David Ellis - Eye of the Beholder

Which makes me wonder, again, how this guy ever got tenure.

I introduce Stoletti, and we walk in silence to his office. We pass a memorial that Harland built for his daughter and for Ellie Danzinger. Where a small park was once located now stands a small monument, a four-columned canopy, past which is a large park with a fountain on a marble base and a manicured garden and concrete walls with quotes from Gandhi and Bob Dylan and Mother Teresa and similar folks, talking about love and peace and forgiveness.

Albany has a decent-sized office that gets good sunlight. In terms of organization, it’s a train wreck. Books everywhere, paper haphazardly placed in piles. There is classical music coming from speakers on a shelving unit behind his desk.

Genius at work, or something like that.

“I read the article this morning,” he says, taking his seat behind a large oak desk. “Please.” He motions to the two leather chairs.

“Which article was that?” Stoletti asks. I stifle the instinct to roll my eyes. That’s a bad start, the dummy routine. You use that when you’re looking to put somebody in something. Feign ignorance and let them dig a hole. This guy knows exactly why we’re here. I have no doubt that Evelyn Pendry paid him a visit, and you only needed to spend a nanosecond on the Watch this morning to learn that one of its reporters was murdered last night.

“You ever talk to Terry after he was convicted?” I ask.

“No.” He makes a face like I asked him if he has lice. “Never.”

“Professor,” Stoletti says, all but throwing an elbow at me. “Do you know a woman named Evelyn Pendry?”

“The murder victim,” he says. “The reporter. Yes, she contacted me.”

“When?”

“She came by last Friday.”

“Tell me about that.”

He digs at his ear. “She mostly covered background. She wanted to know the part I played, that sort of thing.” He nods his head aimlessly, playing with a fancy pen on his desk. I look around the shelving behind him and see no indication of a significant other. No ring on his finger, either.

“The part you played,” Stoletti says.

“I was a witness, Detective. Surely, you know that. Surely, Mr. Riley has carried on at length about his brilliant performance. Everyone hailed the greatprosecutor! Everyone scorned the professor, who had the misfortune of employing a mass murderer.”

Yeah, that confirms my vibe from back then. He felt it, too. We looked him over pretty hard after we arrested Burgos. Checked his alibis, even searched his house, with his consent. In the end, he proved to be a valuable witness for the prosecution, but he didn’t enjoy the guilt by association, and we weren’t exactly delicate with the guy.

“Let’s stay on track here, Professor,” Stoletti says. “Tell me everything Evelyn said to you, and you to her.”

“It was pretty much historical background. I guess that’s redundant.” He waves a hand, but keeps his eye on the desk. “She wanted to confirm dates. She asked me about Terry, the kind of person he was. She confirmed that Cassie Bentley and Ellie Danzinger took my class on violence against women. It was really just a time line and basic confirmation of facts.”

“Nothing else.” Stoletti’s foot wags, but she’s otherwise still.

“It really didn’t take very long at all.” He sighs, then looks at Stoletti. “Oh, she asked me about another man. His name was Fred but I didn’t get the last name.”

“Ciancio.”

“Yes. Yes, exactly.” He seems surprised she made the connection. “She asked me if I knew him or had heard the name. I told her I never had.”

“Was that the truth?”

He pauses a beat, then chuckles. “Well, of course it was. I have never heard that man’s name before she asked.”

Stoletti nods and sighs.

“How was she killed?” Albany asks.

Stoletti takes a moment with that. I decide to keep it between the two of them. Maybe Stoletti has another clever response. “We’re not sure yet. You got any thoughts?”

“Just curious.”

“Why so curious?”

Albany’s eyes flicker to mine, in a way intended to be covert, I think. “I thought it might be an ice pick,” he says.

“Why do you say that?” Stoletti asks. “An ice pick?”

Albany smiles at her, like he might at a student who couldn’t keep up. “Should we say it together, Mr. Riley?” He closes his eyes and recites from memory. “ ‘An ice pick, a nice trick, praying that he dies quick.”’ He opens his eyes and looks at her with satisfaction.

I put my hands together and applaud silently. Albany doesn’t know that Ciancio was first, so he got the ice pick. Evelyn got the switchblade.

“You think this is connected to that song?” Stoletti asks.

“Who can say?” He nods at me. “I assume that’s why Mr. Riley is here. Last I heard, the counselor was doing quite well in the private sector. Evelyn Pendry comes to my door asking about Terry Burgos, then she’s murdered, then here is Mr. Riley himself.”

“You have an opinion on the subject?” she asks.

“Not-I’m a teacher,” he answers. “Terry took the words of a troubled high school student and read into them biblical implications. Is someone else doing the same? I don’t know. I do know there are an awful lot of Web sites devoted to Terry.”

“We’re looking at those,” she says. “Do you? Look at the Web sites, I mean?”

“I’ve seen them. To the extent that what he did to those women has been glorified, it’s part of my class.”

“You’re still teaching that class?” I ask.

He smiles at me. “More popular, and relevant, than ever. You listen to any hip-hop music lately? They talk about beating and sexually abusing women more often than ever. They talk about having intercourse so violent that it destroys a woman’s vaginal walls.”

Stoletti nods at him. “And what do you think about that?”

“I think it’s disgusting. But, I must say from a cultural standpoint, fascinating, too. We focus on the first verse of the song, by the way,” he adds. “The first verse identifies victims-not by name, of course, but how they affected Tyler Skye. Girls who rejected him. Girls who mocked him. The second verse-well, the ice pick lyrics are directed at a man. A couple of them are specifically directed at women. Some of them don’t specify a gender. And none of them explains why he’s killing them. There’s nothing about being rejected or betrayed or insulted. The second verse is simply a description of how the murders will be committed.”

That’s true. The second verse was less personal.

“We’ll need a copy of your course materials.” Stoletti thinks a moment. “And a list of your students for the past few years.”

“Well, the course materials, no problem: ” The professor shrugs. ”The students’ names could be problematic. I think you need to speak with the administration. There are privacy laws, yes?”

Neither of us answers. Albany swivels in his chair and reaches into a cabinet, pulling out three-ring binders, getting together the course materials. Stoletti looks at me with her eyebrows up. Albany slides a course packet across his desk to Stoletti and asks, “Anything else?”

I can see that his initial nerves have subsided and now he’s back to being the arrogant asshole I’ve always known. Good. Now it’s time.

“Yeah, one more thing,” I say. “You can tell us everything that you and Evelyn Pendry discussed.”

He gives me a look, like he already did that.

I fix a look right back on him. He’s no fan of mine, but I’m pretty sure he still has a switch I can flip. “Professor, we have the notes that Evelyn wrote up from your interview. We know what you talked about with her. So let’s hear it.”