date to a funeral?
“Oh, no,” Emily said. “He’s married. That’s just not his wife. That’s just one of many girlfriends.”
I confess I was dumbstruck for a moment.
Don’t get me wrong. My daddy had two wives, and my ex tomcatted around town for over fifteen years, so infidelity didn’t shock me. But this guy was trotting out his girlfriend in front of God and everyone.
My surprise must have shown on my face, because Emily laughed, an unexpectedly girlish giggle.
“Isn’t he worried about getting caught?” I asked.
“The only people he’d be worried about, well—they aren’t likely to be at the Bar None for karaoke night.”
I thought about what Reggie had said, about how Bryan’s working relationship with Jonas Landry had gone south in the fall. Maybe Bryan knew about Jonas’s harem.
I suggested as much to Emily.
“Oh, I’m sure Bryan knew,” Emily said with a nod. “Everyone did. It’s one of the worst-kept secrets at Dickerson.”
“Does his wife know?” I asked, half dreading the response. I’d played the part of unwitting wife for years before I took a turn at “woman scorned.” I couldn’t recommend either role.
“Sally? Sure. She’s on the faculty at Dickerson. Ironically enough, she teaches women’s studies.”
“Doesn’t she care?”
Emily shrugged. “She’s not thrilled about it. I know the other female faculty talk smack about her for putting up with such a dog. But she’s not about to leave him.”
“Why not?” Finn asked. I’d been so caught up in the drama of Jonas and Sally Landry, I’d almost forgotten he was there.
“The Landrys have turned the two-body problem on its head,” Emily replied.
I signaled to Andi that I needed another beer. “You lost me.”
Emily leaned into her story. “Academic couples face something we call the two-body problem. See, in any given year, there are only a handful of jobs at each academic institution, and schools are often geographically isolated from each other. So if you have two would-be professors trying to land jobs together at the same time . . . well, it’s really hard. A lot of times, one member of the couple leaves teaching in favor of some other profession. Or some crap school takes advantage of their desperation to be together and snaps up professors they shouldn’t be able to get.”
“I’d never thought about that,” I said. “But how did the Landrys deal with the problem?”
“Easy. Jonas is incredibly successful. He publishes like crazy, and now he’s got this book that’s getting him national attention. Dickerson will do anything to keep him. Even continue to promote his wife.”
Ah. “So Sally’s riding Jonas’s coattails,” I said.
“Exactly. She’s bright enough, but she’s not a very good teacher and none of her articles have hit. She published her dissertation, but with a third-rate academic press and it was panned by the reviewers. Basically, she’d have been out on her ear years ago if the administration wasn’t so desperate to hold on to Jonas.”
Finn drained the last of his beer. “Sally puts up with Jonas cheating, because without him she’d lose her job.”
“Bingo.”
“But,” Finn said, “why does Jonas stay in the relationship if he’s so obviously unhappy?”
“Who says he’s unhappy? Sally is a good hostess and can make intelligent small talk at university events. Plus, being married makes Jonas more attractive to the conservative members of the school’s Board of Trustees. And, of course, there’s no better way to keep your girlfriend from making demands on your time than by saying, ‘Gee, honey, I’d love to watch a chick flick and cuddle on the couch, but I gotta get home to my wife.’ ”
Finn narrowed his eyes and gazed across the bar at Jonas Landry with something akin to admiration. “Brilliant,” he said.
I elbowed him—gently—in the gut. “Despicable.”
“Despicably brilliant. Or maybe brilliantly despicable. Either way, this
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