Catch a Falling Knife

had a gymnastics team.
    “Yes. We went to the state championships two years in a row.”
    She stated it as a fact, without bragging. She had warmed up a few degrees. “It’s wonderful to be so athletic. I was always too tall for gymnastics, but I played tennis.”
    “I play some tennis too. But I wasn’t good enough to make the team in high school. And I don’t have time for any sports here.”
    I had been prepared for Elise to be a conniving bitch, but she didn’t appear to be malicious or scheming. She didn’t seem hard or emotionally distant. I was sure her reticence now was normal when talking to a stranger. I decided to be frank with her.
    “Elise,” I said, “I need to say some things to you. Listen to me for two minutes and then you can ask me to leave if you want to. I am a friend of Dr. Pappas, but he didn’t give me your name or ask me to come here. I discovered your name by luck. He hasn’t violated any part of the sexual harassment rules.”
    Mark’s name had registered in her expressive eyes. If I had had any doubts about whether she was his accuser before, they were gone. As I paused to collect my thoughts, I waited for her to kick me out, but she didn’t say anything.
    “Dr. Pappas—Mark—is a good person,” I continued. “He would not intentionally hurt anybody. I have heard his version of what happened between you two. I haven’t heard your version and I won’t make a judgment about who’s right and who’s wrong, but let me say this. If Mark is found guilty by this panel, this committee, or whatever it’s called, it will destroy his career. He will never work as a college professor again.”
    I paused for breath. “You’ve seen how the procedure works and you know by now that it is completely unfair to him. He can’t face you or question you, he can’t call witnesses; he can’t even hear the complete testimony against him. This is not how a free country is supposed to work. I know you didn’t write the rules, but ask yourself whether or not you want to be a party to his ruin.”
    I stopped, trying to think what else I should say. The eyes of Elise were locked on mine; they disconcerted me. If they bothered me, what must they do to men? I didn’t want to cheapen what I had already said by repetition, so I finished, “That’s all I have to tell you. I’ll leave now.” I took a step toward the door.
    “Wait,” Elise said. “I want to talk to you. Please sit down.”
    I picked a beanbag chair to sit in and immediately wished I hadn’t. It was too low and too squishy and I would have a hard time getting up from it. Elise didn’t sit, but paced nervously back and forth in the small room. She had the graceful movements of an athlete, even though she appeared to be going through some sort of internal battle.
    She stopped in front of me and said, “I knew I’d seen you before. You came out of Priscilla’s office just before I went in. And I believe you were sitting in on Dr. Pappas’ class that morning.”
    I didn’t try to deny her statements.
    “You probably saw the demonstration that was going on that day. I didn’t have anything to do with it. I was told the complaint procedure was confidential. I assumed that meant that both of our names would be protected. I don’t have any association with those…those people. Please tell Dr. Pappas that.”
    “I’ll tell him”
    “This hasn’t gone the way I thought it would. I thought he would get off with a reprimand, but that doesn’t appear likely.”
    “Even if he does, the whole world will know about it.”
    “Yes.”
    Elise paced some more. Jeans weren’t becoming to many girls, but she looked good in them. Still, whatever happened to dresses? When she stopped in front of me again, I saw a tear on her eyelid.
    “Tell Dr. Pappas…”
    She paused for so long I thought she wasn’t going to say any more.
    “Tell Dr. Pappas…I’m sorry.”

Chapter 10
     
    I was eating breakfast and casually glancing at the Raleigh News and Observer when I saw the story. King was tied up outside, resting after our morning walk. Mark wasn’t there; he hadn’t returned last night, but I wasn’t worried about him. He had said he might be late. I assumed that he was either with Sandra or a friend of his. I hoped he was with Sandra.
    The headline at the bottom of the first page of the newspaper caught my eye: “Coed Slain at Crescent Heights College.” The name of the school jolted me into full alertness. I shifted my