The Couple Next Door(36)

Rasbach takes the paper and says, “Thank you for your time.”

He and Jennings get back into the sweltering car. Rasbach says, “Let’s go see Bleeker. We’ll grab a sandwich on the way.”

“What do you expect to find out?” Jennings asks.

“Never expect, Jennings.”





FIFTEEN


When they arrive at the retired teacher’s house, they are met by a woman with a straight back and sharp eyes. She looks just the way a retired English teacher from a private girls’ school would look, Rasbach thinks.

Ms. Bleeker studies their badges closely and then sizes up the two detectives themselves before she opens her door. “You can’t be too careful,” she says.

Jennings gives Rasbach a look as she leads them down a narrow hall and into her front room. “Please be seated,” she says.

Rasbach and Jennings promptly take seats in two upholstered armchairs. She settles down slowly on the couch opposite. There’s a thick novel—a Penguin Classics edition of Trollope’s Barchester Towers—on the coffee table and an iPad beside it.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” she asks, and then adds, “Although I think I can guess why you’re here.”

Rasbach gives her his most disarming smile. “Why do you think we’re here, Ms. Bleeker?”

“You want to talk about Anne. I recognized her. She’s all over the news.” Rasbach and Jennings exchange a quick glance. “She was Anne Dries when I taught her.”

“Yes,” Rasbach says, “we want to talk to you about Anne.”

“It’s a terrible thing. I was very sad when I saw it on TV.” She sighs deeply. “I don’t know what I can tell you about what happened back then, because I don’t know anything. I tried to find out, but nobody would tell me anything.”

Rasbach feels excitement prickle at his neck. “Why don’t you start at the beginning,” he says patiently.

She nods. “I liked Anne. She was a good English student. Not inspired, but hardworking. Serious. She was pretty quiet. It was difficult to know what was going on in her head. She liked to draw. I knew that the other girls were picking on her. I tried to put a stop to it.”

“Picking on her how?”

“The usual spoiled-rich-girl stuff. Kids with more money than brains. They told her she was fat. She wasn’t, of course. The other girls were rail thin. Unhealthy.”

“When was this?”

“Probably when she was in about tenth or eleventh grade. There were three girls—thought they were God’s gift. The three prettiest girls in school found one another and formed a private club that no one else could join.”

“Do you remember their names?

“Of course. Debbie Renzetti, Janice Foegle, and Susan Givens.” Jennings writes the names in his notebook. “I won’t forget those three.”

“And what happened?”

“I don’t know. One day the three pretty girls were hassling Anne, as usual, and the next thing you know, one was in the hospital and the other two were giving Anne a very wide berth. Susan missed school for a couple of weeks. The story was that she fell off her bike and got a concussion.”

Rasbach leans forward slightly. “But you don’t believe the story, do you? What do you think actually happened?”

“I don’t know, exactly. There were some closed-door meetings with the parents. It was all hushed up. But I’m betting Anne had had enough.”

? ? ?

Back at the station, Rasbach and Jennings do some digging and learn that two of the girls mentioned by the retired English teacher, Debbie Renzetti and Susan Givens, had moved away with their families by the end of high school. Janice Foegle, as luck would have it, still lives in the city. When Rasbach calls her, his luck holds—she’s home and she’s willing to come in to the station and talk to them that afternoon.

Rasbach is called to the front desk when Janice Foegle arrives, right on time. He goes out to meet her. He knows what to expect, but still, she is a striking woman. What must it have been like, Rasbach wonders, to possess that kind of beauty in high school, when most of the other kids are struggling to come to terms with their own unsatisfactory appearance? He wonders how it has shaped her. He is reminded, fleetingly, of Cynthia Stillwell.

“Ms. Foegle,” Rasbach says. “I’m Detective Rasbach. This is Detective Jennings. Thank you for coming in. We have a few questions for you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

She gives him a resigned frown. “To be honest, I’ve been expecting someone to call me,” she says.

They take her to one of the interview rooms. She looks tense when they mention the video camera, but she doesn’t complain.

“You knew Anne Conti in high school—she was Anne Dries then—when you were at St. Mildred’s,” Rasbach begins, once the preliminaries are out of the way.

“Yes.” Her voice is quiet.

“What was she like?”

Janice pauses, as if unsure of what to say. “She was nice.”

“Nice?” Rasbach waits for more.

Suddenly her face crumples and she begins to cry. Rasbach gently pushes the tissue box within her reach and waits. “The truth is, she was a nice girl and I was a total bitch. Me and Susan and Debbie, we were awful girls. I’m ashamed of it now. I look back at what I was like and I just can’t believe it. We were so mean to her, for no reason.”