Golden in Death(47)

Mira’s admin gave her the hard eye, but cleared the way.

Mira sat behind her desk in a suit of pale lavender with a little flouncy thing at the waist. She signaled Eve to wait while she finished her ’link call.

“No, of course. Don’t worry about that. I know, honey, I do. We’ll eat whenever you get home, and talk about it. You did, but it’s nice to hear it again. And I love you, too. I’ll see you at home. Bye now.”

She clicked off, sighed. “Dennis.”

“I kind of figured.”

“He’s taking Jay Duran’s Shakespeare Club meeting at five,” she said as she rose and crossed to her AutoChef on purple heels. Their open fronts revealed toes with nails painted the exact shade of the suit.

How did anyone think of that? Eve wondered.

“This has hit him very hard.”

“He was great with Duran,” Eve told her. “He helped, a lot.”

“I barely remember Elise.” The air filled with the scent of flowers as Mira took cups of tea from the AC. “I didn’t even have a clear picture until I brought up her data.”

“You didn’t really socialize.”

“No.” She handed Eve a cup, took a seat in one of her blue scoop chairs. “I don’t get to many of Dennis’s faculty functions. Work interferes. But I did meet her a few times. There are two teenage sons.”

“Yeah. I had Baxter and Trueheart get them out of school, take them to their grandparents. The victim’s mother found her.”

“What a terrible day for them. I’ve read the data on the murders, the forensics, the timelines. Tell me what you know.”

“The school—the Gold Academy—has to be the link. Duran had accepted the job at Columbia when Rufty came on as headmaster, but they worked there together for a semester. According to Duran, the previous headmaster had let a lot of things slide. More interested in courting parents with deep pockets than handling staff issues or problems with bullying, cheating, disciplinary problems. A group of teachers—including Duran—made a formal complaint to the board.”

Mira sipped tea. “Was action taken?”

“I can’t confirm that as yet, but the previous headmaster—Lotte Grange—transferred to a high-toned prep school in East Washington, and Rufty came on board at the Gold Academy. Duran states that Rufty changed the tone, took action, made changes. For the better, in Duran’s opinion. I figure somebody didn’t share that opinion.”

“And you theorize someone is killing the spouses of those he had grudges against at Gold?”

“It’s what plays. Duran claims he didn’t have any serious problems or enemies, but—”

“What’s a momentary annoyance or past issue for one is a deep and abiding insult to another,” Mira finished. “And Rufty?”

“I’m meeting with him again shortly. I’ll take him back to that first semester. With Duran in this, it has to go back to that timeline. Before, no Rufty, after, no Duran. Potentially we could have someone who developed a hard-on for Duran before Rufty came along, and got going on Rufty after Duran left. But I start with that timeline.”

“Yes, I’d agree. What do you know about Grange?”

“Peabody’s digging into that now.”

Mira nodded, sipped her tea. “To kill the innocent in order to strike at the ones he’s determined are guilty. He wants them to suffer, to mourn and grieve and live with great loss. He may perceive they caused him to suffer, grieve, and live with loss. There may be a personal as well as professional tie with Grange, or someone else who was pushed out—student or staff—during that timeline.”

“And if that timeline’s right, he’s had about eight years to stew over it, to plan it, to create or access the agent.”

“It’s not impulse,” Mira agreed, “but calculated. Highly organized and intelligent, and at the same time dispassionate. The kill is dispassionate,” Mira corrected. “A painful death, yes, but quick—and calculated so no one else is harmed. That element must have taken extra time, more work, so it matters that only the person addressed is killed.”

“He knows when to send the package,” Eve added, “so it arrives when the target’s alone. Or is scheduled to be alone.”

“Again, a calculated risk.” Considering that, Mira tapped a finger on the side of her pretty teacup. “Accidents happen in shipping, mistakes are made, plans change. But it’s a carefully calculated risk, and what would he lose if something happened, someone else opened the package, or it was damaged? Nothing really.

“He has knowledge and skill,” she went on. “He’s certainly worked with toxic chemicals.”

“Or is working with someone who has.”

Mira angled her head. “Yes, very possible. He or they must have a lab where he can create the agent. He’s loved,” Mira added. “Or believes he’s loved. Whether or not he’s experienced it himself, he understands the pain of loss. He uses it.”

“He may have lost a spouse?”

“Possibly, or a child, or a parent, someone he loved or believes he loved. Even the removal of the person he loved—a breakup, moving away. But I see him as an observer. Someone who watches, documents—scientifically—more than participates. Again, if your timeline is correct, he’s patient. He knows good work and positive results take time. Or she, of course. Poison’s often a female weapon. Most of us, present company definitely excepted, lack the physical strength and skill to confront an opponent physically.”