Chapter Thirty-Eight
T hatcher stood on the bottom step of the Museum of Natural History and stretched his calf muscles. Fall was finally here, and he loved the crispness of the air. He looked around. There were a number of people milling about, but he was early enough that most tourists weren’t out yet. He couldn’t help but think of what Vickie had said about this city being a great one for students of history. He watched a family of four head into the museum, the smallest boy exclaiming about dinosaurs. Thatcher remembered going to see the dinosaurs when he was a boy, back when he’d thought he could take on the world and the good guys always won. Those were the days.
After one final stretch of his muscles, he set out at a brisk walk, crossing Madison. Once he got to the path that ran alongside the grass of the National Mall, he quickened his pace and settled into a comfortable jog. He could see the Capital Building in the distance.
He wondered briefly what Vickie was doing. Getting ready for the wedding, probably. He glanced at his watch. Although considering the time difference, it was probably too early for her to be doing that. Maybe she was still sleeping.
He was torn this weekend. Part of him wished she were in town so they could continue working. But on the other hand, it was good to get some distance. He had the sinking feeling they were getting too close. Last night, his fingers had itched to call her and tell her about an interesting tidbit he’d learned. And to see how her flight was. But that would’ve been inappropriate.
He made it to the Capital reflecting pool and began to make a lap around the water. After his second lap, he slowed to a walk. He made his way over to the same step he’d sat on with Vickie a few weeks ago. That day, she’d really opened his eyes to the resources available in the city. He couldn’t shake the thought of the sheer volume of historical spots and museums within such a small area. An idea had begun to form in the back of his mind, but he was still unsure which direction to take it. Maybe another lap or two would help. He rose and took off, this time at a faster pace, hoping it would help to clear his head.
∞∞∞
The loud rapping noise startled Thatcher. After his run, he’d gone by his office, the lure of work too great to resist. He’d been trying to make sense of a garbled freshman essay about the Revolutionary War for the past twenty minutes. “Yes?”
John poked his head inside. “You got a minute?”
“Of course.” The very fact that John was on campus on a Saturday instead of at home with Megan and Avery clued him in that there was something wrong.
John stepped inside, closing the door tightly behind him. “You’re not going to believe this.”
“Oh, man. I don’t think I want to know. Anything that makes you look like you just ate a lemon isn’t going to be the kind of news I’m going to like.”
“Clark Langston.” As the name escaped from his mouth, John sank into the chair. “The man is despicable.”
Thatcher sat up. “Okay, this isn’t news. We’ve known that for awhile.” Actually, Thatcher had known that for the better part of twenty years, but that was beside the point. “What has he done this time?”
John shook his head. “I was playing racquetball this morning and one of his grad assistants showed up.”
“Yeah? What happened?”
John took a deep breath. “He’s right outside. He wants to speak to you about something.”
Thatcher raised an eyebrow. “Bring him in.”
John stepped to the door and motioned at someone. A skinny guy slunk into the office, his eyes focused on the floor. “It’s okay, Charley,” John prodded. “Telling Dr. Torrey is the right thing to do.”
Charley slowly raised his eyes to meet Thatcher’s. He took a deep breath. “I’m one of Dr. Langston’s graduate assistants.”
“Charley Jones. I remember you,” Thatcher said. “You were in one of my classes a couple of years ago.” Thatcher remembered the kid as painfully shy but brilliant. “Have a seat.” He motioned toward the chair John had vacated.
John stepped to the door. “I’m going to just leave you two alone. I need to get home.” He nodded at Thatcher. “Call me later though.” He closed the door behind him.
Thatcher directed his attention back to Charley. “So, what’s with all the secrecy?”
“Well, I’m taking a course this semester in Ethics. We’ve been talking a lot lately about professional integrity.” He hung his head. “I feel weird about telling you this, because I’m Dr. Langston’s assistant. But I think it’s my duty.”
“You can tell me. And if you want whatever it is to remain between us, it will.” Thatcher nodded at him encouragingly. “Go ahead.”
“I’m not really friends with his other two grad assistants. They’re roommates, so they, like, hang out and stuff.” Charley wrinkled his nose. “Plus, they’re Dr. Langston’s buddies. I think he goes out with them sometimes to bars and all.”
Thatcher wasn’t the least bit surprised. Clark probably dumped his work on this kid and let the other two slide. He’d always played favorites.
Charley continued. “Anyway, the other day, I overheard them talking. They were laughing about Dr. Langston pulling one over on someone.” He met Thatcher’s eyes. “I think they didn’t even realize I was in the room. The whole thing about there being some never found Abraham Lincoln documents was just a big scam. Dr. Langston just wanted you preoccupied so he could clinch the department chair position.” Charley shifted uncomfortably.
Thatcher was silent. He was such an idiot. He’d been had. “I know how hard it must have been to come and tell me this, especially since it meant you had to go behind your boss’s back.”
“That Ethics class really made me think. What he did was wrong.” Charley’s face was suddenly fierce. “And if you want me to go tell the Dean, I will.”
Thatcher shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. In fact, how about if you just keep this between the two of us? I don’t want life to be difficult for you because you chose to tell me the truth.” He paused. “And you know, there was no real harm done. I’ve learned a bit more about Abraham Lincoln than I needed to, but that just makes me a better student of history. Right?”
Charley’s face lit up in a smile. “I guess.” He swallowed. “Thanks for being cool about it, Dr. Torrey.”
“Don’t give it another thought, Charley. Now go and enjoy your Saturday.”
Charley quickly made his way out of the office.
Thatcher wanted to throw his computer through the window. But only for a second. Clark was real piece of work, convincing those two grad assistants to be a part of his duplicity. Thatcher rested his head in his hands. That Clark would stoop so low surprised him, although he didn’t know why. He’d been waiting for years for Clark’s true colors to come out.
Once he got over the shock, he felt immense disappointment. But not because he wouldn’t be revered in history. Nope. He’d never needed those kinds of accolades. Instead, he couldn’t brush away the regret that he’d no longer require the services of his research partner.