Schooled in Death
Page 6
Mrs. Norris looked like she didn’t remember any of this. In any case, she didn’t acknowledge his comment. She rose from the couch, her hand still flapping against her chest. “I am absolutely not that baby’s grandmother. I am too young to be a grandmother.”
“And Heidi is far too young to be a mother. But unfortunately, it has happened.” He reached for his phone. “Would you like me to check and see if she’s awake yet? I know you’re anxious to see her.”
The woman who had disrupted a meeting and, in front of the entire student body, expressed outrage at being kept from her daughter, and who had demanded to see her daughter immediately, now sank back down on the couch and picked up her glass. “I’d like to finish my drink first. I’m afraid I’m a bit shaken by all of this.”
Not that the observing eye could see. But perhaps I was being unkind.
Her husband had helped himself to a second, more generous dose of Scotch and now stood staring out the window, his back to the room.
I didn’t have the patience to wait them out. Gareth could do that for both of us. I was about to suggest that I leave them and go return some phone calls when his secretary came in.
“Excuse me for interrupting, but there’s an urgent call from her office for Ms. Kozak.”
Magda. My breath caught as I imagined what that urgent call might be, but I tried to stay calm as I excused myself and walked to the door, dreading what I might learn. I even took a moment to reassure Gareth that I would be right back. He clearly didn’t want to be left alone with them.
I was very grateful to be getting out of this room. It had all the tension, and none of the charm, of drinks at an English house party where some of the guests had guilty secrets. I half expected the cast of Downton Abbey to join us. We could have used some of Maggie Smith’s snippy remarks.
The General turned and stared at me with his dark hawk’s eyes as Gareth said, “You can take it in the office next door.”
I excused myself and left.
“Thea, how are things going there?” Magda asked when I picked up. “What is their problem?”
It was the perfect question in more ways than she could imagine. “Young teen who gave birth in the bathroom, dumped the baby in the trash, and now claims she’s never had sex and couldn’t have been pregnant.”
“Terrible” she said. “Is the baby okay?”
“She’s a preemie, but she seems to be doing fine.”
“And the girl? The baby who had this baby?” Dour as she was, Magda was also very maternal. She was so over the moon about my prospective baby, I’d probably have to name her Claudine Magda if we had a girl. It sounded good and solid.
“We’re still figuring that out.” But I couldn’t wait any longer. “Magda, why did you call me? Have you learned anything about what my mother’s emergency is?”
I held my breath as I waited for her answer.
“It’s your father,” she said. “All I could get from your mother was that he’s had a heart attack, and then she hung up on me.” She drew in a breath, uncomfortable with having to give me bad news. “Then I tried your brother, but he wasn’t answering, so I started calling hospitals. All I could learn was which hospital he is in. I’m sorry, but you know how they are. They will not give out any information about a patient to someone who is not a family member. And though I’ve tried, I cannot reach anyone in your family to get more information.” She paused. “I am so sorry, Thea.”
“Which hospital?”
I had my notepad open, ready for the information. She gave me the name of a Massachusetts South Shore hospital and I wrote it down, wishing my mother had taken him to one of the Boston hospitals. We can all be such medical snobs.
I was going through the motions of being efficient and professional. I wanted to scream and pound on something. I was having some trouble breathing, and thinking none of this was good for little MOC.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll call them right now. How is everything there today?”
“The usual,” she said. “We need more help. You and Suzanne are too busy to hire anyone. And your secretary…” She stopped. I already knew her opinion of my new secretary. “If you don’t get to it soon, I’ll hire some help.” Before I could authorize her to do so, though it was more of a threat than a promise, she changed the subject. “Will you be coming back tonight or do you need that hotel information?”
“Hotel,” I said. It was clear that I wouldn’t be coming home tonight. Home was a word—and a goal—that seemed to get farther away instead of closer. I’d temporarily abandoned my real estate search after a house hunting disaster, but I longed for a place to settle down. I didn’t want to bring this baby home to a tired rental apartment. But that was for the future. Right now, I needed to figure out where I’d be sleeping tonight.
Magda gave me a number and an address for The Caleb Strong Inn and I wrote them down. “I told them you might be late,” she said. “Reviews say it’s the best place around. Also, it’s supposed to have a good breakfast. That’s one reason I picked it. And I say that because I want you to eat breakfast. You know how you are, and it is not good for our baby.”
Our baby. Well, I suppose it would be. At least my baby had people claiming it.
I tried the hospital number, inquired about my dad, and got the information that he’d been admitted. That put my anxiety through the roof. I had to get out of here. I had to go there. I had work to do here before I could leave. I tried the nursing station on his floor, where the phone rang without being picked up. When it was finally answered, I was put on hold and then disconnected. I tried again and got no answer. I guessed they were insanely busy. Hospitals often were. I would try again later. I squeezed my fists in frustration, then forced them to uncurl, reminding myself to breathe. Babies liked it when their mothers breathed.
I took another quick minute to call Andre and let him know that I wouldn’t be home, and share the news about my father’s heart attack. Then it was time to get back to Gareth and see what was happening.
They were still in his office. Still drinking. There was no sign of all that urgency to visit Heidi. I still hadn’t met the girl, but I already felt very sorry for her. There was an expectancy in the air, like Gareth had asked a question and was waiting for an answer that wasn’t forthcoming. Maybe he’d asked about Heidi’s summer, trying to figure out what had happened. That was something I didn’t want to miss, even though I wasn’t optimistic that he’d learn very much.
I entered quietly and slipped back into my chair. No one looked at me. The General was back to staring out the window, and Lorena was busily dosing herself with more medicinal alcohol.
“Mrs. Norris,” Gareth said, in the patient tones of someone questioning a confused person, “what about a boyfriend?”
“Heidi? A boyfriend? You’re joking, Dr. Wilson. Have you seen my daughter?”
I hadn’t seen her daughter, but Gareth’s description hadn’t been unflattering, and anyway, weren’t parents supposed to love their children and find them beautiful, regardless? Besides, for a predator, Heidi’s youth and innocence might have been all that mattered. Heidi’s mother was reminding me way too much of my own. Another self-centered woman who couldn’t be pleased. Who couldn’t see her daughter for what she was. Maybe Heidi’s decision to come to Simmons had partly been recognition that since she could never win with her mother, she needed to find a place where she could make a life of her own. If so, she was wise for one so young. I’d beaten my head against that wall for years.
I reeled in my speculations. I was jumping to conclusions far too quickly when I was supposed to keep an open mind. Perhaps, giving her the benefit of the doubt, this was all the product of shock.
“I have,” Gareth said. “She’s a lovely girl.” He let that go a couple beats, but Heidi’s mother seemed oblivious to the message. “Somehow, Mrs. Norris, your daughter got pregnant.”
“In the usual way, I presume,” she said.
“But you said she didn�
��t have a boyfriend.” He hesitated a moment, and asked an inflammatory question. “When you say she didn’t have a boyfriend, did you mean Heidi was casual about boys? Engaged in what today’s young people call ‘hooking up?’”
“Of course not, Headmaster. She didn’t date and she didn’t hang out with boys. I’m offended you’d suggest such a thing.”
Her tone was pure acid, but Gareth didn’t back down. “What about a friend who was a boy?”
Lorena Norris shook her head.
“What about any parties where something might have happened? Do you remember Heidi going to any parties last July or August?”
She shook her head. “She’s not exactly a social butterfly.”
“Nights when she didn’t come home?”
Another shake.
“Came home late? What about coming back impaired or confused?”
Mrs. Norris had seen nothing. Based on her knowledge of her daughter, or what she was sharing at any rate, this must have been an immaculate conception.
“Did you notice any withdrawn or troubling behavior? Loss of appetite? Moodiness? Difficulty sleeping?”
“Gad, Headmaster,” she said, “you sound like a pediatrician. Heidi was fine. The only problem she was having was that she’d decided she didn’t want to go back to her school this year. She didn’t feel like she fit in and wanted a change of scene. I think that’s how she put it. She said she’d read about Simmons and it sounded perfect. All greeny and crunchy granola.”
The ice in her glass clinked. “She was having some trouble adjusting to our marriage. She and The General rub each other the wrong way.”
“Is she your only child?”
Mrs. Norris nodded.
“What about her father? Is he in the picture?”
“I should hope not.”
I leaned forward, curious about how this would go.
Gareth raised an eyebrow. “Can you elaborate?”
She and her husband exchanged the networking signals of people making sure they’re on the same page with their lies. I may be a consultant, not a shrink or a cop, but I’ve observed and evaluated plenty of people who don’t plan to tell the truth. There’s a way people arrange themselves when they’re going to lie—the amateurs, anyway. There’s a lot of lore about looking up to the right or to the left, but it’s more of a whole body thing. In my humble opinion, anyway.
“What difference does it make?” she said. “He’s not here, is he? And we are. What difference does any of this make? She made a mistake. She’s obviously going to pay for it. How it happened doesn’t matter now.”
Heidi had been only fifteen.
I wanted to shake the woman until her teeth rattled. She seemed so indifferent to the situation her awfully young daughter was in, despite having flown all the way across the country to get here. Despite having made such a show of demanding to see her daughter. I was beginning to wonder what she wanted to see? Just eyeball the girl to establish that she was still alive? Or was it that she and The General planned to recruit Heidi into some campaign of lies because there were things they wanted to hide?
Did she really not understand that somehow her daughter had gotten pregnant at fifteen and that the circumstances were important, or did that not matter to her? Did she have no ideas—or curiosity—how a girl without a boyfriend whose mother thought her too unappealing to attract one had gotten pregnant? Wasn’t she concerned about why Heidi claimed never to have had sex or been pregnant?
I was doing it again—the thing my cop husband cautions me about—letting my speculation get ahead of the facts. Of course, we weren’t getting any facts, were we? I had to get focused. I shoved back my creeping exhaustion and my anxiety about my dad, nixed my overwhelming desire to crawl into clean sheets and sleep, and shifted my gaze to Gareth.
“I think it will matter very much, Mrs. Norris,” he said. “To this community. To the police. And to Heidi herself. You’ll understand better when you see her and get a sense of her condition. I was asking about her father, your ex-husband, because unless his parental rights have been terminated, or he’s deceased or otherwise unavailable—and we have nothing to our records to show that—we need to contact him about his daughter just as we contacted you. In our last conversation, you assured me you would contact him. Have you done that? Is he aware of Heidi’s situation?”
Lorena Norris stretched, like a cat just waking up, an indulgent move that signaled indifference to anything but herself. “He really doesn’t matter,” she said. She shook her head. “He’ll only complicate—”
Gareth, the world’s mildest man, looked like he wanted to hit her. “Mrs. Norris, you said you would contact him. Do I correctly infer that you have not?”
She smiled the smile of a woman used to being forgiven every transgression because she was so attractive, and didn’t answer.
“Well, if you haven’t, you need to confirm that we have his correct contact information so we can be in touch with him at once. When I looked at her records this morning, after we spoke, I found notes that we had contacted you multiple times because the information we have on file for Heidi’s father is incorrect, and that you indicated the information regarding her father would be forthcoming. It appears we never received it.”
What was perhaps a deliberate omission on her part would still look like Simmons being careless.
He poised his pen over the yellow pad on his desk. “If you could—”
Mrs. Norris’s chin lifted. “This really isn’t necessary. She doesn’t want anything to do with her father.”
Gareth’s normal calm was beginning to fray “I have no information to suggest that. While it may be the case, legally, he’s still her father. Unless his parental rights have been terminated. Have they?”
“No.” The word was spat out as though she wished they had. Ironic, since her own level of care and concern was far from parental.
“His name please, and how we can be in touch with him?”
She folded her arms defiantly and swung her body like a sulky child. “Tell him, Bradley. Make him understand.”
The General stepped behind the couch and put his hands on her shoulders, like he was her bodyguard. She was an extremely pretty woman, if a hard one, and had what looked like a lush body under her draperies. “We have a restraining order against Ted Basham, Dr. Wilson,” he said. “He has made no end of difficulties about our marriage and about my moving into the house. Into ‘his’ house, as he puts it. Lorena and I decided we’d had enough and got an attorney to assist us. If you call Ted Basham, you’ll be inviting a three-ring circus onto this campus. The man is nothing but a trouble maker.”
“I believe we have to.”
Of course they had to contact him, but to broker a temporary truce, I said, “Perhaps we should talk to Heidi and see what she wants. She might want to contact him herself.”
The General was staring daggers at me, which made me think that Heidi would want her father contacted, despite her having told Dr. Purcell that her father was too busy for her.
Mrs. Norris emptied her glass and stared sadly at the naked ice.
It was a dumb suggestion. Regardless of Heidi’s wishes, her father had to be contacted. Still, Gareth shrugged and picked up the phone. “I’ll see if she’s awake.”
He spoke quietly into the phone and then replaced it, turning to the Norrises with a look of regret. “I’m so sorry. She’s still asleep. I can take you over there, Mrs. Norris, and you can sit with her until she wakes up. Or I could go ahead and take you to my house, get you settled, and we can have the infirmary call you when she wakes.”
I read that as a question, but they didn’t respond until he said, “Which would you prefer?”
“We’ll drop our things and freshen up.”
“We have a lovely guest suite at the headmaster’s house, and my wife is looking forward to helping you get settled.”
“Thanks, but we’ve booked a room at a nice local place,” The General said. “The Cale
b Strong Inn. Looks like it’s just down the street. It got good reviews on Trip Advisor.”
So much for Gareth’s strategy of keeping them on campus and under his thumb. This couple didn’t seem like they’d be easy to keep under anyone’s thumb.
Gareth flinched, an almost imperceptible move, and I knew what he was thinking. There was no way to tell what this cold, entitled woman might say if someone shoved a mike in her face and asked about her daughter, but we could both bet that it would be something that wouldn’t help Heidi’s situation.
“We were so hoping you’d stay with us, where you could be close to her. At a time like this, a young girl really needs her mother.”
“She should have thought of that before…” But Lorena Norris never finished the sentence, because her loving spouse dug his fingers into her shoulders, a none-too-subtle message to shut up.
“Before you go,” Gareth said, “Mr. Basham’s contact information?”
She flounced with irritation, but set down her glass and dug through her purse. In the tones of a sulky teenager, she divulged the necessary information.
“And of course, we will need to finish our conversation at your earliest convenience,” Gareth said.
“What conversation?” The sulky teen again.
“About Heidi’s condition, and how it may have come about.”
She most desperately wanted to repeat her earlier answer—in the usual way—but his look stopped her. She sighed. “Very well, Headmaster. When we’ve gotten settled.”
I wanted to say, “Don’t let them go yet,” sure that once they were out of this room, our chances of getting any useful answers would diminish, but it was his show.
“I should tell you,” he said, “that Heidi has asked that her mother visit alone. In her current condition, she feels uncomfortable seeing General Norris. Dr. Purcell has given the infirmary staff instructions to that effect.”
Another conspiratorial glance between The General and his wife, but no other response. I couldn’t imagine the man cared, given his apparent indifference to his stepdaughter, but perhaps his peremptory sense of entitlement meant he couldn’t be told what to do. Maybe all that unspoken communication was because they had a plan to pressure Heidi about something. All we could do was hope they’d comply with Heidi’s wishes.