CHAPTER 13

Patricia Ann Skaggs's robust frame and broad shoulders were belied by a beseeching, little-girl voice. Frequent tic-like eyeblinks turned gorgeous cornflower eyes into sputtering gas-flames.

Ten seconds with her in the back room and Enrico Hauer's insouciance had been neutralized.

Milo said, "So you know why you're here."

"Marlene-Dr. H.'s secretary-told me Elise died, the police were talking to her colleagues. Was she murdered?"

"It's possible."

"Oh, that's horrid!"

"You two were close?"

"I liked her," said Pat Skaggs. "We socialized at work, but I really can't say much about her personal life."

Blink. Blink.

Milo said, "Workplace friend."

"The first time I saw her, she having lunch by herself in a corner of the faculty lounge. She subbed, so no one knew who she was. I introduced myself. I figured it was difficult to get into our circle."

"Faculty at Prep's like a club."

"Oh, no, nothing like that," said Pat Skaggs. "It's just that the rest of us were accustomed to each other."

"Not much faculty turnover at Prep?"

"It's a great place to work." Raising her volume on that proclamation.

"How long have you been teaching there, Pat?"

"Five years, starting right after college."

"Which college?"

" Wellesley."

"That's a great place."

Impish smile. "Now you're going to say Hillary went there."

I said, "Madeleine Albright and Diane Sawyer went there."

She laughed. "They, as well."

Milo said, "What do you teach at Prep?"

"Advanced Placement and honors history, honors world civilizations seminar, bonus chautauqua on women's rights in the wake of the Industrial Revolution."

"Elise tutored history and English, so you had something in common. Ever send any students to her for tutoring?"

"A couple. They seemed satisfied."

"No complaints from pushy parents about someone getting an A-minus instead of an A?"

Pat Skaggs pushed hair off a moist forehead. "I'm sure you've heard stories but for the most part Prep's not like that."

"No grade pressure?"

"By the time kids get to AP and honors they've pretty much self-selected."

"Still," I said, "some of them require tutoring."

She licked her lips. "Some people are extremely perfectionistic."

"Some people get upset when perfection's not attained."

"You're not really saying some student did this because they weren't pleased with Elise's performance?"

Milo said, "At this point, we're open to any theory, Pat."

"Oh, wow," she said. "No, honestly, I don't see that." Small hands quivered. "Honestly, I just don't see that."

"Where did Elise go to school, Pat?"

" U. of Maryland."

"She talk much about her college days?"

"Not really."

"Not really?"

"She did tell me she'd preferred to go to a small college."

"Like Wellesley."

Nod.

"Why didn't she?"

"Money."

"What'd she have to say about her family?"

"Nothing," said Skaggs.

"Nothing at all?"

"She avoided talking about her family, Lieutenant. As to why, I can only conjecture that her memories weren't pleasant."

"Avoided, how?"

"I just got a general sense of… avoidance. Okay, here's an example: Once, before Thanksgiving, I was talking about how much I looked forward to seeing my family. Elise said, 'Sounds nice,' and there was a wistful tone in her voice. I mistook that for her missing her own family, said something along those lines. Elise shook her head, rather… vociferously. Then she smiled and changed the subject but I felt I'd touched a nerve. On the other hand, maybe I'm reading too much into it."

"What else did you and Elise talk about?"

"Work stuff, girl stuff. She hadn't dated in a long time, said she might be getting ready for that but wasn't sure."

"When did she tell you that?"

"I'd have to say a few months ago… three?"

Well past the time when she'd started seeing Sal Fidella.

Milo said, "Where'd you have those girl chats?"

Blink blink blink. "We went out a couple of times after work. Had a drink to unwind. Not at bars, at restaurants with bars. Because of me, I'm not into places where people just sit and get drunk. Even at Wellesley I wasn't much for the bar scene. Poor Elise, I can't believe anyone would do that to her. Did she suffer?"

"Sounds like you really liked her, as a person."

"I did."

He frowned. Shook his head. "That makes it a little tough, Pat."

"Makes what tough?"

"Having to tell you something that might conflict with your opinion of Elise."

"I'm not following." Moisture darkened the armpits of her jacket. Enough sweat to seep quickly through heavy twill.

Milo pulled his chair closer, leaned in close. Pat Skaggs's lower lip shook.

"Pat," he said, "the sad truth is you may have thought Elise was a nice person but the feeling wasn't mutual."

"I-what are you saying?"

He summed up the DVD.

Patricia Ann Skaggs screamed and ran from the room.

We caught up to her in the hallway near the vacant kitchen, where she'd slumped against a wall and was sobbing into both palms.

"I'm sorry, Pat." Milo placed a hand on her shoulder.

"It's not true! It's an ugly, ugly, ugly lie!"

We waited until tears gave way to snuffles.

"Let's sit back down and hear your side of it, Pat."

She pulled away. Red-faced, and some of the color had spread to the sclera of her eyes.

Red, white, and blue; the patriotism of fear.

"Let's sit down, Pat."

"There is no other side! If she said that-I can't believe she'd say that, why would she say that?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out, Pat."

"She lied about Jim Winterthorn and Rico Hauer, too?"

"Why would you ask that, Pat?"

"They're the only other faculty members summoned to talk to you."

"Who told you that?"

"Marlene."

"Pat, have you discussed anything related to this case with Winterthorn or Hauer-or anyone else?"

"Absolutely not," she said.

"I need you to be straight about that, Pat."

"I am being straight, I've had no time to talk to anyone."

"So you tried."

Silence.

"Pat?"

"After Marlene told me, I tried to call both of them but neither picked up their phones."

"When?"

"An hour ago. I assure you there was no attempt to dissemble. I was merely curious about why only the three of us."

"Was any other faculty member at Prep as friendly with Elise as you?"

"I really wasn't that friendly, myself."

"Same question, Pat."

She chewed her lip. Shook her head. "Truthfully, I never saw Elise with Jim or Rico."

"Do you know Jim and Rico pretty well?"

"Uh-uh, no way, I'm not getting into personalities. Not when you drag me here and make vicious accusations."

"The accusations are not ours, Pat. They're Elise's."

"How do I know that's true?"

"Why else would we be talking to you?"

"And Jim and Rico."

"Let's concentrate on you right now, Pat."

"There's nothing to concentrate on. I want to get out of here."

"That's your right," said Milo. "But it will result in a subpoena and further questioning at the police station."

Pat Skaggs gaped. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"A woman's dead and leaves behind a taped accusation. If we didn't follow through on something like that, would we be doing our job?"

No answer.

"What kind of grade would you give us for that type of sloppiness, Pat? D? F?"

Pat Skaggs ground her teeth. "She may have said it, but it never happened. Elise's death has nothing to do with me."

"That's why we need to sit back down and hear what you have to say."

"Oh, God," she said. "This is Kafkaesque."

Same adjective Hauer had used. If a tormented, tubercular Jew hadn't penned a handful of stories, what would academics do for emotional shorthand?