An Educated Death (19 page)

I stopped, suddenly and uncomfortably aware that I'd climbed onto one of my own personal soap boxes. I was mortified to discover that I'd drawn a crowd. Worse than that, when I stopped, they began to clap. Abandoning my coffee-seeking mission, I tucked my soapbox under my arm and scurried for the security of my office, my face flaming, pausing only long enough to ask Lori if she could add Carol Frank to my list.

Ellie followed me down the hall. "Great speech," she said.

"I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry about it. It was fine. They seem to be keeping you awfully busy, I've noticed. There's a continual parade of people in and out of there. It was never that busy when Ruthie was here. I don't suppose it should have been, though," she said, smiling, "since all Ruthie dealt with was numbers and you're dealing with people."

"I hope I'm not bothering you."

"Oh, no. Of course not. One good thing about these older buildings, they've got thick walls. See you later." She disappeared into her office.

My office door was slightly ajar and I assumed Josh had arrived early. I peeked in and saw Chip Barrett behind my desk, going through my open file. I grabbed a passing student and sent her down to Lori. "Tell her to get campus security over here pronto. Tell her Chip Barrett's in my office." Then I stepped into the room and shut the door loudly behind me.

The little weasel was as guilty as a kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar, but he didn't seem at all concerned. Actually, he wasn't all that little, he just seemed small because of his furtive posture. He looked like a rat about to scuttle down a hole with some stolen cheese.

"I was waiting for you," he said. "We've got a lot to talk about."

"If I had more time, we might have a talk about journalistic ethics and honesty, Mr. Barrett, but I've got a full schedule and you're not on it, so why don't you take my papers out of your pockets and put them back on the desk while we're waiting for security."

"Papers? What papers?" He tried to look innocent, even though he was standing there with bulging pockets. I suppose he occasionally fooled someone or he wouldn't bother.

"Don't waste my time, Barrett. I wasn't born yesterday."

He gave up the pose of maligned innocence, and stepped toward me, trying to look menacing. "Look, it's no big deal. I was just leaving anyway. Why don't you get out of my way, sister?"

"You've been watching too many old movies," I said, "and I'm not your sister."

He put a hand on my arm, trying to shove me out of the way, but he wasn't used to pushing people around, at least not people who are bigger, and anyway I've been menaced by some of the best. Compared to them, he was a marshmallow. "Take your hand off me," I said loudly, startling him. "Unless you want to add assault and battery as well as theft to your list of offenses."

"Take it easy." He dropped his hand like he'd been burned. "I already told you. I didn't touch anything. I was just waiting for you."

"And going through my files. And I notice that your pockets crackle when you walk. I suppose that's just stuff you always carry with you?"

"That's right."

"You're pathetic, Mr. Barrett, you know that?"

"I'm a reporter," he said. "Getting stories in my job. And this is a big story. Pregnant preppie lured to death by unknown assailant. And that's just the tip of the iceberg, too. Just wait till you see how this thing unfolds." His face gleamed with anticipation.

Speaking of old movies, this was the man who knew too much, or at least had guessed too much. I wanted to knock him down and kneel on his chest until he revealed his sources but it wouldn't have been ladylike, and besides, I didn't want to confirm what he suspected. Instead I said, "You mean careless teen in accidental fall through ice, don't you?"

"I wasn't born yesterday either, Ms. Detective," he said. "What do they need you for if it's an accident? This is only getting hushed up because Ms. Dorrie Chapin and good old Chief Rocky are getting it on. Getting his 'rocks off' so to speak."

Chip Barrett epitomized everything I'd found abhorrent about newspaper reporting. He was a nasty-minded, malicious, scandalmongering son of a bitch. "I'm here to inventory the systems for keeping students safe and if necessary to suggest ways of making things safer."

"Yeah? You going to recommend a celibacy rule? Or have Curtie and the boys patrolling every bush? You're just window dressing. Everyone already knows what happened. That little honey was boffing some staffer until she got knocked up and then he killed her. You're just part of the cover-up, whether you know it or not." Behind me, heavy footsteps signaled the arrival of help. I stepped away from the door and Chip Barrett made a dash for it, running straight into Curt Sawyer's massive sidekick.

It was a repeat of the performance I'd seen the day before. Curt and his assistant seized Chip and prepared to eject him from the premises. "Wait," I said, "before he goes, I need to check his pockets." Barrett glared at me as I stuck my hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sheaf of my handwritten notes. In the other pocket I found the sign-out card and Jack Taggert's note. "Nice try, sleazeball. People like you help remind me why I gave up the newspaper profession."

"You were a reporter?"

"Until I got sick of scraping the crap off my shoes that people like you tracked in." I shut the door. At least I no longer needed coffee, thanks to my adrenaline surge. Before I could even catch my breath, Josh Meyer came hurtling through the door at the same speed as last time and tumbled into the chair as if he'd been flung there by an unseen hand. He brushed the hair back from his face, gave me a lopsided grin, and said, "Hi. I see you were under siege by the awful Barrett. You've got to watch him. He'll nibble away at you like a rodent until he gets what he wants."

"Well, I won this round. Or I think I did."

"Maybe you did and maybe you didn't. He's a very devious character. Steals anything that's not nailed down. I found him trying to get into my room and I hear that he tried to get into Laney's, too. Genny Oakes whacked him with her field hockey stick."

"Athletics can be excellent preparation for life, Josh."

"How many attackers have you beaten off with field hockey sticks?"

"Most of my attackers have been the sneak-up-on-you-and-hit-you-from-behind type, I'm afraid. The only thing that might have protected me was a football helmet and I can't go through life wearing one of those."

"I guess you're right. What's up?" He talked like we were old friends so I slipped into the same mode.

"Tell me about the last time you saw Laney."

"Saw physically or saw to talk to?"

"Laid eyes on."

"It was Friday." He stretched his legs out in front of him and folded his arms over his chest, getting comfortable for a chat. Today he was dressed for the weather. Jeans without holes. Sorrels. Heavyweight rugby shirt. "I was going over to the art studio to work on a painting. She was coming the other way. She was carrying a duffle bag so I assumed to she was going to meet Merri. I said 'Hi', she said 'Hi, I can't talk right now, I have to meet somebody.' Then she headed off away from the circle, which struck me as odd if she was going to meet Merri. I said, 'See you at the movie?' She said she'd be there, and that's the last time I ever saw her."

"What was she wearing?"

"A fancy pink, purple, and blue parka I'd never seen before but under it she had her regular Laney clothes."

"Which were?"

"Black leggings, black sweater and a long, weird skirt. Some sort of little-girlie shoes. She usually wore Doc Marten's."

"You didn't see her meet anyone?"

"Not really."

"Not really?"

"She stopped a minute to speak with someone, Mr. Drucker, I think, at least some faculty person, but only for a minute and then she walked on. I did see her pausing at the far side with someone but I couldn't see who it was. A woman, I think. Maybe Mrs. Drucker. I couldn't tell."

"You're looking better today."

"Yeah? Well, my dorm mom's been on my case, makin' me eat and all that crap. It kind of bugs me but mostly I don't mind. Yesterday she wouldn't let me go to class, she made me stay in bed all day." So her instincts had been the same as mine, and from all appearances, they'd been exactly right.

"Merri Naigler says she thinks Laney had another boyfriend. Do you know anything about that?" I was touching a sore spot. I had to go carefully or I'd lose the easy flow.

"She must have. Unless you believe in immaculate conception. I told you that the baby wasn't mine."

"You're absolutely certain the baby wasn't yours?"

"Look, I'm not stupid! I know how babies are made and I know how babies are not made, okay?"

"Any idea who this other guy was?"

"None. If I did, I'd kill him for doing that to her."

"Surely Laney also knew how babies were made?"

He folded his arms across his chest and regarded me as if I were a simpleton. "Like I told you the other day, Laney was real screwed up. She tried to be real sophisticated and stuff... and because she was smart, and because she was good at those imitations, people were intimidated by her. They thought she was cool and distant and very mature. But she wasn't. See, Laney really just wanted to be loved. To be approved of. To be important. To have her mother love her, if you want to get real psychological about it. Only her mother couldn't because her mother only loved herself. And her booze."

He sat up and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his knees. Once again I had the impression of a boy in constant motion. "So Laney was sexually vulnerable," he said. "The sort of thing you read about in books. I mean, it was kind of a cliché, but clichés come from real life, right? She needed to believe it was a spontaneous act of love... even if we'd had to plan for days to find a time when we could sneak away and be together... so she couldn't deal with stuff like birth control. Between us that was okay. I knew that about her so I took care of things but some other guy might not have been so careful. Most guys just want to get it in there and bang! They don't care about what kind of risks they're exposing the girl to. Some other guy got to her and didn't bother to take precautions. It's criminal, especially if this guy was older. I mean, he should have known better but I can imagine the crap he gave her—all that stuff about it spoiling the sensation and ruining the intimacy. I wish I knew who it was," he said again, "I'd kill the bastard."

"No birth control is one hundred percent effective except abstinence," I reminded him.

He just rolled his eyes. "Give me a break, lady. Our generation has had more sex ed than the last ten generations put together." His smile was challenging. "They ever make you put a condom on a cucumber? After that, you always look at salads differently. I know it wasn't mine."

"What makes you think it was an older guy?"

He shrugged. "Stuff she said. You didn't know her, so you can't understand. She loved me even though she was cheating on me. I know it sounds crazy but your generation was different. We're not so possessive is what I mean. She wouldn't tell me who it was or anything but she kind of needed my support as a friend, you know what I mean?"

I wasn't quite sure I did. He made me feel as old as Methuselah when he talked about my generation, but he was right that we were more possessive. I also didn't believe he was as generous as he pretended to be. "Merri says that Laney was friendly with some guy who worked for maintenance and that you and Laney had a fight about it. Is that right?"

"Is what right?"

"That Laney was paying too much attention to some other guy and you two fought about it?"

"There was no specific guy. She just hung around there too much. It was a dumb thing to do. They were working-class guys, trashy guys. I told her hanging around them, dressed like she did, one of 'em might get the wrong idea."

"How did she react?"

"The way she always did when I tried to tell her something sensible, something for her own good. She told me to go fuck myself. She couldn't stand being told what to do."

"How did you react to that?"

"I got mad at her. We yelled at each other. She slapped me. I slapped her back. It's ironic, isn't it? Merri said I was being abusive for hitting Laney but no one would think she was being abusive for hitting me. She hit me a lot more than I hit her."

"But yours was a very physical relationship? The two of you did hit each other?"

"Yeah." The tremor in his voice reminded me that despite his charm and his candor, he was still a kid. None of this was easy for him.

"I heard you at the meeting this morning. You don't think her death was an accident?"

"I already told you. It was no accident and it was no suicide. Laney might not have been a very happy person but she was smart enough to know things would get better."

"Do you know how Laney was planning to pay for her abortion?"

He shook his head. "I offered her some money but she refused. Said she wouldn't take it from me. She was going to get it from the baby's father."

"And you have no idea who that was?"

"I already told you. No. Why do you think she would tell me, of all people? She knew what I would do. I'm sure that you've heard she was cruel and heartless and loved to break rules. But she loved me, Ms. Kozak, I know she did. This other thing was just something she had to do. She didn't want it to hurt me. Don't you know how hard this is?"

Josh Meyer, beautiful, rested, and in control, started to cry. I handed him my box of tissues and sat there watching him, feeling like the world's biggest heel, wanting to put my arms around him and comfort him, and knowing he'd resent it.

"Who, besides you, did Laney confide in?"

"Merri, sometimes, though Merri could be pretty judgmental. Occasionally to Nadia Soren. And that woman in the counseling office. Carol something. Laney really liked her."

"What about Kathy Donahue?"

"At first, maybe. But not recently. Laney said Kathy didn't like her. Kathy's been kind of weird lately."

"Do you know why?"

"Why Kathy didn't like Laney? Kathy likes good girls and Laney doesn't fit the bill. Why Kathy has been weird? You'd have to ask Bill. Look, I'm going. I can't talk about this anymore, okay? You find out who did this and let me know. I'll take care of him." He staggered to his feet, fumbled for his things, and was gone as quickly as he'd come.