Read Online Bloodied Ivy by Robert Goldsborough - Free Book Online

no question about it. Was it simply a student’s admiration for a strong teacher, or had there been something more between them? Remembering what Lon had said about Markham’s proclivities—and using the uncanny perceptions about women that Wolfe claims I have—I put my money on the latter.

SIX
    I STAYED IN THE GRILL WITH Gretchen Frazier until we’d both finished our coffee and she had dried her eyes. She was embarrassed and started to apologize, but I told her never to regret a genuine show of feelings. Then we shook hands and she scooted off to study while I walked back to Bailey Hall to meet Cortland. I got to two-sixteen, which was my idea of a typical classroom, at eleven-fifteen, and quietly slipped through a door at the rear. Cortland was standing next to a desk up front, facing about twenty students. I took a seat in the back.
    “…and so,” he was saying, “with Theodore Roosevelt newly in his grave, the Republicans, supremely confident of victory in the nineteen-twenty election, turned to a virtual nonentity from Ohio named Warren Harding.”
    “Thus proving they could win with anybody ,” piped up a guy in a turtleneck sweater, drawing a scattering of laughs.
    “The humorous aspects notwithstanding, you make a salient point, Mr. Andrews,” Cortland said with a thin smile. “The truth was, with World War I just ended and the country sated with sick old Wilson’s sanctimoniousness, not to mention Europe’s problems and the League of Nations, the party could indeed have picked almost anyone. Next time—” He was interrupted by the bell. “Next time, we’ll look at the dynamics within the Republican party that led to the nomination of Harding. Be ready to discuss it. And prepare to step into the Roaring Twenties.”
    After the students had clomped out, I walked up to Cortland, who was stuffing papers into his briefcase. “Now, I grant that my history and political science knowledge is pretty skimpy,” I told him, “but along the way, I’ve learned a little about Harding—after all, I do come from his home state. What I want to know is, how are you, a faithful conservative, going to be able to make him look good to your students?”
    Cortland let out one of his tinny chuckles. “I don’t even try. There are limits to historical revisionism, Mr. Goodwin—or I guess I should say Arnold , shouldn’t I?” He whinnied again. “I’m glad nobody’s here with us. Believe me, I won’t err during lunch, I promise.”
    “What’s the lunch program?” I asked.
    “The faculty dining room is in the Union Building. It’s a short walk.”
    “I was just there,” I told him. “Having coffee with Gretchen Frazier.”
    “Oh?” He shoved his glasses up his nose and eyed me with interest.
    “I ran into her after sitting in for awhile on Greenbaum’s lecture. I thought I’d get her impressions on the school, and guess what?—we ended up talking about Markham.”
    “I’m not surprised,” he said dryly as we walked out of Bailey Hall and into the sunlight. Two students dashed by, arguing about Madonna.
    “Why?”
    Cortland pushed his glasses up again. “Gretchen is a good student—indeed, a superb one, as I said when I introduced you to her—although perhaps somewhat shallow intellectually. But she’s also a coquette, and she flirted plenty with Hale—among others, I might add. But her frivolity backfired on her—to the point where I’m afraid she ended up quite infatuated with him.”
    “How did Markham feel about her?”
    “He was fifty years older than she!” he rasped indignantly. “Hale always has been…drawn to good-looking women, but they tended to be considerably older than Gretchen Frazier.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me about Miss Frazier before, when you came to New York?”
    “I didn’t think it was very important; I still don’t,” Cortland sniffed.
    “You also said she flirted with Markham among others . Who were the others?”
    Cortland colored slightly. “I