of her?”
I think she’s got more cool in her little finger than I have in my whole pudgy body. I think she’s led a more exciting life than I have and is ten times smarter. I think I’m wildly envious of her, and I also think that I don’t trust her even a tiny bit.
“She’s nice,” I offered. Sherbet leaped up onto the table, and I shooed him off before he could get his teeth into my cake.
“Nice? Em?” Finn laughed. “Emily Clowper is many things, but she sure as heck isn’t nice. In fact, she’s quite a pill.”
“But you like her,” I insisted.
“Sure. She’s smart and honest and passionate.” I felt the heat rising in my face, and Finn chuckled. “I mean she lives with a sort of intensity. Like everything she does, she does it with her whole self. She’s just real.”
“Oh.”
Finn’s lips twisted in a rueful smile. “In that sense, she reminds me of you.”
“Oh?” I couldn’t imagine someone seeing a common thread between me and Dr. Emily Clowper.
“Yeah. But I’m getting a weird vibe from her now.” Finn took a turn at batting away Sherbet. “She’s jumpy and more moody than usual and there’s this restless energy to her, like she wants to do something or say something and is trying to physically hold herself back.”
“Like she’s got a secret?” I offered.
“Exactly. Maybe she’s just being freaked out.”
“She has a right to be,” I said. “It sounds like her job’s in jeopardy, and whether she liked Bryan or not, she worked closely with him. He died violently and she saw the aftermath. I know it’s been eating away at Alice, and I have to think Emily is equally distraught.”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“But you think it’s something more,” I said.
He nodded somberly. Silence stretched between us, and we both watched Sherbet turn his attention away from our cake and begin to rummage through the grocery bags full of Peachy’s old craft supplies. After rooting his nose around in a half-dozen bags, he emerged triumphant with the tangled remains of a skein of green yarn.
He dropped the yarn on the floor, crouched down low, and pounced on it. Soon he captured a good-sized knot between his front paws and buried his back legs deep in the snarl of wool, kicking frantically, trying to disembowel his imaginary prey.
“I can’t even imagine what she’s hiding, though,” Finn finally said. “I realize you don’t know Em as well as I do, but I wanted to see what kind of read you’re getting from her.”
“Why me? I’m not exactly the best judge of character. I mean, I spent seventeen years married to Wayne Jones while he was running around like an ill-mannered alley cat and I didn’t have a clue.”
Finn smiled. “I still trust you, Tally. Right now I trust you more than I trust myself. Emily and I haven’t been romantically involved in years and years, but we parted on good terms. I still consider her a friend, and I might be biased.”
And I wasn’t? Really? Did he really think I could look at Emily Clowper, Finn’s ex, without green-tinted glasses? Or that her relationship with my niece didn’t set my teeth on edge?
“I don’t know, Finn . . .”
“Come on, Tally. Give it to me straight.”
As I marshaled my thoughts, I watched the cat. He paused, mid-freak-out, and looked up at me with bloodlust in his eyes, his needly fangs showing beneath his velvety whisker biscuits. My sweet kitten would gladly rip a bunny in two if given the chance. Bottom line, we’re all just animals, slaves to our instincts: to protect our children, to protect ourselves, and sometimes to kill.
“There’s something hinky about her,” I finally said. “I know you think she couldn’t possibly have sexually harassed Bryan, but I get the sense she’s hiding something. And I just can’t imagine a guy making allegations like that—publicly—and going to the extent of hiring a lawyer just because a teacher failed him on a test.”
Finn sipped his coffee. “I’ve done a little digging about the whole thing with Bryan.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I know it’s not very loyal to snoop behind her back, but Emily really is legally precluded from talking about the situation.”
“Well? Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Apparently there are two phases to getting a Ph.D. First, you take classes. Then, after two or three years of courses, you take a comprehensive exam. Which is exactly what it sounds like: you answer questions to demonstrate your mastery of your field. At Dickerson,