Page 90 of Make Me Scream

“What kind of allegations?”

Considering there’s enough truth out there to sink Mundell, I’d be shocked if he was willing to let them see the light of day, even if he denied them.

Mundell shakes his head.

“For starters, claiming that my artwork is all plagiarized, stolen from my best students and claimed as my own.”

Huh. That would be quite an accusation. I can’t tell if Lane actually said that or if Mundell made it up.

“Lane also promised to produce records proving I’ve used the school’s finance to launder money, which is absolutely ridiculous. The worst of his claims, however, would be that I assaulted female students and coerced them into silence. It’s as abhorrent as it is false.”

Is it, though? I’ve been on the receiving end of his coercion before. Maybe he’s forgotten.

“Admittedly, I almost threw a punch of my own when he said that. I’ve never been so insulted.” He makes a fist, but somehow his hand reminds me more of a wad of mashed potatoes than a potential weapon. He stares at his closed fingers with remorse. “Sadly, I’m not known for my martial prowess.”

No, clearly not.

Now I kinda wish I’d spoken to Lane first. If he’d told me exactly what happened here, I could maybe figure out if Mundell is lying or if any of this is true. Lane did say he was going to find a solution, but outright defamation? He could get himself into even more trouble than he’s in now.

“I know you’re probably in a bit of shock that Lane would do something like this. Imagine my surprise. I’ve known him for years, and he’s never acted so rashly. He’s hardly a temperamental man. Isn’t that right?”

“Sure.”

In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen him get mad except for when dealing with Mundell.

“Unfortunately, that’s not the real Lane Porter,” he says, rising from his seat.

“What?”

He turns to a painting on his wall by Hieronymus Bosch; I don’t know the name of the piece but the style is unmistakable. Malevolent and chaotic, his work scared me when I was young. At the same time, I was drawn to it. The idea of containing my fears within the bounds of a piece of paper gave me comfort, and set me down my chosen path.

“I’ve known Lane for so many years now, and I’ve observed his behaviors. The man he’s shown you isn’t necessarily who he is, deep down. Has he told you about his past?”

A centipede squirms through my stomach, slithery and cold. Has Lane been hiding something, a bigger secret than his artistic alter ego?

As if his ears were burning, my phone buzzes from an incoming call. Lane must be getting really impatient. It’s unusual for me not to respond right away. Does he know I’m here, or has he guessed? I should write back, but I don’t trust myself not to bombard him with questions.

“A bit. How he’s not close with his family, how you were friends.”

“What about his past paramours?”

I shake my head.

“Not much. Just his last one, who dumped him.”

“Is that what he said? That’s… generous.”

“She didn’t leave him?” I ask.

I shouldn’t trust Mundell, obviously. Yet, Lane’s story about Chloe didn’t sit right with me. If Mundell can fill in some information, maybe the truth will appear somewhere in between.

“I suppose it’s not a complete lie. She was the one who ended their relationship when she left the academy, but it’swhyshe left that matters. When Chloe applied to my school, she was in a unique position: unlike most, she had no need for financial support. She had money from her father’s life insurance payout, after he sadly passed in a car accident.”

“That’s horrible.”

Mundell nods.

“Her mother had passed when Chloe was very young, so now she was alone. Dreamed of being an artist. She could afford to learn from the best. The problem was, she didn’t really have the talent. She had some basic skills, I should say. We see far worse all the time. But normally she would not have been considered. We felt bad for her; I was prepared to connect her with a private tutor, figuring she might make the grade next year with a little training. Lane didn’t think that was good enough, and argued at length to accept her now. ‘If she’s going to learn, she should learn from us,’ he said. Eventually I agreed.”

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