Dead Politician Society by Robin Spano Page B

helped me out a lot. Gotta run.”

TWENTY~FIVE
MATTHEW

    Matthew gazed out his weathered office window. At least he had a view across St. George Street, onto the older, more stately part of campus. Most of his colleagues had views of an ugly brick lab building.
    And why did he care about stately? At what point in his life, from his basic middle-class upbringing to his — screw what his mother said — successful academic career, had he turned into this pompous ass, this pathetic man who aspired to the finer things but didn’t care to open his wallet to pay for them? Not that his wallet held anything impressive, when he did open it. But he could afford to be more relaxed about his spending. And less pretentious about his taste.
    He sent a text to Annabel asking if they could cancel dinner. She’d think the worst — she always did — but Matthew couldn’t care about her paranoid jealousy right then.
    A knock on the door.
    â€œWhat is it, Shirley?”
    The door opened.
    â€œWhy so welcoming?”
    Matthew swiveled in his desk chair. “I’m working.”
    â€œYour computer isn’t on.”
    â€œYou can see the screen from there?”
    â€œI can see the power bar.”
    â€œOh. Well, I was gathering my thoughts to work.”
    â€œOn your book?”
    Matthew nodded.
    â€œWell, I’ll be brief. The police came by. Have they seen you yet?”
    â€œThey’ve seen me, and my entire Poli Real World class.”
    Shirley took the seat opposite Matthew’s desk. “Are you in trouble?”
    â€œOf course not. They’re interviewing everyone.”
    â€œThey were asking a lot of questions about you. Especially the small man. The inspector.”
    â€œWhat were they asking?” Matthew wanted Shirley to leave him alone, so his thoughts could scream in private. But he had to know everything she could tell him.
    â€œMostly basics. Like when did you start working here, how did the rest of the department react when you got tenure so early. That kind of thing.”
    â€œOkay.” So they were interested in him. That wasn’t good, but it was hardly a conviction.
    â€œAnd then he asked me about the society.”
    â€œThe society?” Innocence first, obviously.
    â€œCome off it, Matthew. The society you founded the year you started working here. The political utopia whatsit.”
    â€œI don’t know what you mean.”
    â€œI think it’s wonderful, the way you challenge the students, make them see that they can make a difference. I haven’t told you before because I can’t officially condone it — the illegal parts, that is.” Shirley paused, appearing to search Matthew for a reaction. “It’s why you have tenure, Matthew. The society is why I fought so hard for you in that committee. Universities need original thinkers — both students who embrace it and professors who encourage it.”
    â€œThanks.” Matthew found room, in his spinning head, to feel flattered. Did she know about Elise? Surely the department head wouldn’t have supported a group with links to the hospital murders, even if they had been mercy killings. Maybe Shirley was more radical than Matthew had given her credit for. And maybe she was fishing. “I mean, thanks for taking my side, helping me get tenure. But the society is nothing more than a rumor.”
    Shirley stared at the bookcase. “I’m here to help you, Matthew. Are you in trouble? Just tell me yes or no.”
    She made it so tempting. Was it time to give the whole thing up? The society, the secrecy, the rest. Or was he being ridiculous, crumbling at the first sign of pressure?
    Maybe if he got to the police first . . . retracted his statement in favor of the truth . . . But why would they believe anything he told them?
    â€œNo,” Matthew said. “I’m not in trouble.”

TWENTY~SIX
CLARE

    Nice place.” Clare couldn’t