The Measure of a Man. Marie Ferrarella

time, Sandra proceeded slowly, building word on word. “You said you used to work in the administration building, right?”

      That was a matter of record. It was a job she knew the professor’d had a hand in getting for her, just as he’d gotten her this one when his own secretary had retired. “Yes.”

      “All the old files are archived in the basement.” Sandra didn’t wait for Jane to confirm the fact. “Maybe if we go through the ones pertaining to the professor’s former students and the others he advised, we can find something that we can use. I really don’t know what we’re looking for until we find it,” she confessed. “But I do think it’s worth a try. And I do need your help.” Sandra looked at her hopefully. “Can I count on it?”

      “I’ll do anything to help the professor,” Jane told her. “That goes without saying.”

      “Wonderful.” Sandra took her hand in both of hers and shook it heartily. “I’ll get back to you on this. Soon,” she promised.

      Walking out quickly, Sandra left Jane pondering the situation. Chewing on a sandwich she didn’t taste, Jane wondered if there was anything else she could do to help further the professor’s cause. She felt energized and at the same time at a loss as to where to place all that energy.

      She supposed she didn’t have to wait for Sandra’s go-ahead. She could just get started doing what the woman had suggested. Looking.

      Except there was one thing wrong with that.

      Sandra’s basic supposition had been flawed, Jane thought. She knew where the files were kept, all right, but she couldn’t get at them. They were in the basement, under lock and key. To get to look at them, she was going to need to unlock the door to the room where they were all archived.

      Which meant she needed a key. Either that or a handy burglar.

      She couldn’t ask anyone in the administration office to unlock the door. They’d want to know what she was doing. Most likely, they’d want to go down to the basement with her. She couldn’t very well say she was hunting for documentation showing what an excellent man and educator the professor was. Word undoubtedly would get back to Broadstreet and then they really wouldn’t be able to get at the files. There was no telling if someone in the administration office was trying to curry favor with Broadstreet. She had a feeling the man had spies everywhere.

      What she needed, Jane thought, was to approach someone she felt confident was in no one’s pocket. Someone who would never run and tell Broadstreet or the board what she was up to.

      Outside, it was beginning to rain. Within a blink of an eye, her office was cast into shadow, turning afternoon into practically night.

      She reached across her desk and turned on the lamp. As light filled the room, Jane smiled to herself.

      There was someone she could ask. Someone, she instinctively knew, who was in no one’s pocket and never would be.