Before She Knew Him(24)
“So you don’t know anything about what happened when Dustin Miller went to the Junior Olympics of fencing?”
Matthew pretended to think. It was fairly big news at the time, a lot of gossip among the teachers. “It does ring a bell. Something bad, right?”
“He was accused by a fellow student of sexual assault.”
“Okay. Now I remember.”
“Do you remember Courtney Cheigh?”
“Again, not well. I think she was in my freshman world history class, and she took a seminar with me her senior year. Ancient Rome.”
“Did she complete that class senior year?”
“No, now that I think of it. She left early that year. She transferred to Lincoln-Sudbury High School.” I was sad to see her go when she left. She had the palest eyelids, almost appearing translucent, and she was small with narrow shoulders. Shortly after she’d arrived at Sussex Hall, she’d developed large breasts that she worked very hard to cover. It was probably the reason she switched from field hockey to fencing, because of the uniform, how stiff the material was, how much it covered. But she’d gotten excellent at it and qualified with Dustin Miller and Brandon Hsu for the Junior Olympics after all three did well at the New England qualifiers. She’d actually come to me, excited, after finding out that she was taking the trip. She wanted to know about the history of St. Louis, if it was worth going up inside of the arch. Dustin raped her in her hotel room. He’d managed to bring alcohol on the trip, and they’d both gotten drunk. After Courtney left Sussex Hall—I was amazed and proud that she’d stayed as long as she did—I overheard Dustin and one of his friends trying to figure out who had the biggest tits in school now that she was gone.
“So what can you tell me about the incident at the fencing tournament?”
“I know she filed a complaint, but I’m not sure she ever pressed charges. I remember hearing they’d gotten drunk together.”
“The trip wasn’t chaperoned?”
“I know that the fencing coach went—he always did—and maybe one parent, but Courtney had her own room.”
“You remember more than you thought you did.” The detective smiled slightly, but it didn’t change his sorrowful eyes.
“I guess I do. It’s one of those things you hope to forget about.”
“Did you have an opinion about the incident?”
“I’m not sure I ever knew enough about it.”
“But you must have had some opinion, having taught both students. If it was a he said, she said type of situation, then who would you have believed? This isn’t an official question, by the way, I’m just interested in your opinion.”
“Do you think that what happened at Sussex Hall had something to do with Dustin Miller’s death?”
“Nope, not really. To be honest, we’re just following leads, and the more information I can get on this situation, the better. Again, I’m not looking for an official statement, I’m really just hoping for an opinion.”
“It was a long time ago,” Matthew said, scratching at his chin, trying to look thoughtful. “I don’t want to be quoted on this or anything, but the way I remember it was that Dustin was a good kid. They both got drunk, and maybe he should have been more careful, but she should have been more careful as well. It was just one of those things . . . it happens. I don’t think it would have been worth ruining Dustin’s life over what had happened.”
The detective smiled again with his thin lips and studied Matthew for a moment. “Thank you. That’s very helpful,” he said. He put his hands on his knees, as though he was ready to stand.
“Is that all?” Matthew asked.
“That’s all. Unless you can remember anything else?”
“Like I said, I don’t remember him very well.”
“But he was a good kid, you remember that?”
“Well, he wasn’t a bad kid, that much I can remember.”
The detective stood, rising easily from the sofa, and so did Matthew. They walked together to the door, Matthew wondering if Detective Martinez was going to ask to use a bathroom or look around the house. This had to be about the fencing trophy, right? This had to be because his new neighbor had called the cops on him. Matthew almost hoped that the detective would ask to look around and that he could show him into his study, but once they were through the front door, the detective was offering his hand to shake, and Matthew was shaking it.
“You came a long way for not very much,” Matthew said.
“Well, you never know. And it’s a beautiful day for a drive.”
Matthew hadn’t noticed the day, but it was beautiful—dry crisp air, deep blue sky. “It’s nice,” he said.
“I love this area. All these nice houses. Lot of kids in this neighborhood? Good schools?”
“Yeah, the public school is good,” Matthew said. “That’s what I hear.”
Matthew stood in the doorway for a few minutes and watched the detective drive away.
Chapter 13
After making the phone call to the Cambridge police that morning, Hen paced the house some more, then got herself a second coffee and tried to sit with her sketchbook. She still hadn’t sketched the two remaining illustrations for the new chapter book she was working on. The book was called School for Lore Warriors: The Anti-Claus. It was the first in a series—all children’s books these days were in series—and it was about a military school for teenagers that taught them how to fight supernatural creatures. Most of her commissions these days involved the supernatural. It wasn’t her favorite type of book to work on, because she often had to imagine what make-believe creatures looked like, and the authors were never happy. She’d much rather do illustrations for young adult suspense, like the ones she’d loved as a teenager. Lois Duncan. V. C. Andrews. But these types of books just weren’t that popular these days.