Catch a Falling Knife

spoke, somewhat reluctantly. “Mark has moved out.”
    Albert said, “The way I heard it, it sounds as if you kicked him out.”
    Mark had called Albert yesterday from my apartment, but I hadn’t heard their conversation.
    “We came to a mutual understanding.”
    That was baloney. But I was only the grandmother and I wasn’t going to interfere.
    “Let’s not run around the bush,” Albert said. “Tell me what you know about the charges against him.”
    “Charges, not conviction,” I said, unable to hold my tongue.
    I saw tears in the corners of Sandra’s blue eyes. But she remained silent. So I told Albert what I knew while the tears ran down Sandra’s cheeks.
    When I finished, Albert said, “That is the worst harassment policy I’ve ever heard of. It could ruin his career and there doesn’t appear to be anything he can do about it. It sounds like a modern version of the Spanish Inquisition.” Albert taught history at the University of North Carolina.
    “It’s his word against hers,” I said. “And I’ll give you one guess as to who will be believed. It’s even more unfair than that. Somebody tipped off a radical group on campus about Mark, and they staged a nasty protest in front of the building where he was lecturing.”
    Albert turned to Sandra and said, “Honey, if Mark gets convicted, you’re still not going to know anything more than you know now. And we won’t ever know whether he received a fair trial. It’s a question of whether you trust Mark or not.”
    Sandra’s tears now fell freely. She struggled to speak and finally said, “I don’t know what to do. Why would somebody accuse him falsely?”
    “Do you want me to tell him to find somewhere else to stay?” I asked.
    Sandra shook her head and barely uttered the word, “No.”
    At least she was emotionally involved. I believed she loved him. That thought afforded me some relief. On the other hand, her mental state precluded her taking him back. But I had the motivation to do what I had been thinking about.
    I volunteered to wash the dishes and hung around until Sandra was ready to leave, saying that she had some papers to grade. She taught English at a local high school. When I kissed her goodbye I said, “Don’t give up on Mark. He’s as torn up about this as you are. He needs you.”
    She said, “Gogi, I can’t make a decision right now.”
    “I understand. Maybe something will turn up.” I tried to appear more cheerful than I felt.
    “Take care of your blue car,” Winston said to me as he left with Sandra.
    I promised him I would. When they had driven into the woods and disappeared I walked back to the kitchen with Albert. I didn’t know of any way to edge into this topic, so I said, “I want to check something out that may have a bearing on this case, but I need your help.”
    Albert was instantly on his guard. “If you need my help, it’s probably illegal, immoral or involves driving at night.”
    “The latter,” I said, “and possibly one or both of the formers. Have you ever heard of a place called the Club Cavalier near the Crescent Heights campus?”
    “No, and I’m wondering why you have.”
    I told him about the girl in the Administration Building.
    “What is her relationship to this case?” Albert asked.
    “I don’t know,” I admitted. “In fact, I don’t even know her name. But she does work—part time, since she’s a student—in the same area with Ms. Priscilla Estavez, head of the Sexual Misconduct Office.”
    “That proves nothing, except that she isn’t very loyal to this Estavez person. Why would she be giving you information that might help Mark?”
    “You’re asking good questions. It proves that when I trained you in analytical thinking, it took.”
    Albert had to smile and he used a softer tone when he said, “I suppose what you want me to do is go to this bar and look for this Shooting Star, whatever or whoever it is.”
     “It’s a club, not a bar. And the Shooting Star is a she.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “I called Club Cavalier and said I had a friend who wanted to see the Shooting Star. I was told that she would be performing Monday evening. And I want to go with you.”
    “Mother, that’s not going to happen.”
    Albert put on his most defiant attitude. He thrust his chin forward, just as he had when he had been a boy, questioning the authority of his parents. He had looked cute then. He still looked cute, even with an expanding waistline and thinning