Dead Politician Society

Chapter 25: Matthew

Matthew gazed out his weather-stained office window. At least he had a view across St. George Street onto the older, more stately part of campus. Most of his colleagues had views of an ugly brick lab building.

He texted Annabel to ask if they could cancel dinner. She’d think the worst. She always did. But he couldn’t care about her paranoid jealousy at the moment.

Shirley’s distinct knock, a single rap followed by two in quick succession, sounded on his office door.

Matthew heaved a sigh that he hoped was audible from the outside. “Come in.”

The door opened.

He swiveled in his chair. “I hope this is brief. I have more work than I have time for.”

Shirley smiled. “I’d play my tiny violin for you, but your computer isn’t on and I don’t see a marking pen in your hand.”

“You can see my screen from there?”

“I can see the power bar.”

“Oh. I’ve just arrived and I was deciding how to best triage my workload.”

“Hm. Well, I will be brief. The police came by. Have they seen you yet?”

“They’ve seen me and my entire Poli Real World class.”

Shirley took the seat opposite Matthew’s desk. He hoped she wasn’t comfortable. She met his eye and asked, “Are you in trouble?”

“Of course not. They’re interviewing everyone. Which makes sense, given that four of my students were cater waiters last night, and they’d want to interview the rest of the class about those four.”

Shirley frowned. “They asked me a lot about you. Not your students so much.”

“Of course they’d ask you about me. We’re colleagues. What did they want to know?” He kept his voice level, tried not to seem particularly eager for the answer.

“They started with basics. Do you play nice with your colleagues? How did the other professors react when you got tenure so early? Then, for about twenty minutes, they grilled me about the society.”

“Which society would that be?” Matthew panicked inside, but was able to stay cool on the outside. “Toronto society? Canadian academia? North American pop culture?”

“Come off it, Easton. The secret society you founded the first year you worked here. The political utopia whatsit.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think it’s wonderful how you challenge your students. You bring your subject to life like no other prof in the department. For years, I’ve tried and failed to do the same with my own classes.”

Matthew smiled. “Flattery won’t change the truth: I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Listen, I can’t officially condone what you’re doing. Certainly not the illegal parts. But the society is why I fought so hard for you to get tenure. Universities need original thinkers—both students who embrace it and professors who encourage it. But I’m worried that you’re mixed up in something that’s too much for you—too much for anyone. As your department head, I’m here to help.”

“Thanks,” he said softly. He searched Shirley’s face. What did she know? “I mean, thanks for taking my side, helping me get tenure. But the society is nothing more than a rumor.”

“Are you in trouble, Matthew? Just tell me yes or no.”

She made it so tempting. Was it time to give the whole thing up? The society, the secrecy, the rest.

No. That was weak. He wouldn’t crumble now, at the first and only real sign of pressure.

Maybe if he got to the police first…retracted his statement in favor of the truth…but why would they believe anything he told them?

“No,” Matthew said, “I’m not in trouble.”