Ray wandered around the office as he waited. The room had obviously once been the mansion’s library. A large black marble fireplace was centered on the west wall. Bookcases ran from each side of the fireplace and also covered most of the east and north walls. The south wall had three sets of French doors that opened onto a brick terrace and overlooked a small lake.
The books were shelved behind doors framed in oak with tarnished brass-screened center panels. Sets of dusty, leatherbound books, gold on the spines, filled the cases. Ray opened one of the doors and withdrew a volume from a set titled
Famous Women of the French Court
. He paged past the marbleized endpapers searching for a copyright date. Ray decoded the Roman numerals to 1921. As he started to leaf through the book, he noted that the signatures—the large multi-page sheets that were printed and folded to make sections of the book—were uncut. The book had never been read.
So much for the women of the French court
, he thought as he replaced the book.
He moved toward the floor-to-ceiling doors on the south wall. Velour curtains in a faded rose, decades past their prime, framed the spans. A large oriental rug, threadbare on the traffic patterns, covered much of the oak parquet floor. The harsh light from two banks of fluorescent lights suspended from the ceiling violated the tone of the architecture.
“Too bad about those,” said Ian Warrington, noting Ray’s gaze as he entered the room. “My predecessor had some strange ideas about how to modernize things. I’ve been trying to rectify and restore things as money allows.” He paused; his tone became grave. “But that’s a small problem now. I’ve told Sarah James and my wife, Helen, about Ashleigh.” He slid his thin athletic frame into a worn leather chair near one of the windows and gestured for Ray to use the adjoining one. “We are beginning to plan how to present this to the students,” he said, a troubled expression on his face. “I’ve never faced a situation like this.” There was a long pause, Warrington lost in thought, his last comment seemed more to himself than to Ray.
“We need to notify Ms. Allen’s and David Dowd’s next of kin as quickly as possible,” said Ray. “Could you help us identify the people who should be contacted?”
“I had anticipated that you would require that. Sarah is working on it, but I’m not sure what she is going to find. Ashleigh didn’t have much of a family. Her mother died when Ashleigh was a young teen, breast cancer, I think. She was a student here at Leiston at the time. Ashleigh was the grandniece of Mrs. Howard, the school’s founder. And Mrs. Howard was her legal guardian after her mother’s death.” His tone changed, “You grew up around here, didn’t you, sheriff?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know Mrs. Howard?”
“I knew her by sight. I would see her shopping in the village,” Ray responded. “She was very hard to miss, an imposing looking woman, drove a large, old, blue sedan, a Jaguar I think. But this place,” Ray made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “was always a mysterious enclave: gated, walled, posted. The Howards made it clear they didn’t want their privacy intruded upon. They seldom hired locals, brought their own staff from Chicago. Even their year-round caretaker was an outsider.” Ray paused briefly. “And it didn’t seem to change very much after she started the school.”
“Yes, I know,” Warrington said as he ran his right hand through his light brown hair. “Another thing I hope to address.”
“And her father? Ashleigh’s?”
“I don’t know the whole history, there are people here at the school, some of the old-timers, who probably know more. The version I’ve heard is that she was conceived when her mother was a graduate student at Berkeley. The man, perhaps one of her professors, was married. He drifted out of her mother’s life before Ashleigh was born. I don’t know if Ashleigh ever had contact with him, I’m not sure she even knows his identity,” he paused and corrected himself, “even knew his identity.”
“Did her mother ever spend time in this area?” Ray asked.
“I really don’t know. The fact that Mrs. Howard ended up as Ashleigh’s guardian suggests that she was close with the mother, so there’s the possibility that she did.”
“Other relatives?”
“She had no siblings. Her grandmother, Mrs. Howard’s sister, has been dead for years. I don’t think there’s anyone else. But Sarah is working on it; we’ll see what she finds out.” Warrington exhaled heavily and sagged into his chair.
“David Dowd, can you give us some help… ?”
“Sarah has pulled his records. She has names and addresses for his parents and is checking to see if they are current. They were divorced by the time David was at school here. What else do you need?”
“We need to trace Ashleigh’s movements during the last few days. Did she live here at the school?”
“Yes, she resided,” Warrington paused for a moment––Ray heard the pain in his voice, “in one of the older faculty lodges, duplexes, actually. They were built as guest cottages in the early years of the estate. Mrs. Howard had some additional ones built in the ’60s in the same style as the original ones when she started the school, but the early ones are much nicer. They’re built like this place,” he gestured to his surroundings, “stone and timber, very solid. They look like something you’d find in the Cotswolds. That’s in England,” he added.
Ray nodded. “We need to know who saw her yesterday, who she was with, at what time. We also need access to her quarters.”
Warrington shook his head back and forth, “You don’t suspect that anyone here could have… ”
“This is the beginning of a homicide investigation. We will be looking at all possibilities. We have to learn as much as we can about the victims and the people with whom they associated. Have you arranged a meeting with the staff?”
“Ms. James is trying to contact everyone. Being the weekend, she’s having some difficulty. The staff meeting is tentatively scheduled for five o’clock. Then we have a meeting of the whole school scheduled for six.” Warrington paused, pushed his glasses up his long, thin nose and continued. “Our consulting psychologist will be here and two crisis counselors from Detroit are flying in this afternoon. When is the media going to… ”
“They already know that there has been a double homicide. We’ve been able to withhold the names and keep them away from the crime scene. I’ve promised them a press conference after we’ve notified next of kin.”
“How do I keep them off campus?” asked Warrington.
“You won’t have much trouble if it’s just the local media. If you meet with the reporters and give them some time, I think they will respect the fact that this is a school and they will keep their distance. But if one of the networks jumps on the story, well… ” He paused and watched the gloom settle on Warrington.
“Anyway, I would like to be at your staff meeting. I’ll have Deputy Lawrence with me. And I’ll have her available for your community meeting if there are any questions she might be able to help with.”
“Is there any way we can keep the students out of this?” Warrington asked.
“I understand your desire to shield them from this horrible crime, but it’s possible that one of them might have seen or heard something that will aid our investigation.” Ray paused, then looked directly at Warrington, his tone hardened. “Do you know of anyone who might have a motive to do this? Have there been any threats against Ms. Allen?”
“Everyone loved Ashleigh. She was a bright, beautiful young woman. Students adored her, and she was popular with the staff.”
“Someone didn’t love her,” Ray said, his tone flat. “This is one of the most brutal homicides I’ve ever seen.” He waited. Warrington didn’t respond. “How long has she been here?”
“As a teacher, three years. This was her fourth. We were fortunate to recruit her back.” Warrington brightened for a moment as he remembered that time, then he became solemn again. “I’m in the process of revitalizing the school. It was almost moribund when I arrived. One of my first objectives was to hire young, energetic faculty members as our senior people retired. Ashleigh was the first new hire in more than twenty years. She was going to be an important part of this rebuilding process.”
“Three years,” Elkins repeated. “Did she have any enemies? Do you know of any threats?”
Warrington peered at the ceiling and rubbed the back of his neck, he looked back at Ray and said, “No,” as he shook his head back and forth.
“What do you know about the second victim, David Dowd.?”
“Not much. He was one of the people she dated. She’d occasionally bring him to school functions when he was visiting. Seemed like a nice enough young man.”
“His driver’s license gives an Ann Arbor address. Do you know if he was in school?”
“He was a doctoral student, social psychology, I think.”
“When did you last see Ashleigh?”
“Let me think about that.” He stroked his chin with a thin, bony hand. “I see her every day when school is in session. We all have lunch together, the faculty. People chat in the halls between classes, and they pop in to say hi and ask questions.”
“Did you see Ashleigh yesterday, Saturday?”
Warrington moved to and fro in his chair a few moments before he answered. “I don’t think so. We had a home soccer game, lots of things going on, parents and visitors on campus. I remember seeing her on Friday, at lunch. Ashleigh was very animated. On Thursday she’d taken her environmental biology class on a field trip to that swampy area near the mouth of Otter Creek. She had a funny story about one of the kids, a rather large girl, wandering away from the group and getting mired in the mud up to her waist. It took the rest of the class to pull her out.”
“And David Dowd. When did you last see him?”
“Can’t remember for sure. Probably some weeks ago. He occasionally visited her on weekends.”
“Was this a serious relationship?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t think it was exclusive, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Ray noted an edge to Warrington’s tone. “Exclusive?”
“Ashleigh was a very attractive, engaging young woman. I don’t think she was interested in an exclusive relationship. She wasn’t ready to settle down.”
“Can you identify any of her other male friends?”
“By sight, possibly. I wasn’t always introduced. None of my business, really. Maybe others here can help you. I just know she dated several men.”
“Living in this,” Ray hesitated as he reached for words, “this almost cloistered community, her dating, was that a problem?”
“No, not really. She was discreet. Not that a few of the students weren’t watching; they seem to keep tabs on their favorite teachers.” He stopped briefly. “But faculty housing, it’s off in its own area. And Ashleigh’s cottage is the most remote of the group. I think she could come and go without anyone… ”
“Didn’t you say she lived in a duplex?”
“Yes, Janet Medford lives in the other half. But Medford is in her own world. I doubt she’d have noticed much. She has a drinking problem, after her teaching day is over she disappears into a bottle.”
“Might Ashleigh have been involved with one of the students?”
“Impossible,” Warrington shot back. “She was a real professional.”
“Could one of Ashleigh’s students been involved with her, at a fantasy level?”
“It’s possible,” he responded. “I don’t think any of us adults can accurately speculate on what goes on in the heads of teenagers. But Ashleigh would not have reciprocated. Ashleigh was an adult. They’re kids. She always made it clear to them that she wasn’t one of them. And they knew the difference.” Warrington’s pitch rose, and he was making a jabbing motion with his forefinger to stress his point.
“Did she date anyone here at the school?”
“Well, no.” Warrington moved back in his chair and looked ill at ease.
“Meaning what? Did she or didn’t she, Dr. Warrington?”
“There was some speculation that she was involved with Tony Davis her first year. He had been her mathematics instructor when she was a student here.”
“And?”
“And nothing. He was married, and it was getting a bit sticky. Fortunately he decided to go back for his Ph.D. Enrolled at Stanford. Sometimes you get lucky and HR problems go away, far away,” he said.
“And this Tony Davis hasn’t been in the area?”
“No. Haven’t seen him or heard from him in more than a year.”
“Here at the school, how do you keep track of the students, how do you know where people are?”
“It’s pretty much a closed campus. They can’t have cars, and they must be with a responsible adult if they go off campus in a car. During their free time they can sign out to go to the village or ride their bikes through the national park. Everyone has to be in their dorms by ten during the week, midnight on Friday and Saturday. The house parents do an informal check.”
“Informal. You often don’t know where students are?”
“We do, and we don’t,” Warrington answered in an irritated tone. “We’re not a military school. We don’t line them up in formations every hour or two and count heads. One of the goals of Leiston School is to teach personal responsibility. We expect students to follow the rules, they must sign the school’s code of conduct when they matriculate.”
“And there are few violations of the code of conduct?”
“Very few, very few indeed. Our students quickly realize how special this place is. They don’t want to do anything that would hurt the school or get themselves kicked out.”
“So, no one is ever asked to leave?” Ray pursued.
“Very seldom, I can think of only one case since I’ve been here.”
“What kind of security measures do you have in place?” Ray asked, taking the conversation in another direction.
“You don’t think anyone is in danger, do you?” Warrington asked, a tone of alarm in his voice.
“I’m trying to get a sense of how the school operates.”
“Gary Zatanski heads campus security. He’s a retired ATF officer. He’s got three assistants. His men also do some emergency maintenance. They carry cell phones so we can always reach them. The 11-7 guy stays at the entrance at the main gate. He monitors the security cameras on the perimeters of the dorms and at their entrances and calls the house parents if the natives are getting restless.”