Too Many Clues , livre ebook

Andrews UK - Dan Andriacco

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112 pages

English

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As chief spokesperson for St. Benignus University in small-town Erin, Ohio, Jeff Cody's job responsibilities include handling "crisis communications." And a crisis it is when veteran journalist Maggie Barton calls Jeff on the day after Thanksgiving. She wants the whole story about a dean forced to step down because of complaints of inappropriate behavior from three women who worked for him.But that's just the overture to double murder at SBU, taxing the abilities of larger-than-life amateur sleuth Sebastian McCabe and the police agencies of both town and gown. There are clues aplenty - too many, in fact. But how could the killer have entered the scene of the first murder without showing up on surveillance video? It seems like magic, or a locked room murder in a novel. Fortunately, Mac is a magician of no small ability as well as a mystery writer. This ninth novel (and tenth book) of the McCabe-Cody series marks the debut of Aurelia Banfield, the disarming new assistant chief of St. Benignus University Police, and a farewell to two characters who have been part of the Erin scene from the beginning.

Informations

Publié par	Andrews UK
Date de parution	03 décembre 2019
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781787054783
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0300€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Too Many Clues
McCabe & Cody Book #9
Dan Andriacco

First edition published in 2019 by
MX Publishing
335 Princess Park Manor
Royal Drive, London, N11 3GX
www.mxpublishing.com
Digital edition converted and distributed by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2019 Dan Andriacco
The right of Dan Andriacco to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without express prior written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted except with express prior written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright Act 1956 (as amended). Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damage.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious or used fictitiously. Except for certain historical personages, any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any views and opinions expressed herein belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect those of MX Publishing or Andrews UK Limited.
Cover design by Brian Belanger
www.belangerbooks.com
www.redbubble.com/people/zhahadun

This book is dedicated to my friend
Felicia Carparelli
who shares a birthday with Sebastian McCabe

1: Crisis Communications
When your job description includes the words “crisis communication,” there are going to be times you wished you hadn’t answered your smartphone. And when I saw that it was Maggie Barton calling me the day after Thanksgiving, I knew this was going to be one of those times.
“Cody’s Carnival,” I said by way of greeting. “This way to the sideshow.”
The old gal giggled.
Such banter was normal between us, as readers of these chronicles will recall. Maggie had been reporting on St. Benignus University for the Erin Observer & News-Ledger my entire career as SBU’s communications director, going back to its days as St. Benignus College. In fact, I’m pretty sure she pecked out her first stories on a manual typewriter. Her age is north of seventy-five and her hair looks like pink cotton candy.
“Hi, Jeff. How are you?”
“Blissfully ignorant up to now.”
I’d taken a day away from the office to digest turkey and pumpkin pie, but there’s no such thing as “off the clock” with a 24/7 job like mine.
Knowing that Maggie hadn’t called to ask about my health, I frowned as I looked over at Lynda on the couch. She was nursing the boys at her womanly bosom, one on each tap, with their sister Donata paging through a picture book next to her. Lynda is an old-fashioned girl, and breastfeeding is so old it’s new again. I felt warm all over watching her, despite the ominous phone call. Readers, meet Sam and Jake Cody, age fourteen months. Jake is the adventurous one, just like his namesake grandfather. We now have three children and a mini-van, though Lynda refused to part with her yellow Mustang.
Not a half-hour earlier, over our healthful breakfast of oatmeal with raisins and bananas, Lynda read me my daily horoscope from the Observer . This was a new practice acquired since she’d left the daily grind.
“Listen to this, darling: ‘You’d be so bored if people always did as you preferred.’”
No, I wouldn’t.
In that innocuous message, about as helpful as a fortune cookie, there wasn’t the slightest clue that we stood at the precipice of a case that had the most gut-wrenching solution in Sebastian McCabe’s entire amateur sleuthing career.
“What happened?” I asked Maggie.
“I’m calling about Warren Burch.”
Oh, crap.
“What about him?” As if I didn’t know.
“I thought he chose to retire as dean of the business school after the vote of no-confidence. That’s the way it was presented at the time. But a source tells me that he was forced out after three women accused him of sexual harassment and an investigation verified their accounts. I understand he got paid to sit out the 2017-2018 academic year and then come back this year as a full professor teaching just two classes for the Financial Economics major at a nice salary. Is all that true?”
“I guess ‘nice’ is a matter of opinion, Maggie. It’s not a very precise term.”
To be precise, the weasel earns two and a half times what I do. Well, I wouldn’t say “earns.”
Lynda, who could hear both ends of the conversation, rolled her gold-flecked brown eyes at me. She does that a lot.
“Oh, come on,” Maggie said. “Spill, Jeff.”
When I write my magnum opus on public relations, I plan to devote a chapter on how to not stonewall the media. It just never works. The obfuscation itself becomes the story, and those stories don’t die quickly. So, I had to answer Maggie—but carefully. The Warren Burch business was a tough one.
Burch had been dean of the Gulliver Mackie School of Business and Economics at SBU for just three years. In that short time, his dictatorial management style had the faculty from which he was promoted in an uproar. Lesley Saylor-Mackie, our executive vice president and provost, wanted to give him the boot after the second year. She hesitated, however, because Burch had been publicly critical of her husband for donating so much money to the school that they named it after him. She thought that removing Burch might seem like payback for the raspberries.
Then came a faculty vote of “no confidence” in his leadership and a series of accusations by female students. I originally thought they were all work-study students, but most of them were interns. What, you don’t know the difference? Work-study students are in it for the money, meager though it is. They have a financial need. Interns, who may not even be paid, are on a career path.
“I would be careful about using the term ‘sexual harassment,’” I advised Maggie.
“I’m told that the young women who filed complaints said he leered at them, made them bend over to pick up things, asked them to stand on a stool to adjust an air vent, and asked for dance lessons. Is that incorrect?”
Damn.
“No, it’s not incorrect. Those were some of the allegations.”
I could hear Maggie’s computer keys clicking rapidly.
“There were others, then? What else did he do?”
“I’m at home, Maggie. I don’t have the details of all the accusations handy.”
“But there was an investigation and a report of findings, wasn’t there?”
“Yes. The dean of students and the director of employee relations wrote a report. They concluded that Dr. Burch violated the university’s Values & Ethical Responsibility Policy by not respecting student employees in that he engaged in belittling and demeaning actions and statements.”
In other words, he’s a skank.
“That’s not a direct quote,” I clarified. “As I indicated, I don’t have the report in front of me.”
“But you’re saying the allegations were verified by the investigation?”
“The investigators found them credible, although there wasn’t enough evidence to say that Dr. Burch engaged in sexual misconduct. They also concluded that, in various ways, Dr. Burch fostered an unhealthy culture of fear, intimidation, and bullying among the faculty and staff of the business school.” That was a direct quote, though I didn’t say so. “The resolution of ‘no confidence’ approved by the business-school faculty said much the same.”
“And that’s why he resigned as dean?”
“His departure from that position was mutually agreed upon with senior administrators of the university as being in the best interests of St. Benignus.” Translation: We reached a quiet settlement. “However, he still has much to offer as a valued member of the faculty.” A huge ego, for one thing.
“Soft landing,” Maggie muttered. “Could I have a copy of that report?”
“I’m sorry, but no. We are a private institution, as you well know, and I can’t share that with you. It might contain information that would reveal the identity of the women involved.”
She might have pointed out that Burch’s name was being made public, so why not his accusers? And I would have volleyed back by pointing out that it wasn’t the university’s choice to make this public. But she didn’t go there. That line of thought wouldn’t have occurred to her.
“Why wasn’t Burch terminated?”
“Terminated” always sounds like a mob hit to me. Maybe that’s what Maggie had in mind.
“First of all, Dr. Burch is a tenured faculty member. His actions, while deplorable, were not illegal and did not rise to the level of warranting dismissal of a faculty member with tenure.” Lynda glowered at me as I said this, and Donata pouted. They look a lot alike, what with the curly hair of a honey-blond hue. (Donata’s hair started out a nice shade of Cody red, but changed its mind.) The boys just appeared contented and well fed. I turned my head so that I couldn’t see my adoring family while I dealt with this ticklish work issue.
“Also, there is nothing in Dr. Burch’s file to indicate any inappropriate behavior in the classroom or any other venue over his decades at SBU before he became dean. He had an excellent reputation as a demanding but brilliant teacher.” But he’s still a skank.
Maybe ascending to the ranks of administration as dean so late in his academic career had caused some formerly tight screws to go loose. Who knew?
“How much does he make as a full professor?”
“As a private institution, we don’t reveal faculty salaries.”
“But a lot?”
“Our salaries are competitive.”
Though mine is giving Burch no competition at all.
“Gosh, Jeff, it does sound to me like this man is getting off awfully easy.”
That’s