The Bitterest Pill

Five

Jesse’s first stop the next morning was at the high school, and his first stop at the school was the office of Principal Virginia Wester. His initial instinct had been to go back to Heather’s family to see if Selectman Mackey had anything to add to whatever little his wife had said the night before. But since the case wasn’t murder, at least not in the way he understood it, or an apparent suicide, Jesse figured to circle back to them in a day or two. Right now they would be caught in the throes of grief and in the midst of doing something no parent ever wants to do, let alone think of. People sometimes plan for their own deaths — buy plots, draw up wills, sign DNRs, choose readings, etc. — but he had never known anyone who planned for the death of a child. No, he would leave the Mackeys alone for the moment.

Freda Bellows had been a fixture at Paradise High School for nearly forty years. In her time as a secretary to the principal, she’d seen five principals come and go. Freda, a thin, jovial woman, loved being around the kids and was the unofficial institutional memory of the school. A few years beyond retirement age, she had been granted special dispensation by the Board of Selectmen, allowing her to stay on until she decided she’d had enough. That was one of the things Jesse liked about small-town life. In L.A. or Boston, exceptions were frowned upon. If you do it for one, you’ll have to do it for all, and you know how much that will cost. In a place like Paradise, exceptions weren’t seen as calamities but as kindnesses. Freda usually had a smile for everyone. Not today. Today she greeted Jesse with red eyes and choked-back sobs.

“Oh my God, Jesse,” she said, a mascaraed tear running down her wrinkled cheek. “I can’t believe it. Heather was such a wonderful girl. Was it an overdose? They’re saying it was heroin. I can’t believe it. Was it heroin?”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “I can’t talk about it, Freda.”

“I’m sorry, Jesse. I understand. Would you like to see Principal Wester?”

“I would.”

“Go on in.”

Virginia Wester was the new principal at Paradise High. Ten years Jesse’s junior, she was a handsome woman with dark blond hair, worn-penny eyes, and a perpetually stern look on her face. Smiles seemed to come at a premium for her. That was fine with Jesse. He wasn’t exactly a backslapping good-time Charlie himself. They had never exchanged much more than perfunctory hellos at town functions, but that was about to change.

“Chief Stone,” Wester said, extending her hand as she came around the desk to greet him. “Sad day. Terrible day.”

He shook her hand. “Jesse.”

“Excuse me.” She was confused.

“Please call me Jesse.”

She didn’t know what to do with that. Should she smile and make a similar gesture or tell him that such informality made her uncomfortable. She opted for saying “Please, sit.”

He sat.

“Obviously, we’ve heard the news,” she said. “We would like to help any way we can, but unless I know what we’re—”

“I usually can’t comment on an ongoing investigation, but if it will help you to help me... It looks like a heroin overdose. We don’t have the tox screen back yet, but we’re pretty sure.”

Wester leaned forward, a strained expression on her face. “Was it — I mean, did she—”

He understood. “It doesn’t appear to be a suicide, no. There was no note, but there isn’t always a note. I suppose one of the reasons I’m here is to find out if I’m misreading the situation. How was she doing in school?”

Wester tapped a key on her keyboard. “I thought someone from the police would be here today, so I already had her records for you to look at.” She turned the screen to face Jesse. “As you can see, Heather’s grades had been gradually slumping over the last several marking periods. It began midyear last year and continued. She’d gone from an A-plus student to a B-minus kid, on her way to C.”

“Did you intercede? Were her parents aware?”

Wester gathered herself, her whole body seeming to clench. “Even in a relatively small town, a principal can’t afford to know every student’s progress or—”

Jesse understood her defensiveness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound like an accusation or criticism. I’m just trying to get a picture of Heather. I didn’t want to bother her parents today. I’m sure you understand.”

“No need to apologize, Chief Stone. I overreacted. Heather’s death, any student’s death, is very upsetting. It has me on edge and causes a ripple effect among the students. Kids think they know how to handle these things, but they don’t. We’ll have grief counselors in, but most of the kids won’t seek their help. As far as Heather goes, I think you would have more luck speaking with her individual teachers. I’ve had Freda print out a list of her teachers from this term and the last term of her sophomore year. She will also supply you with their schedules.”

Jesse stood, shook her hand again, and turned to go.

“Chief Stone... Jesse.”

He looked back. “Yeah.”

“Anything else I can do...”

“Of course.” He shook his head.

As Jesse walked out to speak to Freda and get the things Wester had promised, he reminded himself how he was far more familiar with premature death, in all its forms, than most people would ever be or want to be. Death, even when it’s expected, even when it comes as a relief, shakes people up. The death of someone so young really does a number on people because it reminds them of just how vulnerable and fragile all life is.