Bloodied Ivy by Robert Goldsborough

scenario.”
    “Oh, come on, Archie,” she said, using a voice that would have turned an iceberg into a puddle. “Can’t we toss out this silly charade?”
    “Speaking of your scenario,” I said, ignoring her question, “why do you believe Cortland thinks Markham was murdered? Has he voiced any suspicions?”
    “Not in so many words, but it’s the way he’s been behaving lately, the looks he gives us, as if he’s trying to peer right through us. And then some of his comments during lunch are hard to miss. For instance, a few days ago when Hale’s name came up in some context or another, as it does fairly often, of course, Walter made a remark about the accident . From the way he stressed the word, it was obvious he was suggesting the fall wasn’t an accident. There’ve been other occasions like that, too.”
    “Who are the us that he gives strange looks to?”
    “Oh, pretty much the ones who were at the table at lunch today.”
    “Speaking of which, did Markham used to be part of that luncheon gathering?”
    “Hale? No, never. He preferred to have a sandwich in his office and get a little writing done during the noon break. Besides, he didn’t much like some of the people who showed up there.”
    “Such as Schmidt and Greenbaum?”
    “Right.”
    “How did he feel about you eating with those guys?”
    “Oh, he probably didn’t much like it; but Hale knew me well enough to realize that I do whatever I please. And although I’m not wild about any of those three—including Cortland—I don’t mind eating with them.” Her dark eyes defied me to make more of it.
    “Probably because you enjoy needling them. I notice that you and Cortland seemed to agree on at least one thing: President Potter.”
    “Oh, you mean ‘His Eminence’?”
    “I gather you don’t have a great deal of admiration for your president?”
    Elena folded her arms. “He’s sort of plastic, as far as I’m concerned. I suppose he’s all right at raising money and giving speeches and putting on a good public face for the school, but we’re not talking deep thinker here. I suppose maybe it’s that he’s a little too slick for my taste.”
    “What do others think about him?”
    “On campus, you mean? Most of the students don’t give a damn one way or the other about who the president is—they almost never see him. As for the faculty, the vote’s mixed. A lot feel the way I do, and then there are some who seem to think he’s dynamic, probably because he’s so much younger than his predecessor. And the alumni are happy because of the way he’s increased the endowment and is planning new buildings. Alumni are always impressed by two things—football and construction. Both give them a chance to beat their chests about the old alma mater. And with the kind of football teams we invariably have, new buildings are pretty important.”
    “Buildings as in Leander Bach?”
    “Oh, you know about him, do you? Walter—or somebody”—her voice was sarcastic—“has done a pretty good job of briefing you. Then you probably also know that Bach had no use for Hale.”
    I nodded. “To the point where he wasn’t going to crack open his checkbook while Markham was still part of the school, or so I heard.”
    “You heard more or less right,” Elena replied crisply. “Bach is a blustering eccentric. Another one of those self-made millionaire pains-in-the-ass who dangle their money with all kinds of strings attached to it.”
    “Did he really try to get Markham off the faculty?”
    “Oh, I don’t have any doubt of it. Potter talked to Hale about three or four months back and suggested he might want to think about retirement. Bach’s name never came up in the conversation, but Hale told me he was sure that was the reason behind it. He told Potter—in effect—to stuff it, that he was happy right where he was. The subject wasn’t brought up again.”
    “And now the school will get Bach’s bucks?”
    “That’s what I hear,”