Never Tell (Detective D.D. Warren #10)(26)

“Any one person more vocal than another?”

“No. Evie might not be the warmest person around, but everyone respected her. She’s a great teacher. And she supported her fellow educators. Didn’t have any Harvard airs or anything like that. Academics”—she leaned forward conspiratorially—“can be the worst kind of snobs.”

“What do you know of her husband, Conrad Carter?” Phil asked. “She speak of her home life much?”

“Sure. Their latest house project. And of course, now that they were expecting, she’d speak of the baby. Where would they put the nursery, that sort of thing. She was very excited. At least …” That slight hesitation again. “In the past few weeks, I haven’t spoken to Evie much. She seemed distant, preoccupied. Morning sickness, holiday stress, I don’t know. I didn’t worry about it too much in the beginning; everyone gets busy from time to time. But now, in hindsight … I wonder if there was something on her mind. Maybe something was bothering her.”

“But you don’t know what something?” D.D. spoke up.

Cathy shook her head. “She started eating lunch in her own classroom. Catching up on work, she told me. I didn’t question it the first few days. But, again, in hindsight, it’s been nearly a month. That’s a long time to be holed up in a classroom.”

“You ever stop in, check up with her?” Phil asked.

“Sure. She’d wave me off and I’d let it go. I mean, this time of year, with the holidays coming, the kids are crazy and we’re all losing it a little.”

“Do you know how she met Conrad?” D.D. asked.

“Um.” Cathy seemed to have to stop and think at this sudden change in topic. “Through a friend, when she worked at her first school. One of the teachers there had a cookout at his house and Conrad was there. They bought their house in Winthrop four years ago. That’s what made Evie apply here; it’s a much better commute.”

“She struggle with her marriage?” Phil asked.

Cathy shook her head. “She wasn’t one for that kind of talk.”

“What do you mean that kind of talk?”

“Personal. We talked teaching mostly. About being females in our respective fields. About how to get more students excited for two subjects a lot of kids already think they don’t like or can’t do. We talked shop, I guess. We ate in the teachers’ lounge, after all.”

“You never went out after work? Ladies’ night at the martini bar?” D.D. pressed.

“Evie always went home. Even when Conrad was traveling. I don’t know. She seemed the homebody type. Plus, many of the projects going on at their place she did herself. It wasn’t that he was fixing it up. They both had talents.”

Which, again, D.D. found interesting. Where had a rich girl who grew up in Cambridge learned home improvement skills?

“What about her relationship with students?” Phil asked now.

“Her students loved her.”

“All of her students?”

Cathy shook her head. “Nothing stands out. We’re nearly halfway through the school year now; Evie didn’t mention having problems with any particular teen.”

“What about a student who might’ve needed extra attention? Been unusually demanding of her time.”

Again, the science teacher shook her head. “You might ask Sharon—Principal Ahearn. I hadn’t heard of anything.”

Phil and D.D. exchanged glances. The principal already seemed like a dead end when it came to learning more about Evelyn Carter. Asking for detailed information about students probably wasn’t going to get them any further; school administrators were naturally disinclined to share those kinds of records.

“Did Evie have a computer?” Phil asked now, nodding to the one on Cathy’s desk. “One assigned for her by the school, or she would’ve used to contact students.”

“Sure. We all have school-issued laptops. Though much of what we do is handled by apps now, on our personal cell phones. Attendance, school grades, you name it. The modern era.”

In other words, Evie should have a computer in her classroom. Which, once they had the proper warrant, might prove a useful bread crumb given their total lack of a digital trail right now. E-mails with students, other staff, maybe even Google searches Evie had felt safer doing in the relative privacy of her workplace, rather in her own home, just down the hall from her husband …

Phil’s cell rang. He glanced at the screen, frowned. “Excuse me a moment.”

He put the phone to his ear. D.D. could tell it was one of his fellow detectives, probably Neil or Carol, based on the fact that Phil didn’t speak as much as grunt. Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh. Then, turning toward D.D.: “We gotta go.”

Cathy was already rising to standing. Phil handed her a card. “Thank you for your time, we’ll be in touch.”

He didn’t give the bewildered educator time to reply or ask any other questions. Instead, he was already turning on his heel, heading toward the hall with D.D. in his wake.

“What, what, what?” she demanded as she finally reached his side.

“You’re never going to believe this. Evie and Conrad’s home, our crime scene …”

D.D.’s heart sank. She didn’t need to hear what Phil had to say next.