was some kind of sick joke. It wouldn’t be at all like Emily to make something like that up, and she doesn’t play dumb tricks.”
“So why do you think she’s denying it now?” Karen asked.
“I think she got scared that she could get her advisor in trouble and wants to back off. He could destroy her career, and I’m sure she’s frightened of what he’ll do to her if she talks.”
Her explanation echoed Singer’s. I wondered if he’d discussed it with her after we interviewed him.
Apparently, Karen had the same thought. Maybe I was starting to get the hang of this investigator thing. “That’s certainly possible,” she said. “By the way, did you have a chance to talk about this with Professor Singer?”
“Yes,” Carol said. “He stopped by the lab to see me after he finished his meeting with you. He thought the same thing as I just said.”
“Well, it’s true that victims in cases like this frequently balk at bringing charges forward,” Karen said. “But it also seems possible that her first text really was a bad joke. Maybe she made it sound hysterical on purpose to fool you. Is there any other reason you think it’s real?”
“I guess just all the rumors about Professor Upton and the way he acts with his students. Emily told me there were times when he got into her space and made her uncomfortable. Asking personal questions, touching her, giving her hugs. Lots of other students have said the same kind of things. It’s common gossip in the department.”
I nodded and made a note. Then Karen asked her to take us through the events of Tuesday night. Carol’s account of the dinner was no different from Singer’s, including Emily almost passing out in the restaurant and riding home with Upton in the back seat.
“One other thing I’m curious about,” Karen said when she finished. “Why did you show Professor Singer the text from Emily instead of bringing it to Professor Parker or to the college administrative office that deals with these things? You thought Emily had been assaulted, so why didn’t you report it through the normal channels?”
“I wasn’t going to tell anyone because Emily’s my friend, and she asked me not to. It only came out with Professor Singer because he was so concerned that she didn’t show up for our usual meeting.”
“What do you mean?”
“Emily and I meet with him every Wednesday to talk about the project. When Emily didn’t come, he asked me if she was okay after Tuesday night. I tried to blow it off and just told him that she was probably a little hungover, but he kept asking if I’d heard from her. I said I hadn’t, but I guess I looked uncomfortable, and he could see that I was lying. He became very stern and insisted that I had to tell him the truth. He was worried about her. Then I sort of broke down and showed him the text.”
After Carol left, Karen looked at me with a faint smile. “So what do you make of all that?” she asked.
“I don’t know what to think at this point. It could be that Emily’s pretending nothing happened because she doesn’t want to go up against Upton. But it’s also hard to discount the possibility that her first text really was nothing but a bad joke.”
“We’ll need to get an answer to that out of Emily. But I’d also like to find out more about the department gossip on Upton. Can we arrange to talk with some of the students?”
Her phone started ringing before I could answer. She looked at it and said, “Hang on. I have to take this.”
She stiffened in her chair as she listened. “I’ll be right there,” she said and hung up.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “There’s been a new report of a faculty member assaulting a student. It sounds ugly, and I have to get over there and talk to her. Christ, that makes two already this month.”
“How awful. Should I line up some students and Upton for tomorrow?”
“No. I suspect I’m going to be tied up with this tomorrow. Why don’t you go ahead and interview the students yourself? You know what to ask, and they might be more open talking to you alone anyway. Tomorrow’s Friday, so if you get that done, we’ll be ready to talk to Emily on Monday. Let me know when your admin has a time set for us to meet with her. In the meantime, I’ll check out Singer’s alibi. I want to hold off alerting Upton until we do that and hear what Emily has to say.”
I watched her leave the office. Another case of sexual assault by a faculty member. It seemed like an epidemic. I suspected that I’d learn more from Karen at some point.
I asked Kristy about the meeting with Emily on Monday. She’d already sent Emily an email and was just waiting for a response from her confirming the time. Then I grabbed my coat and headed back over to the research building. It was late in the afternoon, but the students would still be around. And probably more comfortable if I talked to them on their home ground than they would be in my office.
6
One of the perks I got for being department chair was that the dean provided funds for a senior research associate to help run my lab. The idea was that having someone experienced enough to help guide the students and keep things on track would make up for the time department administration took away from my research. I’d been lucky enough to find an associate who was smart and well trained but didn’t want to be an independent faculty member with her own lab—especially not with the responsibility of competing for the grants that would b
e necessary to support her students. Having Janet as a sort of general lab supervisor helped a lot, although it still was a far cry from having my own time free for research.
Perhaps the most important thing Janet did was to keep in close touch with the students. She was a good mentor, close to their own age and always available to talk, so they tended to confide in her. Which made picking her brain a good way for me to get a feel of the department gossip.
When I reached the research building, I took the stairs up to my lab on the fourth floor. Whatever little bit of exercise I could add to my daily routine seemed worthwhile. I shared the floor with three other faculty members, so I walked down to my lab and went in the first door off the main corridor. The look and smell of science always gave me a good feeling. This was where I belonged. Not in my department chair’s office. And most certainly not stuck in meetings at the dean’s headquarters.
There were six lab benches that jutted out perpendicular to the windowed back wall, some late afternoon sunlight still streaming in. Each lab bench had a desk associated with it, right next to the window, and the benches themselves were covered with equipment and paraphernalia for doing research. Microscopes, tabletop centrifuges, pH meters, automatic pipettes, test tubes, bottles of chemicals, and so forth. On the opposite wall, there were some large pieces of equipment—refrigerators, freezers, biohazard hoods, and incubators for growing cells. Janet and my three graduate students were all there. It was a much smaller group than it had been before I became chair, when I had nine students, two research associates, and a technician in the lab. But I’d reduced the size of my group in recognition of how much of my time was spent on administration. Three students were about all I could keep track of these days, even with Janet’s help.
Janet was at her desk immediately opposite the door I entered, focused on her computer. “How’re things going?” I asked.