Honest Doubt Read Online Free PDF Page A

they are almost always women, have faculty status and are, together with their administrative colleagues, what keeps any academic institution from sudden collapse. The titular men above them in the hierarchy come and go and spend most of their time in committees, or raising funds, or in trying to get their agendas ratified by other men in power. The women do not run the college—more’s the pity—but they keep it running. I’d learned that much from Claire Wiseman.
    I spent the morning finishing up another inquiry, which had resolved itself faster than I had anticipated because the thief in question turned out to be a close relative of my client. Private settlement seemed indicated. Octavia and I made out a closing statement and sent it off.
    That done, I contemplated the best way to approach the executive secretary of the English department and establish her confidence in me. I had a feeling she would answer questions; Octavia had chatted with her for a while and had told me something about Dawn Nashville. She was clearly a woman of integrity, a lonely woman whom most of the men in the office either took for granted or flirted with insincerely. She was divorced, and lived in New York City (like so many of those who work in New Jersey) with her mother, who, while neither ailing nor demanding, hardly offered the kind of attention Dawn might enjoy if it were ever offered to her.
    I’ve often heard it said that nothing excites a lonely woman like an invitation. This is no doubt true of many women, but not as many as tradition would have it. That is, lonely women may like to be feted and made much of, but they would certainly, if they were as intelligent as Dawn Nashville, be suspicious of such sudden attentions.
    I determined on a two-pronged strategy. First: I would ask her to have dinner with me at an elegant restaurant, not the highest on the list of those who want to be seen in the right places, but one that served good food and provided privacy with well-spaced tables. Second prong: I would be honest with her, explaining what I was after, if not altogether why, although she could gather that if she was as astute as she was reputed to be. It might take two dinners, but I thought my success depended on her liking and trusting me, above all on her finding my company enjoyable. I would not lie to her about anything, though I might defer an answer until later, in what someone told me was the manner of Sherlock Holmes with poor, obedient Watson.
    The first dinner, which took place some days later, on a Friday night, which she preferred, was all I could have hoped for. I arranged it by telephone, but said I would pick her up and accompany her to the restaurant—in a taxi, not on my bike. I know that for women unaccustomed to going out at night, as I suspected she was, getting places was anxiety-inducing, if only moderately so. Also I didn’t want to put her to any expense; I surmised that with her salary and her mother’s social security and pension she was hardly awash in liquid assets.
    She was waiting downstairs for me when my taxi pulled up. I had anticipated this—she was, after all, an efficient woman and a considerate one—and therefore did not ride my bike to her house, planning to reclaim it after I took her home, which would have been my natural procedure. I am a detective, and therefore intuitive, though I say so myself. Together we rode in my taxi to the restaurant, exchanging idle chatter until she could feel more comfortable. As I had hoped, she wanted to know how I became a private investigator. People always do, and in a situation like this, it’s a good way to break the ice.
    â€œCan anyone become a private investigator? I mean, do you have to have a degree of some sort?”
    â€œNot as far as I know. You have to have worked for another investigator, or a company of investigators, for at least three years, and you have to pass an exam. For this you have to have