It might be more private to talk inside, but I wanted to be able to see if there was anyone around who might overhear.
We sat at the small table and I began tentatively, “Cynthia, I told you that I spoke to him after dinner. He was staying in the room right over ours. I heard him, or someone, walking around after I got into bed. Did you hear anything?”
Cynthia was not stupid, and she got my drift immediately. “I heard those footsteps that you did. Are you asking if I think someone was with him? Not that I noticed. But if she—I’m assuming it would be a she—was barefoot, I don’t suppose she would have made any noise. Laura, what’s going on here? Are you thinking this was something other than an accident?”
I hedged. “It certainly looked like an accident. It was dark, the paths are slippery, and he didn’t know the place well. And yet he went out again, after we heard him upstairs. It was clear he’d been drinking—heck, we all saw him drinking—and when we talked for a moment after dinner, he was a bit unsteady. So what happened?”
Cynthia looked around: no one in sight. “You’ve already jumped right past the part about a nice little tryst followed by a walk to, uh, cool down, right?” Then her expression changed. “Wait—you’re guessing maybe he had a little help in falling off that path?”
I took a moment to reflect. I had known Cynthia since I was eighteen, and I’d lived with her for several years. But I hadn’t seen much of her in the past couple of decades. I had to decide right now: did I trust her? I had no reason to believe that she had any animus against the professor, but people lied. And people changed.
But I didn’t want to do this alone, so I decided that I needed to confide in her. “Yes. When he talked to me he said he was headed to bed—he as much as admitted he was getting old and needed his rest. Although of course he could have lied, although from what little I saw of him, I would have guessed he would be more likely to brag about an assignation than to conceal it. I can’t imagine he would decide to take a walk after that. But there’s more to it than that. Did you notice the weird undercurrents in the group every time his name came up? I get the feeling some people weren’t happy to see him here, that they had some kind of history with him. Not a happy one.”
Cynthia nodded. “I know what you mean. I told you earlier that there were rumors about him, when we were in school. That he hit on students. I can’t point to anyone in particular, but there were hints. God, we were such babies then! Nowadays if a professor makes an unwanted move, a student would head straight for the administration to report it. And it would probably be in the paper the next day, or on the morning news. But do you seriously think that someone who, uh, suffered his unwanted attentions over forty years ago would take action now? After all this time?”
I didn’t know what I thought. I’d never been placed in that position, when I was in college, and I couldn’t guess how I might feel about it now, after so many years. Who was I to decide how others would feel? “Cyn, I don’t know. Maybe. The shock of seeing him unexpectedly, in an unfamiliar setting like this, could have set someone off—someone who thought she’d put it all behind her.”
“What do you want to do about it?” Cynthia asked quietly.
I met her gaze. “I’m not sure. Something doesn’t feel right. The police have declared it an accident, so they aren’t going to look any further, or at least I think that was what they said. I can’t blame them—it looks pretty straightforward: he was old, he’d been drinking, he fell. And I’m certainly not going to deliberately mess up this trip for everyone, not after we’ve been looking forward to it for the better part of a year. But just in case, I plan to keep my ears and eyes open.”
“Laura, do you seriously think that one of our classmates came to Italy
We sat at the small table and I began tentatively, “Cynthia, I told you that I spoke to him after dinner. He was staying in the room right over ours. I heard him, or someone, walking around after I got into bed. Did you hear anything?”
Cynthia was not stupid, and she got my drift immediately. “I heard those footsteps that you did. Are you asking if I think someone was with him? Not that I noticed. But if she—I’m assuming it would be a she—was barefoot, I don’t suppose she would have made any noise. Laura, what’s going on here? Are you thinking this was something other than an accident?”
I hedged. “It certainly looked like an accident. It was dark, the paths are slippery, and he didn’t know the place well. And yet he went out again, after we heard him upstairs. It was clear he’d been drinking—heck, we all saw him drinking—and when we talked for a moment after dinner, he was a bit unsteady. So what happened?”
Cynthia looked around: no one in sight. “You’ve already jumped right past the part about a nice little tryst followed by a walk to, uh, cool down, right?” Then her expression changed. “Wait—you’re guessing maybe he had a little help in falling off that path?”
I took a moment to reflect. I had known Cynthia since I was eighteen, and I’d lived with her for several years. But I hadn’t seen much of her in the past couple of decades. I had to decide right now: did I trust her? I had no reason to believe that she had any animus against the professor, but people lied. And people changed.
But I didn’t want to do this alone, so I decided that I needed to confide in her. “Yes. When he talked to me he said he was headed to bed—he as much as admitted he was getting old and needed his rest. Although of course he could have lied, although from what little I saw of him, I would have guessed he would be more likely to brag about an assignation than to conceal it. I can’t imagine he would decide to take a walk after that. But there’s more to it than that. Did you notice the weird undercurrents in the group every time his name came up? I get the feeling some people weren’t happy to see him here, that they had some kind of history with him. Not a happy one.”
Cynthia nodded. “I know what you mean. I told you earlier that there were rumors about him, when we were in school. That he hit on students. I can’t point to anyone in particular, but there were hints. God, we were such babies then! Nowadays if a professor makes an unwanted move, a student would head straight for the administration to report it. And it would probably be in the paper the next day, or on the morning news. But do you seriously think that someone who, uh, suffered his unwanted attentions over forty years ago would take action now? After all this time?”
I didn’t know what I thought. I’d never been placed in that position, when I was in college, and I couldn’t guess how I might feel about it now, after so many years. Who was I to decide how others would feel? “Cyn, I don’t know. Maybe. The shock of seeing him unexpectedly, in an unfamiliar setting like this, could have set someone off—someone who thought she’d put it all behind her.”
“What do you want to do about it?” Cynthia asked quietly.
I met her gaze. “I’m not sure. Something doesn’t feel right. The police have declared it an accident, so they aren’t going to look any further, or at least I think that was what they said. I can’t blame them—it looks pretty straightforward: he was old, he’d been drinking, he fell. And I’m certainly not going to deliberately mess up this trip for everyone, not after we’ve been looking forward to it for the better part of a year. But just in case, I plan to keep my ears and eyes open.”
“Laura, do you seriously think that one of our classmates came to Italy
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