Excerpt
GIVE THE DEVIL HER DUE Chapter 1
It was going to be a perfect June day. Already a cloudless, azure sky, promising no hint of rain, arched over a shimmering campus. All shades of green were represented and so was every color in the flowers that lined the walks and burst forth from the beds. In perfect compliment, the lovely old brick and stone buildings sat around the campus, complaisant and secure, full of pride and tradition.
The library building, squat and solid, redolent with the collected tomes of the ages, stood as a testament to humanity's progress. Works of ancient poets and philosophers, sinners and saints filled the shelves co-mingling with the more recent and modern books. Here were the records of man's highest achievements and his inhumanity to man but as yet, this building cataloged few, if any, records of woman's highest achievements and man's in-humanity to woman. The former being seldom recorded or remembered; the latter too usual and customary to remark upon.
Whistling softly to himself, Jonathan Bambridge, Professor, Ph.D., Faculty Ombudsman left the sidewalk and entered the administration building. He proceeded directly to the Vice President's office and entered through a door already open.
"Jonathan, good of you to come on such short notice," greeted the Academic VP, waving Jonathan toward the inner office.
One wall of the office was devoted to 'art'. The entire grouping reminded Jonathan of different aspects of the same road-kill.
"On a day like this, it is a pleasure, Henry. Looks like the weather is cooperating for graduation this year."
"Well, it's about time. Two years in a row we've been rained out. Drop your bag, grab a cup of coffee and sit down."
Henry Tarbuck, Academic Vice President picked up his own cup from his desk and went to the conference chairs arranged for conversation in the office alcove. From here he eyed Jonathan reflectively. Good man, he thought. Saved us a batch of trouble by coming to me right off.
Tarbuck adjusted his six foot two, rather heavy-set frame more comfortably in the chair. Young for his position, barely in his thirties, he directed seasoned professors twice his age and experience. This along with his imposing height and bulk had caused some resentment but Henry just ignored it.
As first assistant to the president of Belmont University, he reveled in power and position and firmly believed that those that can, do (like him) and those that can't, teach (like faculty).
He covered this attitude with a hearty, down-to-earth, back slapping manner that fooled no one but himself.
Bambridge joined him in the alcove, holding his coffee cup out ahead of him like an offering. "Damn good coffee, Henry. Must have made it yourself."
At fifty-five, Henry Bambridge figured he'd seen it all and most of the fight had gone out of him. Physically, he was the opposite of Tarbuck, slight in build and not quite five ten but looked shorter. His features were finely drawn, almost feminine in contrast to the dark, craggy, nearly simian countenance of Tarbuck....