“Who orders the chemicals, the equipment?”
“As senior in the department, I requisition administration. You think someone from the school did this to Kent? The reports weren’t specific, but made it clear a chemical agent was used. I’m going to sit if you don’t mind. I’ve been on my feet most of the day.”
He lowered to a stool, sighed. “Without knowing what was used, I couldn’t tell you if such a thing could have been created here.”
“You stock toxic chemicals?”
“We would certainly have the ability to create them. Even with something as entertaining as the cloud effect—the oxygen release—I had Mac do, you see we take precautions. And all the chemicals, even something as basic as this hydrogen peroxide, would be locked up before I leave. The lab is also locked when not in use.”
“Why don’t you tell me where you were the night before Dr. Abner was killed. Just to tie that off.”
“The night before. That’s easy. My wife and I were at my son’s for dinner, and to celebrate our oldest grandchild’s birthday. She’s fifteen. Actually, Meris is a student here.” He smiled. “And barely got through Introduction to Chemistry. She’s more interested in theater—and is starrin
g in the spring musical. She had rehearsal after classes, just as she does today, so I actually waited, took her home, met my wife there. I don’t think we left until about ten-thirty.”
“And then?”
“Well, we walked home, Lilliana and I. It was a nice night, and it’s only a handful of blocks. Plus.” He patted his stomach. “Birthday cake. I graded some papers in bed while Lilliana read. It was probably lights-out by eleven-thirty.”
“Okay.”
“I consider Kent and Martin friends. Considered Kent a friend.” He looked toward the windows, toward the sky of tender spring blue. “Kent and I often ran together on weekends if we could mesh our schedules.”
Now Eve sat. “Tell me about Lotte Grange.”
He sighed again. “Thirty-seven years, four headmasters, so many students I’ve watched come in as hardly more than babies and leave as young men and women. It’s still satisfying to me to help someone like Mac, who’s so easily distracted, so unsure of himself, find some moment of triumph and fascination with science.”
“I could see that for myself. But that’s not about Grange.”
“In a way it is. Every headmaster sets a tone, leaves a mark, has a vision. She was ambitious, and why shouldn’t she be, and initially I thought her ability to court deep pockets could only benefit the school. She wasn’t an educator, or was no longer interested in being one, and that sets a tone, doesn’t it?”
“You tell me,” Eve countered.
“Yes. She was solid as assistant headmaster—not like our Kim, who’s a treasure, but solid. And initially, when she took over, she seemed steady enough. But it didn’t take long before that changed, in my opinion.”
“In what way?”
“The focus on those deep pockets took over. If a student had those pockets behind him or her, it became clear there would be little to no consequences for poor behavior, for missed work, poor grades. Factions often form under such a tone. Action—or inaction—and reaction. Some students—often ones like Mac—were cornered, humiliated, ganged up on with impunity. Or a pretense of disciplinary action.”
He angled his head. “You don’t seem surprised by this. You know all this already.”
“Did you know Jay Duran when he taught here?”
“Of course. Different areas, but we teachers know each other. You’ve spoken to Jay? He’s at Columbia now, or was when I last spoke to him.”
“When was that?”
“In December. Some of us still get together for a little holiday cheer.”
He doesn’t know, Eve thought. “Mr. Duran’s wife was killed this morning.”
“What?” He pushed off the stool, shock lurching him to his feet. “But— How? Wait. No. The same? The same?”
“Yes.”
Standing, he pressed his hands to the sides of his head. “This is horrible.”
“Who was here, student or staff, during the end of Grange’s tenure and the start of Rufty’s who resented the change, who had an aptitude for what you teach?”