Are You Nuts? (15 page)

Next we had a departmental meeting back at Grover Cleveland. Jon Pike gave me his most toothy smile when I entered the classroom assigned for the meeting.

He began the meeting by quoting
The Tempest
, act 2, scene 2, lines 40-41: “Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.” Which almost made a little bit of sense. Did this mean he didn't like any of us? That the deaths were misery and we were all in this together? Rachel Seebach put her hand over her mouth and laughed silently. Several other people in the department exchanged quizzical looks or rolled their eyes.

Next Jon began passing out the School Improvement Plan. This is another joke perpetrated by the Illinois state legislature. Over the years the teachers of Illinois with their administrators have written Directed Learner Objectives, Behavioral Objectives, Rubrics, and all kinds of other bureaucratic horseshit. It is legitimate for a community to want to know if their children are learning. It is beyond passing strange for the state to insist every few years that we reinvent the wheel. The real problem was that many of the Republicans in the state legislature are basically racist and determined to beat up on the city of Chicago and the teachers' union there. An example of the bureaucratic madness—for some grade levels there are now nearly a month's worth of tests to be given: nationally normed tests, Criterion Reference tests, Illinois Goal Assessment Plan tests, high school placement tests, and on and on—during which the students are not taught.

Jon explained for thirty minutes about the School Improvement Plan and what we were supposed to do about it over the year.

Rachel whispered at one point, “Let's cram all these up his ass.”

I laughed. Jon gave me a dirty look.

He ended the meeting with, “Light seeking light doth light of light beguile.” I thought this might be from
Love's Labour's Lost
. Since it made no sense and there wasn't going to be a quiz, I ignored it.

Before I could rush away, Jon asked to see me. We met in his classroom. The walls were covered with posters of Shakespeare and playbills from performances of the bard's work. A replica of the Globe theater sat on the windowsill.

“Tom, I wanted to see you. We're going to have to change your schedule.”

“What?”

“The electives you teach are two of our most popular subjects. We can't have you teaching them. With the controversy around you, we can't risk having kids quit them.”

“Have any left?”

“Two so far in each.”

Besides the slow kids, I taught two honors electives: the Modern Novel and Short Story Writing.

“You can't switch them this close to the beginning of the term.”

“Sure I can. I'm the head of the department.”

“What if some kids took those classes to get me for a teacher? Won't they be disappointed and try to leave?”

“Perhaps.” He considered for a few moments.

“Don't we have to discuss assignment changes at a departmental meeting?”

“I don't want to turn this into something political or some kind of power struggle.”

“Why don't we see what happens this semester and then discuss any changes near the end of the term. I'm sure you'd want to use proper procedure. People get annoyed when you don't.”

“I guess.”

All gay people know homophobia can be quietly insidious just like this. It wasn't blatant discrimination. Just hidden, covert, glass-ceiling discrimination. We just didn't get the more prized positions. Gay rights laws will help, but this kind of thing would be impossible to stop. He said he'd wait to make changes.

After our departmental meetings, we were supposed to either do curriculum work based on what Jon had just told us or work in our classrooms. I hoped to be able to do the latter if I got done talking to everyone I needed to.

Plus, eventually the police would learn about my visit to Belutha, if Beatrix wasn't filling their ears about it at that very moment. It could be a conspiracy theorist's field day with Meg and me seen in cahoots to do in dastardly enemies. I tried calling Todd, but he was in a meeting. This wasn't an emergency yet.

I went hunting for studly Trevor. I found him in the cafeteria with a bunch of younger teachers. I know it's because I'm getting older, but some of them did look barely out of their teens.

I walked up to Trevor and draped a more than companionable arm around his shoulders. I said, “Trevor, we need to talk.”

He gave those around him a pained look.

“Aren't you Tom Mason?” one of the young women asked.

“I am.”

“I saw you on all those shows. What was Oprah like?”

“As kindly as she appears to be.”

“Oh. Are you and Trevor friends?”

“That's up to Trevor. He and I need to chat.”

“I need to get to a meeting,” Trevor said.

“You're having a break. Let's take a minute. I'm sure you'll find the few moments profitable.”

He couldn't refuse without looking ugly and ungracious. Those of us into politeness need to be wary. Those who wish to take advantage will use our penchant for politeness against us. As I did now against Trevor.

We found an empty storage closet.

“What was all that crap? Don't ever put your arm around me again.”

“You sound awful pushy for someone the police are going to need to talk to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Before you trotted off to a bar to meet your friends, you had sessions with Beatrix and Jerome the night he was killed.”

“Who told you that? It's not true.”

“What were you and Beatrix arguing about the night of the murder?”

“We … she told you? Beatrix blabbed?”

“Beatrix is not a person I would pick to confide in.”

“I should have picked you? I tried that. Remember? You weren't very responsive.”

“Because I didn't want to date you means that I'm not somebody who can be confided in? You have to learn to stop thinking with your prick.”

“Why am I still talking to you?”

“Think of all the wonderful advice you're getting and imagine how much better you are going to feel when you get this sordid confession off your soul.”

“I have nothing to confess.”

“What did you and Beatrix fight about?”

“That bitch didn't tell you?”

“I didn't say it was Beatrix who told me.”

“Belutha. She saw us. She told you? This place is crazy, like an Italian court in the fifteenth century. Do I need to have someone taste my food before I eat it?”

“That depends on how important you assume you are, doesn't it? You lied about leaving. I think the police would love to hear about that. Let's make this a nice easy threat. You tell me or I tell the police.”

“What makes you so damn confident I won't just walk out of here?”

“You're young but sensible. You're a gay man. Generally, if we make it out of our teen years, we have a remarkable sense of self-preservation. Enlightened self-interest will tell you that talking to me is better than being grilled by the police.”

“Maybe I like a man in uniform.”

“Good for you. Now it's time to talk.”

“If you must know, although it has nothing to do with the murder, I talked to Beatrix about the union. I had to meet with Jerome to protect myself. He promised me that if he was elected, gay people would be protected. Beatrix asked me to support Seth in the election. She told me if I didn't, she would personally tell everyone on the school board that I was gay.”

“Surprise for you. Jerome was a stealth candidate for the religious right. He was going to do a great deal to harm a lot of us, especially you and me and whoever else is gay or lesbian in the district.”

“He lied to me?”

“Straight through his teeth. He'd have promised you anything to get elected. I think he'd been making promises to just about everybody to get their support. Welcome to the real world.”

“I had to promise Beatrix to support Seth.”

I could have sworn Beatrix told me she was on Jerome's side. Could Beatrix have exacted promises from both men to insure her support and double-crossed both of them? I felt a slight twinge of admiration for Beatrix's boldness and duplicity. I also wondered how stupid she thought people were. In a still relatively small district, did she think people wouldn't notice? That Jerome and Seth might never talk? Then again, their paths would generally not have crossed, except once a year in a large group like today. Maybe Beatrix saw it as a calculated risk that could pay off. She could always call one of them a liar. Her sympathizers would rally to support the poor put-upon Beatrix.

“When did you talk to Jerome?”

“After the voting started. We had set up the meeting earlier in the day. You gave me no concrete assurances that I wouldn't be fired. I had to have something.”

“He gave you concrete assurances?”

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“He promised I'd get tenure.”

“And you believed him?”

“Why shouldn't I have?”

“Look, twit for brains. We're gay. On the whim of the district, tenured or not, we can be fired. He didn't have the power to ensure tenure for anybody, and tenure isn't some magic wand for gay people.”

“But I thought tenure protected us.”

“More bad news. Tenure only means they have to go through due process to get rid of us. It is amazingly easy for someone not to be given tenure or to be tenured and then fired.”

“That's not the way it was explained to me. They can't hurt me if I'm a good teacher, can they?”

“Yes, they can. Whoever explained it to you is under the same misconception I was until I became building rep and learned the true state of things.”

“Being gay and teaching is nuts. It's too much pressure.”

“It sure feels that way sometimes. Jerome was a right-wing zealot who was pulling your chain to get your vote.”

“Do you enjoy being an insulting know-it-all? And that was mean to put your arm around me. Everybody could see it.”

“I'm thinking of putting my arm around the shoulders of a different man on the staff each day. By the end of the year they can be making up rumors about nearly every guy on the faculty. Then I could start in on the custodians.”

“I don't think that's funny.”

“Neither is murder. Where did you talk to Jerome?”

He hung his head and whispered, “In the library.”

News indeed. I needed to lighten up on my little friend, who'd just boosted his rating on my suspect list.

“He was alive when I left,” Trevor asserted.

“Do you know who else he was waiting for?”

“No.”

“Did you notice a purse?”

“No. Why?”

“Meg said she went back for hers.”

“You mean you're questioning her story?”

“I haven't talked to her directly. What kind of mood was Jerome in when you left him?”

“Calm, nothing special. He just made the promise to me. How could he lie like that straight to my face?”

“I don't know. Some people get so desperate to win an election they will tell any lie that pops into their heads. Did you see anybody in the hall when you left?”

“No. It was quiet.”

“Did anybody see you leave?”

“I don't think so.”

“What time was it?”

“I didn't look at my watch. I'm sure it was before eleven.”

“You've got no alibi for the murder.”

“You're not going to try and pin it on me? You're not going to tell the cops? I had no reason to kill him or Belutha.”

“Unless they had both threatened to keep you from getting tenure.”

“Look, Mason, I'm just a guy trying to keep a job. Why hassle me?”

I didn't get the sense that he was a killer. A liar, a closet case, a mild celebrity groupie, a party boy who wanted to get his rocks off whenever he could, but not a killer. “You'll probably have to tell the police the truth at some point. When they piece together who the real killer is, they'll need to have the whole sequence of events down clear.”

“It's going to look bad that I lied?”

“Yep.”

He sighed. “This is too much. I wish I was straight. If I was straight, this never would have happened. If I get out of this okay, I'm going to find a closet and stay in it forever.”

“That would be unfortunate.”

“Yeah, well, you don't have much say in what I do to protect myself.”

“If you don't want people to think you're gay, I'd suggest a different tailor.”

“Why?”

I pointed at his iridescent gray vinyl pants with black polka dots. “The black silk shirt is suspicious, but you could probably get away with it. However, those pants scream, ‘I'm a faggot.' I think they make you look very sexy, but the fashion police might want to interrogate you about them. I do know that if you wear them to school—straight or gay, the kids will think you're a swish from the get-go.”

“You're always so morally superior. Judging those of us who are more closeted than you. Don't you ever get tired of it? You think you're such hot shit. Who are you to get so high and mighty? Your lover's been in one of the biggest closets in the country. You may be famous, but you and your lover have some of the same problems I do.” He began walking out.

His comment surprised and irritated me. “I'm only trying to help Meg,” I began, but he was gone. I reflected on what he'd said as I walked down the hallway. In my haste to protect myself and find the killer, had I stepped over the bounds of decency? I'd have to think about that later.

I found Georgette in the middle of a gaggle of secretaries near the school office.

“Have you talked to Carolyn?” she asked.

“Does she want to see me?”

Georgette motioned me aside. She lowered her voice. “Mavis thinks something odd is going on.”