Never Tell

Chapter Sixteen

Ellie grew up being told by her mother that she and Jess were lucky to be in one of the city’s “good schools.” The term had little to do with academic standards or curricular content. In segregated Wichita, “good schools” was code, conveying the same message as “good neighborhoods” or “good people.”

The Casden School was an entirely different story. Casden was a “day school.” Until she’d moved to New York, Ellie would have thought the term redundant since she’d never heard of a night school for kids. But now she understood that day schools were in contrast to boarding schools. This particular day school was arguably the most elite coed program in the city. Its Wikipedia entry boasted that for ten years straight the small school had representation in every single Ivy League university’s entering freshman class.

As she followed the directions she had received to the offices of the headmistress, Ellie took in the photographs of alumni that lined the school’s ornately carved stone hallways. She’d already passed the headshots of three senators, two Supreme Court justices, and a vice president. A surgeon who conducted the first heart transplant. The first female CEO of a Fortune 500 company. The editor in chief of Time magazine.

It was a “good school” indeed.

Ellie arrived at the headmistress’s office with certain expectations. She had expected absolute silence in the waiting area, a woman with a tight black bun who talked like Mary Poppins, and an extended song and dance about student privacy and the importance of parental consent for any encounters with outsiders.

As it turned out, Ellie didn’t know much about headmistresses.

She entered the administrative suite to find several adults clustered in the doorway between the secretary’s desk and the headmistress’s office. She heard a voice from inside the door. We have a grief counselor in the student lounge, though this really isn’t a school matter.

Ellie peered around the impressively coiffed hair of one of the concerned parents to get a glimpse at Headmistress Margaret Carter. No Mary Poppins accent. No hair bun in sight. A bit of a song and dance about privacy. Our understanding is that even the police do not have a full understanding of what occurred, but whatever did happen took place off campus and is a private matter for the student’s family. Please, I recognize your children are upset, but this has nothing to do with Casden.

Ellie listened to the exchanges of complaints as the parents shuffled out of the suite. “If the girl went to Casden, then it’s the school’s business, which means it’s our business.” “I hear Julia Whitmire left a note. Does anyone know what it said?” “If that woman thinks we’re just going to ignore this, she’ll be out of a job by finals.” “This is the second time this semester. How can she expect us to simply ignore something like that?”

After the crowd of parents had cleared out, Ellie ventured into the headmistress’s office and identified herself.

“I apologize for the disarray. I’m Margaret Carter, the headmistress here. I’m afraid the rumor mill has a life of its own. My phone has been ringing off the hook with worried parents.”

“What was the gist of the rumors?”

“I know the official cause of death has not been revealed, but all the kids are saying there was a suicide note. They’re saying she popped a bottle of pills and slit her wrists in the bathtub.”

The pills were a dramatic embellishment, but someone had obviously heard at least some of the critical facts.

“I’m hoping to speak to some of Julia’s friends. They’d be in the best position to know her state of mind in recent weeks.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you, Detective. Our students are minors. If you want to contact them off school premises, you can do so during nonschool hours, at their homes, and presumably with the consent of their parents. As of now, they are minor children on private premises. And I’d prefer you obtain a warrant if you want to go beyond any routine conversation with yours truly.”

“How about Julia’s friend, Ramona Langston? Her mother—or stepmother—Adrienne, said it would be all right. You can call her if necessary.” Ellie had no need to speak to Ramona again, but she wanted to test the headmistress’s commitment to stonewalling.

“You must be mistaken, Detective. Ramona’s at home today.” Carter reached a manicured fingernail to a button on her phone. A woman’s voice came through the speaker. “Yes?” “Heidi, can you please check the attendance records to see who contacted us this morning about Ramona Langston’s absence today?”

“No need, ma’am. I took the call myself. That’s how I heard about what happened to Julia. Ramona’s mother called and said Ramona was too upset to come to school today.”

“Thank you, Heidi.” Another tap of the speaker phone cut off the call.

“My impression is that Julia had many other friends besides Ramona,” Ellie said. “I’ll need to speak to them.”

“And, again, I’m saying you’ll need to speak to them outside of school property, and with the consent of their parents.” Carter did not even bother waiting for her response before shuffling documents scattered across her desk, obvious busywork.

“Do you know anything about Adderall abuse at Casden?”

Carter stopped fiddling with her papers and shot Ellie a look as if she’d just spit on the floor. “I don’t know what kind of children you’re used to, but the Casden School prides itself on the creation of future leaders. We have alumni in every branch of government, including the Supreme Court, and on the boards of forty-eight Fortune 500 companies. We produce more Rhodes Scholars per capita than any other day school in the country. All of our faculty have graduate degrees in their respective fields.”

“Perhaps that’s exactly why you might have kids selling each other Adderall. I just heard one of the other parents say something about this being ‘the second time this semester’? Was there another suicide?”

“I’m sure you can get whatever information you need elsewhere, Detective. I have an institution to run here. We all regret what happened to Julia, but I have other young people whose educations require my attention. If we are finished?”

Ellie didn’t budge, so the woman led the way to the office door for Ellie’s anticipated exit. “The mayor is an alumnus of this school, and he fully understands the situation here today. I suggest you call him, if necessary. You’re on private property, Detective, which means you need a warrant to be here.”

This was definitely not what Ellie expected of a school that had just lost one of its own.