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It was after five o’clock, but the sun still turned his jacket into a personal sauna the minute he stepped outside. He took it off, then pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his collar for good measure.
He looked for a shaded spot away from students where he could sit for a few minutes. A rickety bronze bench, green with age, stood under a nearby tupelo tree. He tested it and it wobbled, but it seemed sturdy enough to hold him. A plaque announced that it was the Gift of the Class of 1956. Cheap class.
He sat down and surveyed his surroundings. Despite Savannah’s assurances, Tupelo Grove University looked more threadbare than he remembered. The dead limbs on the towering oaks in the quad needed trimming. Weeds and grass sprouted from the brick paths. Legare Hall, the grandiose marble administration building Savannah’s father started twenty years ago when he was university president, still wasn’t finished. Even from Hez’s vantage point over a hundred yards away, it was clear that construction stopped a long time ago and the half-built hall was slowly decaying into the perfect setting for a Stephen King story. Tupelo Grove certainly wasn’t “Harvard on the Bayou” anymore. Much of its five hundred acres was still swampland and planted fields for the agricultural department.
If anyone could turn this place around, it was Savannah’s sister, Jessica Legare. Jess was a financial wizard who had spent eight years at a cutthroat Wall Street investment bank before taking the CFO job at Tupelo Grove three years ago. She had the brains and intestinal fortitude to fix the university—if it was fixable. He hoped it was, for Savannah’s sake if not his own.
Hez’s phone buzzed in his pants pocket, and he pulled it out. It was Jimmy Little, Hez’s friend and head of his current law firm. He took the call, happy to think about work for a few minutes. “Hey, Jimmy.”
“How’d the hearing go?”
Hez smiled at his boss’s impatience. “We won.”
“Yes!” Hez could almost see Jimmy punching the air. “Tell me all about it.”
Hez gave a blow-by-blow description, which took twice as long thanks to Jimmy’s frequent interjections and questions.
“Are you on the road back to Birmingham?” Jimmy asked when Hez finished his story. “I’ll buy you dinner at Highlands.”
“Thanks, but I figured I’d spend the night down in Pelican Harbor. I’m having dinner at Billy’s and staying at a little B and B on the water.”
“Oh.” Jimmy paused. “That’s pretty close to Tupelo Grove, right?”
“Yeah. I’m actually at TGU right now.”
“Are you there about the Justice Chamber?” Jimmy’s voice was wary now. He knew the Justice Chamber was Hez’s dream. After a couple of long conversations, Jimmy had reluctantly agreed that Hez could have six months of paid leave to start the clinic someday—but he also clearly hoped someday never came.
Hez sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, but it doesn’t look like it’ll work out.”
“I’m sorry, man.” Jimmy’s tone conveyed the exact opposite of his words.
“It’s fine. It was a mistake for me to come down here.”
* * *
I wait until Savannah goes home, which seems to take forever. At least I have a tracker on her phone, so I don’t need to spend hours watching for her to leave.
Finally, the blue dot labeled S begins to move on my screen. I move too. Ten minutes after she walks out of the building, I walk in.
This old pile of ivy-covered brick and stone has a unique stink to it, like all of TGU. It’s more of a feeling than an actual smell: the stench of generations of dirty laundry that has never been washed or aired. The pile just grows higher as the years roll by.
My first stop is the classroom where that idiot left the provenance letters he was supposed to pick up. Those letters were basically certificates of authenticity for every artifact in the last shipment. Without them, we won’t be able to sell a single one. Where are they? Did Savannah grab all of them? Peter thought he saw her take the whole stack as he was going back to get them, but he’s not a particularly reliable source, especially when he’s agitated. Maybe she left some of the letters behind.
I do a quick search of the desk and trash. Nothing. I walk up and down the rows of student seats, glancing down each. I see only dust and the occasional snack wrapper or soda can.
Next I go to her office. A little ripple of adrenaline runs through me as I open the door. I have a cover story for being in the building, but not here.
I close the door and look around. The early evening sunlight slants through her windows, making the room warm and stuffy. I step behind her well-organized desk and flip through the papers on it. Student essays to be graded, university paperwork, scholarly magazines and newsletters. No provenance letters. I check the desk drawers and credenza. Nothing there either.
A bead of sweat runs down my temple. I’ve been here too long already, but I can’t leave until my search is done.
I scan the room, looking for any other place she might have left the letters. The bookshelves hold only books. The top of the credenza has the standard TGU computer and some family pictures.
One of the pictures catches my eye. A wedding photo showing a radiant Savannah and a self-satisfied Hez wearing a smirking smile. My fists clench and I resist the urge to tear the picture from the frame and rip it to shreds. Why is that still here? He’s supposed to be out of her life!
I take a deep breath and blow it out through my nose. Maybe I need to take the Hez situation into my own hands.
I check the tracker on my phone. Savannah has left her house and is walking back toward campus. She’s probably walking her dog, but she might stop by her office. She’s brought him here before.
