"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 on. 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."