Kane’s case, it would be very hard to speak well of him. I’ll spare you having to go check back with the authorities in Deerfield, Commissario , and tell you straightaway that I had good reason to hate Kane. Probably to kill him, too, if I were a violent man.” He shifted elegantly in his chair. “Which I’m not.”
Dante had always envied gays their style, as if they were all—every single one—Italian. Being an Italian heterosexual took a lot of work to keep up the image, and Dante wasn’t always up to it. But any gay, from more or less any part of the world, managed to look more elegant than he did without breaking a sweat.
“I’ve had problems with Roland Kane since my arrival at St. Vincent’s,” Ball began. “And I bitterly regret the day I left Virginia.”
Dante didn’t have to check his notes. Griffin Ball had resigned his post as assistant professor at Virginia Tech and had been hired on the tenure track at St. Vincent’s in September, 1996.
“I guess the weather in Virginia was better.”
“Everything in Virginia was better,” Ball answered sourly. “And to think, at the time I thought I was taking a step up. St. Vincent’s has a world-class reputation in mathematics. Roland Kane wasn’t present during the interview process. He never participates—sorry, he never participated —in any of the administrative tasks of the faculty. If he’d been there when I interviewed, you can be sure I’d never have accepted the job.”
“You had…problems with Professor Kane,” Dante said carefully.
“You could say that.” Ball’s mouth tightened. “I have two lawsuits against Kane pending—one for harassment and the other for assault. Roland Kane was undoubtedly the nastiest human being I’ve ever met, and I’ve met my share. Besides being a misogynist and an alcoholic, he was also a rabid homophobe. He made my life a living hell. I reported him several times to the dean and to the trustees of the university but to no avail.
“His harassment eventually became so serious I had to report him to the police. That was how I met your uncle, Lorenzo Rossi. He’s the president of the staff committee and he was as disgusted as I was, bless his soul. He went to have a talk with Kane. I don’t know what was said, but the worst of the harassment stopped.”
“And yet you worked together,” Dante said neutrally. “Every day. That must have been a strain.”
“Well, to tell the truth I didn’t see too much of Kane during the working day. He didn’t actually teach many classes. And lately I think his drinking was getting out of control. He was skipping more classes than he taught.
“Mainly I saw him at faculty meetings, but he had to restrain himself with other people around. Mostly, he would try to corner me in the restrooms. He’d leave lurid notes for me, that kind of thing. Luckily, the worst of it stopped once Lorenzo had his talk.”
“Yet you took it to court.”
Ball straightened. “Damned right I did. Kane’s behavior was inexcusable. I called for his resignation time and again, but whenever his situation got serious, he’d pull a rabbit out of a hat. He donated the copyright to a weather prediction software program to the university that earned St. Vincent’s a lot of money.
“And the quantitative methods series of conferences gave the college a lot of luster. He had a genius for pushing a situation right up to the edge and then pulling back at the last possible second.”
Ball’s voice was even and his hands stayed calmly composed on his lap, but Dante could see a vein throbbing in his temple and his breathing had speeded up.
“Someone had to stand up to Kane, and that someone had to be me. I have tenure. I have a generous trust fund from my grandmother, and my partner is a very successful stockbroker. There wasn’t anything Kane could really do to me. Unlike Faith.”
Dante raised his eyebrows. “Murphy?”
“Yes, Faith Murphy. She’s a lovely girl, and a
Dante had always envied gays their style, as if they were all—every single one—Italian. Being an Italian heterosexual took a lot of work to keep up the image, and Dante wasn’t always up to it. But any gay, from more or less any part of the world, managed to look more elegant than he did without breaking a sweat.
“I’ve had problems with Roland Kane since my arrival at St. Vincent’s,” Ball began. “And I bitterly regret the day I left Virginia.”
Dante didn’t have to check his notes. Griffin Ball had resigned his post as assistant professor at Virginia Tech and had been hired on the tenure track at St. Vincent’s in September, 1996.
“I guess the weather in Virginia was better.”
“Everything in Virginia was better,” Ball answered sourly. “And to think, at the time I thought I was taking a step up. St. Vincent’s has a world-class reputation in mathematics. Roland Kane wasn’t present during the interview process. He never participates—sorry, he never participated —in any of the administrative tasks of the faculty. If he’d been there when I interviewed, you can be sure I’d never have accepted the job.”
“You had…problems with Professor Kane,” Dante said carefully.
“You could say that.” Ball’s mouth tightened. “I have two lawsuits against Kane pending—one for harassment and the other for assault. Roland Kane was undoubtedly the nastiest human being I’ve ever met, and I’ve met my share. Besides being a misogynist and an alcoholic, he was also a rabid homophobe. He made my life a living hell. I reported him several times to the dean and to the trustees of the university but to no avail.
“His harassment eventually became so serious I had to report him to the police. That was how I met your uncle, Lorenzo Rossi. He’s the president of the staff committee and he was as disgusted as I was, bless his soul. He went to have a talk with Kane. I don’t know what was said, but the worst of the harassment stopped.”
“And yet you worked together,” Dante said neutrally. “Every day. That must have been a strain.”
“Well, to tell the truth I didn’t see too much of Kane during the working day. He didn’t actually teach many classes. And lately I think his drinking was getting out of control. He was skipping more classes than he taught.
“Mainly I saw him at faculty meetings, but he had to restrain himself with other people around. Mostly, he would try to corner me in the restrooms. He’d leave lurid notes for me, that kind of thing. Luckily, the worst of it stopped once Lorenzo had his talk.”
“Yet you took it to court.”
Ball straightened. “Damned right I did. Kane’s behavior was inexcusable. I called for his resignation time and again, but whenever his situation got serious, he’d pull a rabbit out of a hat. He donated the copyright to a weather prediction software program to the university that earned St. Vincent’s a lot of money.
“And the quantitative methods series of conferences gave the college a lot of luster. He had a genius for pushing a situation right up to the edge and then pulling back at the last possible second.”
Ball’s voice was even and his hands stayed calmly composed on his lap, but Dante could see a vein throbbing in his temple and his breathing had speeded up.
“Someone had to stand up to Kane, and that someone had to be me. I have tenure. I have a generous trust fund from my grandmother, and my partner is a very successful stockbroker. There wasn’t anything Kane could really do to me. Unlike Faith.”
Dante raised his eyebrows. “Murphy?”
“Yes, Faith Murphy. She’s a lovely girl, and a
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