An Educated Death (37 page)

I didn't know what Rocky might want to be open about and what he might want to keep secret, so I didn't explain our theories to Ellie. It seemed a little unfair, since she was about to be mixed up in it anyway if my suspicions about her husband checked out, but it wasn't my call. She lingered at the edge of my desk, waiting for something. Maybe it was an answer to her question. "Maybe Laney had been seeing Carol."

"That wouldn't make any difference," she said. "Those things are all confidential."

"Of course." She shot me a strange look and went on standing there, perhaps waiting for compliments on the tea. I tried to take a sip, but it was too hot, so I just pretended. "Delicious. Thank you."

Her smile was too quick and too grateful. Maybe she was one of those perpetual givers who rarely get enough thanks. She seemed to be playing the role of mother to everyone. "Glad you like it. Well, I'm off. Got to check on Lori and see how she's holding up and then it's off to the market. Dinner party tonight. I'm afraid it won't be very cheerful, not after the news about Carol. She was a great friend of ours. I wonder if I should cancel?" She shook her head. She wasn't talking to me, anyway. "No. People will need a chance to talk. Will I see you tomorrow?"

"I guess that depends on what happens."

"Yes," she said, an odd expression on her face, "I suppose it does." I wondered, as the door closed behind her, whether she had her own suspicions about her husband. I began pulling out my files. As I did, my elbow caught the cup and the hot minty tea went everywhere. I grabbed some tissues and mopped it up. I was batting zero in the soothing beverage department. Maybe the fates didn't want me to be soothed. The silver lining to this cloud was that I hadn't had time to spread out my papers.

At that point, the phone rang. Lisa had finally caught up with me. "Thea?" She sounded breathless. "Sorry," she panted, "I had to run upstairs and lock myself in the bathroom with the portable phone. Baby-sitter finked out on me. Christmas shopping, I suppose. That child has been wrapped around my leg all afternoon, chanting a steady Mommy do this, Mommy do that, until I thought I was going to scream. I love her more than anything, I truly do, but I was feeling suffocated. When that husband of mine came through the door, I practically threw her into his arms and ran up here. Listen to me, will you? Someone tries to kill you and here I am babbling on about my troubles. Excuse me...."

I could hear her talking softy to someone. "No, sweetie, Mommy needs some privacy for a while. Yes, Mommy will be out soon and we'll go play snow. Yes. Yes, baby, a great big snowman. You tell Daddy to help you with your snowsuit. Mmm-hhm. Yes. I think Daddy should help, too. Yes. He does know how to roll snowballs but he can't do it in his suit. Tell him that's the rule. Okay. Bye-bye. Tell Daddy the pink mittens."

A long sigh and she was back. "Are you still there? Did you hear? Can you believe she's not sure her father knows how to make a snowman? There's division of labor for you. Daddies wear suits and go to work. Mommies wear suits and go to work and do everything else too and know how to make snowmen, make food, do laundry, change babies—"

"I hear you. Maybe you need to be out of town for a weekend. Let the two of them rough it together. I can arrange it." Lisa worked for us before the baby came and then planned to stay home, but quickly found that being a stay-at-home mom didn't suit her temperament, especially when her mother-in-law started dropping in every day to be sure that the baby was being cared for properly. When she asked if she could come back part-time, Suzanne and I jumped for joy. It was a great arrangement for everyone, but Lisa still grumbled about her husband's failure to do his share.

"Going out of town won't help. He'll just take Charlotte to his mother's."

"It might help
you."

"I never thought of that."

I would have been happy to just sit and chat, but despite my nap, I was fading fast. If Rocky didn't show up soon, I'd find someone else to get me to my car, and then I was going to crawl home and sleep for twelve hours. "What's up?"

"Good news, I think, about the King School and our friend Denzel's problem."

I closed my eyes and tried to shift my mind to a different set of problems. "You have no idea how badly I need some good news."

"Oh, I think I do," she said. "It's not just you, either. Everyone's at the breaking point. Sarah's sour as curdled milk, Magda's barely speaking English, and even Bobby, our little ray of sunshine, in sunk in gloom. Soon as you can, you've got to come back here and fix things."

I didn't bother to ask why me. I've been the designated fixer since birth. "As soon as I can," I agreed. "Meanwhile, the good news?"

"I got some useful leads about LaVonne Rawlins from Janet Beecham. I guess LaVonne talked to Janet pretty freely while they were in the ladies' room. From the amount Janet learned, they must have been in there a long time. Anyway, LaVonne used to work at an elementary school in Nashua, New Hampshire. I tracked down the assistant principal and here's the story. While she was there, she accused one of her fellow faculty members of sexually assaulting her. Sound familiar? Poor guy was arraigned and charged and everything, only it turned out that there was witness who was able to prove her story was improbable. The charges were dropped and she resigned."

"You talk to the guy?"

"Not yet, he wasn't home, but I caught up with him this morning. He could meet us for breakfast tomorrow."

"Us?"

"I assumed you'd want to be there."

She'd assumed correctly, of course. Normally, I would have insisted on attending an interview that might be vital to the success of a project for one of our clients, it was just that I'd been hoping to sleep late in the morning and get some rest before coming back to Bucksport. "What time?"

"Eight-thirty."

"In Nashua?" She murmured an assent. "Shit!"

"Did you just say what I think you said?"

"I did."

"Look, you don't have to come. I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself, I just thought—"

"You thought right. Will you drive?"

"You'd rather go in the bucket of bolts?" She meant her aging Ford.

"My car. You drive."

"Yippee! I love driving around in a bright red turbo Saab with a sunroof. Makes me feel young again."

"Lucky you. I'm not sure anything is ever going to make me feel young again. We found another body this afternoon. I don't think there are enough damage-control measures in the universe to handle this situation. Too bad schools can't get enrollment insurance."

"I thought the tuition was nonrefundable."

"I'm thinking about next year."

"Just a minute," Lisa said. "Did you say that you found a body... you mean you personally, not just someone on the campus?"

"That's right."

"Maybe it's time EDGE got our own staff psychologist. After that last case... your mother... Thea... I don't know... it can't be easy... all that psychological battering? Are you seeing someone?"

"Not everyone is a good candidate for therapy, Lisa. When people sit and stare at me with kindly eyes and sincere faces and ask me in gentle voices how I feel about things, I want to scream. When I ask the psychologists how the system is supposed to work to make me feel better and they counter by asking me why I'm asking the question, I want to yell back in their faces that I'm asking because I want to know the answer. I'm a great believer in self-help. I tend to go for the therapeutic Jack Daniels and a good long walk on the beach. And work. I can always lose myself in work."

"That's the risk, isn't it? That you'll lose yourself." Before I could form a suitable response, she'd rushed on. "Just don't be so proud and stubborn that you won't ask for help if you need it. I'll be there at seven-thirty, okay?"

"It's not okay, but I'll cope."

The door burst open with Rocky's characteristic entrance, a loud, "Lori says you wanted me. What is it now?"

"Oops, a tornado just swirled in the door. I've got to go, Lisa. Have fun making the snowman. See you in the morning."

I shifted my attention to Rocky. "Angie Drucker called me. Chas Drucker's daughter. She says that Drucker was lying when he said he was at Cornell visiting his son for parent's weekend. Columbus Day weekend. He didn't go, he stayed here." I patted the yearbook. "There are lots of pictures of him in here. Also pictures of Josh, of that guy Chris Fuller, who's missing, of Bill Donahue, of Hamlin, all the guys we know she was close to. Get someone to show it to the folks at the inn. See if anyone IDs Drucker."

"Can't leave you alone for a minute before you come up with another little bombshell. I'm half surprised someone hasn't thrown themselves at your feet and confessed."

"Maybe tomorrow. Except I'm coming in late, so if you get here early, they can confess to you instead. Can I get my car now? I need to go home."

"Unlike the rest of us," he said dryly.

"That's not fair, Rocky. You didn't get poisoned, or spend last night in the hospital, or find your first dead body—"

"Thought you were just one tough gal out to show us cops that no one could stop you when you had to do what you had to do."

"Don't rub it in, Rocky, okay? You want me to stay around? I'll be happy to. Just say the word. Who's next? Line 'em up, march 'em in. I'm ready...."

"Forget it," he said. "Dorrie and your partner, Suzanne, are tied up with the trustees. I've got my men out beating the bushes. I can't think of anything we need you for right now. I can't send you up to the inn. I need an officer for that. So you can go. Young Hennessey's waiting downstairs to drive you to your car. And don't you go messing with that boy's head, you hear? He's had a hard day."

"Unlike the rest of us," I said, handing him back his own line. "And what's that remark supposed to mean, anyway? You think I'm going to use him up and then bite his head off? You think I'm some sort of wicked femme fatale? Andre and I have our differences, yes, but it's not one-sided. He's not some poor abused man. What would you have done if you'd been me?"

"I would have walked out, just like he did."

"I said what would you have done if you were
me!
Me, not Andre. If your woman—that sounds nice and primitive, doesn't it—if your woman had said, 'Don't go back out there, Rocky. It's dangerous. Let someone else do it, stay here with me where you'll be safe and I won't have to worry about you,' what would you have done?"

"I'm a cop," he said.

"Right. And I'm tired. See you later." I threw the yearbook at him and picked up my coat.

"Hey, take it easy!" he said, coming over to help.

I jerked away. "I can do it myself." I grabbed my briefcase and stomped out the door.

Rocky followed me, an amused expression on his face. "Hey," he called, "how did you know she was in the trunk?"

"I watch too much television."

There's nothing like a burst of anger when you're tired. It carried me down the hall, out the door, and all the way to Hennessey's cruiser. I got in and slammed the door.

"Guess I'm not the only one the chief's yelled at today," he said.

"Bingo," I said, and that's all I said as the cruiser crept slowly along the sinuous road that led us out of the campus. Around us, even though the early winter darkness had fallen, groups of happy campers were out enjoying the snow, oblivious, as yet, to the fact that another tragedy had occurred.

 

 

 

Chapter 20

 

The snow that the bright sun and road salt had melted earlier had crept back across the road as black ice, making the last ten miles tough going. I made it mostly on willpower. Remembering my empty cupboards and refrigerator, I forced myself to stop and lay in some basic supplies. Coffee, bread, milk, bagels, cereal, juice, mayo and canned tuna, tea and soup, cheese and crackers, salted nuts, white wine, bourbon and bubble bath. The bubble bath was a bribe. Only the thought of climbing into a steamy tub enabled me to force myself back into the car and out onto the skittery roads again.

By the time I got home, the only thing I wanted to do was go inside and fall asleep, but I did a quick survey of the parking lot before I crawled to my door. I wasn't in the mood for any more nasty surprises and I knew that bad guys sometimes did come calling. If you live in a place for a while, the cars become familiar. You start to think of your neighbors, in this anonymous world, as the gray Taurus or the shiny black Blazer. I'd been gone six months but the cars hadn't changed. Both Taurus and Blazer were home tonight. So was the little two-Geo family, a small, trim, cheerful couple who never failed to say hello, though I didn't know their names. Two days ago, getting into her car, Mrs. Geo had been looking a little rounder. Someday soon they might need a bigger car. Mr. El Dorado, of the shiny, perpetually suntanned dome, who wore loose-fitting sport shirts to hide his bulging gut, was out. Someone was entertaining. I could tell, because the visitor's spots were all taken. A mostly upscale crowd. Nothing moved. No one seemed to be lurking in the cars, so I made a dash for my door.