Mary Jane Rollins’s hand flew to pale lips. “I don’t know where you learn these things, I’ve certainly never heard of this. And regardless, a Prep alum would never stoop to something so utterly… criminally repellent.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Dr. Rollins, but my point is high stakes can lead to desperate behavior. Now let me repeat my question: To your knowledge were any students or parents highly dissatisfied with Elise Freeman? Enough to complain to you.”
A beat.
“No, Lieutenant.”
“Did anyone complain to Dr. Helfgott, or to anyone else in administration?”
“No one.” Mary Jane Rollins’s hands relaxed. “Lieutenant, faced with a baffling case, I’m sure you need to hypothesize imaginatively. All I can tell you is you’re way off the mark if you believe Elise’s death had anything to do with our people. One of Prep’s virtues is our ability to combine rigorous academic training with the instillation of solid moral values. We’ve gone so far as to adapt Vanlight’s moral dilemma training into our curriculum. Our students wrestle with a variety of complex choices.”
I said, “Vanlight committed suicide after being accused of sexually harassing his students.”
Rollins studied me like a zoologist confronting a new species. “Be that as it may. Now I do need to return to President Lincoln. He’s the topic of my upcoming chautauqua—that’s a mini-seminar I’ll be offering the graduating seniors next semester.”
“Freeing the slaves,” said Milo. “Good timing, Doctor.”
“Pardon?”
“Graduating seniors are starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. You could call it their own emancipation proclamation.”
Before Rollins could reply, the doorbell rang.
CHAPTER
10
The man at the door was young, sparely built, with an elfin face, cropped hair the color of muddy water, a scatter of freckles, and searching green eyes. He wore a white button-down shirt, blue slacks, brown loafers, might’ve passed for a Windsor Prep senior.
Mary Lou Rollins said, “Thanks for being punctual, Jim. Lieutenant, this is Mr. James Winterthorn, assistant head of our science department.”
Winterthorn took our hands warily, offering limp, dampish fingers. “I wish I knew what this was about.”
“Come on in, sir, and we’ll educate you.”
Rollins led us past the staircase to a rear space that looked out to a vest-pocket garden. Empty bookshelves, working fireplace, cable hookup for the flat-screen that once sat over the mantel.
The family room, back when Rollins had adapted to the life her husband had brought with him.
Two folding chairs faced a third, with seven or eight feet between them. Milo narrowed the gap by half, directed Winterthorn to the singleton, turned to Rollins.
“Enjoy your book, Doctor. Somewhere other than the house, please.”
“I was instructed to remain here, Lieutenant Sturgis.”
“I respect that, ma’am. However, you’re being re-instructed.”
“Lieutenant, please don’t put me in an awkward situation—”
“Heaven forbid. You can stay close, just not inside. My suggestion is you take a stroll. Weather’s good, Rodeo Drive’s not far. Otherwise, we’ll have to be the ones who leave. With Mr. Winterthorn.”
Winterthorn followed the exchange with growing agitation.
Rollins said, “I’ll have to report this.”
Milo said, “Good idea. Nothing like open communication when it comes to inculcating solid moral values.”
Rollins’s footsteps on hardwood were followed by the thump of a closing door.
James Winterthorn sat with his hands in his lap. His bare forearms were pallid, hairless, prominently veined.
Milo said, “Thanks for coming, sir.”
“I really didn’t have a choice. Dr. Helfgott pulls me out of my chem class, he obviously feels it’s important.”
“Did he explain why it was important?”
“Actually, it was his office I spoke to. She—his secretary—said Elise Freeman had passed away and the police needed to talk to faculty members. I don’t understand why.”
“What was your relationship with Elise Freeman?”
“Relationship? We were colleagues. So to speak.”
“So to speak?”
“She subbed English and history, I teach chem and physics.”
“Never the twain shall meet?”
“Science faculty tends to stick with science faculty and so on. Maybe that kind of tribalism is embedded in our DNA.”
“So not much socializing at work,” said Milo. “What about after hours?”
“I wouldn’t know about that, Lieutenant.”
“You’re not much for socializing?”
“I have a girlfriend, we plan to move in together at the end of the school year. Between work and hanging out with Emily, my days are pretty full.”
“Emily’s a teacher, too?”
“She’s a medical student at the U.”
“You both live by yourselves, at present?”
Winterthorn blushed. “We both live with our parents. It’s not ideal but with the economic situation the way it is, we felt maximizing our savings will give us a leg up on ownership.”
“Where do your parents live?”
“Encino.”
“South or north of the boulevard?”
“South,” said Winterthorn.
“Nice.”
“My father’s a neurosurgeon.”
“Dad and girlfriend are both doctors,” said Milo.
“My brother and sister, as well.”
“You’re the rebel.”
Winterthorn smiled.
“Premed didn’t work for you?”
The smile vanished. “Why is my educational history important to you?”
“Just trying to get to know you, Jim. How old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“How long have you been working at Prep?”
“Two years.”
“What’d you do between college and work?”
Frown. “Got a master’s and began work on a Ph.D.”
“In…”
“Physics.”
“Still working on the Ph.D.?”
