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Vincent
Two weeks later…
“Detective Weyland to see you, Dadd- I mean, Professor.” Violet chimes through the ancient intercom of what used to be Dean Reinhold’s office.
I smile and shake my head to myself. Always smiling when she calls me that, or even starts to. It used to be something that was just between the sheets, but if that’s her pet name for me, I don’t mind.
It always serves her well when she wants something. And when I’m watching her climax over and over again, it’s the one word I never get tired of hearing from her lips.
“Show him in.” I reply somberly over the intercom, the wood paneled door to the office swinging open immediately, the familiar face of Detective Weyland moving slowly towards the huge leather topped desk.
I lean forward a little, making a pyramid with my fingertips.
Having had my own theories on everything about Reinhold so far, I’m still cautious about letting on too much. The feds were called in shortly after he was arrested, stripping the office of pretty much everything Reinhold had touched. But they missed the dog eared notebooks tucked in a magazine rack.
Written in faded pencil and in a shorthand only two or three people could understand, including myself.
It reminds me of my own journal in a way, most academics do keep a journal or clinical notes. It’s pretty normal.
Ha! Normal…
But reading through my old bosses notes. The man who raised me up from nothing to help me get where I am today?
I was sickened by what I read. Least of all to learn that the nagging feelings I’ve had all my life were true.
“Dean of the college now, eh?” Weyland remarks, scanning the office and then my desk as if he’s making his initial assessment of a crime scene. Breaking my reverie as I force a natural look.
“TemporaryDean of studies.” I correct him, “Just a few weeks until Dr. Reinhold’s replacement arrives”.
Or found. Nobody’s actually applied for the position.
“Your secretary looks familiar…” Weyland adds, not giving the briefest of smiles. Not even attempting to hide his sarcasm.
Neither of us mentioning the recent news stories that have plagued the media.
Decades old missing or abducted girl cases all possibly linked to Reinhold who used his position as Dean to cover up what could be the biggest crimes committed by one man in decades.
I was a prime suspect myself years back. One girl went missing from a neighboring college in my Freshman year. Part of what led to me being institutionalized and put under the full time care of the good doctors, Reinhold and Lutz.
Blurry years, but with no proof of guilt or innocence, I was court ordered to maintain regular contact and therapy with Dr. Lutz. Reinhold’s partner in crime.
Weyland’s eyes move to the stack of thin notebooks on my desk so I think I know the reason he’s here. He has a thick manila folder in one of his own hands, the kind of files I know from experience aren’t generally for show and tell.
“I heard Dr. Lutz was arrested too,” I observe, shifting back in my seat, ready to let Weyland do all the talking from now on.
“Uh yes, yes he was… Listen. Professor Valentine?” Weyland asks, looking at his feet. “I probably wouldn't tell you this ordinarily…” He says with a tone of resignation. Shifting his eyes to the notebooks again.
“But our investigations revealed-” He starts to say, but despite my best efforts to stay quiet, I cut him off.
“I don't think discussingthatis appropriate. Not here. Not now.” I tell him firmly. Knowing how close Violet is, not wanting her to hear or worse, see what I know is most likely in that folder.
“Professor. Reinhold and Lutz have given detailed confessions. They’re not trying to hide anything, especially once we uncovered these photographs… But we believe the crucial evidence is in their own records. Notes or some such… Something we missed.” He says. My hand sliding the stack of old journals over to him.
“There.” I tell him. Watching as he snatches one up and starts poring over its contents, finally clicking his tongue and giving me a ‘really?’ look.
“It’s in code.” He says, sounding defeated.
“Shorthand.” I correct him for the second time, making his face flush with annoyance.
