by Susan Finlay
wanted to give her good news, but she had caught him off guard, and the news about Grand-mère had upset him. The phone call left him feeling depressed and doubtful. Nothing she’d told him so far and none of the leads he had followed up on had given him what he needed to prove her innocence. Was he still playing the fool, letting himself be duped again? Was this like the Diana Lewis case all over again? He wanted to believe she’d called because of his grandmother, but what if that was just an excuse to find out what he’d found and to see if she needed to run again. There was also another darker thought that he didn’t like to consider: Was Fabienne safe with Maurelle?
He eventually drifted back to sleep, but he awoke upset and more tired than before he’d gone to bed. All through the night he’d dreamt of his grandmother—lying in the hospital after suffering a major heart attack. In one dream the heart monitor had straight-lined. He’d dreamt of Maurelle, first rescuing his grandmother but in a later dream, causing her heart attack.
After showering and dressing, he dragged himself down the hotel hall to the staircase. He desperately needed coffee and something to eat. Kate would be picking him up outside the café across the street at nine o’clock, so he decided he might as well eat and wait in the café.
At the top of the staircase he caught sight of a red-headed man in a suit, walking up the stairs with his head bent. He seemed to be reading something in a folded-up newspaper as he walked. Dave mused that it didn’t seem to be the smartest thing to do, but something about the man also seemed familiar. Dave took a step down, and at the same moment the man looked up. It was Greg’s detective friend, Nigel James.
Startled, Dave stopped, grabbed the railing, and waited.
When Nigel reached the top of the stairs, he said, “We need to talk. I didn’t want to do this over the telephone. Greg called me from this hotel on his first night in London and told me you were staying here, too. I took a chance you’d still be here.”
Dave nodded and turned around. Nigel followed him to the hotel room. Inside, Dave sat on the edge of the bed and motioned to the chair and table nearby.
Nigel pulled the chair around, sat down, and crossed his legs, obviously appraising Dave in the way detectives do before they interrogate a witness or a suspect. Dave steeled himself.
“I know you’ve met Maura Barrington,” Nigel said.
“You’re making a pretty big assumption.”
“It’s not an assumption. The Met have been notified by the French. Since I’ve taken an unofficial interest, I heard of this.”
“The Met was notified of what?”
“They said someone in Reynier called the gendarmes about a mysterious woman who was being harbored by an elderly woman and her grandson. Sound familiar?”
Dave shrugged.
“The elderly woman, your grandmother I’ve been told, has disappeared and may have been taken hostage by the woman. The gendarmes, and now the Met, believe the woman is Maura Barrington. I’m afraid it all makes perfect sense to me now, considering your interest in the case.”
Dave looked at the clock near the television. Kate would be at the café in thirty minutes.
“I want to know how you are involved. What do you know about this woman?”
“Look, I met her in Reynier. She was living in a cave. I invited her to stay in my grandmother’s home and then found out she was running from the law here. She told me about Jared and tentatively convinced me of her innocence. I really don’t know much more than you do. I came here to get answers. That’s all.”
Nigel put his fingers together steepled near his chin and looked directly at Dave. “You must realize that if Maura Barrington did murder Jared Raybourne, she may be dangerous. You may be putting others, your grandmother included, at risk. She could kill again if she feels threatened.”
“I don’t believe that. She wouldn’t hurt my grandmother.” Dave pushed the memory of his nightmare out of his mind.
“I hope you’re right. As I understand it, the French police are narrowing in on her location. They’ll make an arrest soon. My fear is that if Ms. Barrington finds out before they get there, she might do something drastic. If you’re in contact with her, I need to know.”
“I’m not.”
“You never answered my other question. How are you involved?”
“I came here to solve the Jared Raybourne case. I figured that I’d either prove her innocent, in which case she would be free, or I’ll prove her guilty and turn her over to the police.”
“Then you know where she is.”
Dave sighed. “She left shortly after I got here. I don’t know where she is at the moment.”
Nigel stood up and handed a card to Dave. “You know, I ought to arrest you for harboring a fugitive, but at the moment she is officially just wanted for questioning. As a courtesy to a fellow officer, and by the way, I am aware you are no longer on the force in the US, but being a friend of Greg, I will give you forty-eight hours before turning you in. But you must promise me that if you hear from her, you will call me immediately. And do not tell her about our conversation.”
As soon as Nigel left, Dave closed his eyes. This was the last thing he needed. Had his hotel phone been tapped by the Met? Was she really guilty of murder? Damn. He needed to solve the case now and get back to France.
DAVE AND KATE arrived at Westglenn an hour later. On the drive over, he’d debated whether to tell Kate about his conversation with Nigel. He decided against it. He kept thinking about Maurelle, about her accident in the general store, her running away from the man who’d given her a ride and then attacked her. She wouldn’t kill anyone, would she? He remembered what he’d told her on the phone last night: ‘I wish I could tell you we’ve ruled you out as a suspect, but I can’t’.
Kate asked him a few times if he was all right because he was extra quiet. The silence became overbearing, so she turned on the radio.
At the school students were arriving. Some milled about outside, talking and laughing.
“First, let’s walk around the building,” Dave said. “I want to see if there’s any graffiti.”
“You do know that it’s probably a false lead. There wasn’t a police report. The old man probably got it wrong or was just spreading rumors he’d heard.”
Dave kept walking. He knew better than anyone how gossip spread. He walked across the grass and continued around the corner of the building. He stopped abruptly. Kate bumped into him.
White, orange, and yellow streaks of paint covered a quarter of the side of the building.
“Seems the old man knew what he was talking about.”
“Indeed,” Kate said. “I think we need to talk to Fowler.”
Dave followed her back to the front of the building and up the concrete steps. He pulled open one of the double glass doors, holding it for Kate. They made their way through the crowded corridor toward the Headmaster’s office. This time they knew exactly where they were going. But they stumbled upon Patrick Fowler in the corridor. He was facing them, and frowned when he saw them coming. He promptly finished his conversation with a man and woman, and approached Dave and Kate.
“I thought we were done,” Fowler said.
“We need to ask you more questions, Mr. Fowler,” Kate said. “Could we go to your office?”
He chewed his lower lip, then whirled around on his heel. They followed. His office was at the front of the building, off to one side.
“We heard there was a graffiti incident here a couple of weeks before Jared’s murder.”
He didn’t respond.
“Why didn’t you report it to the police?”
Again he didn’t answer but stared out the window. After a moment, he turned and looked directly at Kate. “You must understand. We run a decent school here. We didn’t want parents getting upset.”
“Do you know who was responsible for the vandalism?”
“Yes, we spoke to the boy’s parents. They assured us they would discipline him and would pay to have the
paint removed.”
“But the paint is still there.”
He nodded.
“Who was it?”
He looked down at his desk and pretended to rearrange papers.
“It was Jared Raybourne, wasn’t it?”
“It doesn’t matter at this point.”
“It could make a difference in solving his case. Why did he spray paint the wall near your office?”
He picked up one of the papers, and scanned as if reading, set it down and picked up another.
“Mr. Fowler?”
He sighed and set down the paper. “Fine. Jared Raybourne got into fights regularly during his last few months here. I lectured him many times. I called his parents in for meetings. I wanted to expel him, but the Governors and the education authority were reluctant. When I heard reports from teachers about an affair between Raybourne and one of our teachers, Ms. Barrington, I brought her in and discussed it with her. She denied the charges. When numerous parents contacted members of the Board, they finally opened up an investigation.”
“So, you think Jared spray-painted the building in retaliation?”
“He was on suspension when it happened.”
“And Ms. Barrington?”
“Maura Barrington was on leave of absence pending the Board’s investigation and hearing.”
“Did the Board ever investigate?”
“No. They were ready to begin when the Raybourne boy was murdered.”
“Who do you think killed Jared Raybourne?”
“I don’t know.”
“You mentioned Jared got into fights. Did he have enemies?”
“Not really enemies from what I’ve heard. The fights were usually started by Mr. Raybourne.”
He glanced at his watch. “Look, I’m sorry, but I have a meeting I must get to in a couple minutes.”
“Okay, thank you for talking with us, sir,” Kate said. “If you don’t mind, we would like a word with one of your teachers. I believe she is the sister of Elizabeth Raybourne.”
“Ah, yes. Pauline Wynn. She was already questioned by the police.”
“I understand,” Kate said, “but we’d like to conduct our own interviews. You understand, don’t you?”
“This is not something I normally allow.” Abruptly, he nodded and left the room.
While he was out, Kate said, “If you’d like, I’ll have you conduct the interview while I take notes.”
Dave nodded.
Fowler didn’t return. Instead, a blonde woman appeared. She bore a remarkable resemblance to Elizabeth Raybourne, except that she was older and somewhat plumper.
Dave stood and shook her hand. “You must be Pauline Wynn.”
“I am.”
“This is my associate, Kate Hill. We’re writing an article about your nephew’s murder case. We would like to ask you some questions.”
Kate shook her hand, sat back down, and pulled out a notebook and pen as she nodded to Dave.
Pauline sat down and gazed around the room, obviously nervous. She said, “I am not sure I am happy about this. We don’t want anything sensationalized. It was bad enough from the beginning, and we’re trying to stay out of the papers. Why should I talk to you? Who did you say you work for?”
“Ourselves; we’re independent journalists. Look, we don’t want to sensationalize anything, and you will be welcome to see anything we write before it is published. We just want the truth, we’re not out to harm anyone,” Kate said.
“You’ll let me see before publication?”
“Absolutely.”
She seemed to relax, though her hands were clasped together in her lap. Dave saw her knuckles were white.
“Well—what do you want to know?”
Dave said, “I understand you introduced Maura Barrington to your sister, Elizabeth, when she was looking for a place to live.”
“That’s right.” Sitting with her legs crossed, Pauline shifted and reversed them.
“Were you and Maura friends then?”
“I suppose we were,” she said. “Although we didn’t socialize much outside of work, but we usually ate lunch together here.”
“Why didn’t you socialize outside of work?”
“Well, mostly because I have a husband and five children to look after. Doesn’t give me much time to run around with the girls.”
Dave nodded and rubbed his chin. “How did Maura get along with co-workers?”
“Mostly all right.” Pauline shifted again and reversed legs again, apparently still uncomfortable.
“Can you elaborate?”
“She was the youngest female teacher—by quite a few years. The men liked her. Some flirted with her, but she only went out with one of them once or twice, as far as I know.”
“How did the women teachers feel about her?”
“Well, that’s a different story. Some liked her. I think some of them were jealous.”
“Did they talk about her?”
“Everybody did. Rumors started a couple of months after she moved into that house. It was my fault. I never should have sent her there.”
“Why did you?”
“She needed an inexpensive place to live, and my sister needed a lodger, needed the money.”
“Do you believe Maura Barrington killed your nephew?”
She stared at him, saying nothing, and he wondered if she’d heard the question. He was about to rephrase it when she said, “I don’t believe she did it. I don’t think she had an affair with him either.”
Dave pondered her statement. Although she sounded genuine, he wondered why she had hesitated. “Why haven’t you spoken out in her defense?”
“I tried to stop the whispers about the affair, but people believe what they want to believe,” Pauline said, twisting her hands as though trying to hold on to her composure. “Maura is young and pretty. People get jealous of women like that.” She paused, looking down at her hands for a moment. “The other teachers wanted to believe the worst. I think some even fanned the flames, hoping that she would be fired and that would be the end of it.”
“But then Jared turned up dead.”
She nodded. “After that, there was no stopping the whispers. Gossip spread like wildfire.”
“Who started the whispers of an affair, do you know?”
“Oh, I’m afraid that was Jared, himself,” she said, suddenly looking disgusted. “He bragged to his classmates. It made some kids look up to him.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“I’m not positive, but two of my own children attend this school. They told me about the story coming from him. It sounded like something he would do, too. Lots of boys do that kind of thing, boast about girls they have been with, and some do it about teachers, too. But Jared went further, and he kept on about it. ”
“What happened with Penny, his former girlfriend?”
“I think he scared her away. He became obsessive and controlling. He had been a bit strange all his life, but he became increasingly weird after his parents split up. He became truly frightening.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Penny is a friend of my daughter. I sometimes hear them talking.”
“Can you tell us any more about Jared’s behavioral change?” Dave leaned forward. Maybe they’d finally found the right person to talk to.
“Well, everything really happened within a short time. He started dating Penny in November. His parents broke up a couple of months later. Soon after that, Maura moved into the house. She told me she tried to keep to herself, minimizing her time there.”
“Why did she try to minimize her time there?”
“She said right from the start she didn’t really feel comfortable, especially with a male pupil under the same roof. She said she wouldn’t have moved in there if she could have found another place to live.”
“You and she were friends. Couldn’t she stay with you?”
“Oh, no, that wasn’t possible. Our home is way too crowded as it i
s. My husband and I live in a three bedroom house with our five children.”
Dave nodded, and gently said, “Go on.”
“I guess that after Jared broke up with Penny, he became . . . interested in Maura. More than that, the way the kids talked he became fixated. Maura said she felt sorry for him because he was depressed both about Penny and his parents. When he told her that his grades were slipping because of his depression, she agreed to start tutoring him. She didn’t know how troubled he was. None of us did, at that point.”
“Unfortunately, hindsight is always better,” Dave said. “I understand some teachers said he was a good student.”
“He was—in previous years.”
“But that changed?”
Pauline nodded. “He was getting into fights here. Anyway, after all the rumors, things finally came to a head. Maura was placed on suspension from work, and Jared was placed on suspension from school.” She stopped and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
“What happened then?”
“Right after that, someone spray painted graffiti on the building. Well, nearly everyone, myself included, figured Jared did it. Fowler called Elizabeth, Peter, and Jared to his office. Jared swore it wasn’t him, but later Elizabeth found empty spray cans in their shed in the back garden.”
“What was Jared’s relationship with Robin like?” Dave asked.
Pauline opened her mouth, but hesitated.
“Mrs. Wynn?”
“I can’t really say for sure. Elizabeth said she thought . . . well, she thought he and Robin might be involved. I don’t know if it’s true. She doesn’t like Robin, you see.”
“You think she may have been looking for something to blame on Robin?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps.”
“Do you know where Peter and Robin were on the night Jared was murdered?”
“Yes. Peter and Robin were in Cambridge visiting Robin’s parents. Peter told me it was the first time he’d met them. He said they spent the whole weekend there, spent some of the time touring the university. The police confirmed their alibi.”