Summa Cum Liar Read online

  SUMMA CUM LIAR

  Book Four in the

  Haverwood College series

  By Ali Franklin

  Haverwood College

  Directory of Selected Administrators,

  Faculty and Staff

  Oscar Martinez, College President

  PhD, Bowling Green State University

  Victoria Roux, Provost

  PhD, Brown University

  Ryan McCabe, Dean of Students

  PhD, University of California at Berkeley

  Theodora Sayers, Chair, Musical Theater

  MFA, Boston Conservatory at Berklee

  Bobbi Herman, Dean, College of Arts and Sciences

  PhD, University of Texas at San Antonio

  Gregory Carpenter, Professor, Business Administration

  PhD, Columbia University

  David Anderly, Associate Professor, History

  PhD, Yale University

  Faith Cho, Associate Professor, Psychology

  PhD, Harvard University

  Rick Jensen, Assistant Professor, Journalism

  MA, Northwestern University

  Nicki Statton, Chief, Campus Police

  MS, University of Texas

  Kyle Petrowski, Director, Information Technology

  MS, Texas A&M University

  Helen Wherry, Administrative Assistant to the Dean of Students

  BA, Haverwood College

  1

  Ryan McCabe lowered her baton for the downbeat, launching the pit orchestra into the next-to-last number. The vocalists straightened in their chairs. They came in singly or in pairs, right on cue, building until everyone was reprising the song introduced in the first act.

  The sounds lifted and soared, reaching from the stage to the last row of the auditorium and back again.

  Ryan turned to look over the pit wall. “What do you think?”

  “They sound terrific,” said Teddy, the show’s writer/director and Ryan’s best friend. “I’m going to go listen from the back of the hall.”

  Ryan smiled as she turned back around. The sitzprobe, the first rehearsal with the orchestra and the vocalists, was officially a success.

  Haverwood College’s musical theater department had been preparing for the premiere for almost two full semesters, but everyone knew how important this rehearsal was. Generations of superstition held that if the sitzprobe went well, the show would go well.

  Opening night was less than a month away. Rehearsals hadn’t always gone smoothly, but the actors and vocalists had gelled as a group after Teddy replaced the diva playing the female lead with her more pleasant—and, it turned out, more talented—understudy. They were almost ready for the show.

  Ryan’s thoughts were interrupted when the bass line disappeared. The music continued as the orchestra and vocalists stole glances toward the bassist. He looked like he was playing, but he wasn’t paying attention to Ryan. He was so enraptured by one of the female vocalists that he hadn’t realized his instrument was unplugged from its amplifier.

  Ryan snapped her fingers to refocus the students on their task. All eyes but two returned to the conductor. Without stopping, she leaned to her right and looked to the back row of the orchestra.

  “Will.”

  He didn’t hear. Both hands still moved on his bass.

  “William,” she said a little louder.

  Nothing.

  Ryan dropped her hands, instantly bringing silence to the auditorium. The bassist looked up.

  “Will, we lost you. Would you plug your guitar back into your amp?”

  “Huh?” he said. He looked down at his hands. “I don’t—”

  “—Your amp,” repeated Ryan, pointing at the black box.

  Will looked down to see his disconnected cord. He grabbed it and jammed it into the amp, causing a loud SCREECH that reverberated through the room. Students covered their ears and grimaced until he was settled.

  He looked up at Ryan with a crimson face. “Sorry… I didn’t notice.”

  She took a deep breath. “Okay, but please keep your eyes—and your ears—open.”

  She leaned back on her stool and looked at the group. “We only have a little more to get through. Let’s keep up the energy all the way through the finale.”

  The students nodded and murmured their assent.

  “We’ll start at the first chorus.” She gave everyone a few seconds to catch up, then raised her arm and began.

  They made it all the way to the third verse before they were interrupted by a voice from the back of the auditorium.

  “Wait, wait, wait.”

  It was Teddy. She hurried down the aisle toward Ryan, her tight black curls bouncing with each step.

  Ryan stopped the musicians and kept her face composed as she turned. “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s not that anything’s wrong. It’s more like something’s…not quite right.”

  “Not quite right,” repeated Ryan.

  “Like we’re going the wrong direction.”

  Ryan pointed her baton at the music score on her stand. “We’re rehearsing what you wrote. Did you mean to write something else?”

  “No, but I’m back there visualizing the scene in my head,” Teddy motioned to the back of the hall, “and it’s wrong.”

  “Teddy, it’s a fantastic scene and a fantastic show. Everything’s right, just like you wrote it.”

  “I don’t know…” Teddy cocked her head.

  “I do know. Now let’s finish this rehearsal and get on with our day.”

  Ryan turned back around to face the students. “We’ll start at the third verse. Let’s concentrate and finish strong.” She began right away and the students had no choice but to catch up with her.

  They finished the number and moved into the finale. Ryan was starting to believe they were going to finish the rehearsal with no more interruptions when she heard an ugly phone alarm similar to the sound of a severe weather alert.

  Her shoulders slumped as she dropped her baton on the stand. “Guys, you’re supposed to turn off your phones for rehearsal.”

  The student whose phone sounded the alarm managed to turn it off without Ryan seeing who it was, but more students were wriggling in their seats and patting their pockets. It seemed each student had an issue with their phone.

  “We’re in rehearsal,” Ryan practically shouted, clearly annoyed.

  No one responded. Students were pulling vibrating phones from their pockets and bags with frowns and confused looks. The buzzing continued until each owner pressed a button.

  When the hall returned to silence, Ryan looked around. All eyes were on her, but hands twitched and toes tapped impatiently. She sighed.

  “Did every one of you get a message?”

  They nodded in unison.

  Ryan reached down and retrieved her own phone from her messenger bag. There were no alerts. She threw both arms in the air. “I give up. Go ahead.”

  The students hurried to enter passwords and thumbprints to open their phones. Moments later, they burst into excited but hushed conversation.

  Teddy approached as Ryan was packing to leave. “I didn’t get a message,” she said, holding up her phone, “so it’s not a campus-wide thing. Do you think the students are planning a rave?”

  “A rave?” asked Ryan. “Do they still use that term?”

  Teddy shrugged as they moved up the aisle toward the door. “I don’t know. Hey, why don’t you come over for dinner tonight? We can have our own rave.”

  “Sounds good. Should I call Summer about what to bring?” Summer was Teddy’s long-time partner and a wonderful chef.

  “She texted earlier,” said Teddy. “We need veggies for the grill.”

  “Done. About 6:30?”

  “
Perfect.”

  They reached the door. With a frown, Ryan turned around.

  “What?” asked Teddy.

  Ryan pointed her chin toward the front of the auditorium. “They’re still here. I thought they’d all take off as soon as I let them go.”

  The students were indeed still there, talking excitedly in twos and threes, pointing at their phones.

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” said Teddy. “Whatever it is.”

  Ryan chewed her bottom lip. “I have a bad feeling.” She started walking toward the stage.

  Teddy called after her. “Don’t worry about it. If something’s wrong, you’ll know soon enough.”

  But Ryan didn’t want to wait. She looked around and zeroed in on one student, then approached her with a questioning look.

  “Kelly,” she said, pointing toward the student’s phone, “what’s going on?”

  Kelly Lucero was the female lead in the musical. She was a good student and a talented actress. She and Ryan had gotten to know each other well over the past two semesters.

  She looked at Ryan with wide eyes. “Didn’t you get the message?”

  “No.”

  Kelly held out the phone and Ryan read the words:

  HAVERWOOD ALERT:

  Our beloved campus

  is rife with depravity.

  Soon, those professors

  who are not worthy of the title

  will find their secrets laid bare.

  Ryan’s heart skipped a beat. Rife with depravity?

  She looked at Kelly. “Who sent this?”

  “It came through the college’s alert system.”

  “And everyone got one?”

  “It looks like it.”

  They looked around the room. The students were still talking in little clusters.

  “Can you send it to me?” asked Ryan.

  “You’re the dean of students. Aren’t you on the alert system?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t get it.”

  The student shrugged, then pressed a few buttons. Ryan’s phone buzzed.

  Ryan looked toward the aisle to see Teddy waiting, a questioning look on her face. She looked back at Kelly. “Thanks. I’ll talk with you later.”

  She rejoined Teddy and showed her the text.

  “What in the world?” asked Teddy.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time a student threatened to damage a faculty member’s reputation. I need to look into it.”

  Ryan and Teddy walked out of the auditorium into the hallway of Van Zandt Hall, Haverwood’s fine arts building. As faculty members in the music department, both women had offices in “VZ.” But Ryan spent the majority of her time in her other office in Glaser Hall, the home of Haverwood’s student affairs department. She’d have to go there now to investigate the enigmatic message.

  As they parted ways, Teddy asked, “Will you still be able to make it to dinner tonight?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Ryan walked outside and smiled, briefly forgetting about her mission. April was the perfect time to be in Texas. The sun came out almost every day, but the temperature was still mild. Best of all, the summer humidity hadn’t set in yet.

  Her path took her toward the pond, the center of campus and hub of student activity. At this time of year, Ryan knew she’d see students studying, sunbathing or just relaxing on the grass between classes. Seeing them always took her back to her own time in college, when the whole world was at her fingertips.

  Her nerves prickled as she neared the pond. The normally playful atmosphere had a subdued quality. Students gathered in little groups just as they had in the auditorium. They huddled over their phones and tapped buttons, searching for more information. Footballs lay discarded on the lawn and book pages flapped in the breeze, all unattended.

  A few students watched her as she walked past. Haverwood was a small college, and some might have recognized her as the dean. Others probably categorized her as a faculty member or a graduate student, based on the fact that she was a few years older than the average twenty-something undergraduate and dressed more professionally.

  A few minutes later, Ryan greeted her assistant, Helen Wherry, in the outer office of the dean of students suite. Helen was a mainstay at Haverwood, having worked in a variety of roles at the college for over thirty years. She knew the college’s history and most of its secrets. She was Ryan’s right-hand woman and a dear friend.

  Ryan sat in the chair beside Helen’s desk and asked, “Did you hear about that text alert?”

  “Not a peep.”

  Ryan told her about the strange message delivered during her rehearsal and the students’ odd reactions.

  “It only went to the students?” asked Helen.

  “Weird, right?” Ryan’s blue eyes were wide.

  “We are getting close to the end of the semester. That’s usually when—”

  Helen was interrupted by the sound of running feet on the stairs, then in the hallway. The feet ended up right in front of Helen’s desk. They were attached to Kenn Kennedy, a Haverwood senior, who stood in front of them, panting.

  Both women sighed.

  “Hello, Kenn,” said Ryan. “What can we do for you today?”

  Kenn was what Ryan and her colleagues called “a problem child.” He’d been forced out of the residence halls a few years ago as a result of his party habits. He was constantly in trouble on campus and had managed to make enemies of most of his professors.

  Off campus, Kenn had garnered a DUI charge and a few nights in the county jail for being drunk and disorderly in town. And though he’d found a variety of other ways to get into trouble, his father’s high-priced lawyers managed to keep his record mostly clean. Ryan and her colleagues would be glad when he finally moved on from Haverwood.

  Kenn waived a piece of paper toward the women. “What the hell is this?”

  Ryan took a beat to make sure she was calm before responding. “I don’t know, Kenn. What is it?”

  He slammed the letter on Helen’s desk with the palm of his hand. “It says I can’t walk in graduation.”

  Helen lifted an eyebrow and looked at Ryan. The dean picked up the letter and read the message, though she already knew what it said.

  Kenn had taken part in one of the college’s “alternative spring break options” this year. His group traveled to a small town in Mexico to help rebuild a school damaged by an earthquake. It was a worthy cause, and most of the students in the group had behaved admirably while completing their good deed. Kenn, however, had not.

  According to the project director in Mexico and the college staff member accompanying the group, Kenn used the trip as an excuse to party. Even worse, he attempted to get the schoolchildren to sell him drugs he could bring back to the United States and sell for a profit. The project director had shown admirable compassion by putting Kenn on the next plane to Dallas instead of calling the local authorities. Kenn had no idea how lucky he was not to be sitting in a Mexican prison.

  “The honors board made its decision,” said Ryan. “This is the punishment for your behavior during the alternative break.”

  “But my parents are coming to see me graduate,” he whined.

  “I suggest you tell them about this before they make the trip,” said Ryan.

  Kenn stomped his foot and turned away for a moment. Then he turned back, a contrite look on his face.

  “Dean McCabe, you don’t understand. My dad said the last time he bailed me out was the last time, period. If he comes here and finds out about Mexico…” He ran his hands through his perfectly-coiffed blond hair. “You’ve got to help me.”

  Ryan shook her head. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re lucky to be graduating at all. Kenn, you and I can make quite a long list of the charges that have brought you before the discipline board over the years.”

  He stared at her. Then his features softened and he said quietly, “Have you heard about the alert that was sent today?”

  “I saw it,” said Ryan.


  “I can tell you who sent it.”

  “Who?”

  “Not only can I tell you who it is,” he said, “but I can make sure he doesn’t release any information about you. Or your friends.”

  “Just tell me who it is.”

  He reached over and picked up the letter from the honors board. “I’ll tell you—if you make this go away.”

  Ryan looked closely at the student. She wasn’t worried that the person behind the alert had damaging information about her. She’d been fully vetted before she arrived at Haverwood and more than one person had failed to find skeletons in her closet since then.

  Ryan was the first lesbian dean of students at the college—or at least the first openly lesbian dean, and some parents initially thought she would be a threat to their children. But Ryan proved to be just what she’d said she was: a music professor with a knack for helping students. After a few years as a full-time faculty member, she’d become the dean of students.

  Just as she wasn’t worried about her own “secrets” being publicized, Ryan wasn’t worried for her closest colleagues. Her friends might not be perfect, but they didn’t have the kind of baggage that would land them on anyone’s front page.

  She looked back at Kenn, who seemed to think she was contemplating his offer. A slow smile crept across his face.

  Ryan doubted Kenn could identify the person who’d sent the alert. She looked at Helen. Her assistant shook her head ever so slightly from side to side. Ryan looked back at the student.

  “No deal, Kenn. You’d better let your parents know about graduation.”

  His face fell. “Dr. McCabe, this isn’t fair. I wasn’t the only one who—”

  “—Stop.” Ryan stood to face him. “If you know who sent that alert, you should tell me. Otherwise, you could end up in more trouble. Like not graduating at all.”

  Kenn raised both hands in surrender. “No, no. I—I don’t know anything about it. I was just trying to get you to change your mind.”

  “Really. You don’t know a thing?”

  “I swear, Dean. I don’t know who did it. I don’t even know how he could’ve sent a message to just the students and not everyone else in the alert system.”

  “So you know about that?” Ryan crossed her arms.