Free Rook & Tooth and Claw by Graham Masterton

It’s going to be very disturbing for your students if you don’t.”
    Jim said, “I guess it depends on what you mean by reality, Dr Ehrlichman. There’s one reality for each of us, and sometimes those realities don’t exactly match. Sometimes it’s hard to know which one you ought to be keeping a grip on.”
    “I’m sorry, Jim. I’m not here to get involved in a philosophical discussion. I just have to tell you that if we have any further incidents like today’s, I’m going to have to consider putting you on suspension and requiring you to undergo – well, a psychiatric evaluation.”
    Jim had reached his car, a ’69 Rebel SST in its original screaming orange. “I see. We can’t have the staff being as nutty as the students, can we?”
    “‘Nutty’ is not a word we use in association with West Grove College, Jim… even for Special Class II. I simply want to make sure that you’re mentally stable and that you’re able to carry out your professional duties without you seeing phantom prowlers everywhere you look and calling the police out willy-nilly. The students come first, Jim, every single time. The students, and West Grove’s good name.”
    Jim replied, “I’m aware of that, sir. You won’t hear any more about men in black.” And he meant it. His new-found friend had made it chillingly clear that he didn’t want Jim talking about him to anybody.
    Dr Ehrlichman seemed to be satisfied with that. He slapped Jim on the back and walked off with his bald head shining in the sunlight. Just then Susan Randall appeared, carrying an armful of books. She had her hair pinned back and she was wearing a white sleeveless blouse with pointed lapels.
    “You’re not headed anywhere south of Santa Monica Boulevard, are you?” she asked him.
    “Sure. Do you need a ride?”
    “If it’s not too far out of your way. My car’s in the shop and I don’t relish the idea of carrying all these books on the bus.”
    Jim opened the door for her and she climbed in. He had never noticed before that she wore a gold ankle chain. He said, “Watch your skirt… I mean you don’t want to get it caught in the door.”
    They drove out through the college gates and headed southward on Westwood Boulevard.
    “Great car,” said Susan. “I really love classics.”
    “This car’s classic all right. It was crap when it was new and it’s still crap.”
    “It’s a terrific colour, though, isn’t it?”
    Jim shrugged. He wasn’t in the mood for talking about cars. Susan watched him for a moment, and then she said, “You must be feeling pretty bad about Elvin.”
    “I’m feeling bad about both of them, Elvin and Tee Jay.”
    “You really believe that Tee Jay wasn’t responsible?”
    “I don’t know. He
could
have done it. He had the time and he had some kind of motive. But I really don’t believe that he did.”
    “Because of this man you saw? The man in black?”
    “I’m sorry, Susan. I can’t talk about it any more. I have to get a few things straight first.”
    “Okay, whatever. It’s just that yesterday you seemed so sure.”
    Jim didn’t answer. They had stopped at the traffic lights at Wilshire and all he could think of was the man in black glaring at him through the classroom window, his finger pressed to his lips.
    As the signals turned to green, Susan said, “We’ve never really had the chance to get to know each other, have we?”
    “I guess not. Always busy, busy, busy.”
    “Ron Philips said you were something of an expert on antique maps.”
    Jim turned and stared at her. “Ron Philips said that?”
    “Sure. He said you had one of the finest collections of antique maps he’d ever seen.”
    Shit,
thought Jim. Ron Philips, the faculty smartass. I’ll garotte him next time I see him. The only antique map I’m an expert on is the well-worn Chek-Chart of Central Los Angeles in the glovebox.
    “I’m totally
fascinated
by antique maps,” Susan continued. “I bought a 16th-century map of the