“Ah, very good.” The woman appeared relieved, and judging by the crew of skinny blond moms parading through the reception area with furs tossed casually over their gym clothes, Melanie understood why. She and Ray-Ray hardly fit the profile for membership in the Holbrooke parent body.
“So Mrs. Andover is expecting you?” the receptionist asked.
“Yes. Assistant U.S. Attorney Melanie Vargas and DEA Special Agent Raymond Wong.” Melanie flashed her creds and nodded at Ray-Ray, who did the same.
“Very well, then. Have a seat, why don’t you, and I’ll let her know you’ve arrived. She should be back from chapel by now.”
“Chapel?”
“Every morning she leads the girls in prayer and announcements in the old chapel. It’s a Holbrooke tradition, but perhaps a bit more solemn than usual this morning.”
“Of course. Thank you.”
Melanie and Ray-Ray took seats on a chintz-upholstered bench across from the reception desk. Portraits of former Holbrooke headmistresses lined the walls, the ladies’ attire varying by decade. As a rule they were severe-looking but attractive, with steely expressions, of middle age. Above the portraits, beneath a heavy crown molding, the school motto repeated around the room in gold script intertwined with green vines: PULCHRITUDO VERITAS EST.
“Huh,” Melanie said.
“What?” Ray-Ray asked.
“Holbrooke’s motto. ‘Beauty is truth.’ I think it’s from Keats.”
“Oh.” He nodded, obviously uninterested.
“You know what we should do?”
“What?”
“Get a list of the faculty and staff and run criminal-history checks. Just to cover our bases. Who knows? Maybe somebody has a narcotics record.”
“Sure thing. No problem.”
The receptionist put down her phone and looked at Melanie. “Mrs. Andover will see you now.”
THE HEADMISTRESS OF HOLBROOKE was a petite, handsome woman in her forties, meticulously groomed, with a helmet of highlighted honey blond hair. Clad in a trim skirt that showcased her excellent legs, a cashmere twinset, Hermès scarf, and pearls, she radiated a cold, almost Stepford-like perfection. She also received them with the school’s lawyer standing beside her, which struck Melanie as more than a little defensive. Was Holbrooke worried about something?
“This is a delicate situation, so I wanted my adviser present,” Patricia Andover explained. She took a seat behind a dainty inlaid-wood desk and indicated that Melanie and Ray-Ray should sit opposite her. A tiny Yorkshire terrier that had been resting on a plaid dog bed leaped up and settled into her lap.
The headmistress put her nose right up to the dog’s and spoke to it as if it were a baby. “We have guests, Vuitton. Mommy needs impeccable behavior, yes, yes I do,” she said. Then she turned to Melanie with a studied smile, her glance seeming to note every imperfection, every hair out of place, and calculate the value of Melanie’s clothing and jewelry in the process.
“Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee, tea, Pellegrino?” she asked.
“Thank you, but no. This shouldn’t take long. We need some basic information and assistance in conducting searches, and then we’ll be out of your way,” Melanie replied.
“This is a shocking tragedy for our community. And right before Christmas, too. So terribly sad. Whatever you need, just ask. What can I tell you?”
“Anything you know about Whitney Seward or Brianna Meyers that might help us track down the drug dealer who sold them the heroin,” Melanie said. “We’re also interested in Carmen Reyes, who was at the scene last night and hasn’t returned home. I assume she didn’t come to school this morning?”
“No. She’s absent today,” the headmistress replied.
“Do you have any idea where she might be?”
“No, I don’t. She wasn’t one of our more…uh, visible girls, and I’m afraid I don’t really know her well on a personal level. Was she doing drugs also?”
“There may be some link between the overdoses and Carmen’s disappearance. We’re not sure yet, but locating her is a top priority. We need to search all three girls’ lockers and review their records. We also need to talk to other students who knew them,” Melanie said.
“Of course,” said Mrs. Andover. “I don’t see any problem with any of that. Do you, Ted?”
Ted Siebert was Holbrooke’s general counsel. A heavyset man in a rumpled suit, he shifted uncomfortably on the small chair beside Patricia’s desk.
“Well, just a minute, Patricia,” Siebert said. “I do. Holbrooke needs to think about its liability, with school districts getting sued left and right these days for letting the police search lockers. This is private property. The government should follow procedures before asking us to get involved in searches.”
“Exactly what procedures are you referring to?” Melanie asked Siebert.
“We want to make sure everything is done by the book. Don’t you need a warrant to do this?”
“Not for the victims’ lockers. The girls are dead, so they don’t have Fourth Amendment rights. There’s plenty of case law supporting our right to search.”
“I don’t practice criminal law, but as general counsel I can’t advise Mrs. Andover to risk this kind of liability without a warrant,” Siebert said.
“I’m telling you, no warrant is required,” Melanie insisted.
“Oh, dear,” said Mrs. Andover. “We don’t want to be difficult, Ted. I am a firm believer in cooperating with the authorities.”
“Patricia, James Seward is on the board of trustees. He could raise quite a stink. We both know he loves to make trouble.”
“I’m certain Mr. Seward would want us to assist the investigation in any way possible,” Mrs. Andover said.
“Well, if you’re so certain, why not call him?” Siebert suggested. “If we get the parents’ consent, there won’t be any chance of an issue later.”
“Fine. If that’s what it takes to make you comfortable,” Melanie said with a sigh. She hated having to jump through unnecessary hoops because this guy wanted to make a show of earning his paycheck. But it turned out not to be a big deal. She spent the next ten minutes on her cell phone and quickly obtained consent from James Seward, Luis Reyes, and Buffy Meyers-who was in the middle of being interviewed by Dan and Bridget-for searches of their daughters’ lockers.
“Thank you so much for indulging Ted by making those calls,” the headmistress said when Melanie was done. “I never would’ve put you through it, but he’s just trying to look out for us.”
Ted Siebert gave the headmistress an angry glare. Melanie wondered what the subtext was here.
“No problem, Mrs. Andover,” she said. “We’d like to search now, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.”
“Wait just a second. I don’t think we’ve covered all the issues,” Siebert interjected again. The headmistress’s brow furrowed.
“Before we go ahead, Patricia, you should stop and consider the media implications of this. What if more drugs are found on school property? At the very least, I think we need assurances that nobody’s gonna blab to the press.”
“I won’t be speaking to the press personally. I can promise you that. I can’t make any representations about what others in my office might do,” Melanie said, thinking about her boss.
“This is absolutely the wrong time for a scandal,” Siebert insisted.
This guy was really starting to annoy Melanie. “The cat’s out of the bag, Mr. Siebert. The scandal’s already happened. And if there are drugs on school property, I’d think you would want them removed as promptly as possible.”
“A few wild girls experimenting with drugs, and suddenly Holbrooke is labeled a druggie school,” Siebert said. “We don’t need negative press right now. It’s a sensitive time, funding-wise.”
“Ted’s referring to the fact that we’re in the middle of a major endowment campaign,” added the headmistress. “It concludes this Friday with a black-tie holiday gala where we expect to announce a major contribution. Naturally we’d like this unfortunate event to get the minimum public attention possible, so as to have the least impact on our campaign. It’s very important to the future of Holbrooke.”