“You’re resigning, ma’am?”
“Why not, if the parachute’s sufficiently golden?” said Martin. “Vernon’s been talking about cutting back, the two of us have been itching to do more traveling. Perhaps this is providence. So if you want to know more about Gordon’s character flaws, you must keep me in the loop.”
“Fair enough,” said Milo. “What problems have you had with Shull?”
“Pilferage, sloppy expense accounts, spotty attendance as a teacher, shoddy grading,” said Martin. “His lectures—when he chooses to show up—are execrable. Low-level discourses on pop culture with cretinous reading lists. Everything centers on Gordon’s insight of the moment, and Gordon’s attention span is severely attenuated.”
“A dilettante,” I said. Shull had applied the term to Kevin Drummond.
“He’d have to work at being a dilettante,” said Martin. “Gordon is everything I despise about what passes for scholarship in contemporary academia. He fancies himself an avatar of pop culture. Oracle on the mount passing judgment on the creative world. No doubt because he sees himself as an artist but has failed miserably.”
Milo sat up. “How so?”
“Gordon fancies himself quite the Renaissance man. He paints horrid blotchy canvases—garden scenes purporting to be Impressionistic but at a level of competence most middle school children could surpass. Shortly after he came on, he brought several canvases to me, asked for a one-man show sponsored by the department.” She snorted. “I put him off and he went to the dean. Even Gordon’s connections couldn’t help with that.”
“Renaissance man,” said Milo. “What else?”
“He plays drums and guitar very poorly. I know that because he’s always talking about gigging or riffing, whatever. Last year he volunteered to play at a party Vernon and I threw for the honor students. This time, I was foolish enough to agree.” Her eyes rolled. “As if all that self-delusion wasn’t enough, he also claims to be working on a novel—some magnum opus in progress that he’s been touting since I’ve known him. I’ve never seen a page of manuscript.”
“Big talk, no walk,” said Milo.
“A real California guy,” said Martin. “Without family money, he’d be waiting tables and lying about his next big audition.”
“You said his attendance was spotty,” said Milo.
“He’s always off on some jaunt, financed by his stepfather.”
“What kind of jaunts?”
“Alleged research trips, symposia, conventions. In addition to his other pretensions, he sees himself as an adventurer, has been to Asia, Europe, you name it. It’s all part of that macho thing he has going on—plaid shirts with ties, hiking boots, the Arafat beard. He always claims to be working up some profound paper, but, again, he’s never produced.” She jabbed a finger. “In a sense, the world’s fortunate he never follows through. Because Gordon’s a horrid writer. Incoherent, puffed up, pompous.”
“Faithful Scrivener,” I said.
Her eyes widened. “You know about that?”
“Know about what?”
“Gordon likes to refer to himself in third person. Graces himself with a slew of obnoxious nicknames. The Gordster, The Intrepid Mr. Shull, Faithful Scrivener.” She bared her teeth. “He’s always been a joke. Unfortunately, he’s my personal sick joke. And now you’re telling me he killed someone . . . and our offices are footsteps away . . . that is unsettling. Am I in danger?”
“Not that I see, Professor,” said Milo.
“Who has he killed?”
“Artistic individuals.”
Martin’s eyes saucered. “More than one?”
“I’m afraid so, Professor.”
She sighed. “I’m definitely going to take some time off.”
“What can you tell us about Kevin Drummond?” said Milo.
“What I told Professor Delaware was true: I have no specific memory of the boy. After the visit, I took a closer look at his transcripts. Mediocre student, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.”
“You have no memory of his hanging out with Shull?”
“Sorry, no. Students come in and out of Gordon’s office. To a certain type, he’s appealing. I don’t recall Mr. Drummond, specifically.”
“What type of student finds him appealing?” said Milo.
“Gordon stays abreast of all the latest trends, and that impresses the easily impressed. I’m sure what he’d really like would be to host a show on MTV.”
I said, “Has Shull acted out sexually with students?”
“Probably,” she said.
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