“Exactly. It crashed into the side of a building and cost a few thousand in damages. A pledge also broke his leg. The pledge happened to be a prized basketball recruit. The coach was not thrilled.”

“And Blake was suspended?” This was turning into a story of a college kid doing dumb things, and while it was entertaining, I wasn’t sure how it would be useful.

Ari scoffed. “Maybe if the pledge had broken his neck. But for a leg? No. That was only a violation. But something happened after that, like Blake was trying to get himself expelled. His entire senior fall semester was spent jumping on land mines as if he liked to hear the boom. The pièce de résistance was when he was caught in the doggy door of his English professor’s home with a sword in hand.”

“A sword?” I asked, struck by this bizarre detail.

“Ceremonial? From the frat. What makes it even better is that he’d cut himself up pretty badly with it. And that he was found drunk, asleep, stuck in this door the professor had built for his pug.”

“He did have a few scars on the palms of his hands,” I said, remembering the time Wallis had asked about them. “He had this heroic story about breaking into a car window in a parking lot to rescue an overheating dog.”

Ari rested her cheek in her hand, amused. “If you classify heroism as drunken, bumbling ineptitude, yes. We could call him a hero.”

“Breaking into a professor’s house with a weapon is no joke,” I said, though I, like her, was now on the verge of giggles.

“That seemed to be it for the administration,” Ari said. “They put him on disciplinary suspension, but here comes your girl, Melinda Darley. She couldn’t even let him take the hit on the chin like a man. Word is she bribed at least one dean, and made a pledge to the college president for an addition to the library. Blake graduated as planned, and the college library now has a coffee shop. Meanwhile, that same semester, a professor of Women’s Studies was fired for having less than an ounce of marijuana on her at a family barbecue.”

“A bribe?” Melinda Darley—widow of the minister, squarest of the square, proselytizer of family values—bribed someone? “What hard evidence is there?”

“Might be some emails.” She blinked coyly. “Might be able to get them for you.”

So she had proof. Good. I would need it. I checked the calendar on my phone. “Confirmation hearings start next week,” I said. “If Miles is going to use this stuff, I should get it to him soon.”

“What do you mean if?” Ari asked. “Of course he’ll use it! People hate Melinda Darley. They’ll be sending you fan mail for this.”

“And for you?” There was no time to be delicate. “What are you looking for in exchange?”