Bad Break: A Novel

Chapter Forty-Eight

"I really like your place. It's very...professorial."

Calvin Ward had intended his words to be a joke, an ice-breaker.

Daniel Pogano was not amused. Had their seating positions been reversed in the chemistry professor's oak-paneled office, he could have played the part of the nervous student, about to be counseled by Ward for poor grades, cheating on a test, or perhaps low attendance rates.

They sat in silence for a moment, each absorbing the ambiance like a charging appliance.

Floor to ceiling bookshelves, a worn leather recliner and matching ottoman in one corner, a rectangular, tasseled Persian rug centered on the floor, and an oak desk with a flush, embedded PC, large enough to fit inside the Oval Office.

Ward was impressed. Though he was a decade removed from his sideline of model management and organizing runway fashion shows, the former style journalist still considered himself a fair judge of good taste. He wore that insight like a badge of authority, more than honor, this day outfitted in camel-brown Chelsea boots, chocolate, wide-banded corduroy slacks, a navy blue shawl-collared cardigan, and a chocolate stingy-brimmed fedora, complete with navy blue silk band, and bright red feather.

"I wonder if we could fit a pole in the middle."

"I beg your pardon!"

"Nothing, just thinking aloud," the gentleman's club manager said dismissively. "I know you don't want me here and didn't want to see me, but I thought you might be interested to know that Tonya Stone's daughter is missing."

If Pogano was troubled by the revelation, he didn't show it right away.

A moment passed, though, and as if poked in the ribs by the physical manifestation of conscience, he grimaced and palmed his forehead.

"That's just, just awful. Trouble has just plagued that family for so many years."

Ward waited for another beat.

"The police stopped by my place. They said that they found the girl's diary and that it contained entries that make them think she had grown depressed recently over the car accident that killed her mother. Plus, she might be in danger."

"Why would she - is there something you want from me, Mr. Ward?"

There it was. Ward knew that it was only a matter of time before he wore through the veneer of Pogano's patience. It had happened quicker than expected, and it presented the perfect opportunity for him to test out his acting skills.

"I really don't appreciate that, professor," he said, perfectly feigning exasperation. "I'm actually here because we were both friends of Tonya, and as investigators who really cared nothing about her or were too young to have known her make their rounds, hassling her old friends and colleagues one by one and turning over their lives like rocks, I just wanted to commiserate. You have nothing I want. All of this renewed police activity because of her daughter made me think that maybe Tonya's friends could unite. You know, protect her memory and all. Lord knows with all of those shootings and the city going crazy, we could use a little unity around an innocent girl!"

Pogano turned redder in the face and nodded, either more flustered or newly sheepish for his assumption about Ward's motivations.

He recovered more quickly, reached for Ward's hand, and grabbed it in one of his own, patting it with his free hand. Ward did not pull away.

"Mr. Ward, Calvin, I miss her too, even after all these years. She was a bright young student, with a bright future had she lived. I'm only sorry I couldn't have done something to prevent her death. But if the authorities dare attempt to sully her memory, I agree with you – those of us who loved her should stand and fight."

Ice broken, Pogano proceeded to share a joke or two of his own. He even gave Ward a birds-eye tour of the Duquette campus Quad, pointing out various landmarks and explaining the motivation of a number of student groups. He even pulled a few volumes off his shelves to boast of to Ward.

"This," he said of one oily-looking, worn volume, encased in glass, "is a second-edition printing of Machiavelli's The Prince. Are you familiar with this work, Calvin?"

Pogano didn't wait for an answer and proceeded to explain that the writer and philosopher's story was less about royalty, as the title might suggest, and more about how to be a strong political leader, unencumbered by partisan allegiances or owed favors."

It was an abbreviated and modernized summation of the book, even for a synopsis, and it seemed to compel Ward to end his visit abruptly.

He stood and shook Pogano's extended hand.

"Thank you for sharing the tomato from The Prince," Ward said slyly, as he turned to leave.

"Excuse me?" The question was asked with genuine puzzlement.

"Well, there are tomatoes and to-MAH-toes. We know that both refer to the same fruit. It's sort of like the different sides of a single quarter – on one side the head of a wealthy colonizing land baron and president, on the other? A building or a landscape, or some such nonsense."

"So?"

"So, you never gave me a chance to answer your question as to whether I was familiar with The Prince. The to-MAH-to is that The Prince was Machiavelli's guide for autocrats and would-be dictators. It was an instructional manual for people in authority who needed to learn to best manipulate their underlings and convince the underlings to like it."