“I instructed the officer to stand guard while I talked to Sarah in the gym office,” Jerry went on. “I noticed as soon as we got some lights on that the front of her body stocking was torn and she wasn’t wearing shoes. Don, Sarah has been the victim of a sexual attack. Saville brought her to the gym on the pretext of showing her how he could move on the web. It seems he was jealous of the guys who were on the web with Sarah in Sloane’s program. He was in charge of the crew that erected the webs earlier this week, and he had put in some practice. Sarah knew him from working on the production and she felt sorry for the guy. He obviously had some sort of personality problem, and she thought it wouldn’t hurt to watch him showing off on the web.” Jerry glanced Sarah’s way. She had sat impassively through the account so far. “Saville persuaded Sarah to join him on the web and he tried to rape her.”
“The lousy son of a bitch,” muttered Havelock.
“Sarah knows that web better than Saville or anyone,” said Jerry. “She put up a fight and managed to push him away. He lost his footing and fell. That’s how he broke his neck.”
“The idiot,” said Laz. “He was always bothering women.”
Don said, “Shouldn’t the police be here?”
“We’re coming to that,” said Jerry tersely.
Sloane took over. “Don — if you don’t mind first names — we’ve been talking this over, Jerry and Greg and Sarah and me. We don’t want to make a big production number out of this. It’s a shabby little episode that could do a lot of harm to a whole lot of people. First there’s Sarah. You know how it is with rape cases: the girl’s ordeal isn’t over when the son of a bitch gets off her. There’s photographs. Statements to the cops. An autopsy. An inquest. Cross-examination. All kinds of shit. That’s routine. Consider for a moment what Sarah faces. Spider Girl raped on her own web and killing the guy in self-defense. It’s going to make headlines all over the world. Don, we’d like to spare her that.”
“I agree, but I don’t see how—”
“Hold on. We also have to think of the university.”
“And the department,” put in Jerry.
“This exhibit was staged to help you people,” said Havelock. “My production unit wanted to show its gratitude for the help we got. A nice welcome to the freshmen and the students coming back for the new semester. Instead, what will they find? The campus crawling with cops. Half the staff under interrogation. A nice exhibit transformed into the scene of a crime. Are we going to have all that garbage dumped on this university?”
“Not if I can help it,” said Jerry. “As soon as Sarah told me what happened, I saw how bad this could be for all of us, so I called Greg on the phone, figuring he was Saville’s boss and he ought to be consulted.”
“And Greg got me out of bed,” said Havelock. “He knew I would want to be in on this. Don, there’s a way to handle this that will get us all off the hook.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s simple. We don’t mention Sarah to the cops. They look at the body and draw the correct conclusion: Saville slipped off the web and broke his neck. How did he get up there? He was drunk — Greg remembers seeing him knocking back straight vodkas early in the evening — and he climbed on the web because he was proud to have built it. He slipped. Simple accident.”
“We don’t owe anything to Rick, but it’s nicer that way for his family,” added Laz.
“What’s more to the point,” said Havelock, “it saves Sarah from all the heavy stuff. How do you feel now, sweetheart?”
“She doesn’t want to talk,” said Jerry. “But she’d be mighty grateful to have it handled this way.”
“I’m not sure why you brought me in,” Don said cautiously.
“You may be able to help in a small way,” said Sloane. “First, do you agree that we shield Sarah from the rape story?”
He shrugged. “If you really think you can. How about the security man? He found Sarah. How do you keep him from talking to the cops?”
“It was Fred Holland,” said Jerry. “You know him, Don? He’s been here over twenty years. He’s like a father to every coed on the campus. Believe me, Fred would go to the wall to keep Sarah out of this. He’ll say he went in and found the body and reported it to me. Just like he did.”
Don didn’t like the way this had all been worked out before he’d arrived. “My brain isn’t working at its sharpest, but don’t you think the forensic people will find some evidence that Saville had a girl with him?”
“It’s an accident, not a crime,” said Havelock.
“Yeah, but if he was in the act of rape—”
“He had his pants unzipped, so we already adjusted his clothes.”
“I see.”
“But you’re right about the forensic guys. They could find something we missed. A scratch on his face — though Sarah swears she didn’t mark him — or maybe a hair on his shirt. It’s possible — remote, but possible — that they could tell he was with a girl. No one saw Rick with Sarah. He stopped her outside, as she was leaving. So there’s nothing to connect her with him. But just as a safeguard we decided she should have something to tell the cops. A kind of, uh—”
“Alibi?”
“Something like that.”
“We want you to say you took Sarah back to her apartment,” said Jerry. “Only if it comes up, of course.”
“You two are friends. It’s the most natural thing in the world,” said Havelock.
“It’s a lie,” said Don.
“Look, this is no big deal,” said Havelock. “There were plenty of girls at the party. Saville could have picked up any of them. You know, it’s my guess that if they did suspect a girl was involved, but had no proof, they wouldn’t press the investigation. They’re human like us.”
“Will you do this for Sarah’s sake?” asked Jerry.
Don glanced at her, but she still seemed in a daze as to what was going on. “Is that what Sarah wants?”
She stared ahead as if she had not heard.
“She’s in a state of shock, Don,” said Jerry.
“Come on, fella — the girl needs help,” said Havelock.
“She’s not the only one,” said Don.
“What do you mean?”
Quickly Jerry said, “He’s right. The university needs help. Bad publicity will knock us hard.”
“We’ve been over that,” said Don. “I’m talking about Mr. Sloane’s TV program. Isn’t that what this is really about? NBC has invested a bundle in this. They won’t be overjoyed to hear that the director’s assistant tried to rape the star and got his neck broken. Isn’t that what we’re here to hush up?”
“Bullshit,” said Havelock. “In hard commercial terms, a thing like this would guarantee a massive viewing audience.”
“Sure, but for the wrong reason. You’re pitching for a third Emmy with this one. You don’t want that kind of sensational publicity.”
“Okay,” said Havelock with a shrug. “Let’s admit it: we all have a vested interest in this. Do we have your cooperation?”
While Don hesitated, Sarah unexpectedly said, “Don, would you do this for me, please?”
He turned to face her. He had never seen fear in her eyes before. “For you, yes.”
Havelock heaved a massive sigh. “I knew we could rely on you, Don.”
12
Classes began on Monday, September 8, with little to suggest the tragedy of early Sunday morning. Apart from a short paragraph in the Daily News, headed COBWEB DEATH MYSTERY, the only indication that anything had happened was the notice stating that the gym was closed to students. If there were detectives on the campus, it was hard to tell with so many new faces around. Bernice, who might have been expected to keep the department posted, was tight-lipped; all she would tell anyone was that the accident was being investigated and she was far too busy sorting registration forms to have noticed if the police had been in. The webs around the campus created the expected amount of interest for a few hours, and then people accepted them as part of the university scene. There were no reports of anyone climbing on them. Warning signs had made them strictly off limits.