Dismissed.
Stepping down the hall to seek out Professors Santorini and Shull was unlikely to escape her scrutiny. I’d find some other way to contact her colleagues. Or have Milo do it.
I’d gotten up when she said, “His advisor was Gordon Shull. Which is lucky for you, because Professor Susan Santorini’s doing research in France.”
Astonished by the sudden turn, I said, “May I talk to Professor Shull?”
“Be my guest,” she said. “If he’s in. His office is two doors to the left.”
Outside in the mahogany corridor, several students lounged. Down a ways, near Romance Languages. No one congregating at Communications.
A. Gordon Shull’s office door was locked, and my knock was answered by silence. I was writing a note when a hearty voice said, “Can I help you?”
A man wearing a backpack had just come up the rear staircase. Midthirties, six feet tall, well-built, he had ginger hair buzzed to the skull and an angular, heavy-browed, wind-toughened face. He wore a red-and-black plaid shirt, black tie, black jeans, brown hiking boots. The backpack was Army green. Pale blue eyes, craggy features, five day stubble-beard; handsome in a coarse way. A National Geographic photographer, or a naturalist adept at obtaining grants to study rare species.
“Professor Shull?”
“I’m Gordie Shull. What’s up?”
I repeated the spiel I’d given Elizabeth Martin.
A. Gordon Shull said, “Kevin? It’s been what . . . a couple of years. What’s the problem?”
“There may be none. His name came up in an investigation.”
“What kind of investigation?”
“Homicide.”
Shull stepped back, loosened the pack, scratched his big chin. “You’re kidding. Kevin?” He flexed his shoulders. “This is mind-blowing.”
“When Kevin was your student did he pose any problems?”
“Problems?”
“Disciplinary problems.”
“No. He was a little . . . how can I put this . . . eccentric?”
He pulled a large chrome key ring out of his jeans and unlocked the door. “I probably shouldn’t be talking to you. Privacy . . . and all that. But homicide . . . I guess I should check this out with my boss before we go further.” His eyes traveled down the hall to Elizabeth Martin’s office.
“Professor Martin directed me to you. She’s the one who told me you were Kevin Drummond’s advisor.”
“Did she? Hmm . . . well, then okay . . . I guess.”
His office was a third the size of the boss’s, mocha-walled and gloomy-dark until he raised the blind on a single narrow window. The panes were blocked by a massive, knobby tree trunk, and it took Shull’s flicking the lights on to brighten the room.
Faculty status was clearly demarcated at Charter College. Shull’s desk and bookshelves were almost-wood Danish modern, his side chairs gray-painted metal. No California impressionism, here, just two posters for contemporary art exhibitions in New York and Chicago.
Two black-framed diplomas hung askew behind the desk. A bachelors’ degree fifteen years ago from Charter College and a masters’ four years later from the University of Washington.
Shull tossed his backpack in a corner and sat down. “Kevin Drummond . . . wow.”
“In what way was he eccentric?”
He swung his feet atop his desk and placed his hands behind his head. His basic-training hairdo revealed a large knobby skull beneath the ginger stubble. “You’re not actually saying the kid’s a murderer?”
“Not at all. Just that his name came up during an investigation.”
“How?”
“I wish I could tell you.”
Shull grinned. “No fair.”
“What can you tell me about him?”
“You’re a psychologist? They sent you because someone thinks Kevin’s psychologically disturbed?”
“Sometimes the police feel I’m right for a specific task.”
“Incredible . . . for some reason your name’s familiar.”
I smiled. He smiled back. “Okay, Kevin Drummond’s eccentricity . . . for starts, he kept to himself—at least from what I saw. No friends, no campus involvement. But not a scary kid. Quiet. Thoughtful. Medium-bright, not too socially adept.”
“How much contact did you have with him?”
“We met from time to time for curriculum guidance, that kind of thing. He seemed to be drifting . . . seemed not to be enjoying the college experience. Which is nothing unusual, lots of kids get down.”