by Kate Flora
Whatever had happened, we needed security here now. I had no qualms about having Basham removed by force, if necessary, and I’d bet Gareth wouldn’t, either. Heidi’s family had caused enough disruption.
I slipped out to the hall and dialed Amad’s number.
“Security. This is Amad,” he said.
“It’s Thea. I’m in the assembly room and Ted Basham is here making a scene. What happened?” I tried hard not to yell.
“He is there?” Amad sounded astonished.
“You were supposed to be watching him.”
“I am so sorry, Miss Thea. I was called away by Chief Greenberg. He had some questions he wanted to ask me about that body in the picnic grove. He said he would have someone else take my place.”
I wondered if that someone had actually shown up or if Greenberg had even followed through. Was someone from security lying bludgeoned on the floor in Gareth’s guest wing or had Basham been left unguarded?
“We can figure out what happened later. Can you come right away, please, and bring someone to help you?”
“I am on my way,” he said.
I debated calling Chief Greenberg and alerting him about Basham’s escape. Instead, I put my phone away, wondering whether to go back inside or stay out here. We were lurching from crisis to crisis today like Frankenstein’s monster. Triaging what to do next was a challenge. Then I thought about Gareth’s wife and small children and the fact that they’d been left unprotected. I got the phone back out.
Greenberg’s “Hello,” was every bit as charming as I’d expected. “It’s Thea Kozak,” I said, “Gareth’s consultant. Mr. Basham is in the assembly hall, making a scene. Someone was supposed to be watching him at the headmaster’s house. I’m concerned that whoever that was, or Gareth’s family, might have suffered some harm.”
It took a lot of self-control to utter the nearly neutral “might have suffered some harm” when I wanted to scream at him to get over there and check things out.
His “Oh, shit, I forgot,” was far from reassuring.
“I have Amad and another of your men responding to the assembly hall,” I said. “Maybe you could have someone check on Mrs. Wilson and the children?”
“You have people responding?” he said. “Who made you the fucking boss around here?”
Yup. Charming. Deciding to leave musing about what the job of a “fucking boss” might entail for another day, I pushed the button that ended the call. True, it had been a hard few days here on the Simmons campus. The near death of a premature baby and the actual death of a stranger were definitely stressful to deal with. But as chief, it was his job to deal with these things and still keep the campus running. Evidently grace under pressure wasn’t in his skill set. No wonder Amad had been reluctant to share information with the man.
There was the commotion of heavy, hurrying feet and Amad and the man who had driven Gareth down to the picnic grove came into the hall. I gestured toward the central doors. “He’s just inside there. And be careful. He’s got his crutch.”
“We’re supposed to be worried about an old guy on crutches?” the other guard said.
Amad rolled his eyes and gave me a “see what I have to deal with?” look.
“The students are already upset, particularly those sitting near Mr. Basham. Please get him out of there with a minimum of disruption if you can.”
The guard, whose name tag read, “Lewiston,” headed toward the door without consulting Amad.
“Maybe you want to make a plan?” I told his retreating back.
Definitely the chief’s man. He didn’t slow, or turn, or show any sign he’d heard me.
“I should go and help him,” Amad said.
“You have pepper spray?” I said.
“Sure.” He patted his hip.
“Don’t be afraid to use it.”
Before he could get to the door, though, there was a roar, and a crash, and Lewiston nearly flew through the door. Right on his tail was Basham, flinging himself through the door, swinging his crutch wildly, losing his balance, and then weaving like a cartoon character before finally falling with a thump on his ass. The crutch landed a few feet away, and Amad quickly confiscated it.
Staring at Lewiston, who was bleeding from where Basham had whacked him with the crutch, and Basham himself sitting in stunned surprise on the floor, I wondered how any right-thinking parent could possibly consider sending a beloved child to this school, no matter how appealing its community values were.
“You have a car outside?” I asked.
Amad nodded.
I didn’t suppose they had a jail cell at the security office, but I couldn’t think where else they might take him. Definitely not back to Gareth’s house. Nor to his office. There wasn’t time to consult the chief. Any minute the students would come pouring out. “Can you take him back to the security office and keep an eye on him until the headmaster can deal with him?”
Lewiston looked dubious. “The chief doesn’t like…” he began.
I ran out of sweetness and light. “Never mind what the chief likes. This is an emergency, okay? Take him there now and tell Greenberg you’re to keep him there and wait for a call from Dr. Wilson.”
Amad handed me the crutch and bent to grab Basham’s arm. I glared at Lewiston, who seemed to be waiting for word from on high, until he grabbed the other arm and Basham was led away. I didn’t offer to follow with the crutch. Yes, I had probably overstepped my bounds, and no, I wasn’t sorry.
I heard a car door open and shut, then tire sounds as they drove away. I quickly stashed Basham’s crutch in a closet, and waited for the assembly to end.
Twenty-Seven
Soon the doors burst open and a flood of students poured out. It was a while before Gareth emerged, and when he did, he was surrounded by students still pelting him with questions. He held up his hand for silence, said, “I’ll meet you back at the office,” to me, and lowered his hand. It was like he was conducting an orchestra. When the hand came down, the student volume rose again until it filled the hall.
I retrieved the crutch and headed back to his office. The weather had shifted again, and the air that rolled toward me had softened, bringing with it the scents of spring. I walked slowly back to the Administration Building, watching a patch of blue sky and sun poke its way through the clouds. That touch of blue lifted my spirits a bit, as did a walk in the fresh spring air. I walked slowly, unwilling to have this peaceful solitude end. When I got to Gareth’s office, I would be plunged back into a morass of confusion and unanswered questions.
My phone buzzed as I walked. Hoping it was Andre, I pulled it out and checked the number. It was one I didn’t recognize, but it had a Massachusetts area code, so I answered.
“We’re in the headmaster’s office,” Miller said, “where the heck is he? Where are you?”
I guess no one was all sweetness and light today. “We’re on our way back from an assembly. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“Better be,” he muttered. “I’ve got a murder to investigate. Unless you’ve got something useful to share, I’ve got no time for this.”
Maybe I only imagined it, but I could almost hear him biting his tongue to hold back a string of obscenities. I couldn’t blame him. He had a ridiculous mess on his hands just like we did.
Reluctantly, I said goodbye to skies of blue and accelerated my pace, nearly decapitating an exiting student with the crutch as I flew through the door. I apologized and thumped my way up the stairs. I know crutches are supposed to be helpful devices, but right now, the one I was carrying was anything but. Sure. I know. We’re not supposed to be carrying them. Crutches are supposed to help carry us.
Miller and Flynn were perched on opposite couches, looking like they were vying for who was most miserable. Their feet were wet and muddy and their shoulders slumped with weariness. I looked at the food trolley. Not much. Two stale sandwiches, two cookies. The coffee pot was empty.
“I could ring for some coffe
e, if you’d like,” I offered.
“That would be great,” Flynn said.
Miller only grunted. He was staring at the crutch. “You hurt yourself?” he asked.
“It’s Ted Basham’s,” I said. “He was a bit inebriated and using it inappropriately, so I confiscated it.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there,” Flynn said.
“There is.” I parked the crutch and reached for Gareth’s phone. “Which I’ll tell right after I order some coffee,” I said. “It’s quite a story. Or part of a story. More in your line than mine.”
The way Miller shook his head, I wondered if he still suspected I was some kind of private detective. If so, he was going to be disappointed. I was just a tired and frustrated consultant who couldn’t get her work done because new emergencies, like the many heads of a hydra, kept cropping up.
Gareth’s assistant was happy to get coffee, and offered more cookies and sandwiches, to which I readily agreed. A steady diet of sandwiches would not be my first choice, but any food was better than no food. MOC agreed.
“And a pot of tea,” she said, “Gareth’s running himself ragged today.”
It was an excellent idea. A nice bracing cup of tea was just what Gareth needed. Or a couple nice bracing Scotches and a break in the action.
I dumped my briefcase on a chair and hung my coat on Gareth’s coatrack. I knew they were anxious to get whatever we had to offer and move on. I wasn’t sure that I should do that before Gareth joined us, but before I could decide, he rushed through the door, shutting it quickly behind him like he was being chased by something dangerous.
“Another reporter somehow sneaked onto campus,” he said, lurching for the phone. “I have to call Security.”
Miller tapped the notebook he was holding on his thigh and looked at Flynn. “Seems like we’re a pretty low priority around here,” he said.
As Gareth muttered, “Get someone over here now!” into the phone, I got out my phone and leaned toward the waiting detectives.
“The man who was murdered,” I began.
“Lt. Alexander Crosby,” Miller said. “You know him?”
I shook my head. “No. But Heidi knew him. He worked with her stepfather, General Norris. According to her friends, he’s one of the reasons she wanted to come to Simmons.”
Into the phone, Garth said, “No. No. Don’t bring him here, I don’t care what he says. Just hang onto him. I’ll deal with him when I’m done with my current emergency.” He put down the phone with a bit too much force and I guessed Chief Greenberg had been his usual pleasant self. I hoped, when things returned to normal, he’d be showing Greenberg the door.
“I should back up,” I said. “This morning, when we were talking with Heidi’s friends, they mentioned that there were a couple of young officers who worked for The General who were frequent visitors at the Norrises’ house. Heidi’s father referred to them as ‘Dee and Dum.’ Evidently, The General and these two men were in the habit of walking in on Heidi unannounced—her mother reportedly refused to let her have a lock on her door—and it was their intrusions on her privacy, in part, and her mother’s unwillingness to protect her, that fueled her decision to come to Simmons.”
“Interesting,” Flynn said, with a weary smile. “You don’t happen to have her hidden away somewhere, do you?”
“I don’t,” I said, “but the more I hear, the more I wish I did. Or hope she’s safe with someone who can protect her.”
Miller grunted. “So, aside from confirming a connection between Heidi Basham and our victim, was there something else you wanted to share?”
“I do. I have an audio recording on my phone that you need to hear.”
Miller looked at Gareth. “Have you heard this?”
“I have,” Gareth said. “Let me give you the background. After we all met with Mr. Basham this morning, he said he was going back to my house to rest, and we agreed we would confer again later in the day. He never returned to my house. A few hours ago, the school received a call from the manager at the Nathaniel Stow Tavern informing us that Mr. Basham was there. He was quite intoxicated and making a scene, and they asked if we would please send someone to pick him up. I sent Thea…Ms. Kozak…and one of our security guards to collect him. This recording was made on the drive back to Simmons. The male voice is one of our security employees, Mr. Dalmar Amad.”
Miller looked at me. “You’re not a cop, huh?”
I handed him my phone. “If I were a cop, I couldn’t have made this recording.”
We smiled at each other.
“I did ask him if it was okay, and he agreed.”
There was silence in the room as the detectives listened to my recording. Twice.
“It doesn’t take that long to get from The Tavern back to here,” Flynn said.
“Mr. Amad missed the turn.”
Flynn nodded. “He asks good questions, your Mr. Amad, as do you, Ms. Consultant.”
I said thank you.
“Where’s Mr. Basham now?” Miller asked, his eyes fixed on the crutch. “And is that his crutch?”
Gareth said, “At security, with Chief Greenberg.”
I said, “Yes, that’s his crutch. I don’t remember if he had two of them, but if so, it may be at the headmaster’s house in the guest suite.”
Miller and Flynn looked at each other and headed for the door.
“My phone,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’ll send you the recording, but I need this phone.”
“We need this phone,” Miller said.
Oh crap. I was in no mood to play the phone game with a couple detectives. Been there. Done that. Everything I need to do my job is on my phone, plus it’s how I contact my family and Andre. My father’s condition was still uncertain. Miller was not walking off with it.
“I’m sorry,” I said, planting myself firmly between Miller and the door. “My father’s just had a heart attack. We’re waiting to see if he’ll be okay and this is my link to my family. So either I can send that recording to your phone, which is the simplest solution, or we can both go to the nearest phone store where I can buy a new phone and we can wait while I have all of my contacts and data transferred to it. I absolutely respect the work you have to do, and I am doing everything I can to assist you—I believe the recording is evidence of that. I ask that you respect my work, as well.”
I hated confrontations, but I wasn’t letting my phone disappear into his pocket, his car, his evidence files. A mean cop will run right over a request like that. I know. I’ve dealt with them. I didn’t think Miller was that type, but he probably didn’t like having me call his bluff.
There was that tense moment while Miller and I glared at each other. It was fine with me if he won the glaring contest. Just so long as I kept my phone. Then he said, “All right. Send it,” and we went through the ritual of connecting our phones.
They would have left then, but the coffee and sandwiches arrived and Miller and Flynn weren’t fools. Hot coffee and food were what they needed, so they sat back down.
As they fell upon the food, Gareth said, “Shall I let Chief Greenberg know you’re coming?”
I thought we all knew the answer to that, and Miller confirmed it, “No. I think we’ll just show up.”
And then, because I’d been moving too fast to think clearly, I remembered some things that Heidi’s friends had said. The only things that might be useful to the detectives were these: If Dee had come east for some reason related to General Norris’s business, business presumably involving Heidi, had Dum come as well, and was he still around? Could he have taken Heidi? Did he still present a threat to her?
The matter of whether Norris had gotten on a plane was something these guys could check, so I asked them about that. “Have you been able to establish whether General Norris, or both the Norrises, flew home today?”
Miller looked like he was considering whether to answer my question when Flynn said, “There’s no record of either of them taking a flight today
.”
I realized, when he said that, how much I’d been hoping the Norrises were gone. Their continued presence seemed like very bad news for Heidi.
“So where on earth are they?” Gareth said. “Do you think…” A pause while he considered how to word his question. ”…that Heidi is with them?” The phrase “perhaps unwillingly” was implicit in his question. Violence had occurred down in that clearing last night. If Heidi had been there, and seen what happened, she was either involved or at risk.
“That’s the big question, isn’t it?” Miller said. “Maybe things will be clearer after we’ve spoken with Mr. Basham.”
I bit my lip to keep from saying “good luck with that.” Miller and Flynn were far more formidable opponents than Amad and I, though I sensed that Amad could be a plenty tough and effective interviewer if he was allowed to be.
The only other thing I thought they ought to know about was William McKenzie, and though I shared his name and his connection to Heidi, I thought it was a long shot.
After decimating the offered food, they departed with Basham’s crutch in tow and quiet descended on the office.
Gareth said, “Now what?”
He wasn’t referring to our work. After the events of the day, we were both expecting another shoe, or perhaps a whole bushel of shoes, to drop.
Minutes later, as we were tackling our message to parents, an unexpected shoe dropped through Gareth’s door.
Twenty-Eight
Lorena Norris didn’t look much like the elegant, perfectly coiffed woman who had disrupted a school meeting the day before. She looked like something the cat had dragged in. Her uncombed hair was plastered to her head. Her clothes were wet and muddy and she wasn’t wearing a coat. She hadn’t lost her attitude, though. She swept through the door like a queen and headed for one of Gareth’s couches, declaring, “Before I return to that chintz abomination we stayed in last night, Headmaster, I could really use a drink.”
I headed her off. “A moment, Mrs. Norris,” I said. “Let me find something to cover a chair. You wouldn’t want your damp clothes to ruin this lovely furniture.”