Small Vices Part 5

"I'm looking into the Melissa Henderson murder," I said.

"Excuse me, but I thought that had been looked into."

"There's a feeling," I said, "that justice miscarried in this instance and I've been hired to see if that's true."

"You are a private detective?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How does one get to be a private detective?" she said.

"I hesitate to generalize," I said. "I was a cop, found myself restless with the hierarchy, decided to go private. I was helped to that decision by getting fired."

"You speak rather well," she said.

"You too," I said.

She frowned for a moment and then her face widened into a smile.

"Good for you," she said. "I was patronizing, wasn't I."

"What I need is a list of the students who at the time of the murder were living in the dorm that overlooks where the body was found."

"Do you have some sort of, I don't know the proper terminology, some sort of legal empowerment that requires me to give it to you?"

"No."

"Then I will not."

"You academics are so evasive," I said.

She smiled. It was a nice smile, but firm.

"I'm sorry to be so blunt," she said. "But I am very clear on this, and I know the trustees will support me. The event was a severe hardship for all of us here and we do not wish it to be disinterred."

"Even if an innocent man is inside for life?" I said.

"Do you know him to be innocent?"

"No."

"My memory is that the man convicted of the crime is a career criminal who preyed on women."

"So no harm putting him away," I said. "Even if he didn't do this one."

"That may be," she said. "One could make an argument for it, I think. But that is not my issue. My issue is this college and the young women past, present; and future for whose education, in the largest sense, we are responsible."

"Especially past," I said. "Gotta raise those funds."

"If we didn't raise funds," she said, "the college could not survive. But there is no argument here. Until I know that the freedom of an innocent man is at stake, and I guess I mean 'innocent,' also, in its largest sense, I will not help you to intrude on the life of this campus."

"Well," I said. "I guess I'll have to just ask around." President Evans didn't seem daunted.

"You are free to do that, obviously. But not on this campus. This campus is private property and I am reasonably certain that I can prohibit you from trespa.s.sing."

"How do you feel about justice?" I said.

"I am in favor of it, but I am not prepared to sacrifice this college and our young women to your definition of it."

I grinned at her.

"I hope I'm not intimidating you," I said.

The amus.e.m.e.nt that always seemed to linger around the corners of her eyes expanded into a full-face laugh.

"Not so badly that I can't breathe," she said.

"Good," I said. "I'm clear on your position. Now here's mine. I have no desire to damage this campus or its young women past, present, and future. But I am going to find out if Ellis Alves is where he should be; and if he isn't, I'm going to get him out."

"Since we are being frank," President Evans said, "I will tell you that the victim's mother is an alumna of this college, and the wife of the governor is an alumna of this college and our board of trustees includes two U.S. Senators. None of them, including the victim's mother, wants Melissa's death exploited."

"Two U.S. Senators," I said. "Yikes."

"Are you intimidated?".

"Not so I can't breathe," I said.

President Evans laughed.

"Well, I must say, as adversaries go, you are a lot of fun," she said. "A small dose of charm."

"I've found a small dose to be safer," I said. "The full wattage, all at once, and people are sometimes injured."

"Especially women, I imagine."

"They often hurt themselves in their frenzy to disrobe."

"I've been able to conquer the impulse," she said. "You and I remain adversaries, however congenial, and are likely to remain so. You don't seem like someone who will give up easily."

"Or ever," I said.

"You also don't seem like someone who would strike a woman," she said, "Which somewhat disarms you. I imagine that your size would intimidate a lot of men."

"The power of weakness," I said.

"Yes," she said. "The world is quite ironic, isn't it."

I nodded. We sat and looked at each other. I liked her. There was a calmness in her, a quality of settled self-confidence in the way she leaned back in her chair, the simplicity of her attire, the understatement of her makeup. She knew herself and was happy with what she knew. It made her formidable.

"Is there anything you would care to tell me about the murder of Melissa Henderson?" I said.

She smiled at me.

"You take whatever you can get, don't you?" she said.

"What can you tell me?"

"It was a nightmare for this college," she said. "In personal terms, it was heartbreaking to those who knew Melissa, and frightening to all of us who are women, to whom such a thing could be done, here, in our enclosure, so to speak. It was also a nightmare in terms of publicity, in terms of student recruitment, and in many cases, alumnae support."

"Did you know the victim?" I said.

"Yes. Her mother graduated from Pemberton as did her grandmother. I was a student here with her mother."

"What can you tell me about Melissa?"

"Nothing."

"Good student? Bad student?"

President Evans shook her head. "She have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?"

"How contemporary," President Evans said.

"Did she?"

"I don't know."

"Was she a girl who would be likely to have one?"

President Evans shrugged.

"I think I'll stop wasting our time," I said.

"Good," she said.

I stood. She stood. We shook hands.

"If there is something that comes up in the future," she said, "which does not threaten my college, I would be pleased to help you."

"Thanks," I said. "And if you ever need a thug..."

"Maybe for fund-raising," she said and smiled. And I smiled. And she came out from behind her desk and walked with me to the door and opened it. And I left.

Chapter 9.

THE THING I dreaded most was talking to the victim's parents, so I figured I might as well get it done. They lived in Brookline in a big red brick house with a wide porch; a couple of blocks uphill from the reservoir. Mr. Henderson was The Henderson Corporation, a firm that occupied most of the floors in the Mercantile Building that Cone, Oakes and Baldwin didn't occupy. The Henderson Corporation owned banks, and fertilizer companies, and a stock brokerage firm, and a company in Switzerland that made faucets, and a lot of other stuff that I couldn't remember, because I didn't take notes when I looked them up. He was a medium-sized guy with no hair and horn-rimmed gla.s.ses. His handshake was firm, his gaze direct. He was still in his suit, with his jacket off. He wore a white shirt and broad suspenders in a colorful pattern-the kind of no-nonsense guy that you'd trust with your money, though you might trust him more with his own. Mrs. Henderson was slim and dark with her black hair in a severe Dutch boy cut. She had on a mango-colored dress with a square neck and a short skirt. It looked good on her.

"You wish to talk about our daughter," Mr. Henderson said when we were seated in some bentwood furniture covered in floral prints in the sunroom off the formal living room.

"Yes, sir," I said.

"We had hoped to put that behind us," Henderson said.

He and his wife sat together on the sofa against the white painted brick back of the living room fireplace.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But I've been employed by Cone, Oakes and Baldwin to look into her death more closely."

"To what purpose?" Mrs. Henderson said.

She held her hands folded in her lap. There was a stereo setup to my right, in front of one of the windows. On it was a picture of a young woman wearing a much too big Taft University letter sweater. The sweater had a big blue chenille T on the front. There was a pair of small tennis racquets woven into the crosspiece of the T. Beneath the racquets the word co-captain was embroidered.

"Is that Melissa?" I said.

"Yes," Henderson said.

"What is the purpose of your investigation?" Mrs. Henderson said.

"To make sure they've got the right guy."

They were both silent for a moment, and then Mrs. Henderson said, "You mean you're not sure?"

"I have just begun, ma'am. I'm not sure of anything. It's why I'm going around talking to people."

"This law firm, this Cone whatchamacallit, they think Alves is innocent?"

"They feel he got an inadequate defense," I said. "They wish to be sure it's the right man."

Again they were quiet.

Finally, Henderson said, "I realize you're just doing your job..."

His wife interrupted.

"Walton is always reasonable. He can't help it. But I don't care about your job. I care about my daughter. And I will not permit the man who murdered our only child to be set free."

Henderson looked at his wife and at me. He didn't say anything.

"You have no reason to question the verdict?" I said.

"Absolutely not," Mrs. Henderson said.

She was leaning forward on the couch, her hands still clasped in her lap. She might have been actually quivering with the intensity of her feeling, or I might have thought she was.