Steve announced that he was coming home early and he and Fran were going to the movies. Fran had not yet come down from their room. Over a quick second cup of coffee he said to Aline, “I think I need to get your mother out of the house. I told her that last night after Detective Wilson left, and she agreed. She’s so fixated on the idea that Alan Crowley murdered Kerry that she’s telling that to everybody she speaks to. I told her that until there is real proof, we have to keep an open mind. But even after all that Detective Wilson told us about the man who sold Kerry the beer, she is still fixated on Alan’s guilt.”

Steve carried his empty coffee mug over and placed it in the sink. “One night every week a theater in Norwood is running the old classics. Greer Garson is still one of your mother’s favorite actors. She’ll enjoy seeing Random Harvest on the big screen. It starts at five o’clock, and then I’ll take her out to dinner. Do you want to join us for the movie, dinner or both?”

“Thanks, Dad, but I’ll pass. I want to catch up on some stuff at school. I’ll pick up something for dinner on the way home.”

•  •  •

The next day at school was a little easier than the one before. Aline had always been good at remembering names and faces. After she passed one of the students in the hallway, she remembered that she had seen her before and where it was. This was the girl who had been standing across the street from the church when the Mass for Kerry was over. I wonder why she didn’t come in, Aline asked herself.

She was in her office until six. She had left her door partially open and Scott Kimball looked in. “Obviously working late again,” he said.

“A little,” Aline replied.

“Is there any chance that when you’re ready to wrap up, you’ll have dinner with me? I know I asked you only yesterday, but the question just popped into my head. You know, it might be a nice change.”

“Are you tempting me with the French restaurant you were talking about?”

“Absolutely.”

Then my answer is “Oui.”

They laughed together.

Aline declined Scott’s offer to ride with him and instead took her own car to La Petite restaurant. Scott had told her he lived in Fort Lee. Driving her back to pick up her car at school would take him way out of his way.

On the way over, she started to have second thoughts. She berated herself for agreeing to go to dinner with him. She went over in her head why it was foolish to alter the business relationship of two faculty members who worked in the same school. Just this once, she told herself, absolutely just this once.

She began to relax at the restaurant. La Petite turned out to be every bit as good as Scott had promised. In the three years she had taught at the International School in London, it had been easy to take the train through the Chunnel to Paris. It was a trip she had made every few months while she lived in England. She would stay at a small hotel on the Left Bank that overlooked Notre Dame Cathedral. She made regular visits to the Louvre and other museums, as well as boat trips on the Seine.

Along the way she had developed a passion for French food. At the same time she had perfected her natural gift for languages. Her goal was to become fluent in French and to speak it without an American accent. When their waiter introduced himself with a French accent, she saw an opportunity to practice.

Scott then surprised her by following her lead. His command of French was very good, but his American accent was clearly discernible.

After listening to the specials, they gave their orders. As they sipped the Bordeaux Scott had chosen, he said, “I took a semester in France when I was in college. It was a program where I took courses in French and lived with a French family.”

“Total immersion?” Aline asked.

“That was the idea,” Scott chuckled. “But when I was with the other students, it was really easy to slip back to speaking English.”

“I wish I had had an opportunity like that,” Aline said.

“Whatever you did, your French is better than mine.”

“There’s a reason for that.” She told him about her frequent trips to Paris.

They compared notes on different places they had visited in and around Paris. The conversation shifted to the high school, and Scott shared his impressions of his fellow teachers and the administration. It was only over coffee that he brought up Kerry’s name.

“Aline, I’ve had a wonderful time tonight. Part of me wants to tell you about how great a young woman Kerry was, but I’m reluctant to introduce a topic that might upset you.”

“No, it’s okay. I saw Kerry through the eyes of a big sister. If I had it to do over again, I would not have been away as much as I was the last three years. What was it like to be her coach?”

“She was really special. She wasn’t the best player on the team, but she was very good, and she had a natural ability to lead. The best compliment you can give a player is that she made her teammates better when she was on the field.”

When the evening ended and she was driving home, Aline realized that she had enjoyed the dinner very much. Scott was a very nice guy, and he was good company.

27

The results of the autopsy revealed that Kerry had been killed instantly by a massive blow to the back of her skull. There was almost no water in her lungs, indicating she had not been breathing after being struck. The alcohol level in her blood was .06, the equivalent of a person her size consuming two to three drinks. There was no evidence

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