Schooled in Death
Page 25
I ought to have been mad. This was a decision we were supposed to make together. But I did not want to be bringing MOC home from the hospital to our rented apartment, and real estate deals took time. “Tell me about it,” I said.
“Better than that. Check your e-mail. I’ve sent you a dozen pictures. It’s perfect. It has a yard, and a workshop, and a perfect kitchen, and a master with a Jacuzzi, and—”
I couldn’t check my email while we were talking, but his enthusiasm was infectious. “I’ll look. This is exciting.”
“You’ll love it,” he said. “So how are things going there?”
“To use a word I just overheard the local cops use, it’s a clusterfuck.”
“That bad?”
“That bad. I wish you were here. Everything is such a mess. The girl is still missing. Both her parents were evidently at the scene when the stepfather’s aide was killed last night, and both of them are as narcissistic and looney as can be. The father dealt with his daughter’s disappearance by going into town, getting drunk, and making such a scene the bar called and asked us to please come fetch him.
“The stepfather, who was supposed to be flying back to California this morning, never got on a plane and now he’s missing. The mother says he took her to a seedy hotel and tried to lock her up to keep her out of the way, but she escaped. And then the mother, after being missing for most of the day, turned up with a head wound and an incoherent story both about her whereabouts today and about what happened last night. She says the girl, Heidi, has run away with her music teacher. No. Wait. That’s not right. She fled the scene of the murder with a man her mother claims is her fiftyish music teacher from back in California.”
“You think this music teacher is the baby daddy?”
“I think he’s her knight in shining armor. Though honestly, at this point I don’t know. And with all this chaos going on, plus a murder investigation, Gareth and I have had no time to deal with campus issue and the parents. It just keeps getting worse.”
He said, “You want to quit and come home, don’t you? But you can’t because the school needs you.” My husband is a perceptive fellow.
“Got it in one.”
“You’re not a quitter, though sometimes…” He abandoned his sentence. “Wish I could help.”
“Me, too.”
“You taking care of MOC?” I detected a protective papa bear growl in his voice.
“I’m trying. This kid has a thing about regular meals.”
“Unlike mama. And your dad? Is he okay?”
“No relapse so far. He must be doing okay, mom is back to talking about a baby shower. A joint baby shower.”
“You and Sonia together?” He knew how I’d hate that.
“That’s her plan. Well. Her plan is that there should be a double shower and I should plan it.”
“Unfortunately for your mother, you and I are going to be terribly busy moving into our new home.”
“So sad,” I agreed.
I realized I wasn’t upset that Andre had gone ahead and made a decision about the house without me. I trusted his judgment. We’d looked at dozens of houses together. Plus, the word “home” resonated in such a positive way. I really wanted a home. I didn’t get to dwell on the possibilities, though. Andre was still focused on the issue that had brought me here.
“How are you going to find your mystery girl?”
“Or her mystery companion? I have a few ideas. If we can get access to her cell phone records, there is probably a record of calls to him. By ‘we’ I guess I mean Sgt. Miller and Detective Flynn. Though I would much rather find her myself. They’re so pissed off at this point they might not handle her very gently.”
Was I remembering that one of her friends might have called William McKenzie and might have the number or was that Heidi herself? It was hard to sort things out when new troubles just kept happening. “I think one of her friends might have his number. And if we can contact him and convince him Heidi is in danger, and that she’ll do better with the police if she stops hiding, then he’ll be reasonable about bringing her back.”
“You hope.”
Andre was even more cynical about human behavior than I was. He had a lot more experience. But from all we’d heard, William McKenzie was a caring and responsible adult. His goal, again if everything we’d heard was true, was to protect Heidi from her obviously irresponsible, and quite possibly dangerous, family. I told Andre all that.
“But it’s all speculation at this point,” I said. “Getting straight answers from anyone is almost impossible. Her parents are competitive, self-involved liars who are more interested in who can best the other than in their daughter’s welfare. Her friends are more forthcoming, but they’re into that ‘friendship trumps all’ secrecy adolescents embrace, and there isn’t anyone who seems to care that there’s a helpless infant involved.”
I thought I heard him growl. We are both very protective of children.
“You hope you’ll find the girl before Miller and Flynn do because you don’t entirely trust them not to be bullies. Are they bullies?”
“Just because I know some of the world’s greatest cops doesn’t mean…” I started.
“I think they’re pretty good guys,” he said.
Our words crossed. I laughed. He laughed. I didn’t even ask why he thought that. Cops have such an old boy’s network.
He said, “Come home to me,” and I kind of melted, because that’s what he does to me. “Or,” he added. “I will come and get you.”
I wouldn’t mind that at all. “Go right ahead,” I said, and we disconnected.
Gareth had entered so quietly I hadn’t heard him come in. “Glad you can find something to smile about,” he said.
“My husband just bought a house.”
“Right,” he said. “Do you get to live in it?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Well, we’ve got forty calls from parents, wanting an update on the situation here, and I expect more will follow. What do we do now?”
I wanted to look at the house pictures Andre had sent. Instead, I put my phone away and gave my attention to Simmons and its troubles.
Thirty
With help from the school’s PR person, we slogged through another version of the message to be shared with parents who called, and a letter to be e-mailed to all of the students’ families and posted on the school’s website. I thought it was a pretty effective message, acknowledging their concerns and explaining that while a victim of violence had been found on the campus and police were investigating, that person was not a student or faculty member nor in any other way connected to the campus community. We then put the message in the context of the school’s fifty years of principled service to the education of its students, and the fact that this event was rare not only in the context of the Simmons School history but that Simmons had a reputation for being extremely safe and caring within the private school world generally.
By the time we were done, darkness had fallen, rain had returned, and Gareth confessed himself “knackered.”
“I need to go home and hug my wife and kids,” he said. “What else do we need to do right now?”
“Nothing that can’t wait. Take a break. We can meet again later, if you want, or in the morning.”
There was a silence between us, as we remembered how last night had gone and reflected on our unspoken fears that something awful would happen again tonight. He might nestle into the bosom of his family and I might get some badly needed sleep, but neither of us would rest easy until Heidi was found, Lt. Crosby’s killer was identified and arrested, and order was restored to the Simmons campus.
“Will Mr. Basham likely be returned to us by the police?” he said. “I confess I’m not keen on having him back in my house after all that’s happened.”
I didn’t blame him. Nor did I have an answer about what Miller and Flynn might be up to, and neither of us was inclined to call them. Not after our last tangle with Flyn
n. They were probably up to their ears in trying to make sense of what Basham and Mrs. Norris had to tell them anyway. Neither of Heidi’s parents was an easy interview. Then, if what Mrs. Basham had said just before the ambulance hauled her off was true, they would be out looking for General Norris.
Gareth was eager to be with his family. I was imagining a delicious bacon cheeseburger, a hot bath, and a long chat with Andre about the house, but there was one stone I needed to turn first. “Before you go, can you arrange for me to speak with Ronnie Entwhistle again?”
“Just Ronnie? Not the four of them?”
“If I’m remembering correctly, Ted Basham said Ronnie is the one who told him that William McKenzie knew about Heidi’s situation. That Heidi had called him and he might be coming to help her. That was when Basham got into his “I’m the dad” thing and declared he’d sent McKenzie on his way. Since Mrs. Norris said Heidi left the picnic grove with McKenzie, McKenzie is our best chance for finding Heidi. To do that, we need his phone number. I’m hoping Ronnie might have it, and I’m thinking that he might be more forthcoming if I see him by himself.”
“It’s a good thought,” Gareth agreed, “but I’m concerned about putting any of them through further questioning just now. They’re very young and the whole business has been quite traumatic. I’m sure they’re blaming themselves for all this. Jaden because of his fiddle with the infirmary door, Ronnie because he fancies himself in love with Heidi, Bella for not being a better roommate, and Tiverton—well, you met her. She likes to fix things. She’s a rescuer, and she hasn’t been able to rescue Heidi.”
I was impressed with his knowledge of his students. I’d known plenty of headmasters and deans at other schools who barely knew their school’s populations. Still, I needed to talk to Ronnie sooner rather than later. My energy was ebbing. “I think Ronnie can handle a few more questions, but if you think that’s too much, just call and ask him if he has a way to contact William McKenzie.”
“I can do that.” Gareth picked up the phone.
I could guess from what I overheard that Ronnie didn’t want to see us and knew of no way to contact McKenzie. It disappointed me that Gareth didn’t push harder, but they were his students and his job was to protect them. It also disappointed me that I wouldn’t get a chance to observe Ronnie’s demeanor when I asked my questions.
When Gareth disconnected and apologized, I didn’t press it. I had one more iron in the fire. One I was deliberately not sharing with my client. He needed to go home to his family undisturbed by the details of my next venture.
He gathered his things and headed for the door, saying, “Let’s both hope tonight is more peaceful than last.”
I agreed, though I was still waiting for another shoe to drop. But if our experience was any guide, it might be that we were dealing with a centipede that dropped its shoes at random, and anything might happen.
As soon as the door shut behind him, I called Amad and asked if he could meet me. I said I’d catch him up on the details when we met. He was off work in fifteen minutes, he said, and would meet me in the parking lot outside.
Then I sat back down on one of Gareth’s very comfortable couches and pulled up the pictures Andre had sent. It wasn’t what I was expecting. Until a murder made it impossible, the house we’d thought would be our dream house was new and modern and on a street lined with similar houses. This looked more like his grandfather’s farmhouse. On a country road, separated from neighbors by wide lawns dotted with substantial trees. It had a large barn that served as garage, and, I guessed, the space that would be his workshop.
I got nervous. I am a suburban type, while Andre is more rural. Would this really be our dream house, or just his?
I scrolled on. There was the big front porch we wanted—the one where I would be able to hang my wicker porch swing. A wide front hall with polished old pine boards. Sitting rooms to the left and right. I scrolled on to the kitchen. I don’t get to cook as much as I’d like, but my dream kitchen needed to be big and bright. I didn’t care so much about fancy appliances like a six-burner stove, but I affirmatively disliked stainless steel.
I held my breath and scrolled to the kitchen. This one had tall, glass-fronted cupboards, a large center island, and a window over the sink that looked out over what would be my yard. No stainless steel. The room needed paint and the appliances needed to be replaced. Otherwise, it was perfect.
Time was running out, so I zipped past the dining room and found the master bedroom and bath. Once again—perfect. How had he found this place, when we’d been looking for nearly a year and only once came close? And why hadn’t he photographed the baby’s room?
It didn’t matter. If all went well, we were going to have a home.
I put the phone away and grabbed my coat.
Amad was waiting by my car, which I now noticed was parked in a very dark corner of the lot. I must have been awfully distracted when I parked, because I am easily spooked by dark parking lots at night. Normally, since I never know how long my days will be, I try to park close to the buildings or where there’s a light.
When we were near enough to speak, he said, “So, Miss Thea, are we going to look for Heidi now?”
“We are. I hope you have some ideas, because I have none.”
Amad had been my only idea. A man who could track in the desert seemed like an excellent ally under these circumstances.
Talking quietly, in case someone passed by, I filled him in on the afternoon’s revelations, in particular what Mrs. Norris had said about Heidi running away with William McKenzie. “If she left with him, he may have a car, and then we have no way of locating him. I tried to get his phone number from one of Heidi’s friends, but he claimed not to have it.”
“That would be Ronnie?” Amad said. “The big, angry boy who is in love with her? It is okay, Miss Thea. I have that number.”
Did Chief Greenberg have any idea what a treasure he had here? I doubted it. If I ran this place, we’d be waving goodbye to Greenberg’s departing back and Amad would head security. Although Lewiston, and perhaps others, wouldn’t like it.
“So, what do we do?” I asked. “Call first or search first?”
I wanted to ask what had happened with Ted Basham, but that would have to wait. We needed to keep our focus on finding Heidi.
“Search first,” he said. “Those tracks led toward the outbuildings where we store old furniture, and equipment for the gardens.”
“Weren’t those buildings already searched?”
Amad’s response was somewhere between a laugh and a snort. “And how carefully do you suppose they did that? A bunch of damp, dark buildings with cobwebs, truck tires, a tractor and…” He hesitated. “I think the word is clutter?”
“The word might be clutter. Okay. Let’s go there.”
“You may want this,” he said, offering me a flashlight.
I smiled and pulled out my own mini Maglite, another gift from my cautious husband. I carry pepper spray and a flashlight with me always. At home, I had the mother of all flashlights, also chosen by Andre, perfect for blinding or bashing bad guys. I knew. I’d tried it out. This was the more ladylike traveling version.
Amad smiled. “That will do.”
Despite the drizzle and damp, we passed dozens of students heading out to dinner. It seemed like every one of them knew Amad, and greeted him by name. It was a Simmons thing, but it was also an Amad thing. This man and this place suited one another.
Toward the back of the dorm buildings, where the road curved away into some trees, there was a lone figure hunched on a bench. Everything about his posture said despair. As we got closer, I could see that it was Jaden. He looked up, appeared to recognize us, then bent his head again. But while he might want to ignore us, we weren’t about to ignore him. We sat down on either side of him.
Since he knew the students so well, I let Amad take the lead.
“So, this does not look good, Jaden,” he said. “Why are you sitting out here in t
he wet?”
Without looking up, Jaden said, “I’m a liar and a bad friend.”
“In what way are you these things?” Amad asked. His voice was soft and unthreatening.
“I didn’t tell Ms. Kozak and Dr. Wilson what I knew. Everything I knew. If I had, maybe that man wouldn’t have been killed in the picnic grove, Heidi wouldn’t have run away, and my school wouldn’t be in this awful mess.”
“Why didn’t you tell?” Amad asked.
“Because it wasn’t my secret to share.” He threw a quick glance at me. “I know you said that sometimes to keep people safe, we have to tell their secrets. But this was such an awful secret. I thought it was up to her whether she wanted to share it. I didn’t realize she would be in danger.”
It was damp and cold out here, and we were on a mission, but I stilled my impatience. What I hoped Jaden was about to tell us was very important.
Amad was taking it slowly, letting Jaden tell the story in his own way. Good that he was doing the interviewing, because I was so impatient I might have blown it. Jaden had already had two chances to tell us what he knew. I wondered whether what he’d held back had put Heidi in greater jeopardy and that was the cause of his despair.
“This is something Heidi told you?” Amad asked.
“Yeah. I mean like last night, when I went to see her at the infirmary. I mean, when I saw her there. When she asked me to fix the door. But it’s…just because she told me doesn’t mean that she wasn’t telling the truth. I mean the truth about not having sex and not knowing she was pregnant. I guess. I mean, what she said was…”
Jaden had been trying to hold himself together. Now he started to cry. Crying in front of Amad might be okay. He was known, he was there to protect them and keep them safe, and he gave off a reassuring vibe. I was a stranger. And a woman. I stayed very still and tried to be invisible, resigning myself to the fact that this was going to take time, while Amad produced a handkerchief and handed it to Jaden.
Dark was coming in fast now, the way it does in the shoulder seasons. It seems like in summer and in winter, the light gradually fades out. In spring and fall, it comes on surprisingly fast. Darkness would make our search much harder. But this moment was important. I thought about the phone in my pocket, and how it liked to ring at inconvenient times. I hadn’t put it on vibrate after my conversation with Andre. Please, I thought, don’t let Suzanne call me for an update.