Golden in Death(54)

“Chemistry. Let’s start there.”

“These would be on the third floor. There are elevators—”

“We’ll take the stairs,” Eve interrupted. “Get a better sense of the place.”

“In addition to our administration offices,” Myata began as she led the way, “we have our physical education center and an auditorium on the main level. We also have classrooms for grades kindergarten through six and a cafeteria.”

They started up steps worn by decades of feet. “On this level, classrooms for grades seven through twelve, our computer labs, a second cafeteria, a teachers’ lounge, study hall, our library—both digital and traditional—and our music room.”

And all with the big, echoing feel of a building after business hours. Student artwork adorned the walls as well as school announcements, posters for the spring musical, the spring dance, the spring concert. Slender lockers painted alternately in what she deduced were the school colors—navy and gold—had swipe locks.

“I’ve heard of the school you and your husband will open—soon, I think.”

“Looks like next month. It’s really his deal.”

Myata smiled. “It’s a good and generous thing, to provide a safe place to learn, to socialize, to become. I teach math skills on the main level, to second and third graders. It’s very rewarding.”

“I thought you were administration.”

“Yes.” They started up to three. “It’s our policy, one the headmaster implemented, that those in administration also teach at least one class every term. Dr. Rufty himself teaches U.S. history and cochairs our debate team. How can we administrate if we don’t also educate?”

Righting the ship, Eve thought. Hands on the wheel.

“You admire him.”

“Very much. Here on this floor we have more classrooms, science labs, computer science labs, our visual arts area, a small library-slash-reading room reserved for upperclassmen.”

She paused. “We even introduce the lower grades to chemistry, in the classroom. Very basic introductions to experimentation and reactions. Like … baking soda and lemon juice. Such things that are very safe, very simple, and can be done with little hands.”

“I’m more interested in the labs, the advanced programs.”

“Because of how Dr. Abner was killed.” Obviously struggling with distress, Myata nodded. “You have to look for answers. I can only say no one in this school would wish Dr. Rufty harm, and by harming his husband, they would harm him.”

“No issues, no problems, no disagreements?”

She smiled again, just a little. “It’s academia, Lieutenant. There will be drama and spats. We deal with children, more drama, more spats. But the tone comes from the head, doesn’t it? In here, the headmaster. We’re encouraged to listen to each other, to resolve our disagreements, and to always put the students first. It’s a good place.

“But you wish to see the chemistry labs, and I see Mr. Rosalind’s doors are open.”

They moved down the hallway, paused outside the open doors. Eve saw a tall black man in shirt and tie, wearing gloves and an eye shield, standing at the work counter next to a kid of about sixteen with a lot of tangled red hair and freckles.

Like Myata, Rosalind wore a black armband.

“Next step, Mac.”

“Um.”

“Follow the protocol.” He nodded when the kid picked up a bottle. “And what is that?”

“It’s, um, hydrogen peroxide. Um. Thirty percent hydrogen peroxide?”

“That’s right, and what’re you doing with it?”

“I’m, um, you know, gonna pour it into the other bottle.”

“How much of it?”

The kid bit his lip, looked over at the screen. “Fifty milliliters.” With the care of a boy making a boomer, Mac poured the solution into an opaque bottle, breathed out.

“Now?”

“It says to cap it—with this?”

“That’s right.”

“He’s so patient,” Myata murmured as Rosalind nudged the boy to what looked to Eve like a tea bag.

“Talk us through it, Mac.”

“Okay, um, I’m opening the tea bag, and taking the stuff—”

“What stuff?”

“The, you know, tea stuff.”

“Leaves.”

“Tea leaves out of it. Then I need to put the, um, the po—po—”

“Read it on screen.”

“Yeah, um, the potassium iodide into the empty bag.”

“How much?”

“Um, a quarter tablespoon.”

“Measure it out.”

Eve figured she’d have wanted to stun herself by this time, but Rosalind stood, at his ease, as the boy painstakingly measured, added.

“Now I gotta, um, tie it closed, but there has to be enough of the string thing to hang over the lip of the bottle. Right?”

“Exactly right. Do that.”

He might have been tying a couple of poisonous snakes together, but Mac finally managed it.

“Do I go ahead and open the bottle now?”

“That’s right. Make sure you point the bottle away—safety first, right, Mac?”