Schooled in Death

by Kate Flora

  The Norrises were gathering their things when Gareth’s phone rang. He listened, and despite his best efforts to keep emotion off his face, I could see that he was getting more bad news. Seriously bad news. My thoughts were running toward the over-eager DA looking to arrest the sleeping Heidi when he sighed and said, “All right, then. Send him in.”

  Turning to the Norrises, he said, “Mr. Basham is here. What would you like—”

  That was as far as he got before the door banged open and Heidi’s father hobbled in. He was on crutches, with one leg in a cast, and a bandage on his forehead. He hopped and thumped across the room until he was within striking distance of The General.

  “Fuck you very much, Bradley,” he said. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

  Six

  I had a brief vision of two rutting elks, antlers lowered, pawing the ground, as the two of them faced off. Norris was tall and trim and looked like he could hold his own in a fight. Basham was about the same height, but broader, and even with the handicap of crutches and only one working leg, looked like he’d never backed down from fight and wasn’t planning to back away from this one.

  From the couch, Heidi’s mother watched with the ugly fascination of a woman who loves a good fight, especially if it’s over her.

  This was one sick bunch of people. Not a soul in the room who seemed to be there for Heidi, and a lot of people who were there for themselves. Except for Gareth. No wonder she’d wanted to get away from all that and into a community that was responsible and caring. Under the guidance of this team, a troubled, neglected, and vulnerable fifteen-year-old could easily have fallen prey to something. Someone. Who that someone was we still weren’t getting any handle on, and it didn’t look like any of these so-called adults were going to help with that.

  I was relieved when Gareth stepped between them before one of the crutches became a weapon.

  “Who told you?” General Norris demanded.

  “Who didn’t?” Basham said. “Lorena’s sister. Heidi’s roommate. Heidi’s friend Ronnie. There may have been others.” He turned his back on the Norrises and faced Gareth. “But you didn’t call me. Why was that? Did these weasels pay you extra to keep my daughter’s life a secret?”

  “I didn’t have your correct contact information in my files.” Gareth remained standing between the two of them. “Apparently, neither you nor Mrs. Norris provided it. I would be happy to update you with everything we currently know. I believe General and Mrs. Norris were just leaving?”

  “But I haven’t seen my daughter yet,” she protested, forgetting she’d just opted for heading to the inn and checking in. Forgetting that she’d just been told that Heidi was still asleep.

  “Really, Lorena?” Basham said. “It’s nearly five p.m. Your plane landed at two. What were you doing all this time?”

  “That is none of your business, Ted. But since you’ve asked, Dr. Wilson told us that Heidi was sleeping. We’ve been discussing the situation while we’re waiting for her to wake up.”

  “Sleeping for hours in the middle of the day? That doesn’t sound like Heidi.”

  “She just gave birth,” Gareth reminded him. “The circumstances are traumatic. The doctor prescribed a sedative.”

  “A lot you care, Ted. When is the last time you were in touch with our daughter?” Mrs. Norris was standing now, her hands on her hips, looking ever more like a defiant child.

  “Last night, Lorena. She was feeling tired and crampy and thought she might be getting her period. She said it had been irregular lately. What about you? When did you last talk to her?”

  Lorena Norris joined her husband in studying the encroaching darkness outside the window.

  “This isn’t helpful,” Gareth said. “You are all here about Heidi, so let’s focus on that. Whatever personal difficulties there are among you, I hope you’ll set those aside to help your daughter through this difficult time.”

  Lorena Norris tossed her hair and didn’t reply.

  The General muttered, “She’s not my daughter.”

  Ted Basham said, “Sure.”

  Someone recently suggested that my next career move ought to be to become headmistress of an independent school. It only took a couple scenes like this to remind me that I’m never going to be temperamentally suited to the job. This was just an extreme version of what Gareth dealt with day in and day out. Lately, I’d been leaning toward law school, when I wasn’t contemplating becoming a hermit. Human behavior all too frequently leaves me disappointed about the fate of the human race. I was going to have to do some attitude readjusting before little M, or O, or C arrived.

  Basham returned to the bone he’d been chewing. “Last month, Lorena? Last year? Oh, excuse me. I forgot. She was just home for March break. She was just fucking home a month ago with you two and neither of you noticed she was pregnant? How in the hell could THAT happen? Did you ever even look at her? Take her shopping for some spring clothes, just in case spring ever comes to New England? What about wrapping your fuckin’ arms around her? I’ll bet my bottom dollar—the only one I’ve got left since you took me to the cleaners—that you never even touched our poor child. You only wanted frigging custody so you would get the support check. You’ve never given a damn about Heidi and you know it.”

  “I was busy, Ted. Bradley and I—”

  He mimicked ‘Bradley and I’ with a twisted mouth. “Busy? You hadn’t seen her in months, Lorena, and you were too busy to pay attention to your only child? Too busy doing what? What did she do for that two weeks? For the two weeks that you refused to let her spend with me?”

  He smacked his crutch down hard. “I would have put my arms around her.”

  He crutched over to her, getting right into her space. The General moved to protect his wife.

  “That is quite enough from all of you,” Gareth said quietly. When you want to be heard, they say, whisper.

  “Thea, if you would take the General and Mrs. Norris across the hall to the lounge, and finish the conversation about Heidi, I’d be very grateful.”

  His gesture toward the door was all authority, and they went. I thought they were supposed to be leaving, but maybe Gareth thought their being upset might have loosened their tongues. Upset or lubricated with Scotch. And we did have information we wanted from them.

  I followed them into a comfortable and quiet lounge, saw them settled in chairs, and asked if I could get them anything. Unsurprisingly, they both opted for more Scotch. I slipped back into Gareth’s office, made them fresh drinks, and went to work.

  Now I had new information, or at least a new door that had been opened.

  I settled into a chair with my pad and pen. “Since that’s when the baby was likely conceived, let’s talk about Heidi last summer. Can either of you recall any time last summer when Heidi was missing for a night? Or came home impaired or intoxicated? Any time when she seemed upset or withdrawn?” A question Gareth had already asked, but I wanted to try again.

  They hadn’t.

  “Did Heidi spend much time out of the house?” Babies, after all, could be conceived at any hour of the day.

  The General shrugged.

  Mrs. Norris said, “She was too young to have a job, so she was doing volunteer work with kids at a day camp down at the elementary school.”

  “What kind of work?”

  “Some ecology thing,” she said. “They had these raised bed gardens that they’d made and were growing flowers and vegetables. She was quite excited about it. Heidi loves gardening. It’s one reason she came here.”

  This was the first time her mother had demonstrated any knowledge of her daughter’s life.

  “Tell me more about that. Who was she working with? Did she have friends there? Counselors or teachers she was close to?”

  “She never talked about that. She only spoke about the children. How excited they were when their plants started to grow. When one of their tomatoes turned red, she was over the moon.”

  “So
, no supervisors or other teachers she spent time with outside of work?”

  Mrs. Norris shook her head. Her husband was staring into space, appearing indifferent to the conversation, utterly still except for one agitated foot.

  “Can you give me a sense of her personality?”

  “She’s quiet,” Mrs. Norris said.

  “She’s very chatty,” The General said.

  I smiled. “She’s more talkative with you, General, than with her mother?”

  “No,” Mrs. Norris said.

  “Yes,” The General said. “Always clattering around the house, listening to music or looking for something to eat.”

  In short, a teenager. “Generally quiet, occasionally talkative?” I pretended to make a note. “Was Heidi with you all summer? She didn’t spend time with her father?”

  “She was with him for two weeks, the end of July,” she said. “It’s part of our divorce agreement.”

  “About four days in mid-July,” he said.

  Did two weeks seem like four days to him because he wanted Heidi gone? Was she exaggerating or trying to shift the window of conception to when Heidi was with her father? Did these two even live on the same planet? A former classmate who does domestic relations law told me that often the couples she deals with don’t appear to have even met, never mind been married to each other, but these two were newlyweds.

  “Where does Mr. Basham live?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “He moves around a lot. Traveling for work, all of that.”

  I waited.

  “New York.”

  “Who were Heidi’s close friends when she lived at home?”

  “Why does any of this matter?” she said. She’d swilled down what I thought was her third drink and I could tell she wanted to ask for another.

  Gareth had already answered that, but I gave it another try. “I know it’s confusing, so here’s why we’re asking for all these details about Heidi. Because one thing we’re trying to do here is protect your daughter. I don’t think any of us want Heidi to go to jail, do we? Verifying her story, and showing that she’s not a liar, is essential. Obviously, part of protecting her involves getting as much information as we can about the circumstances of your granddaughter’s conception.”

  The General moved his body in a way that, in a woman, would have been a flounce. I didn’t have a word in my vocabulary for a man-flounce.

  She opened her mouth to voice an objection when I used the word “granddaughter,” even though that was what the little girl undeniably was. I didn’t give her a chance. “Yes, we expect the police will ask the same questions, but we’re going to be a more sympathetic audience, and can help to shape her story, to explain why a girl who believes she’s never had sex has just given birth.” I smiled sympathetically. “Those of us who care about Heidi are focused on supporting and protecting her; the police will be focusing on criminal behavior. They may not be kind and we’d like to prepare her for that.”

  Again, she was going to say something. No doubt a harsh comment about Heidi and sex. Again, I cut her off. I didn’t want to hear it. She could go to her hotel and say any bad thing she wanted to say about her daughter to her husband. He was far more likely than Gareth or I to be a sympathetic audience. “Also, of course, the therapist who is seeing her will need background, so going over it ahead of time will save you time and money—”

  She gave a vehement shake of her head, and her hair flew back, revealing large diamond studs. “You’re not expecting us to pay for that?” she said. “For her therapy?”

  The short answer was yes, but I could leave the harsh financial realities for Gareth. “I think, after you’ve seen your daughter, you’ll understand helping her through this isn’t a short-term thing.”

  Now she flounced, which was ridiculous behavior in a woman her age, which I assumed to be mid-forties. Almost as ridiculous as The General’s flounce. An expert who read body language would be having a field day, but these flounces, sighs, glares, folded arms, and rude silences? They’re all wasted on me. “Now, her friends?”

  “I don’t understand why we’re talking to you. Why we’ve gotten shuttled off to some second-string official while Dr. Wilson talks with Ted.”

  “You’ve already had more than an hour of Dr. Wilson’s time,” I reminded her. “And I’m sure in the days ahead you’ll get as much as you need. However, Ted is Heidi’s father, and at the moment, he’s quite upset.”

  “I don’t see why I have to be here,” The General said. “Lorena can answer your questions.”

  Mrs. Norris gave him a withering look and he went back to staring into empty space.

  Then why didn’t you just stay home? I barely caught the words before they escaped. I don’t see, I don’t understand, I don’t want. Honestly, could they be any more negative? I wanted to knock their heads together. After the many things I’ve dealt with, working with private schools, combined with their indifference to Heidi, I wasn’t too sympathetic with their narcissism. Not with a child they had not yet seen lying in the infirmary, dealing with the traumatic aftermath of childbirth. Not with my dad in the hospital in I didn’t know what condition. I was doing my job, trying to help Simmons—and Heidi—deal with this situation. And they weren’t helping. Not the school, not their daughter, not themselves. This would not go away just because she wanted it to, no matter how much she and her husband drank. And try as she might, she couldn’t, as I suspected she hoped to do, drop it in Gareth’s lap and hightail it back to the other coast.

  Still, I used my softest tone as I continued, “It would be very helpful to us if you could—”

  She gave a long and very put-upon sigh. “I really don’t know who her friends were, Ms. Kozak. Heidi didn’t like to bring people home. She said our place was sterile and unpleasant and that we were always drinking and it embarrassed her. As though adults aren’t allowed to live their own lives in their own homes. She wasn’t always like that, of course. She was a very sweet little girl. I understand that teenage girls always behave impossibly toward their mothers, and Heidi was no exception.”

  That’s right, I thought, lay the blame on your difficult child. She didn’t seem to grasp that the operative word here was “child.”

  Heidi hadn’t been old enough to drive. Most of her comings and goings would either have involved being driven by her mother or a friend’s mother, or walking or taking a bus or a taxi. Or Uber. Lyft. I always forget about these new ride services. They don’t operate around rural Maine.

  The simple fact was that Lorena Norris would have had to work at not knowing what her daughter was up to. And if she was telling the truth, we weren’t looking at an angry, estranged teen who spent the majority of her time away from her family because she was acting out. We were looking at a sad child who had been replaced in her mother’s affections and forcibly separated from a father she loved.

  I would circle back to the question about friends. For now, I moved on. “What about teams or clubs at school, or organizations she belonged to? There would have been people there who knew her.”

  “She wasn’t much of a joiner. There was a radio station, and she worked there for a time, and of course there was her guitar teacher. I don’t remember his name, but I can look it up when I get home. Charlie something. I think he was the only thing she was sad about leaving when she came to Simmons, even though they assured her she could continue her lessons here.”

  The General cleared his throat and said, “Not Charlie. William,” and she shot him a look.

  I made a note. A male music teacher she was very attached to was a possibility. Someone she was alone with for long periods of time, and could be certain that her mother wasn’t paying attention. A mother who likely wrote the man regular checks and couldn’t even remember his name.

  “Did you ever get the sense she might be getting too attached to him?”

  “He was in his fifties, Ms. Kozak.”

  As though that answered everything. As though a man in
his fifties was too old to hold a young teen’s interest or to be a seducer. “What about colleagues at the radio station? Or an advisor?”

  Lorena Norris shrugged. “I really don’t know.”

  “Best girlfriend?”

  “Stephanie Smirnoff, across the street. They’ve been pals since kindergarten. But Stephanie’s gone off to boarding school, too, and I have no idea how to get in touch with her.”

  “You could contact her parents and ask, couldn’t you?” I said.

  I made a real note this time. Two young girls, close friends, who both decide to go to boarding school at the same time. Did it mean anything?

  She cast a quick glance at her husband. “Stephanie’s mother and The General…they didn’t…don’t really get along. I’d prefer not to stir things up.”

  I couldn’t see how trying to locate a friend of Heidi’s would stir things up between the neighbor and her husband, and where Heidi was concerned, things were already stirred up. Maybe she’d feel differently after she’d seen her daughter. Maybe all of this was just an attempt to protect herself, or to give herself time to process what had happened. It would be a huge shock to any parent, and she had just had to throw some things into a suitcase and fly here from the West Coast. Tomorrow morning, when she was rested, she might be more forthcoming. Or she might have had more time to formulate her lies.

  Was I becoming too cynical, or just less naïve about human behavior? Recently, someone had accused me of “acting like a cop.” I didn’t think it was true, but there were days when I wished I had some authority behind me that could persuade people to answer my questions honestly.

  “Don’t talk about me like I’m not right here, Lorena,” he said. “Nina Smirnoff is a nosy, interfering bitch who had the audacity to lecture me about my relationship with my own stepdaughter. But look, if you think it will help Heidi, go ahead. Call her. Get a phone number for Stephanie. Or give Ms. Kozak Nina’s number and she can track down Stephanie. I’m sure we can leave that in Ms. Kozak’s capable hands.”