We stayed overnight at a motel just off the Kingston exit of the New York State Thruway, thirty miles from Colletville, to the west. Garth called the Albany police, identified himself as a New York cop, and asked for the date of the newspaper Po had been reading in his study the night he'd been killed.
I was right.
We checked out at dawn in order to get to Colletville early. We ate breakfast at a diner in Veil's hometown, then drove directly to the high school. Given more time and less pressure, we probably could have been a bit more subtle in our approach. Not being blessed with these things, we simply marched into the high school office and introduced ourselves to a secretary. Garth showed his shield and asked if it would be possible for us to see the principal for a few minutes. It was. We were ushered into a nicely appointed office highlighted by a rust-colored rug and a collection of hunting trophies in a display case next to a window looking out over the surrounding Catskills, their forests covered now with early morning mist.
The principal, Matthew Holmes, was a boyish-looking man in his early thirties. Garth introduced me not only as his brother, but as a criminologist working on the matter in question as a paid consultant. The preliminaries over, I sat in a chair to one side of the office, letting Garth, with his police credentials, take the point.
'Lieutenant,' the young principal said, 'how can I help you?'
'First, we appreciate your agreeing to see us on such short notice,' Garth replied.
'I take it this is a police matter?'
'Yes, it is, but I have to tell you that I have no official capacity in this county. I can only ask you to give me certain information, some of which may be confidential, as a courtesy. We're searching for a material witness to the crimes of arson and multiple murder. Other murders may be committed if we don't act quickly, which is why we really don't feel we can afford the time to go through the process of getting a court order to see certain school records.'
'I see,' Holmes said tightly. Suddenly the man seemed decidedly uncomfortable as he toyed with a heavy glass paperweight and stared out the window at the mountains. 'Why don't you tell me what it is you want to know?'
'We have reason to believe that the crimes that have been committed are closely connected to a man by the name of Veil Kendry. Kendry-'
'Who?' the principal asked as he turned quickly and looked at
Garth. He had stopped playing with the paperweight, and his discomfort appeared to have gone as quickly as it had come.
'Veil Kendry,' Garth repeated slowly. 'Do you know of him?'
'Somehow, the name seems familiar…' Holmes thought about it, finally shook his head. He looked immensely relieved. 'No, sir, I can't say that I do.'
The mercurial changes in Matthew Holmes's manner made me wonder who had come to mind when Garth had mentioned arson and murder. I wanted to ask, thought it better not to. Colletville, I was sure, had its own problems, and anything that didn't concern Veil Kendry was irrelevant to our needs.
'According to our information,' Garth said, 'Kendry went to school here. Your central district office confirmed that. He would have graduated-if he graduated-in nineteen-sixty-three or four. I'd like to look at his school records, if I may.'
'Why, Lieutenant?'
'We're looking very hard for Mr. Kendry, not only because he's a material witness, but because he could be in considerable danger. It's a long shot, but those records just could reveal the name of a relative or friend we could contact who might know where he is. Actually, there could be other information in there that could be helpful, but I won't know until I look.'
There was a prolonged silence, during which I had the distinct impression that Holmes was thinking about more than Garth's rather straightforward request. 'I don't see why not,' he said at last. 'Obviously, we're a very small district, and if this Veil Kendry did go here, his records could still be kept at this school building. Just a moment, please.'
Holmes pressed a button on his intercom, instructed his secretary to search for any records on Veil Kendry, using the approximate dates Garth had given him. He also asked her to bring us coffee.
We sat for the next fifteen minutes sipping coffee and chatting. Holmes, a graduate of a good school, had accepted the post in Colletville because it had afforded him the opportunity of having his own school at a relatively young age. Now, he told us, he was interested in a 'change of pace,' and had applied for a principal's post in the South Bronx. He wanted to know all we could tell him about New York City, and we assured him that being the principal of a school in the South Bronx would be a change of pace indeed.
Finally Holmes's secretary, a cheerful, gray-haired woman in her fifties, came back into the office. She handed a faded, yellow file to the principal, smiled at us, then turned and left.
'I don't know what's in here,' Holmes said to Garth. 'Because of the legal implications, I think it might be more correct if I didn't allow you to actually read the file. I'll look at it now, and I'm sure I'll be able to answer any questions you might have.'
'That will be fine,' Garth said. 'We're most interested in the name of a relative-or anyone at all-he might have stayed in contact with over the years, or even visited periodically.'
Holmes nodded, opened the file folder, and began to scan the contents of the first page. I watched his eyes move back and forth across the page, saw him frown slightly. 'There's an address here, but I know the people living there now, and their name isn't Kendry.'
'No. The Kendrys moved away some time ago. I checked that.'
'According to this record, he didn't even live with his parents during his high school years. There's another name listed here… an aunt by the name of Madeline Jamison. However, the houses in that block were torn down a couple of years ago. That's who he lived with while he went to high school, but that house isn't there anymore.'
'May I use your phone book?' I asked, rising from my chair.
Holmes took a thin directory out of his top drawer, handed it to me. There weren't any Jamisons listed. I looked at Garth, shook my head, sat back down in my chair.
'It seems he only lived with his aunt off and on. Twice he was … oh, my.' Holmes abruptly looked away from the file, once again appeared uncomfortable.
'Mr. Holmes?' Garth prodded gently. 'What about the times when he wasn't living with his aunt? Did he go back to live with his parents, or did he live somewhere else?'
'Lieutenant,' Holmes said tersely, 'I'm afraid I never realized the extremely sensitive nature of some of the material in Mr. Kendry's file. The law says that it must be kept confidential, and I totally agree. I may have made a mistake in agreeing to share this. Frankly, I don't see how the information could help you find this man, and we could all be in legal difficulty if I share it with you. I think it will be in everyone's interests if you go ahead and obtain that court order you mentioned.'
Garth bowed his head, sighed heavily, then leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees. 'Mr. Holmes,' he said softly, 'two nights ago three young people just past high school age were murdered in Seattle, along with their parents and grandmother. They were all blown to pieces.'
Holmes frowned. 'You suspect Veil Kendry?'
'No, sir. But he's definitely connected to it somehow, and more people-young people-may die unless we find him soon. The information you have in that file in front of you could be important.'
'But I don't see how.'
'That's why you're an educator and I'm a cop. Let me decide if it's important. I give you my word that the information won't be used if it's not necessary; if it is used, nobody will be told where we got it from. Please, Mr. Homes. Lives are at stake.'
Holmes considered Garth's words, finally nodded. 'According to these records, Veil Kendry was a very disturbed and violent young man, Lieutenant; the reason he was living with his aunt was because he was thrown out of his own home at the age of fourteen by his parents, who could no longer tolerate his bizarre behavior. He was twice committed to a mental hospital, once by his parents and once by the courts.'
'What's the name of the facility?'
'At the time it was called Rockland State Hospital. It's downstate, and I'm familiar with it. Now there's a separate facility for kids, called Rockland Children's Psychiatric Center, but it still serves the same purpose. Children
