"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?"

"Twenty-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.

"So," said Milo, "no favorites you were aware of."

"I wasn't paying attention."

"What about conflict with anyone at Prep? Students, faculty, janitors?"

"Absolutely nothing like that," said Winterthorn.

"If she did have problems with someone, would you have known, Jim?"

"What do you mean?"

"Being in the math-science tribe."

"That demarcation applies to socializing," said Winterthorn, shifting his weight and scratching the bridge of his nose. "Prep's an intimate place, significant events can attain broad coverage. If Elise was experiencing significant conflict-something that would lead to… yes, I might know about that. But I never heard a thing."

"You're saying there's a well-oiled gossip mill operating."

"Not really, it's just… important facts travel."

"What did the mill have to say about Elise?"

Winterthorn bit his lip. "I'm not comfortable talking behind her back. Especially now."

"Now is when you need to talk behind her back, Jim. That back is currently resting on the cold steel surface of a coroner's dissection table."

Winterthorn shuddered. "Good Lord, you don't pull punches, do you?"

"I've found that unhelpful when dealing with murder."

"Murder… this is surreal."

"Let's get back to the gossip question, Jim. What did loose lips flap about concerning Elise?"

"Do I have to be quoted on this in your official document-your file, whatever you call it?"