“How long had the line been open? I mean, when was the call put in?”
“The original call from Professor Judd’s office? I don’t know, maybe an hour ago. I don’t remember exactly.”
“Did you hear anything that was said over the line?”
“Say, who is that talking? Are you really Professor Branch?” The false culture flaked off the surface of her voice like old fingernail polish. There is nothing like fear for a job to remove culture from a voice.
“Do you want me to quote some poetry to prove it?”
“No kidding, you’re not trying to put me on the spot, are you?”
“Of course not. I’m Branch and I don’t know or care who you are. Did you hear anything?”
“I’m not allowed to listen to conversation,” she said more calmly. “But when a line has been open for quite a while, we’re allowed to switch in and make sure it’s busy, that’s all.”
“Was Judd’s line busy?”
“Well, it was open for about twenty minutes or so, so I turned the key and somebody was talking all right and I switched out again.”
“About when was this?”
“I switched in about midnight, I think. No, it was just after midnight. The tower clock had just struck.”
“How long after midnight?”
“Two or three minutes, maybe. I don’t know.”
“You didn’t hear anything that was said?”
“We’re not supposed to listen and I couldn’t tell you anyway, Dr. Branch. It wasn’t anything, anyway. It sounded like a gag.”
“It was no gag. Can’t you tell me anything?”
She said: “Sorry I have to go now. The policeman in the office wants to talk to me.”
She clicked off.
CHAPTER VI
I HEARD QUICK, HEAVY steps in the hall and got out of my chair. President Galloway came through the door with his head down as if he were butting his way in. He had on trousers and a shirt and a grey suede windbreaker. The shirt was open at the neck and I could see the matted grey hair on his chest. He had obviously come in a hurry and I wondered why he had taken so long.
“A terrible business, Branch.” His lined face was pale and needed shaving. I had never seen Galloway look perturbed or disheveled before. He was a former head of the department of psychology, a good judge of men and a smooth and subtle politician. Maybe statesman is a better word: he presided with considerable dignity and some wisdom over a university community as large and complex as an ancient city-state. But he was upset now.
“I’m glad I was able to get in touch with you, sir,” I said, “and that you could come over.”
“We’ve got to do what we can. Branch, do you think Judd’s death had anything to do with the War Board?”
“I’m sure it had.”
“I’ve been worried about the War Board,” Galloway said. “I heard indirectly at the time of the Detroit indictments that evidence was turned up which led in our direction.”
“Alec said something of the sort this afternoon.”
“It was evidently a blind alley,” Galloway went on, “but I called up one of the Federal men with the Detroit office who happens to be a friend of mine. Former student, in fact. I wanted to keep it unofficial. He came down here last week and we talked it over – off the record, of course.”
“It might be a good idea to make contact with him now. This is likely to be a Federal matter.”
“I called him before I left the house.” A tired smile twitched the sagging muscles of Galloway’s face. “As it happened he was at the Bomber Plant to-night and it took me some time to get in touch with him. But he should be here before long.”
Thank God for that, I thought. I had no great faith in the sly-faced sergeant.
I said: “The Bomber Plant? What’s the matter there?”
Galloway answered, “I don’t know,” and closed his face up like a fist. After a pause, as if to console me for the snub, he said: “A great boy, Chet Gordon. I had him in psychology seminar eight or nine years ago.”
I remembered the name from my undergraduate days. “Was he an intercollegiate swimmer?”
“That’s the man.” After another pause he said, “You had something to tell me, Branch.”
I gave it to him without trimmings: “Alec was murdered by Herman Schneider or his son, or both of them.”
“Jesus Christ, Branch! Do you know what you’re saying? Did you see them do it?”
“No.”
“What grounds have you for this – accusation?”
“The Schneiders tried to murder me to-night. Shortly before Alec was killed, he called me on the phone and told me he had found proof that Herman Schneider had copied confidential War Board information. There are other things.”
“Jehosophat.” Galloway was regaining control of his proper names. “What other things?”
I told him what I knew, leaving out my suspicions of Ruth Esch. If she was an innocent friend of the Schneiders, there was no point in ruining her university career before it began.
When I finished, Galloway said, “This is a big thing, Robert. I’m glad you called me before speaking to the police. A big thing. A scandal involving a man of Schneider’s standing in the university could do us a great deal of harm. We must move with circumspection.”
Circumspection was his favorite word: he had to consider the Board of Regents and the State Legislature and the national reputation of the university. I wanted to see Schneider in handcuffs. I said:
“You can’t hush up murder and you can’t hush up espionage.”
“Of course not, Robert, of course not,” Galloway said in the soothing accents he used when he was most unalterable. “But we cannot be impetuous. Murder has not been proved. Stronger men than Alec Judd have committed suicide.”
“I was with Alec an hour before it happened. He was in fine fettle.”
“Of course, of course,” which meant that he would move when he was ready. “Have you found this evidence against Schneider which you say he said he had?”
I didn’t like the ‘you say’ construction but wasted no more breath. “No.”
“Has a search been made for it?”
“I told the police nothing about it.”
“Good. We can handle this in our own way. We must have a talk with Schneider. At least we can find out if he could possibly have killed Alec.”
“Why not let the police handle it?” I said sharply. He had the temporizing brain without which few university presidents can last a year, and trying to co-operate with him was like shaking hands with an octopus while walking in quicksand.
“Chester Gordon will be here soon. He is a man of wider experience, and greater discretion, than I should judge the local police to be. Meanwhile, I should like to discuss this matter with one or two members of the War Board.”
“Don’t call Schneider, sir.”
“I shall call Herman Schneider,” Galloway said softly, “and ask him to come over. I think you may trust me to be discreet.” He looked at me out of blank, cold eyes over which the lids drooped slantwise.
I remembered that I was an Assistant Professor and said nothing. Galloway said, “May I use your phone?”
“Certainly. I’ll go down to Alec’s office and see if the police have found anything. The detective said he wants to question me.”
“Go ahead.” He sat down to phone.
When I opened the door, Haggerty was going through the drawers of Alec’s desk. He looked up at me with a nasty look in his small eye like a rat cornering another rat:
“I hear you were having a little conversation with the university operator a few minutes ago. A very highbrow little confab, I bet you. I’m not an intellectual myself, but I hear it was a very highbrow little confab.”
“That’s what you said,” I said with eighteenth-century courtesy. “I’m not a detective myself, but I thought I might learn something from her. It turned out I couldn’t.”