His shoulders relaxed as his eyes pleaded. “Look, Ms. Steele, if you could keep this quiet, I’d be really grateful. Wendy means the world to me. I wouldn’t have said anything to you except I know you’re leaving soon.”
“Wasn’t there a letter about you and Carolyn?”
He nodded. “Right after it happened. The Golds had no connections to the community back then, and besides, as far as I know, that letter only went to Dinny and Brooke. Did one of them tell you?”
I shrugged.
“Listen, Ms. Steele, this is going to sound really crass and selfish given Carolyn’s death, but Wendy and I are planning to get married next year. We haven’t told anyone yet, but, well, Wendy’s parents are ultra-right-wing conservatives, especially the father. And Wendy’s daddy’s little girl. If they found out about my relationship with Carolyn—”
“That’s ridiculous. What does it matter what you did long before you ever met Wendy?”
“You don’t know them. Trust me, it matters.”
“Are you sure that’s the kind of family you want to marry into?” When would I learn to mind my own business?
“I’m not marrying the family. I marrying Wendy. And yes, I’m sure. I love her very much.”
I thought about my first impression of Gerry Weinstein, when I’d spied him sidling up to the bar, arm circled around his trophy date. I wondered which was the real Gerry— the man before me who appeared to be deeply in love, or the superficial Mr. Slick of our first encounter.
Students were beginning to wander in so I excused myself, thanking him for his honesty and promising to keep his liaison with Carolyn Santos to myself.
CHAPTER 43
I spent the next several hours poring through Carolyn’s things, but turned up nothing. As I prepared to wander over to the lacrosse game, Livie knocked on the door and asked if she could walk up with me.
As we started off, she gave me a sidelong look. “You got a boyfriend?”
I laughed. “At my age, they’d probably call it a ‘gentleman friend,’ but no, not at present. I see people now and then, but nothing serious. Like everyone my age, I’ve actually tried online dating, but haven’t been any more successful there. How about you?”
She shook her head. “But you’ve had boyfriends?”
“Yup. Husband, too.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t think I’m very good at intimate relationships, Liv. I’m a pretty good friend and I’m great at falling in love, but the rest of it? Not so good. I would blame the guys, but in truth, it takes two to make or break a relationship.”
“How do they end?”
“Honestly, it seems like guys stop loving me. I don’t know what I do or don’t do. They just lose interest. Yikes, that’s the most truthful I’ve been about my love life in years. Have you got someone you’re interested in? Is that why you’re asking?”
She shrugged, conversation over. I decided not to press.
We stood on the sidelines together, cheering the team. There didn’t seem to be a pressing reason for my presence, since Jared was no longer around to harass Missy. Then again, if Jared’s and Carolyn’s killers were one and the same—which I believed to be the case—I needed to watch her even more closely.
Missy and Kathy ran up to us at halftime. “Hey, Ricky,” Missy called, Kathy chiming in. They both ignored my companion.
“You’re doing great. Livie and I are enjoying it, aren’t we Liv?”
“They stink,” Kathy said, readjusting her headband.
Missy’s gaze flitted from me to the field. “Did they find out anything about him? About Mr. Phelps?”
“Not yet. The police are checking into everything, though.”
Kathy rolled her eyes. “What’s there to check? He killed himself, just like Ms. Santos. Probably grief. Everyone knows they were madly in love with each other.”
Missy gave her a sharp look. “No, they weren’t. Carolyn was gay.”
“Says you. That’s not what I’ve heard.”
“Oh, what have you heard?” I asked.
Kathy shrugged. Figures, adolescents always clam up right at the good part.
“Come on, Kath. Coach is calling. We gotta go. See you at dinner, Ricky.”
“Mrs. Diaz will be in the dorm, covering for me tonight!” I called as they ran off. I was pretty sure they hadn’t heard me.
“Don’t worry,” Livie said. “I’ll tell everyone. You should prob’ly post a note on the front door bulletin board. Everyone checks that when they come in.”
My arm circled her shoulders. “Thanks, Livie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She beamed, as if my compliment was the first she had ever received. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen enough lacrosse today. Wanna get a lemonade at Rudy’s?”
“Sure. That’d be great.” Her smile stretched from ear to ear and my heart ached. It had been different for me, but I could still recognize loneliness when I saw it.
We made our way to the small variety store with an old-fashioned soda fountain right around the corner from Round House and ordered tall mugs of frozen lemonade.
“What do you think Kathy meant by that comment about Ms. Santos? When she said, “That’s not what I’ve heard’?”
She shrugged, sipping her drink, pursing her lips at the tartness. “That’s probably just Kathy talking. She likes to sound like she knows everything.”
“I know the type.”
“They could have been boyfriend and girlfriend, Mr. Phelps and Carolyn. It doesn’t really fit Ms. Santos’s image, though.”
“And what was that?”
Livie sat up straight. “She didn’t belong to anyone. She was her own person, doing her own thing, going her own way. No one told her what to do, or who to be with.”
I smiled, watching her. The innocence of youth. “Independent people fall in love, too.”
“Yeah, but she wouldn’t’ve fallen in love with him. He wasn’t her type.”
“Who was?”
She thought for a minute or so before replying, “You.”
I laughed, ruffling her hair.
“No, I’m serious. She would have liked you and been attracted to you. I can see that.”
Thinking about our earlier conversation, I studied her, wondering if I should delve deeper, ultimately deciding to leave it alone. “Look, buddy. We’ve got to be heading back. Wanna take that with you?”
She shook her head and downed the rest.
As we headed up the Round House walk, she asked, “Were you popular when you were at Whitley?”
“What do you think?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you’re wrong. I wasn’t one of the cool kids, if that’s what you’re asking. By today’s standards, I’d probably have been classified as a geek or freak. Probably freak. I wasn’t a good enough student to be a geek.”
“When did things change?”
“They didn’t, really. I just realized, much later, of course, that I didn’t give a damn. Or maybe I just decided to let go of the hurt and move on. I had a few good friends here. They got me through.”
“Were they the ones I saw you with Saturday?” I looked at her in surprise, trying to remember when we’d run into her. “At Mr. Danforth’s party. You probably didn’t see me ‘cause you were busy. I was in the back.”
“Yes, they’re the ones. We had a good time reminiscing, and you know what? We went out to dinner Saturday night with a couple of the so-called cool girls from our class.”
“They let you be with them?”
“No, actually one of my friends invited them to join us. Know the best part?”
“What?” Her eyes widened, waiting for the punch line.
“They aren’t cool anymore. The only cool ones were the three of us.”
“How did that happen?”
“They must’ve used up their coolness quota in high school,” I said, my arm once again circling her bony shoulders as we walked into the dorm. We stopped
outside my door, and I looked her straight in the eyes, deciding to be honest. “Truth is, Liv, I was a pretty messed-up kid in high school. I didn’t want to be here. I was always in trouble. It got better when I made friends, but it was never a happy place for me. I was just too screwed up.”
She nodded, turning to take the stairs two at a time as I headed in to change for my dinner engagement at the Richardses’. Yippee.
CHAPTER 44
Marilyn Richards greeted me at her front door in white capri pants and a navy-and-white-striped top. She looked ready to set sail on the Good Ship Lollipop. As it was a warm, almost summer evening, I had taken Marilyn at her word and dressed casually in beige linen shorts and a white muslin blouse. “I hope I’m all right.”
“You look terrific. If I had your legs I’d wear shorts three hundred sixty-five days a year. Come on back. Everyone’s on the deck.” She led me through the living room and dining room into a large, modern kitchen.
I thought of my cramped galley kitchen at home. “This is lovely.”
“Thanks. This is the primo faculty house. The school just did over the kitchen for us. Beautiful, isn’t it? I got to pick out everything. The Naylors live upstairs, but their apartment is much smaller. We’ve been here since Brooke’s second year. We really got lucky. The Sampsons had been here forever and when they left, Dinny just gave it to Brooke. By rights it should have gone to Peter Willis, Dean of Upper School at the time, but they were trying to ease him out and I guess didn’t want him getting too comfy, if you know what I mean.”
“Uh-oh, Marilyn’s gossiping again.” Brooke Richards stepped into the kitchen, winking at me and giving his wife an affectionate pat on the derriere. “Ricky, what can I get you to drink?”
I asked for red wine and followed him through French doors onto a wide deck. The company was assembled around two tables covered with platters of appetizers—hot dips, shrimp, cheeses galore, deviled eggs, crudités and guacamole and chips.
The backyard flowerbeds were in full bloom, as were the four wooden boxes lining the deck. The riot of color—flowers, food, and guests standing around sipping wine —gave one the sensation of stepping into the pages of Bon Appétit. Christine Parnell’s voice jolted me back to reality. Stuffed mushroom in one hand, goblet of red wine in the other, she bore down on me. “Well, well, well, how’s life over in adolescent hell? You’re still alive, I see.”
“So far, so good. Christine, I’m sorry about Jared. I know you were close.”
Stricken, she opened her mouth to speak just as her husband joined us. “Hello, Ms. Steele. How are you? I tried to catch you on your way out of the science building today, but you seemed to be in a big hurry.” He smiled warmly, his pale eyes looking weary and sad. Life with Christine couldn’t be easy.
“I’m sorry I missed you. You teach chemistry, right? I actually wanted to talk with you.”
“Yes, one section of chemistry, but the bulk of my teaching load is biology.”
“Tim, not tonight. I refuse to hear a word about that wretched torture chamber. Change the subject, please. When I think of those poor defenseless creatures. It’s unspeakable.” She leaned over the table, grabbing a handful of peanuts.
He whispered, “We just got our shipment of frogs. She calls them ‘victims.’ Doesn’t think we should have the kids dissect anything.”
I shuddered, remembering tenth-grade biology, my frog’s heart beating in my hand, its poor, spindly legs still twitching on the table. “I tend to agree with her.”
“How are you enjoying dorm life?”
“Not bad.”
“Are the girls upset about Jared’s death?”
“If they are, they haven’t confided in me. I’m not sure it’s really sunk in.”
“That’s what it felt like in class today. Everyone knew, but they were going along, life as usual, as if—”
“—nothing had happened.” Christine cut him off, waving a celery stick at us. “That’s what we’re all doing, aren’t we? While poor Jared lies cold and forgotten in the morgue, here we are, drinking and schmoozing.”
“Now, Chris. You know Brooke thought it was important to bring people together to support each other.”
“Oh, please, spare me the hypocrisy. You all hated his guts. Excuse me.” She pushed past me and slammed the doors on her way into the kitchen. Fortunately, the glass held.
“You have to forgive Chris,” he said quietly, setting his glass on the table. “She and Jared were very good friends. It’s been a terrible blow. She’s only stormed off like that so we wouldn’t see her crying. I should go to her.”
“Tim, can I speak with you, just for a moment?” I led him into the garden, out of earshot of the others.
He looked ready to bolt, but allowed himself to be led away. “What can I do for you?”
“What was your impression of Carolyn?”
“Lovely person. Exuberant, very talented. I didn’t know her well, of course. She was a shining star, much too bright for the likes of dull old me.”
“What about Jared?”
His eyes clouded over for an instant, but he recovered quickly, giving me a benign look. “Ah, Jared, what can one say? Passionate, also talented, but a trifle full of himself at times. Don’t tell Chris I said that or she’d have my head. Truth is, I didn’t know him very well either. He was Chris’ friend. I work most nights tutoring students so I’m ‘fraid I’m not very good company for Chris sometimes. She will certainly miss him. Look, I really should go and see if she’s okay.”
“Just one more thing—the stolen science equipment? Do you have a theory about who’s responsible?”
He shrugged. “I would have said teenagers from town, but who knows? Before the thefts, this was an open campus. Anyone could have come in and removed things.”
“But it happened over time, didn’t it?”
“Two or three times, I believe.”
“Then why did it take them three thefts before they went into lockdown?”
He looked back at the others, then said softly, “They thought at first it might be someone on campus, a student or one of Fred Draper’s men. They thought if they appealed and pressured people, the perpetrator or perpetrators might return the equipment.”
“Is that what you thought?”
“No… I don’t know. Look, Ms. Steele, I really should see to Chris, if you’ll excuse me.”
As he hurried away, I was joined by Jonathan Kroll. “Don’t mind Tim. He’s rather a timid little mouse. Never quite comfortable at these kinds of things without Chris at his side.”
I wondered if Kroll had been eavesdropping, but smiled graciously. “Oh?”
“It’s a difficult time, don’t you know? We were already planning a memorial for Carolyn, and now I suppose we’ll hold one for Jared as well. Not exactly the way one hopes to end the school year.”
“No.” I nodded. “So the school will have a memorial service for Jared, after everything that’s happened?”
“We’re still a family, Ricky. Jared may have gone a little haywire last year, but people on this faculty still cared about him.”
As he spoke, I remembered the desperation in Phelps’s eyes as he’d pleaded with me. “What did you think of him?”
“Arrogant, brilliant, stubborn as hell, excuse my French. It was very difficult last year. I understood and supported the school’s decision. Jared had to go, of course, but it was difficult for Paula and me. Through our work at the church, we’ve seen a very different side of Jared. Arrogant and stubborn as he could be, he was also capable of great kindness and humility.”
Paula joined us, slipping her arm around her husband’s waist. “You must be talking about Jar,” she said softly, leaning her head against his shoulder. “He was a sweetheart, once you got to know him.”
A regular charmer. Was I going crazy? Now that he was dead, you could hardly find a soul to utter a bad word about Jared Phelps. As we talked, I watched Dinny and Ellen Petty work the crowd. They moved from
group to group, like the king and queen, bestowing their attentions on each of their subjects, careful not to show favoritism by tarrying too long with any one group.
They appeared to have color-coordinated their outfits, both dressed in shades of black and white. He wore white slacks and an open-necked jersey in a small black-and-white check. The outfit put ten pounds on him, making him look like the senior citizen he was. His impossibly white sneakers didn’t help. She wore skin-tight black capri-length pants and a white jersey, with a black-and-white scarf tied loosely round her long, slender neck.
So intent was I in my ogling of Mr. and Mrs. Beautiful that I jumped when Gerry Weinstein said, “Hello. We meet again. Oh, sorry for sneaking up on you. Here, let me get something to mop up that wine.”
Looking down, I was horrified to see wine down the front of my shorts. Great. Just what I needed at this moment—to look and feel like a slob.
“I’d go take them off and make Zsa Zsa Gabor give you something to wear,” Wendy Gold whispered as the Krolls moved off to greet someone else. “You’re much thinner. I’m sure she could find you something. Anything’s better than that hideous outfit she’s wearing. I mean, what’s she think this is, The Love Boat? Capri pants with that ass and those legs? I mean, come on. Seriously, hon, that’s linen. Red wine’ll be a bitch to get out. They look like nice shorts, too.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I’ll just look like a mess all night. I’m used to that.” I nodded my thanks as Gerry brought a wad of paper towels from the kitchen.
Wendy stood, hands on hips, studying me. She wore pale gray linen slacks and a white sleeveless top, classy, understated attire in sharp contrast to what she had sported at our last meeting. “Listen, honey. Compared to this crowd you look like Marilyn Fucking Monroe. I mean, who are they kidding? Look at Mr. and Mrs. Sticks-Up-Their-Asses. What’s that all about? Could their outfits be any more hideous?”
“Wendy, behave.” Gerry gave me a sheepish grin.
“Uh-oh, here they come,” she whispered as Ellen and Dinny joined our catty little group.
Ellen Petty reached out a slender arm to shake my hand. “So nice to see you again. I hear you’ve been taking good care of the Round House girls. It’s a shame you can’t stay on till the end of the year.”
Prepped to Kill (Ricky Steele Mysteries Book 1) Page 19