"I really wish all this would stop," Ainslie confided to Leo Newbold.
"The way I hear, the guys up above us have the same feeling," Newbold replied.
Whatever their unease, everyone in authority was clearly relieved that there would be no harrowing trial of Cynthia Ernst.
* * *
A few days after the news conference, Ainslie relayed to Leo Newbold his wish to leave Homicide. Newbold was understanding and sympathetic. Many other detectives had traveled the same route, and it was accepted that longtime Homicide duty imposed emotional strains that eventually could be disabling. While Ainslie was awaiting word about new duty, Newbold removed him from current Homicide assignments and placed him in charge of "cold cases" old homicides being investigated with the aid of new technologies a productive but "low emotion" area.
After three weeks, Newbold stopped by Ainslie's desk and said, "Figueras wants to see you now."
* * *
"Hi, Sergeant Ainslie!" Major Figueras's secretary, Teodora Hernandez, greeted him as he entered the Criminal Investigations chief's outer office. "Before you go in," she asked, "would you do me a favor?"
"If I can, Teo."
"Well, my kids keep seeing you on the tube and reading about you. Then when I said I knew you, they got all excited, asked if I could get your autograph." She produced two white cards and held out a pen. "Would you mind?"
Embarrassed, he protested, "I'm not a celebrity."
"Oh yes, you are! Write 'For Petra' on one card and 'For gusto' on the other."
Taking the pen and cards, Ainslie scribbled the names and two signatures. He handed them back.
"I'll be a hero at home tonight," Teodora said as she led him toward the inner-office doorway, which, he noticed, was ajar.
Mark Figueras stood up as Ainslie came in, and he was grinning. "So, our celebrity! How does it feel?"
"Out of place, totally." Ainslie grimaced.
"Well, it won't stop soon. Can you live with it?"
"I suppose. But how about the Department, sir?"
"There might be a problem." Figueras gestured dismissively. "Anyway, forget the formality, Malcolm. This is a talk I've been instructed to have with you man-toman stuff. Oh, but first there is one piece of formality. You are Lieutenant Ainslie, as of this moment." He extended his hand. "Congratulations. A little late, maybe, but in the right direction."
Ainslie wondered what was coming. The promotion pleased him, and he wanted more than anything to phone Karen and share it with her. But he waited for Figueras.
"Career-wise, you're in good shape right now, Malcolm, and there are severe! routes you can go most of your own choosing. The first is to command Homicide." As Ainslie looked surprised, Figueras continued, "Leo Newbold is being made captain, and he'll move to a new assignment. In your case you'd normally move, too, but your record in Homicide is outstanding, and an exception could be made if that's your wish."
"It isn't." Ainslie shook his head. "I already told Leo why I want out."
"I'd heard that unofficially, and I understand it. We simply wanted you to know all the options."
The "we" was significant. Whatever Figueras was relaying had come from the top.
"Okay, let's weigh your future in the Department," the Criminal Investigations chief went on. "You've made lieutenant at age forty-one. In another three years you could be captain, and after that, at the chief's discretion, a major, though nothing's certain, and all of it a little late compared with others, because you were older than most when you started. So maybe at forty-six you'd be a major after fifteen years of service, and above that,-as you know, there are fewer jobs and the competition's tough. So you might go higher, but major could be your limit before retirement. I'm being frank with you, Malcolm."
"I prefer it that way."
"There's one other thing to be looked at, and I'm really leveling with you here. Recently you've had more public attention than probably anyone in the Department ever had before. One reason is that you've done spectacular work, especially in Homicide. But it was your old background as a~priest and scholar that the media jumped on, which brings me to a point."
Ainslie had a notion of what was coming.
"The thing is, Malcolm, because of all that attention, whatever you do in the Police Department now will be noticed by the media and probably magnified. Nothing really wrong in that, but to be truthful, the Department could be uncomfortable. As you know, few people here get consistent public attention, and that even includes the chief most of Miami's population probably don't know his name. That's how it's always been, and most of us would like to see it stay that way."
"Let's be clear about this," Ainslie said. "Are you telling me that despite all that's happened my promotion and the rest you'd really like me out of the force?"
"If it seems that way to you," Figueras said, "then I've done a lousy job, because that's the last thing I wanted to convey. But what most of us here do feel, Malcolm, is that what's left for you in the Department simply doesn't measure up to your abilities. What we'd like to see happen is for you to move on to something more advantageous to you, and that would make better use of your special talents."
"Trouble is," Ainslie said, "I haven't done much reading of the want ads lately. Looks as though I should."
Figueras laughed. " 'Want' is an appropriate word. The fact is and this is mostly what this talk is about an organization outside the Police Department has been in touch with the chief, the mayor, and maybe others, and wants you very much on highly favorable terms, I understand."
Ainslie was confused. "Is this organization something, or someone, that I know?"
"I don't think so. The person most concerned is the chairman of the board of trustees of South Florida University." Figueras consulted a paper on his desk. "His name is Dr. Hartley Allardyce. Would you be agreeable to a meeting?"
Life was full of unexpected twists and turns, Ainslie reflected. He answered, "What can I say but yes?"
6
"This may surprise you, Dr. Ainslie," Hartley Allardyce said, "but we've been talking about you a lot at our university ever since your talents and background became so widely known."
"Yes, it surprises me," Ainslie said. "Lately, almost everything surprises me."
It was three days after his conversation with Major Mark Figueras. Now Ainslie and Allardyce were at dinner together at Miami's downtown City Club. Ainslie found it strange to be called "Doctor." Though it was valid scholastically, he had not heard it spoken aloud for years, and even as a priest he hadn't used it. In these present circumstances, though.. .
Dr. Allardyce, who seemed to enjoy talking, continued, "The public loves a local hero, always has, and you became one when you solved those hideous crimes. The bonus was that you did it intellectually, using scholarly knowledge, which is why you're so admired by educators, myself included."
Ainslie smiled self-consciously and murmured thanks.
Waving the interruption aside, Allardyce went on, "What has happened to you, in terms of becoming a public figure, could not have occurred at a more opportune time both for me and for others whom I represent. And, I hope, for you."
Hartley Allardyce was as impressive an individual as his name implied. He was silver-haired, handsome, and deeply tanned, with a confident manner and a buoyant smile. He had been born to wealth, then had enlarged it as the head of an international investment fund, enriching others also. At the same time he was passionately interested in higher education, hence the South Florida University connection.
"I've been chairman of the SFU trustees for six years," he explained, "and in all that time have wanted to develop a lecture program on comparative religions. We have a Department of Religion and Philosophy, of course, but it doesn't deal with comparatives to the extent I'd like."
Allardyce paused as a waiter served their main course, filet mignon with bearnaise sauce. "By the way, I hope you like this wine. It's an Opus One, originated by two of the world's great vintners Robert Mondavi in the Napa Valley and the late Philippe de Rothschild in Bordeaux. Do try it."
"It's superb," Ainslie reported, and it was. He had heard of the famous wine, though on a detective-sergeant's pay he could never have afforded it.
"Let me get to the point," Allardyce said, "as to why you're here. Most university students these days are opting for the hot-action areas of education: business, medicine, law, and engineering. But I'd like to show our young people the value of studying comparative religions.
"Diverse religions say so much far more than conventional history about the times in which people live, and their state of mind in every age and society; their fears, hopes, and pleasures; what they dread, consciously and subconsciously, with death always high on the list; and whether there's anything beyond death, or merely oblivion no doubt the greatest fear of all. Do have more wine, Dr. Ainslie."
"Thank you, no. I'm doing fine. But before we go any further, there's something I want to say."
"The. last thing I wish is to monopolize. Please go ahead."
"Something you ought to know, Dr. Allardyce, is that while I'm fascinated by comparative religions and always have been, I do not believe in any of them. Haven't for a long time."
"I already knew that," Allardyce said, "and it makes no difference. It may even make you more objective. You're sure about no more wine?"
"Quite sure, thank you."
'So the reason I've brought you here is that I have, just recently, raised enough money to build a new Religion and Philosophy Center on campus. A good deal of it comes from a personal friend who is on the point of pledging several million Dollars. However, since reading about you and your unique qualifications, my friend has added a condition to the gift. In addition to the building, there'll be an endowment for a professor in comparative religions, to be described as a distinguished scholar. The point is, Dr. Ainslie, my friend wants you."
Ainslie's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"Totally."
"May I ask who your friend is?"
Allardyce shook his head. "Sorry! Sometimes wealthy donors prefer to stay anonymous; nowadays there are good reasons. Anyway, the commitment on the university's part would initially be for three years, and the annual stipend would be one hundred thousand Dollars. Forgive me for bringing up money, but it's necessary sometimes."
There were several seconds of silence before Ainslie said, "I can forgive you for that, Doctor. And perhaps, after all, I will have more wine."
"There'll be a few formalities," Allardyce said momerits later. "Though nothing you can't handle."
* * *
Karen was thrilled about the pending appointment. "Oh, honey go for it! It's so right for you. You're an authority on the subject, and you're so good at teaching. I haven't told you this, but after what happened at City Hall, I phoned Ruby Bowe to say thank you for me, and for Jason. Among other things, she told me how the younger detectives appreciate what you've taught them, and how they all respect you."