The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(19)
“Just go home.”
14
The next day, Tom walked down the faculty hallway and stopped off in the restroom. As he took a leak in the urinal, he leaned his forearm against the concrete wall and his head against the back of his wrist. He had barely slept a wink last night.
He had left the parking lot and gone straight home, taking the time to let Musso out and refill his water bowl, before turning out the lights and crawling under the covers. Once in bed, he kept staring at the ceiling, unable to get the conversation with the Cock off his mind. He was still undecided about what to do with Ruth Ann’s case or the Board meeting he was about to attend. He also couldn’t shake the weird feeling he’d had after talking with Dawn Murphy or his near booty call to Ruth Ann. He felt restless and unstable, as if the ground were moving beneath him.
Tom sighed, zipping up his pants. He started to flush the toilet but stopped when he noticed some red, bloody residue in the urinal. What the...
He hadn’t been paying attention while he went, nor had he looked in the urinal before he had started. A couple of months ago, he had noticed a few drops of blood after a long day of golf, but he hadn’t thought anything of it. There hadn’t been a repeat episode, and there hadn’t been much blood in the first place. He had thought it was probably stress or maybe a small infection that had gone away.
Shaking his head, he flushed the urinal. Probably someone else.
Tom walked to the sink and splashed water on his face. As he gazed into the mirror at his bloodshot eyes, he tried, without success, to suppress the frustration he felt at being called before the Board. Tom had been to numerous Board meetings in his forty-year career, but never one where his actions were the subject of review. He knew acting defensive would not help his cause, but it was hard not to be irritated. Where do these turds get off? he thought, remembering the Cock’s admonition to piss on the apology.
He exited the bathroom and walked down the corridor towards the large conference room at the end of the hall. When he reached the mahogany door, he paused, feeling a rush of adrenaline.
Bring it, he thought, gripping the handle and stepping through the doorway.
15
“He there yet?” The cryptic text message splashed across Dean Richard Lambert’s Blackberry with the familiar phone number written across the top.
Lambert read the words, and looked up as Tom McMurtrie entered the conference room.
“Y,” Lambert typed, pressing “Send” and standing with the rest of the Board members in the room.
“Hello, Professor, thank you for coming today. Please... have a seat.”
Tom McMurtrie’s eyes fixed on the Dean’s, and Lambert felt his stomach tighten.
“I didn’t realize I had a choice in the matter,” Tom said, his voice pleasant but curt. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stand.”
“Well, suit yourself, we’re still lacking one other person, but...”
There was a loud knock at the door, and the Dean’s voice cut off. He smiled at Tom and looked around the room, taking a deep breath. “Come in.”
When the door opened, Tom felt as if his stomach and testicles had both been kicked at the same time. He stared at the man standing before him, twisting his head in confusion.
“Professor,” the man said, his voice lacking its usual joviality.
“Jamo?”
“Members of the Board,” Dean Lambert said, walking over and grasping Jameson’s hand. “I trust you have all met the University’s new attorney, Jameson Tyler.”
Tom kept his eyes on Jameson, who continued to stare back at Tom despite shaking the Dean’s hand. Jameson put his hand out for Tom to shake, but Tom didn’t move. “What are you doing here?” Tom asked, his voice a low growl.
“Like I told you yesterday, I had to be up here anyway for a couple of meetings, and this is one of them,” Jameson said, slapping Tom on the arm and walking down the table, squeezing shoulders, shaking hands, and kissing the lone female Board Member, Barbara Bostic, on the cheek before joining the Dean at the head of the table.
“Well, it’s good to see everyone,” Jameson said. “Now, please, everyone sit down.”
Everyone did as they were told but Tom. He continued to stand bolt upright and glared at his friend.
“Please, Professor, sit down.”
“As I told the Dean, I’d prefer to stand.”
Jameson didn’t blink or show any outward emotion. He crossed his legs and gazed back at Tom. “OK, Professor. Let’s get on with this.”
“I’d like that very much,” Tom said. What in the hell is going on? Why didn’t he mention this yesterday?
“The Board–” Jameson began, looking around the room and then back at Tom “–per my recommendation, has decided to reprimand you for the incident involving trial team member Rick Drake. The Board, along with thousands of other people, have watched the video of your altercation with Drake and find that you acted inappropriately when you grabbed his arm and jerked him around.”
Tom again felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He couldn’t believe it.
“As a result of the incident with Drake and another, more personal matter, the Board has decided to put a reprimand in your personnel file and has decided to allow you to remain on the faculty only if you will agree to work under certain conditions.”