Good Girls Lie(87)
“Hi, Ford. We need to have a quick talk. Alone.”
Is it Kate’s imagination, or does the dean pale when she hears Tony’s serious tone? What is this woman hiding? Kate hasn’t been able to shake the feeling that the dean isn’t sharing all she knows about the night Camille Shannon died.
Face it, Wood. You’re looking for a disaster. Morbid much?
“Come on in. Can we get you some tea or coffee?”
“Not necessary,” Tony says. When the door is shut and they’re all arranged, he jumps in. “We’ve come across something of interest about one of your students. Ash Carlisle—Ashlyn Carr—specifically. Show her,” he says to Kate, and she pulls up the photo of the painting on her phone.
“This is from the Carrs’ estate. When the crime scene techs from Scotland Yard were combing the place, one took this shot. It’s an official portrait of the family. Do you see anything odd?”
Ford takes Kate’s phone and looks at the picture, squinting a bit. “That’s Ash.”
“Is it?”
“Well, it certainly looks like her. She’s younger, obviously. Why?”
“I don’t think it’s her. The shape of her face is off, her chin, her nose. They could be sisters, but I—”
“Wait. Let me see it again.” She stares at the photo.
“You interviewed Ash before she was admitted to the school, correct?”
“I did. But her admission was a foregone conclusion, which is not the usual. This was a bit of a unique situation. Her parents got in touch with my mother, who asked me to admit her as a personal favor. I was happy to do it—we had a transfer slot open, so the timing was good. And the Carrs were a very special family.” To Kate, “You probably don’t know this, but Goode has a waiting list. It’s rather extensive.”
“I assume that’s an understatement.”
“Well, yes. This situation... I’m bound by privacy here, Tony. She’s a student, and I’m her guardian. Where are you going with this?”
“If Ash isn’t who she says she is...”
“Then we’d have a much bigger issue. I hardly believe that’s the case, though. Girls change dramatically in their teen years.”
“Did you fly her here, or did you go there for the interview?” Tony asks.
“Neither. We talked on Skype. She came across as a very well-bred, articulate girl—for a sixteen-year-old. Half of their utterances are noncommittal grunts.”
“Do you have a tape of this interview?”
“No, actually. I don’t. There was no need, it was pro forma, more to make sure she understood the Honor Code than anything else. And soon after our conversation, her parents passed away. We worked with the estate and arranged for a scholarship because the money for her schooling was going to be tied up for a while. It’s something we’ve never revealed, another little Goode secret.”
“Why did her parents want to send her here? You said it was a favor?”
Ford taps a thumb on her desk. “Again, privacy. What happened before Ash arrived on our shores isn’t something I can discuss.”
“If you won’t tell us, then we’ll need to talk with Ash directly, let her tell us the story,” Kate says.
“Not without representation. I’ll call Alan and we can set up a time. But if you’re questioning her, I won’t let her do it without a lawyer. You understand, I’m sure.”
Tony stands. “Call Alan. We’ll be back tomorrow. Say, 10:00 a.m.?”
The dean looks startled that Tony has called her bluff. “I will make the arrangements.”
“One last thing. You lost a teacher earlier in term?”
“Dr. Muriel Grassley. Poor thing. Her heart finally gave out. We had incidents with her allergies over and over again.”
“This wasn’t a one-time thing?” Kate asks.
“Oh, no. Not to lay blame, but if I had an allergy that could kill me, I’d be a bit more careful with my intake. She rarely checked ingredients. Yes,” she says, looking out the window, “what a terrible term. Two deaths.”
“And a new student whose family has just died, as well.”
Westhaven shakes her head. “You’re programmed to see the sinister in every situation. I have a very hard time believing that Ash is capable of any sort of deceit. You talked to her. She’s a kid. A teenage girl. They’re like wolves, untamed, unruly, and for the most part, unremarkable.”
“But she’s a Goode girl,” Tony replies. “You always tell me Goode girls are special.”
The smile is swift and fleeting. “You have to say something on the brochures.”
66
THE IMPOSTOR
Ford buzzes Melanie the second she sees Tony’s cruiser pull away.
“Get me Medea, right now.”
Tony has Ford rattled, there’s no denying it. Intimating Ash is some sort of impostor—impossible. The solicitor... No. Simply impossible.
Five minutes later, the handsome teacher appears, his forehead creased in worry. “What’s the matter? Melanie said it was urgent.”
“I need your computer services.”
“On?”
“Can you bring up a Skype chat that I didn’t record? I need to revisit an entrance interview.”