School Days

Chapter 19

IT WAS AFTER Labor Day and instruction was under way when I walked into the Dowling School. Sue Biegler brought me into the president's office, introduced me, and departed.

The president was a middle-sized man with thinning hair, so that close up, he was balder than you first realized. He wasn't fat, but he was soft-looking. His soft face had one of those perpetual blue shadows that no amount of shaving would eliminate. Nature is not fair. Too little hair, too much whisker. His name was Dr. Royce Garner.

"First," he said, "let me say that every one of us here at the Dowling School are heavy at heart of last spring's tragedy. And we stand ready to help you in any way we can."

"That's swell," I said.

"We do, of course, hope," he went on, "that we can put it behind us as quickly as we can, and get back to what we do best."

"Educating the young," I said.

"Exactly."

He leaned back a little, with his fingertips pressed together, delighted with himself.

"What is your doctorate in?" I said.

"Divinity," he said. "I am an ordained minister."

"How come you're a president," I said. "I thought prep schools had headmasters."

He smiled indulgently at my lay confusion.

"We are planning to expand into a junior college as soon as our fundraising for the venture is complete," he said. "It seemed appropriate to assume the title in our quest to give credibility to our capital campaign."

"Of course," I said.

He smiled again.

"So, how may I be of help?" he said.

"I'd like to hang around the school for a time," I said. "Talk with kids in their free periods, in the library, that sort of thing."

"Really?"

I nodded.

"What would you be chatting about?"

"Last spring's shooting," I said.

"We are trying to put that behind us, Mr. Spenser."

"Don't blame you, especially when you're trying to raise money."

"That is an issue, certainly," Garner said. "But it is the well-being of the students that we are most concerned about. We cannot prepare them for college and a productive life with this terrible tragedy hanging ever over them."

"I understand," I said. "It is, however, an unresolved tragedy. I'm trying to resolve it."

"Unresolved?" Garner said. "How so?"

"We don't in fact know for certain what happened."

"We know that good people, many of them still children, were killed by two individuals who are in custody."

"We don't know why."

"And you think my students will know why?"

"Ever hopeful," I said.

President Garner wet his plump lips. He put his fingertips together in front of his chin.

"I'm afraid school policy will not permit it," he said. "I'm truly sorry."

"Who's in charge of school policy?" I said.

"Myself and, of course, the board."

"Of course," I said. "I bet that board is a collection of tigers."

He smiled.

"They are dedicated people," he said. "They care about the Dowling School."

"Isn't that ducky," I said.

"No need to be offensive."

"The hell there isn't," I said. "Everybody wants this to go away-you, the cops, even the parents of the alleged shooters."

"I believe they are more than alleged," Garner said.

"They are alleged until they are convicted," I said. "And that hasn't happened yet."

"That is something of an equivocation," Garner said.

"Normally, when everyone wants something to go away, it's because if it doesn't, it will cause them discomfort. Maybe you'll be revealed as a bad educator, or the cops will be revealed as bad lawmen, or the parents will be revealed as bad parents. And that will discomfort you all."

"I think that's about enough, Mr. Spenser."

"Almost," I said. "But I do want you to know that I am a carrier of discomfort. I am deeply committed to it, and I'm going to find out what happened."

"They killed people," Garner said. "Isn't that enough?"

"No," I said. "It's not."

"I'm ordering you to leave school property," Garner said. "If you return, I'll have you arrested."

I thought about saying "I shall return," decided it had been used before, and settled for walking out without a word and not closing the door.