The Cheating Heart Read Free

not.”
    The dean nervously glanced at the professor waiting outside the door. “Nancy, I don’t want any complaints about a conflict of interest. You must investigate quietly—Tavakolian doesn’t know Ned is your boyfriend, but lots of people at Emerson do. And after all, Ned is our chief suspect.”
    â€œBut . . . but I thought you said that you didn’t believe Ned did it.” Nancy frowned.
    â€œI can’t afford to take anything for granted,” the dean replied. “Can I trust you to pursue this truthfully, no matter where it leads?”
    â€œYou can, sir,” Nancy promised, shaking his hand. Then she glanced over at Ned, who was still standing awkwardly by the desk. Their eyes met only for an instant, but they knew each other so well that an instant was all they needed. Without a word, she knew he trusted her, too.
    Drawing a deep breath, Nancy turned and joined the professor in the hallway. They headed for Ivy Hall, an old brick classroom building in the center of campus.
    â€œI’m an English professor,” the professor told Nancy as they walked. “I teach one of Emerson’s core curriculum courses. All Emerson studentshave to take four courses before they graduate—a world history course, an earth sciences course, a math and computer course, and a literature course, which is the one I teach.
    â€œI said all students have to take the courses,” he added, “but there are exceptions. During orientation week, freshmen take placement exams in those four subjects. If a student scores well on a specific test, he or she can skip that required course and get extra credit for it.”
    â€œAnd it’s the answers for that test you think were stolen,” Nancy said.
    â€œI know were stolen,” Tavakolian corrected her. “On Monday afternoon I asked the English department office for a student aide to photocopy the test. Apparently all the student aides in the English department were busy, so the department secretary, Ms. Belzer, called the campus jobs office to send over a temporary worker.”
    â€œNed Nickerson,” Nancy filled in.
    Tavakolian nodded as he held open the door of Ivy Hall for her. “I had a single copy of the test and the answer sheet on Monday afternoon. I handed Ned the test and asked him to make two hundred copies of it.”
    â€œYou gave him the test only?” Nancy asked.
    â€œYes. I left the answer sheet in the file folder, with the computer disk containing the test and the answers,” he replied firmly. “While Ned went to make the copies, I placed the folder on my desk.
    â€œWhen he brought the copies back,” he went on, “I put the original copy of the test back in the folder. I laid the folder aside for a minute when I was putting the photocopies in my file drawer. That’s when I think Ned stole the answer sheet. Then I put the folder in my file drawer and I left my office, locking the door.”
    â€œWhen did you return next?” Nancy asked.
    â€œYesterday morning, Wednesday, at ten-thirty,” he said. “I picked up the copies and took them to the auditorium, where the test was scheduled for eleven o’clock.”
    They were walking down the second-floor hallway when the professor abruptly stopped outside a varnished wood door. F. M. Tavakolian was painted on the door in flaking black paint.
    â€œWas this door locked yesterday when you got here?” Nancy asked.
    â€œOf course it was.” The professor pulled out a small key ring, attached to his leather belt by a short chain. “My keys are always with me, you see,” he noted as he slipped a key into the lock and pushed open the door. “No one ‘borrowed’ them, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
    The professor ushered Nancy into his small, book-crammed office. He gestured toward a tall black steel cabinet next to his battered wooden desk. “The file