Deception: An Alex Delaware Novel Read online

"It's complicated, Doc."

  "Meaning shut up and cut," said Jernigan. "Well, I put my irritation aside and did both and here's what I've got for you: Freeman's blood alcohol was over three times the legal limit, plus she'd ingested some kind of opiate. No needle marks, so she probably snorted. Precise metabolites will take time to analyze. There's also clear pulmonary evidence of an overdose. In a relatively healthy young woman."

  "Relative to what?"

  "She had a smidge of atherosclerosis and some hepatic scarring--the beginnings of cirrhosis. Meaning she could've been hitting the sauce pretty hard. Clogged arteries could also be booze-related, or she had bad genetics. Or both. But none of that would've proved problematic in the short run, she had years to go before she slept. There are no signs of violence to the body, no damage to the hyoid to indicate strangulation, same for ocular petechiae. No sexual assault and she's never been pregnant. Cause of death is overdose, mode of death is up for grabs."

  "Could it be an accidental O.D.?"

  "Or suicide. Or homicide. My C.I. didn't spot any vomitus at the scene, or other signs of a seizure. Same for empty liquor bottles or drug Baggies. That dry ice bath is bizarre, never seen that before. I suppose it could've been some sort of erotic game that she played by herself, though it's hard to see how she could've withstood the agony."

  "Could she have O.D.'d herself into stupor, slipped into the ice just before losing consciousness?"

  "I suppose it's theoretically possible--talk about feeling no pain. Any idea where the ice came from? My C.I. didn't see any bags, either."

  "I just got the case, Doc."

  "Given a drugged state," said Jernigan, "I'd expect her to plunge rather than slip and that would've caused a mess, maybe even a head bump. There was none of that. Dry ice doesn't melt, it sublimates, so you wouldn't expect puddles. But still, she was tucked in too perfectly and skin burns say she'd been in there for a while. We both know this is homicide, but I don't have enough to put that in writing."

  "Any way to know if she was alive or dead when she got put in?"

  "Rosiness in the burns suggests alive but on the stand my answer would be 'I don't know.' How come you caught it when it's a Valley case?"

  "My silence is profound, Doc."

  "Got it," said Jernigan. "Well, good luck."

  "Thanks, Doc."

  "If you really want to show your gratitude," said Jernigan, "continue to keep me out of the loop."

  Milo phoned the lab, ate some double talk, engaged in a spirited conversation with someone named Bill, and said, "I don't get clarification right now, I'm coming over to do a hands-on. Instructions from above."

  Bill said, "What do you mean, above?"

  "Use your imagination."

  "I don't get paid for that."

  "See you in thirty."

  "That's not going to work, Milo. Per our specific instructions."

  "My instructions are as of five minutes ago and they trump your instructions."

  "Who are yours from?" said Bill.

  "From where you can't go higher."

  "Just like that, you've got a direct line to God."

  "Santa, too. Don't believe me, here's the number. Now tell me what I need to know. Were there dry ice bags at the scene, empty booze bottles, drugs, or drug paraphernalia?"

  "Negative on the bags," said Bill. "One empty Grey Goose bottle in the kitchen, negative on the dope. And here's a freebie: The only prints throughout the house are the vic's and that's just on a corner of the bed. Which is not right. My guess? Someone wiped the place down. But I'm not allowed to guess on this one. Now do me a favor, okay?"

  "What?"

  "Don't call for a while."

  CHAPTER

  9

  The following noon, Milo phoned. "Ready for a DTA meeting?"

  It took a moment to process that. "There's a detective-teacher association?"

  "There is now. His Exaltedness just let me know three members of Windsor Prep's faculty will avail themselves to me at two p.m., three fifteen, and four thirty. Not at the school, God forbid. Some address in Beverly Hills. I said, 'Arbitrary time limits don't help, sir.' He said, 'Be thankful you're getting more than a forty-five-minute hour, ask Delaware.' That was his way of saying you can be there."

  "Are they coming with lawyers?"

  "Didn't get the chance to ask. Here's the place."

  McCarty Drive, two blocks south of Wilshire.

  I said, "Nice neighborhood. Who lives there?"

  "Guess we'll find out when we get there."

  We got there twenty minutes early. The house was a white two-story Mediterranean with diamond mullion windows, a front courtyard teeming with flowers beginning to go to seed, a lawn greener than envy. A For Sale sign was staked to the left of a gracefully winding stone footpath.

  The front door was unlocked. We stepped into a high, tiled entry. Clean, warm light filtered to the right of a sinuous staircase. In an otherwise empty living room, a woman sat reading in a folding chair. From what I could see, the entire house was vacant.

  She put her book down. Ash blond, midforties, she wore a black pantsuit and a white silk blouse with ruffles that spilled over her lapels like whipped cream.

  The book was a four-inch-thick bio of Lincoln. She placed it on the chair. "Lieutenant, Doctor, you're a little early."

  "And you are..."

  "Mary Jane Rollins." Her face was round, soft, and unlined. Pale eyes and lashes said the blond was probably a renewal of her childhood.

  "Nice to meet you, Headmaster Rollins. Mr. Helfgott assigned you to me?"

  "Dr. Helfgott," she said, standing. "He's got an Ed.D. in educational administration. And yes, he asked me to facilitate."

  "Ed.D. from Brown?" said Milo.

  Rollins cocked an eyebrow. "From the U."

  "Going the public route, huh?"

  "The U. runs a fine program in education, Lieutenant."

  "You send many of your students there?"

  "When appropriate. If you don't mind I've got some reading to do, we've set up a back room for your--"

  "As long as you're here, let's chat--is it Dr. Rollins?"

  Curt nod.

  "What can you tell us about Elise Freeman?"

  "Nothing Dr. Helfgott hasn't told you."

  "Dr. Helfgott told me he doesn't get involved in faculty matters, so you'd be the person to ask."

  "I can tell you about Elise's lesson plans but I'm sure that's not going to help you."

  "Was she happy at Prep?"

  "Of course."

  "Of course?"

  "Why wouldn't she be happy?" Smiling suddenly, jarringly. "As to her private life, that's a matter about which I have no information."

  "No socializing with the help, huh?"

  Rollins fingered the frothy blouse. "My knowledge of Elise is limited to the hours she worked at Prep. She was a diligent substitute teacher, unfailingly responsible."

  "That's why you gave her a standing contract, whether or not she worked."

  "We felt it was the best way to provide her a sense of security. Teaching, as I'm sure you're aware, is not a lucrative profession."

  "Dr. Helfgott said you pay better than anyone."

  "We certainly do. Even so, the life of a substitute is unpredictable and many people need to supplement. Which is how Elise came to our attention. She'd tutored several of our students, had produced excellent results."

  "Raising SAT scores."

  "Doing what was necessary."

  "Meaning?"

  "Correcting deficits and aiming people in the proper direction. Now, if you don't mind--"

  "Who owns this house, Dr. Rollins?"

  She licked her lips. "I do. More precisely, I own half."

  "Divorce?"

  Another abrupt smile. "Ergo the sale."

  Another ergo. I wondered if the school offered a Latin course.

  "Sorry," said Milo.

  "Don't be, it's in everyone's best interest. My ex and I have both moved o
n. Literally and figuratively."

  "Got yourself a nice condo?"

  Mary Jane Rollins's mouth tightened. "My living circumstances are relevant?"

  "My bad, Doctor. Sorry."

  "As a matter of fact, I've acquired a condominium much more suitable to my current circumstances, leaving my ex to contend with his dogs, his fish, his children, and all the hideous furniture he brought with him from his previous marriage. Now, if you don't mind, I'll--"

  "Doctor, did Elise Freeman have any conflict with anyone at Prep?"

  "Not that I know of and certainly not with the three people you'll be interrogating shortly."

  "We don't interrogate, ma'am, we interview."

  "I stand corrected."

  Milo said, "What about dissatisfied customers? Parents or students who didn't like her results."

  Rollins tugged at her ruffles. "Lieutenant, you can't seriously be suggesting someone did harm to Elise because their SAT scores were below expectation."

  "Impossible."

  "Beyond impossible."

  "Hmm--let's be hypothetical for a moment, Dr. Rollins. Say there's a student, ambitious, reasonably smart, comes from a long line of Ivy alums--say Harvard. His dad, granddad, bunch of great-granddads went to Harvard, say all the way back to... John Adams. One of those whatchamacallits..."

  "Legacies," said Rollins.

  "Exactly, a serious legacy. Maybe some of those ancestors weren't even that bright, back then places like Harvard were repositories for rich white boys. Unfortunately for our bright-but-no-genius applicant, now you've got to be super-smart. Like another student at the same prep school. I'm talking certified genius."

  "Lieutenant, we send far more than two alums a year to Harvard--"

  "Granted, but not everyone gets in, right? Even from a great place like Prep."

  Silence.

  Milo said, "So on top of the national competition, there's competition among your students. Okay, so what if the morning of the SAT, that legacy kid, smart but not as smart as the other kid, happens to find himself with access to an unpleasant chemical and the genius's can of soft drink is all by itself."

  "This is absurd, Lieutenant."

  "Is it? That's exactly what happened a few years ago at an elite East Coast school. The victim didn't die but he was sick for a long time."

  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?"

  "Tw
enty-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.?"

  "I'll finish the dissertation eventually."

  "Where'd all this education take place?"

  "M.I.T. undergrad, U. Mich for grad school."

  Milo whistled. "You teach anything else at Prep?"

  "Advanced Placement chem, AP physics, and a seminar in the biophysics of ecology offered to students who get A's in the AP classes."

  "The lowdown on global warming?"

  "We're a bit more complex than that."

  Milo edged closer. Winterthorn's startled look said What did I do?

  "Chemistry... you work with dry ice?"

  Winterthorn giggled.

  "Something funny, Jim?"

  "My fifth-grade science teacher brought dry ice into class and did volcano tricks, trying to show us science could be cool. No, Lieutenant, we're a bit beyond that in AP. There's an emphasis on computation, it's basically a college-level curriculum."

  "No volcanoes," said Milo. "Too bad. When my teacher did that I was convinced science was cool."

  Winterthorn turned serious. "Are you saying dry ice had something to do with Elise's... with what happened?"

  "What were your impressions of Elise, Jim?"

  Winterthorn's thin frame pressed against his seat-back, as if trying to will the chair into reverse. "She seemed conscientous."

  "Seemed?"

  "I'm sure she was. Occasionally, I'd see her making herself available after hours."

  "You noticed her after-hours because..."

  "I do the same thing myself."

  "Do the students appreciate that kind of dedication?"

  "I would think so."

  "Did Elise have any particular favorites--students she hung out with more than others?"

  "I wouldn't know--can you tell me what this is about? I'm assuming there's something suspicious about her death, why else would we be talking to police detectives."

  Milo handed Winterthorn his card.

  The young man's eyes widened. "She was definitely murdered?"

  "Definitely?"

  "What I mean is... the immediacy," said Winterthorn. "Something so terrible hitting so close." He sounded more fascinated than horrified, might've been describing a complex molecule.