The Dean was no more than the senior professor at the research facility. Being dean meant mostly administrative tasks such as the assignment of office space and making sure there was some responsibility for the use of the research equipment. He thought much more of himself than that, and was occasionally consulted in a minor dispute between staff and students. He was an older, fussy man. A product of the civil service mentality, not really a competent scientest any more, although he did one lecture course in fundamentals from old notes.
He was pleasent enough, when not freightened. He was frequently freightened, however, by the growing realization that he really didn't know what to do on many occassions, and didn't always understand what people were trying to tell him. When this happened he reverted to the past, changed the subject, and dissembled.
He had a very good opinion of himself, especially as a judge of character. He never even attempted the bridge to the younger generation and thnks of his women students as flighty, not serious, given to illogical and unscientific thinking and generally as rather simple children. He still calls them co-eds when he forgets.
He would see Sally first thing, though. It was really a shame about what happened, and he hoped it wouldn't last long.
"I'm Sally McDougal, and I knew Bob", she started out saying.
"Of course. It was a tragic accident, and I'm sure we're all saddened by his loss."
"I think I was his best friend and I'm looking through his belongings so I can write his relatives and help them with arrangements, I guess you'd say."
The dean cut her off, "The University has already notified the next of kin. The body will be sent to his family in Kansas as soon as they make arrangements to have it sent. It's all we really can do."
"He might have friends, and they should be notified. He might know people who aren't known to his relatives."
"I thought you were his friend, my dear," the dean explained. He seemed to take the attitude that one friend was quite enough, and that it was unlikely that anyone else need be bothered with Bob's demise.
Sally did not want to argue with the Dean. She asked about his office, who had cleaned it out, and what happened to all of his books and papers.
"I really don't know. That is, I know he had an office. After all, I assigned it to him, so I should know, of course, but I don't know if he ever used it. It was empty, you say?"
"Yes, and the other student who shared the office said that he did use it, and did have papers and books in it. What happened to them? I assumed that you had cleaned them out."
"No, I haven't been there at all. I don't have any of his things."
Sally changed the subject slightly. She felt a tiny warning signal telling her to be careful. She didn't know why, but it just didn't seem to be a very good idea to explain herself completely right now. Maybe it was being called "My dear" that did it.
She knew, of course, what Bob was working on in a general way, and that his theses advisor was a Dr. Lockwood, but she would like to hear about that from the dean, just to see if there was any simple answer to not finding any of his notes. Anyway, she just didn't want to tell the Dean much of anything. "Who was Bob's theses advisor? And what was he doing his thesis on?"
"Dr. Lockridge was the head of his committee, but I can't really tell you what he was working on. Perhaps you'd better see Dr. Lockridge. Why do you want to know that?"
"I was just wondering, no reason. I guess I just can't believe it happened."
"I'm sure we all feel that way. We'll just have to get over it, and carry on, somehow. I feel his loss as much as you do, of course, but life goes on."
"Yes, it does. Thank you very much, Dean. Do you think it would be all right if I see Dr. Lockridge to discuss his work in progress?" Sally knew she didn't need the Dean's permission to see one of the professors, but she wanted to see what he would say.
"Of course you may! I'm sure he will make time to see you. Just call ahead for an appointment. His office hours are posted on his door, and he does keep office hours. We all do. I insist on it. And if there is anything, anything at all, that I can do for you don't hesitate to ask me."
The dismissal was obvious, and received gratefully. Sally thanked the Dean for his valuable time and left.
Having absolutely no idea of what to do next, she went to see Tom. Tom was an artiste. He lived in a hovel. He was only too happy to leave it to go to the Coffee House with Sally.
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