by Robb, J. D.
“That’s a question we’ll ask Greenwald.”
“Should I see if I can get him to come in?”
“No. He’ll bring a bunch of shiny lawyers—that would be SOP. We’ll do a drop-in, after we talk to Rufty.” She glanced at the time. “Which is any minute. I booked a conference room.”
“Yeah, that’ll be easier for him than an interview room. Why don’t I go make sure the AC’s stocked. He drank tea, right?”
“Yeah. Go ahead. Tag me when he gets here.”
She started to dig into All Fresh, confirmed they had research and development labs in New York, with “top scientists, chemists, herbalists, and innovators.”
The wife gets reported by teachers—Duran being one—replaced by Rufty. Then gets dumped. How pissed off would you be?
As she began to play with a new theory, Peabody tagged her.
In the conference room, Rufty sat with his son-in-law. Peabody brought them both a cup of tea as Eve walked in.
“Thank you for coming in,” Eve began.
“We hoped you’d have some news.”
“We hope you’ll be able to help us with some questions about the school, the staff, from when you came on as headmaster.”
“I … Yes, of course, if it’s helpful, but I don’t see how it could be.”
“Dr. Rufty, do you remember Jay Duran? He taught at the academy when you came on.”
“I … We don’t have a Duran in the faculty.”
Eve drew out an ID shot. “Do you remember him?”
“Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t place the name at first. It was several years ago, and he was only there through the end of the term. I don’t understand.” He face went gray. “Is he— Did he kill Kent?”
“No.” Not listening to the media, Eve thought. “Elise Duran, Professor Duran’s wife, was sent a package this morning. She was killed.”
“Oh dear God.” He turned to his son-in-law, groped for his hand.
“It’s the same?” Greg moved his chair closer to Rufty, put an arm around him. “The same as Kent?”
“Yes. Professor Duran indicated that there were a number of issues and problems at the school, with the previous headmaster, before you took over.”
“I don’t understand. What would any of that have to do with Kent, with Jay’s—yes, I remember him now—with his wife? Wait.” He held up a trembling hand as color washed in and out of his face. “Not them. Me. Because of me? Am I responsible?”
“Dr. Rufty, the person responsible is the person who sent the package, and anyone who, potentially, helped him. You’re not. Jay Duran is not.”
“But if I—”
“Would you blame Professor Duran for the death of his wife?”
“I— No.” He swiped at tears, made a visible effort to steady himself. “No, I would not. I don’t see how this could go back all those years. And Jay, he was only there a short time after I came on. He’d already accepted a position with … I can’t remember.”
“Columbia.”
“Yes. Yes, Columbia. He was a fine teacher, I remember that. Very dedicated. Did he have children? I think he had children.”
“He has two teenage sons.”
“Oh, that poor family. They’re going through what we are,” he said to Greg. “They’re feeling what we’re feeling.”
“Then we have to help them.” Greg rubbed a hand up and down Rufty’s arm.
11
Rufty gathered himself. “Whatever I can do.”
“You came on as headmaster after the winter break, in ’53. When did you accept the job?”
“That would have been around Thanksgiving the previous year. Dr. Grange was taking another position, and my impression was she’d made the decision quickly, and resigned, effective at the end of the year.”
“Do you know why she resigned so abruptly?”
“My assumption was she’d been offered the position at Lester Hensen. It’s a very prestigious institution.”
“Dr. Rufty.”
Eve’s tone had him closing his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s simply ingrained not to speak ill or gossip about a colleague. There had been a number of complaints, by parents, by staff. And it seemed her marriage was ending.” He sent a painful glance toward Greg.
“Whatever there is, Marty.”
“There were rumors and accusations she’d had an affair with another member of the faculty, and possibly had inappropriate relationships with some students’ fathers. Others claimed she’d turned a blind eye to accusations of bullying, intimidation, cheating, illegals, and alcohol.”
“Did she?”
“Yes, I believe she did. When I spoke with the staff, there were many who told the same or very similar stories. Still, much of it was gossip, and hard feelings, and I could only form impressions. I met with Dr. Grange, of course, during the transition. She and I had different approaches and, to be frank, she seemed quite done with the school and ready to move on. She did list several names of teachers and administrators she found problematic.”
“Was Duran on the list?”
“He was. However, when I looked at his records, when I met with him, I found him to be, as I said, a dedicated educator. And in the months we worked together, I only saw him as just that, and a man who worked very hard to reach his students. Others she listed were among those who had filed complaints.”
“Was there anyone in that transition period, the early period, you had issues with, or who had issues with you?”
“Of course. It was a changing of the guard, and many changes in policy and tone. Her emphasis in many ways had been on bringing in large donations, giving naming rights, bolstering prestige.”
Rufty waved a hand in the air. “That sounds critical, and frankly, it is. But those are important aspects to heading a private school. Still, I found serious lapses in discipline, an unfortunate bias toward some students whose parents provided those donations.”
“Which Duran and others complained, formally, about,” Eve prompted.
“Yes. There was an unstated policy that if a student was bullied, he or she should stand up for him- or herself, and not look to the school to handle the problem. If a student failed a test, that student was given an automatic makeup, or if the parents complained, the grade was curved up. Cheating was, unfortunately, rampant. Several students had formed a kind of business out of it. There were some teachers actively threatened. Drinking and illegals not only outside but on school grounds.”
“How did you handle it?”
“I had meetings with everyone on staff. Some were very reluctant to speak out, as they’d been labeled troublemakers or, as I said, threatened. Some, like Jay, were already leaving or planned to, and it was easier for them.”
“Can I say something?” Greg asked. “From an outside perspective?”
“Sure,” Eve said. “Go ahead.”
“It was pretty clear to us—the family—Marty had been given the position at TAG not only because of his reputation, his qualifications, but because of his, well, his philosophies. They—the board—needed someone to clean up the mess.”
He turned to Rufty. “You dealt with a lot those first few weeks, Marty. I remember once, a family dinner, and you looked so tired and stressed. You said how when you needed to get a ship back on course after a storm, you couldn’t take your hands off the wheel.”
“How do you remember these things?” Rufty asked.
“Did you keep your hands on the wheel, Dr. Rufty?” Eve asked.
“Greg’s not wrong about why I was offered the position and, honestly, why I accepted it. I knew it would be a challenge, and I wanted that. Clearly, what I intended to do, what I would do, wouldn’t be popular with some.”
“What did you do?”
“I instituted firm policies with specific disciplinary actions regarding bullying, cheating, drinking, and so on.” Pausing, he linked his hands, set them on the conference table. “Some students were suspended for violations within days. As a
result, I had several very unpleasant meetings with outraged parents. Some pulled their children out of the academy.”
“So, as Greg said, a difficult transition.”
“Yes. Yes, it was. I don’t know what I’d have done without Kent those first few weeks. I honestly thought I’d be fired at any moment, as some promised donations were pulled, some students left, a few teachers who’d gotten used to a more … lax environment were unhappy.”
“You never told us that.” Greg shot Rufty a look of surprise. “That you worried about being fired.”
Smiling a little, Rufty patted Greg’s arm. “Children don’t have to know everything. There were others, on staff, in the student body, and, yes, on the board, who were relieved, even pleased with the new rules, with the new tone. That balanced the scale. By spring it had largely evened out.”
“You met the challenge,” Peabody said. “You righted the ship.”
He smiled again. “I like to think so, yes.”
“Were there threats against you?” Eve asked.
“Oh, some parents throwing their weight around, a handful of problem students who tried to do the same.”
“Did you expel anyone?”
“It didn’t come to that, though I did suggest to some of the more outraged parents that perhaps their child and the academy didn’t make a good fit.”
“Fire anyone?”
“Again, I suggested to some that if they were unhappy with my vision and methods, they might find a better fit elsewhere. I felt I needed to give everyone time to adjust, so rather than expulsion or termination in those first weeks, I issued warnings in private meetings.
“It was eight years ago,” he murmured, and even the hint of a smile died away. “I can’t think of anyone who could remain so angry or resentful toward me they’d do this. Or Jay. He did nothing. He wasn’t in charge of the school, only his own students.”
“Why don’t we do a cross-check? Take a look at his students, see which ones were problematic, or who might have been pulled out, whose parents were unhappy?”
When he looked at Eve, she saw relief. Something to do, she thought, something concrete and beyond grief.
“I can go into my records. I can do that. I’ll be glad to do that if it helps.”
“It would. You have chemistry labs, instructors.”
“Of course. We have a lab for the upper grades, another for the middle grades. Another for more advanced students. Oh my God, you don’t think…”
“We want to check everything,” Eve said. “If you could give me the names of the advanced students, the teachers. And in your records the same from when you came on.”
“Yes. Yes. We’re going now to finalize the details for Kent’s memorial. As soon as we’re done, I can go to the school, pull the old records.”
“We can do that if you give us your permission. We’ll get a warrant to cover it, and I can have EDD access those records. Then if we could talk to you again once we’ve gone through them.”
“Let her do that, Marty.”
“All right. Whatever’s best. I just don’t remember as clearly as I should.”
“You have a lot on your mind right now,” Peabody soothed. “If you remember anything more, you can contact either one of us. Maybe you made some personal notes that you didn’t add to the official records.”
“I did at the time, of course. But I…” Rufty rubbed a hand on his temple as if to erase a block. “On my old tablet. When I replaced it, I deleted everything. I thought to donate it, but you said, didn’t you, Greg, that nothing’s ever completely gone if you know how to look for it?”
“You gave it to Ava—my daughter,” he told Peabody.
“Does she still have it?”
“Yes, I’m sure she does. Somewhere.”
“If you could find it, EDD could try to recover the deleted data. It might be helpful.”
“I’ll make sure she finds it. Should I bring it in to you?”
“Why don’t you let us know when you have it,” Eve said. “We’ll send someone to pick it up.”
“If you’re able to retrieve the data,” Rufty put in, “and need any help interpreting my notes, I’ll be glad to go over them with you.”
“We appreciate your help.”
“You’re looking out for the love of my life. I’ll do everything I can. I want to say your Dr. Morris was very kind.” His eyes filled again. “Everyone’s been very kind. I wonder if it would be appropriate for me to contact Jay, to offer my condolences. And it’s possible we could jog each other’s memory of that term. Maybe tomorrow, after…”
“He spoke highly of you. I think he’d appreciate it.”
“Then I will. Tomorrow, after we say our goodbyes.”
When Peabody walked them out, Eve arranged for the warrant, then pulled out her notebook.
She wanted the names of the graduating class of Gold Academy from ’53. The names of students, and their parents, who were pulled out during Rufty’s first term. The instructors and administrators on staff at that time—those who stayed, those who left. Any and all students who were suspended or otherwise disciplined during that same timeline.
Had to be that time frame, she thought, or else why hit Duran? It had to stem from the changing of the guard.
The board of trustees, she mused. Did they pressure Grange to transfer?
She continued to make notes as Peabody came back. “We need the chemistry instructors, and let’s focus first on advanced students.”
“We’d be going young, just a few years out of college now, or maybe in grad school. What, like twenty-five?”
“Around your age. You too young to be a cop, Peabody?”
“Hell no.”
“And so.” Considering, Eve leaned back in her chair. “When I was still a beat cop, I had to chase down this street thief, and when I caught him, he pulled out a sticker, tried to slice me. He was ten. Anyway, we have the older type on the list, too. Greenwald—Grange’s ex.”
“He should be home in about an hour,” Peabody said. “His residence is on Riverside Drive. He has the entire top floor.”
“Pays to be clean. Check if Feeney can spare McNab, maybe Callendar. We’re going back to school.”
Eve went back to her office, and figuring a trip to the school, then a drop-by with Greenwald, potentially a pickup on the tablet, grabbed a file bag, gathered what she thought she might need to wind up the day with work at home.
“They’ll meet us at the car,” Peabody told her when she walked back into the bullpen. “It turns out Callendar knows somebody who went to Gold. He graduated after Rufty came on, so it might be another source.”
“A handy one.”
“Oh, and they got word on the naked running guy.”
“I’ve been on the edge of my seat about that all day.”
“Turns out,” Peabody continued, undeterred, as they got on the elevator, “he really is a runner. A marathoner. He had a whacked-out reaction to meds—prescribed for an injury—in combo with some homeopathic stuff he took. Stripped down and started running.”
“What do you bet he gets a sportswear or running shoes contract—maybe both—by the end of the day?”
Peabody pursed her lips. “That would be really smart. You should say something to Roarke.”
“If I thought of it, he thought of it before it actually happened. Like: Whatever Sportswear. The next thing to running naked.”
Surprised, Peabody let out a laugh. “Hey! That’s really pretty good.”
“It writes itself.”
In the garage, she crossed over to her slot, where McNab and Callendar already waited.
And here they had geekwear in Callendar’s purple (to match the streaks in her hair?) shirt, polka-dot baggies worn with rainbow suspenders, and purple high-tops.
McNab paired a shirt of plutonium green with orange baggies thinly striped in the same green, orange airboots, and a green knee-length floppy coat that all but glowed.
She supposed in
geek world they were coordinated.
They each carried a shoulder bag she assumed held e-tools that wouldn’t fit in the multitude of pockets in the baggies.
Callendar said, “Yo. Hey, girl, you’re rocking the red!”
Grinning, Peabody gave her hair a little shake. “Right?”
Eve rolled her eyes, McNab and Peabody exchanged a quick little finger wiggle, and everybody piled in the car.
“Can it be fizzy time?” Callendar asked from the back seat.
“Whatever.” Eve pulled out. “The warrant should be in by the time we get there. We need records from ’53 and ’54, student body, staff, administration. Probability’s high someone who worked or attended during that time period is our prime suspect. Possibility of a parent or a student, a close connection to one of the staff.”
As the car filled with the scent of sugar-infused bubble drinks, Eve ran it through.
“According to statements we have so far, the previous headmaster ran a loose ship, let things slide, and focused on bringing in the moolah.”
“I can checkmark that,” Callendar said between slurps. “I’m friends with a dude who went there. We go back, and I know he had to dodge and sprint to keep from getting his ass kicked—didn’t dodge and sprint fast enough one time and got banged up bad. He’d have graduated in like ’53 or ’54. His parents went in, more than once, and wanted to pull him out, but he really wanted to finish there. He works for Roarke now.”
Eve shot a glance in the rearview. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. He’s a game developer, and he’s been working for Roarke World for a couple years. I can round him up if you want to jaw.”
“I want to jaw.”
“Solid. I’ll fix it. We hung out a lot back then because, you know, gaming. He’s wicked smart, and totally nerdy. Might as well flash a Kick My Ass sign to the assholes, you know? They wanted him to hack in for tests, or do their work, like that. I was taking martial arts, showed him some moves. It helped a little.”
“And the school—the administration—let it slide?”
“From what I know, yeah. He was there on scholarship, and got a full ride to MIT, so yeah, wicked smart.”
