The dean considers the purpose of his journey tonight, away from the comforts of the school and into the unyielding force of nature. He has quite an extensive knowledge base, acquired through years of immersion in academia and a few other nameless places. He knows, for example, Meredith didn’t complete the Happy Ending Theorem. He knows many secrets; Jacob might know some others.
The driver turns the taxi onto Ajour Pass, the mountain road. “You said it was three streets past the coffee shop?” The cab driver, a natural blonde in her late thirties, flashes the dean a grin through the rearview mirror before returning her eyes to the road.
“Hi there, stranger. My name’s Lonny. I’ll take you anywhere you need to go,” she had explained at the onset, taking a sip of something from her mug with one hand, the other hand firmly gripped to the wheel as it is now.
“Yes. Or at least that’s what my note here says...” The man in the back seat plucks a piece of paper from the inner pocket of his raincoat, double checking.
“Sure thing, stranger.”
“I’m not even sure if this man will be home. He’s not expecting me --he barely knows me-- I just need to ask him a couple questions.”
Lonny does not say much now, but there is something mixed with the faint scent of perfume and which says more than enough to keep one’s attention. Instead of watching her cleavage through the rear-view mirror, or the faire meter’s one trick tick-by-tick, the administrator leans his head back, content to grovel about Jacob not answering his phone. Perhaps Bell had given him the wrong number? Still, you think someone would pick up. Perhaps he is out of town? We’ll see, I guess.
The cab turns onto Kasparian Ave and pulls up to the aforementioned address. It is older house which sits back from the road a bit, due in part to the slope. There is a winding driveway with a walkway along the side which leads to the darkened premises -- not a single light on inside or outside.
“Doesn’t look good...” Lonny reaches down to stop the meter. ‘$7.10’
“No...it doesn’t,” the dean concurs, exhaling most of his possible excitement at the empty-looking house.
“Ok, do me a favor and wait here? I’m going to go and make sure.”
“Yeah, sure, Stranger.”
The dean pulls his raincoat tight, opening the cab door to dart up the driveway, through the frenzied liquid hail, to the door. The the house is rather flat, with few windows. A rather lonely and unused looking ladder leans against the structure. There is a small portion of roofing which extends to give shelter above the front door, and the man with the questions runs up the driveway quickly to its dry sanctuary. The administrator knocks with a few brisk pounds, placing his ear to the cool polished wood to listen for footsteps. He hears none. The dean decides to take out his cellphone again for one last attempt at trying Jacob’s, but, to top things off, finds there is no service here. Uttering a curse word he stuffs his hands in his pockets, turning around to look down towards the lights of the town, and the swirling grey superimposed onto the black where he knows the ocean is. Unsure of what to do he stands there on the front step of the technician’s house for a period of time, just staring. Several minutes go by, and nothing. The cab gives a honk. It is getting late. The storm is getting worse, and it’s always worst at the end. Finally, hearing another honk from the cab, the administrator exhales and plunges into the grey wall of rain.
Lonny smiles warmly, turning around to face her passenger from the front street as he climbs in. “No Jacob, huh, stranger? What kind of answers are you looking for anyways?”
The dean scratches his neck, considering the question. “I’m looking for the conclusive kind.”
The driver grins, checking him over. “Shall we conclude this then?”
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