Now and then - By Robert B. Parker Page 0,43

never thought so,” I said.

“Until this case?” Susan said.

“Doherty has to matter to someone,” I said.

“He matters to Epstein,” Susan said.

I didn’t say anything.

“I did a number of things that caused us both a lot of pain.”

“It did,” I said. “But we got past that.”

“I have never liked talking about it,” Susan said. “But I did what I had to do at the time.”

“Me too,” I said.

“Would it help if we talked about it now?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

Again the rich silence across the phone connection.

“I love you,” she said. “You know that. I have always loved you. Even when I couldn’t stand to be with you, and was with someone else, I loved you.”

“It didn’t always feel quite that way,” I said.

“No, I’m sure it didn’t,” she said. “But it was true. You have to know it was true. That it is true.”

“I know,” I said.

“Don’t forget it,” she said.

After we hung up I stood in the window and looked at the dark lake stretching north to the horizon and beyond it to Canada. There was a moon, and I could see some sort of isolated bell buoy marking something a half mile from shore.

“I won’t forget it,” I said.

46.

Coyle state college was a scatter of yellow brick buildings across from a shopping center in Parma. The vice president for administration was a guy with a bad comb-over.

“Gerald Lamont,” he said when we shook hands. “Call me Jerry.”

Jerry was wearing a plaid sport coat, with a maroon shirt and tie. It went perfect with the comb-over.

“I’m interested in a member of your faculty from ten years ago, Perry Alderson.”

“Sure,” he said.

He picked up the phone and dialed an extension.

“Sally? Could you look up a former faculty member here, from ten years ago, Perry . . .”

He looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

“Alderson,” I said.

“Perry Alderson, yeah, soon as you can. Thanks, Sal.”

He hung up.

“What’d this guy Perry do?”

“Just a name that came up in a case back in Boston,” I said.

“Red Sox Nation,” Jerry said.

“That’s right,” I said.

“It was great for you guys in 2004,” Jerry said. “I think the whole country was rooting for you.”

“It was great,” I said.

Jerry’s phone rang.

“Hi, Sal. You’re sure? How about a few years either side?

No? Okay.”

He hung up and looked at me and shook his head.

“No Perry Alderson,” he said.

“Teaching assistant?”

“We have never had a sufficient graduate program for teaching assistants.”

“The college have a program,” I said, “for counseling street people at the Church of the Redeemer, on Euclid?”

“I don’t think so,” Jerry said.

I didn’t have the sense that Jerry was on top of things here at Coyle.

“Did they ten years ago?” I said.

“Ten years ago I was working for the Ohio Department of Education,” Jerry said. “Lemme call my assistant dean. She was here then, I think.”

He picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hi. Lois? Could you come down to my office? Yes. Please. Now. Okay, thanks.”

“You don’t have this kind of information on computers?” I said.

“I’m not a computer guy,” he said.

Assistant Dean Lois came into the office. She was a great improvement on Jerry. Jerry introduced us, and explained me.

“I’m interested in a guy named Perry Alderson. Said he was a professor here about ten years ago. Psychology.”

Lois shook her head.

“I’ve been here for twenty years,” she said. “First four as a student. I was a psych major. After graduation I stayed on as an administrator. I don’t remember a Perry Alderson.”

If she was a freshman twenty years ago she’d be in her late thirties now. A fine age for a woman. I took my picture of Perry Alderson out and put it on the desk.

“Either of you recognize him?” I said.

They both looked. Jerry shook his head.

Lois said, “My God, that’s Bradley Turner.”

“Bradley Turner,” I said.

“Yes,” Lois said. “I used to date him. Though I guess I wasn’t alone in that.”

“Active ladies’ man?” I said.

“Very,” she said.

“Tell me about him,” I said.

“This place used to be a junior college,” Lois said. “Two years to an associate’s degree. Then when we joined the state collegesystem, we moved to a full four-year curriculum and added a small graduate program offering a master’s degree in social work and psychology.”

“The master’s was terminal?” I said.

“Yes. We did not, still don’t, offer a Ph.D. We don’t have the resources.”

“We’re headed in the right direction,” Jerry said. Both Lois and I nodded. I had already fi gured out what Lois had long known about Jerry.

“Was Bradley in the graduate program?”

“Yes. He was older.