Pleased that she remembered him, I continued. “That’s what I’m calling about. I’m trying to find out what happened back in eighty-five. Could you fill me in?”
“Sure. Let me think a minute.” Through the receiver, I could hear her blow out and guessed she was smoking her umpteenth cigarette of the day. “Robbins was accused of molesting a fifteen-year-old girl in his counselor’s cabin at some arts camp. The name escapes me. The girl had gone to him for help with her creative writing project, and apparently Robbins pushed her on the bed and tore off her shirt and bra. The girl ran out before he got any further. Had a ripped bra to prove it.”
I shook my head, unable to visualize Marlette as a man who preyed on innocent teenagers. I felt queasy all of a sudden and could only manage to whisper, “What happened next?”
“Just so you know, I don’t think he did it. From all reports, that girl got her kicks by manipulating people. I never interviewed her. I wasn’t even told her name, seeing how she was still a minor and her parents wanted to protect her identity. But by all accounts, Marlette Robbins was as straitlaced as they come, an impeccable Southern gentleman. Nobody could believe he was capable of such an act.”
I felt anger on Marlette’s behalf. “And yet he was fired!”
“Yeah. I don’t know what that girl’s motivation was, but she sure ruined his reputation, even though he was never officially charged.”
The story chilled me, but I chitchatted a bit longer with Jan and then thanked her and hung up.
I sat back in my chair and wondered if the accusations against Marlette were true. Had I completely misjudged him? If he was capable of violence against women, perhaps he’d done something unforgivable to another woman, and in return, she’d made him pay the ultimate price.
But if Jan was right and he hadn’t harmed that girl, then why had she accused him? What did she have against him?
A shiver shot up my spine. If the girl had told the truth, she’d never received justice. Maybe she had meted it out herself, twenty-five years later.
Chapter 10
I DIDN’T HAVE TIME THAT AFTERNOON TO PHONE Crabtree University’s English Department to find out if any of the faculty remembered Marlette. Bentley called me into her office and, after telling me that she was pleased to see that I’d been fulfilling my daily quotas, informed me that she was increasing my workload.
“You’re the first intern I actually expect to make it through the three month trial period,” she said, looking at me over the rim of her reading glasses. This pair was coral-colored and matched her blouse and handbag perfectly. Her white slacks had a knife-sharp crease, and I marveled over the height of her silver heels. My boss was the most coiffed woman I’d ever known. I felt downright dowdy in her presence and vowed to make my wardrobe more chic when I became a full-fledged agent.
I smiled at her. “I’m determined to have my own clients one day.”
“Good for you. We need a fresh dose of ambition around here. Therefore, you’ll be pleased to learn that I’ve decided to award you more responsibility.” She handed me several file folders. “A Novel Idea is going green. That means we’ll no longer be mailing paper copies of royalty statements. Instead, each author will receive an electronic version sent via email. I’d like you to design a template for each of these publishers and then fill in the royalty information for the authors in those folders.” Bentley tented her hands on the desk and stared at me intently. “Authors don’t like us to be tardy when sending out their royalty statements. For some of our clients, royalty checks cover their everyday expenses. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I nodded. “Trust me, I know all about the stress of unpaid bills.” Picking up the folders, I stood up. “Do these take precedence over the queries and proposals?”
Bentley waved at me absently, her attention now focused on her computer screen. “I’m sure you’ll be able to manage both. You seem like an extremely capable individual, Lila.”
Recognizing this as a dismissal, I headed back to my office feeling a surge of pride. I had proved myself. I was going to be more than an intern by the end of the summer; I could feel it in my bones.