The Violet Crow by Michael Sheldon Page B

political act. Am I right?”
    Alison perked up a bit. “Yeah, that’s it exactly. Technically illegal but morally justified: a political act.”
    The doorknob twisted open and one of Littlejohn’s colleagues stuck her head in. Face framed with curly black hair, left long and natural, like the ’60s. Bright red lipstick and tiny black-rimmed reading glasses pushed down on her nose. It was Nathalie Porthous, the resident expert in feminist theory—a celebrity in Alison’s eyes.
    â€œStill on for coffee tomorrow with Bill Conway, Nate?” said Dr. Porthous in a cheery, bell-like tone.
    â€œYes. The usual time and place.” Littlejohn gave her a big thumbs-up; she mumbled a vague “Excuse me” in Alison’s direction and withdrew.
    Dr. Porthous’ interruption allowed him to see the situation with Alison in a new perspective. He had to admit he was curious to find out what was going on. But it was so difficult to talk here, in his official capacity. “Where were we?” he wondered rhetorically. “Ah, yes. I was about to say it would be better if we could discuss this issue in a more neutral context.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Now it was Alison’s turn to feel confused.
    â€œIt’s very simple. Here at Penn, I’m your professor. And I have certain responsibilities.”
    She didn’t like the sound of that. “I thought you’d want to …”
    He cut her off. “I know. I know. You need to talk. I want to listen. I’d like to help you, but …”
    â€œI don’t get it. What are you saying?”
    â€œIt’s not that simple.”
    Alison’s look of derision made him hesitate. Then he plunged ahead anyway. “Look, you can’t go around breaking every rule in sight. And you don’t do it just for the fun of it.” His voice sank to a whisper. “This isn’t anarchy, it’s about principle. Building on principle requires circumspection. And tact. Speaking freely in this office would be neither circumspect nor tactful.” He resumed speaking at normal volume. “Are you beginning to understand?”
    â€œI think so …”
    â€œGood. The hypocrisy in this culture is absurd. That’s why we have to do things in a roundabout way. In theory, our political views are protected speech. As a couple of concerned citizens, we have a right—or as you put it, a duty—to discuss the issues and act on our principles. We have a right to privacy.”
    â€œExactly …”
    â€œSo if we’re going to talk, we need to ensure we protect our right to privacy.”
    He wasn’t actually winking while he said this, was he? “So, you’re suggesting …”
    Littlejohn did not reply. Instead, he wrote an address on a piece of paper and handed it to Alison.
    â€œYou want me to meet you at this address?” asked Alison, hesitating.
    Littlejohn nodded affirmatively.
    â€œTonight?”
    He nodded again as he half-ushered, half-prodded her out of his office.

Chapter 18
    Alison was royally irritated as she walked across the campus. Was she the only competent person on the planet? If the police had been doing their job properly, they’d have connected the dots to the girl in the meeting house long ago. Then she could have written her paper, and received the credit that was her due. Was that too much to ask?
    But things weren’t going the way she expected. The police had hired that ridiculous psychic. No hope there. But at least he wasn’t a threat. No, the newspaper really was her best option. P.C. Cromwell seemed like a serious person, though she had gotten seriously off track with all that mystical garbage. If she could set it up the right way, Alison could be like Deep Throat feeding Cromwell the information she needed to blow the whole rotten scandal wide open.
    To do that, she needed Professor Littlejohn’s help. She admired