“What’s this about? I’ve got a client coming by in ten minutes. Cops aren’t good for business.”
“Craig Foster.”
“Oh.” Hallie blew out a breath, glanced toward a doorway. “Listen, my kid’s in the next room. She’s pretty upset about what happened. I really don’t want her to have to talk to the cops about this. Not until she feels better.”
“Actually, we’re here to talk to you.”
“Me? About Mr. Foster? Why?”
“We’re talking to everyone who was on school grounds yesterday.”
“Right. Right. Wait a minute.” She walked to the doorway, peeked in, then eased the door nearly closed. “Studying,” she said to Eve and Peabody. “Kid’s a gem. What do you need to know?”
“We’ll start with why you were there.”
“Show and Share Day. Em wanted to take Butch in for it. Our African Gray. Parrot?” she explained. “He’s a big guy. She couldn’t handle his cage herself, so I carried it to class for her.”
“You signed in at eight-twenty, didn’t sign out until ten-forty-two. How far did you have to carry Butch?”
“It’s a big school,” Hallie said, coolly again. “Are you interrogating all the parents?”
“It’s not so big it took you better than two hours to deliver a parrot. Did you see or speak with Mr. Foster yesterday?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“But you’ve had occasion to see and speak with him in the past.”
“Sure. Em had him last term. He seemed like a good one. She did really well in his class, and he showed a lot of interest in her.”
“Did you have any interest in him?”
Hallie drew a breath. “I don’t hit on Em’s teachers, and if I did, I’d go more for the little blonde who runs the Drama department. I’m gay, for God’s sake.”
“You have an assault on your record, Ms. Wentz.”
“Fuck that.” Temper sparked like flying embers. “That idiot son of a bitch deserved the broken shoulder, and a hell of a lot more. You know what he called my Em? Lesbo spawn.”
She sucked in another breath, held up a hand until she got herself under control. “He said that to me, so all I did was warn him to knock it off. But he kept it up, and started calling out things during the game. He called her a dyke. As in, ‘You can’t hit for crap, you little dyke.’ It wasn’t the first time he’d tossed out ignorant homophobe comments at a game, but they were tossed at me, not shouted out so she could hear. Nobody talks to my kid that way. I’d had enough.”
If the rundown were true, Eve was surprised the woman hadn’t aimed for the asshole’s skull rather than his shoulder. “Did Mr. Foster have anything inappropriate to say to your daughter?”
“Hell no. He was a decent guy, as far as I know. A good t
eacher, made his class fun for the kids. Emily liked him, a lot. She’s upset and confused over this. I don’t want her to be any more upset and confused than she has to be.”
“Then tell us why you were on school grounds for two hours and twenty-two minutes.”
“Jesus. I hung around in the class awhile, talking to some of the kids and Janine—Mrs. Linkletter—about Butch. Getting him to talk for them. Then…Listen, does this have to go on the record?”
“It depends on what ‘this’ is,” Eve told her.
“It doesn’t apply to what happened, so I just want you to say—if you agree it doesn’t—it doesn’t have to get around.”
“All right.”
“I slipped down into the kitchen. Laina Sanchez, the head nutritionist, moonlights for me. She’s not supposed to take outside jobs. I don’t want her to get in any trouble.”
“She won’t, not over that.”