“Then what happened?”
“They got me in a sleeping bag and gave me hot drinks until I stopped shivering.”
“Can you give me some more details about what happened when you got on shore?”
“You mean the sleeping bag part?”
“Yes.”
“You heard about that, too?” Billy asked, looking rather uncomfortable.
Ray nodded.
“We get to the beach, I’m shivering, like I’m not making much sense.” Billy stopped and looked at Ray. “I don’t remember most of this, it’s what people told me. I guess she tore off my paddling jacket and wetsuit and stuffed me into the sleeping bag.
Then she stripped off most of her clothes and got into the sleeping bag with me and wrapped her body around me. I don’t know how long it was before I stopped shivering. When I had warmed up, they moved me into a tent and forced me to drink a lot of hot tea. I really hate tea. That’s all. Eventually, I got into some dry clothes.”
“Then what happened, Billy?” Ray probed.
“The other kids on the trip were seniors, and the boys gave me a lot of shit,” his eyes dropped to the table and his voice became little more than a whisper. “They said everyone could see I had a hard-on. It became a big joke; they called me ‘Billy hard-on,’ even after we got back to school.”
“Did that make you angry?”
“I was just a freshman, like I was really embarrassed.” “Anything else happen?”
Billy looked away from Ray, he brought his hands up to his face and cupped them from his nose to chin, and moved them slowly up and down several times. “You know what happened to Ms. Allen’s kayak?”
“Yes, but tell us what you remember.”
“Well, the next morning after breakfast the weather was clear, and we got ready to make the next leg of the trip. We broke camp and took our stuff to the beach to load the boats. They were turned upside down to keep the rain out. One of the girls noticed it first.”
“Noticed what Billy?”
“Ms. Allen’s kayak. It had three or four holes hacked in the bottom. Everyone just stood around and looked, finally she said something about it being a perfect time to show us how to do emergency repairs. She mixed up some epoxy and put fiberglass patches on each side.”
“How do you think the punctures were made?”
“It looked to me like they were made with a knife.”
“Not a hatchet?”
“No, I don’t think so. The holes, they weren’t that long, you know like the blade of a hatchet.” He paused. “But in some ways a hatchet would make sense.”
“Why?” Ray asked.
“The holes, they just had that shape.”
“So, who had a knife?”
“We all did, it was a required piece of equipment, but they were mostly little, like Swiss Army knives.”
“Do you ever remember seeing anyone with a large knife?”
“A couple of the guys had some survival knives, like the kind the Special Forces carry, the ones with black blades. I remember that because we got in trouble with Ms. Allen.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Early in the trip, maybe the first night, some of the guys were having a knife-throwing contest. They were using a tree as a target. And they were using those knives. The big ones.”
“So, what was the trouble?”
“When Ms. Allen caught us at it, she pointed out we were hurting the tree. Making it more susceptible to disease.”
“The knives, do you remember who had the large knives?”
“Sheriff, that was three years ago. I don’t remember. And I didn’t really know those guys. They were seniors. They didn’t live in my house.”
Ray pulled a sheet out of the folder and passed it to Billy.
“Look at the list Billy, your name is on it with the rest of the students who were on the trip.”
“Yeah,” he peered at the list, “I sorta remember them.”
“Which ones?” Ray pressed.
“I think it was these two,” he pointed to two names. “Denton Freeler and Jay Hanson. And they were the guys that started the hard-on thing. They said other stuff, too.”
“Like?”
Billy stopped and looked over at Sarah James.
“It’s okay, Billy, tell the sheriff everything,” she said.
“They said it was too bad they weren’t in the sleeping bag.”
“Anything else?”
“No, I don’t think so. I just didn’t like those bastards. They were always acting tough and weird. I was sort of afraid of them.”
Everyone sat quietly.
“You don’t recall anything else?” Ray asked again.
“Not that I can think of.”
“Here’s my number,” said Ray, handing Billy his card. “You can call me or send me an e-mail if something comes to mind that you think I should know.”
“Sure,” said Billy, picking up the card and studying it carefully.
Then he looked up. “Can I go now?”
“Yes,” Ray said.
Billy pushed his chair back from the table, pulled himself to his feet, and shuffled to the doorway. He drew the door open a few inches, stopped, and turned toward Ray. “I hope you get the fucker who did this.” He closed the door quietly as he departed.
31
Ian Warrington confronted Ray and Sarah in the hall as they headed toward the main entrance. Ian opened his office door and directed them in, taking Sarah by the upper arm and pulling her through the door. Ray saw the anger in Warrington’s face and Sarah’s surprise at being handled in such a rough fashion. “What the hell were you two doing? I just encountered Billy Wylder,” Warrington demanded. Ray noted the normally calm Warrington appeared almost out of control. Ray started to answer, but was cut off by Sarah.
“Don’t ever touch me like that again,” she said, her voice filled with anger.
Ray stepped between them. “I think we all better sit down and have a talk,” he said in a commanding voice as he pulled two other chairs close to the first.
“Well, who goes first?” asked Warrington in a hostile tone.
Ray took the lead, “In the course of our investigation of Ms. Allen’s death, an incident that happened three years has come to our attention.”
“What incident?” demanded Warrington.
“It has to do with a trip she took with her wilderness adventure class.”
“Oh, the sleeping bag thing,” Warrington interrupted, “that’s old news. I don’t see what that would have to do with anything. And to inflict further psychological pain on a child, well that’s… ” He stopped and looked at Ray, his face flushed. “Well, we’ve been hosts too long to your incompetent investigation. I’m contacting our lawyer. We’re going to get you off this campus. And you’re not going to talk to anyone here without first talking to our lawyer and jumping all the legal hoops. And,” he continued, looking directly at Sarah, “every member of the staff is going to be instructed not to talk to you without first clearing it with me.”
Ray sat quietly, considering whether or not he should explain the statutes under which his department was operating in the course of this investigation. But, before he could respond, Sarah said, “Ian, you’re being silly.”
“Silly, hell,” he exclaimed. “Among other things, I am responsible for the legal rights of our students, in loco parentis. I’m not going to have our students interrogated without proper counsel. And given the fact that this poor child is still a minor… ”
“Sir, I was talking to Billy because he might have information that might lead us to the person responsible for these murders. This was an interview, not an interrogation. Billy is not suspected of anything. Ms. James’ presence provided a non-police adult witness to the conversation, standard procedure when an officer is interviewing a minor. If it had been anything more than that, I assure you I would have been the first one to make sure that Billy’s rights were protected.”
“
And I tried involve you,” said Sarah, “but you were nowhere to be found. I was with Billy during this interview and enabling this conversation clearly falls within my administrative responsibilities.”
“We’ll see about that,” Warrington shot back. “In fact, I think you should leave so I can talk to the sheriff.” Sarah looked over at Ray who nodded; she rose and quietly departed.
“Now, tell me exactly what Billy told you,” Warrington demanded. “I know you’ve already asked for the names and addresses of students who were on that trip. Helen told me. At the time I did a complete investigation of that incident to ensure that nothing like it would ever happen again.” He paused; his tone became conciliatory. “Right from the beginning of this whole tragic situation, I’ve given you my complete cooperation and allowed you total access to Leiston. But I feel that you haven’t been completely open with me or extended to me the same cooperation I’ve given you.”
Ray said nothing for a long while, as he studied Warrington’s face. Then he said, “I need to go over a few things again.”
“Like what?” Warrington asked, his anger palpable.
“Ashleigh’s kayak. That’s what I was asking Billy about.”
“What about her kayak?”
“Did you know that it had been vandalized?”
“When?”
“On that trip.”
“What do you mean, vandalized?”
“Someone hacked several large holes in the hull. She had to repair the boat before they could continue.” Ray watched the anger drain out of Warrington. He looked stunned.
“I never heard that. There was no incident report on that. How do you know this?”
“I heard it from another student on the trip. I was meeting with young Mr. Wylder to confirm the story.” A silence followed as Warrington processed this information.
Finally Ray asked, “I would like you to tell me more about your relationship with Ashleigh Allen.”
“What more could there be to possibly tell?” Warrington shot back. “She was a wonderful young woman. Her death has left all of us with a profound sense of loss.”
“I’m interested in your personal relationship with Ms. Allen.”
“Our relationship,” he stopped, clearly considering his words before he continued, “our relationship was hardly personal. She was a member of the faculty, and I was her supervisor, nothing more.”
Ray waited to respond, holding Warrington in his gaze. “Mr. Warrington, several people have suggested that the two of you may have had something more than the usual relationship that exists between an employee and a supervisor.”
“Well, we did,” he responded, his tone changing. “Teaching is not a job, it’s a profession. My relationships with all the members of the faculty are collegial. We are a team, communication goes both ways. I pride myself on my capacity to share the governance of Leiston with my faculty.”
Ray listened attentively, but he didn’t respond.
“And in Ms. Allen’s case, she was so young, I perhaps mentored her more than other members of the staff. And I know a few of the old-timers felt that she was accorded some special consideration, which is a long way from the truth.”
“There’s been some suggestion that early on, your association with Ms. Allen exceeded the bounds of a normal professional relationship.”
“Oh, so it’s that. Not true, just not true.” Warrington reddened. “There are a few people around here who have been enormously unhappy with changes I’ve made. They’ve been trying to defame me right from the beginning. And since they can’t successfully attack my leadership—I’ve made this school financially viable and saved their jobs—they’re going after me personally.”
“Organizational politics are always difficult,” Ray agreed, his tone softening. “But I didn’t just hear this from the inside. You and Ms. Allen were seen in community together and under circumstances that would raise questions about the nature of your relationship.”
Warrington pulled off his glasses and, holding them in his left hand, slowly rubbed his eyes. “Well, yes, we had a very brief affair. It wasn’t something I had initiated, not something I ever would have done, but it happened.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“I’m waiting.”
“It was little more than a flirtation that went too far.”
“When were you two involved, how long did the relationship last, when was it ended, and under what conditions?”
“It was Ashleigh’s first year. I was developing new curriculum for the school and Ashleigh played a major role in developing the program. I presented the curriculum to our board at a winter meeting in Chicago. I brought Ashleigh along to help with the presentation. I also wanted board members to meet her because she embodied the future of this school. The program was well received; we were highly complimented on what we had accomplished in a short amount of time. That evening several members of the board took us to dinner: we both had a bit too much wine with dinner. And when we got back to the Palmer House, well, it just happened. A one-night stand.”
“But it was more than that, wasn’t it?”
“Well, yes, but not much more.” He paused, inhaled deeply, and continued. “Helen and I have been together a long time and, sadly, there hasn’t been much… ardor… in recent years. Ashleigh rekindled old feelings.” Warrington’s gaze wandered for a moment, then he looked back at Ray. “I never thought I’d be in love again. And for that brief moment—it was only a matter of weeks before I had to admit to myself how silly I was being—it was quite wonderful. But once that realization hit, I ended the affair immediately.”
“And Ashleigh was okay with that?”
“Yes, she agreed that it was the only possible decision.”
“And seeing her with other men, that didn’t engender some feelings of jealousy?”
“No, sheriff, I was over her very quickly. And over the next several years I think our relationship had matured nicely to one of admiration and mutual respect.”
Ray rose to leave. Warrington came to his feet and extended his hand. “Please forgive my earlier behavior, I don’t know what came over me. I thought I had my temper under control.”
Ray took his hand briefly.
“I hope we can continue to work cooperatively,” offered Warrington.
“That would be good,” Ray said.
32
By late afternoon Ray had completed keying his notes from his conversation with Billy Wylder. He saved them in the case file and forwarded a copy to Sue Lawrence with a memo asking her to see what she could find out about Denton Freeler and Jay Hanson. As he waited for Rod Tessler, Leiston’s psychologist, he worked on sorting the papers that had accumulated in his inbox into four piles in order of importance. Ray had known Rod Tessler from the time he was in elementary school. Rod was ten years his senior and his sister, Amy, was in Ray’s class. Rod was a source of pride in the village. He was a handsome, affable kid, a brilliant student, and the first all-state Class D quarterback in the history of Pioneer Consolidated High.
Thirty-some years later, when Rod retired to Cedar Bay after spending his professional life as a psychologist in L.A., he moved into the family home, a century-old farmhouse that his greatgrandfather built. It had been standing vacant for some years. His younger brother, Todd, who still operated the farm and orchards, had built a new residence at the top of a nearby bluff, a view home overlooking Tessler Orchards and the bay.
“Thank you for coming by,” said Ray, feeling the muscular grip of Tessler’s hand.
“Happy to help, sheriff,” he responded.
Ray guided Tessler into the break room. “Coffee?” he asked.
“Too late in the day. I’ll try some of this herbal tea.”
Ray poured himself some black coffee and waited as Tesssler added several packages of sugar to his cup and squeezed a tea bag.
“How’s Amy doing?” Ray asked after they were s
ettled in his office. “I haven’t seen her since our last class reunion.”
Tessler sat across from him. “Pretty well. You know she lost her husband last winter, cancer.”
“Yes, I heard that,” Ray responded.
“She was up here in August. Two kids are in college, the baby is a senior in high school. She’s busy with her law practice. And as you probably remember, she’s a real strong person, but it will take some time for her to accept Herb’s death.” He paused briefly, lifted a baseball cap with a maize block M on the front, and ran his hand over a completely bald-head, pulling the hat back into position by the bill. “On the phone you said you wanted to talk about Leiston.”
“Yes,” said Ray. “I understand you’re the school psychologist.”
“Well, I’ve been the school’s part-time psychologist for the past year or so. I’d really planned to retire, but this came along and I can use the extra cash. Normally I’m there about fifteen hours a week, more if needed. Since the murders, I’ve been working every day, even Saturdays.”
“I imagine this has been very difficult for some of the students,” Ray said.
“Yes, terribly difficult. This is the first time most of these kids have ever confronted death, especially the death of someone who is near them in age.” He held Ray in his gaze. “You know, it’s not like a great-grandmother dying, something natural and expected. And the fact that she was murdered makes it so much worse.”
Ray nodded his understanding.
“Many of them, especially the juniors and seniors, have a long history with Ms. Allen. They are just devastated. Some of the students are very open in their grief, some are not. I guess I worry more about the less verbal ones.
“And you know, the grief thing,” Tessler continued, “it’s not my specialty, I spent most of my career treating adolescent felons. So, I called a former colleague in California, a woman who works exclusively in this area. She gave me some sound advice on how to proceed and e-mailed a stack of articles.”
Ray Elkins mystery - 02 - Color Tour Page 17