The Headmaster's Wife(135)

“They did,” James Hallwood said, “but that’s not the point either. The point is that those two, uh, papers, are about the same thing. Or they’re supposed to be. They’re about Michael having sex with a faculty member. And Michael’s paper is so awful that you don’t pay attention to details after a while because your mind is reeling. But if you do pay attention to details, you see it. Mark wrote his paper about Michael and Alice. Michael wrote his paper about himself and someone else.”

Gregor looked down at the papers on his lap again. He didn’t want to read any more of Michael Feyre’s. James leaned forward, impatient.

“Look at that,” he said, flipping to the next to the last page and pointing to the middle paragraph. “Look at it. He says he wants to take an Exacto knife to her tattoo, do you see that?”

What Gregor saw was a sentence that had that information in it, but a lot of other words as well, most of them obscene.

“I see it,” he said.

“Whoever it is, she has a tattoo on her inner right thigh. A tattoo of numbers: 75744210. He says it right here.”

“It might still refer to Mrs. Makepeace,” Gregor said.

“No, it couldn’t. Alice does not have tattoos, and I know she doesn’t have them on her inner thighs. We have a pool here, and I’ve seen her swim.”

“It could refer to someone he knew before he ever came here,” Gregor said, “or someone he knows in town rather than in school. Or it could refer to a student.”

“No,” James said again. He grabbed the papers and rifled through them another time. “Look here. Sit in class and watch her teach see her naked tell her next time she should strip right there and then get the knife, get something serious and cut her eyes … It sounds like one of his teachers, doesn’t it? One of his teachers here.”

“Maybe,” Gregor said cautiously. “Did Michael have many women teachers?”

“He had Edith,” James said. “Not that I think for a moment that this could be Edith. She’s not the type to give in to sexual blackmail, and she’s not the type for a boy like that to want to, well, to do what he’s suggesting he did here. And I can’t imagine Edith had a tattoo, although they’ll find that out at the autopsy, won’t they?”

“Yes,” Gregor said, “if there’s a tattoo, they’ll make a note of it.”

“I think the best bet is Marta Coelho,” James said. “She’s his history teacher. Was his history teacher. And she’s new this year. Nobody’s seen her at the pool or walking around in shorts. She could have a tattoo. I wonder what the numbers mean.”

James’s eyes were gleaming. He looked, Gregor thought, like a man who had just spied a prize he’d wanted desperately or an addict about to score a fresh fix. His hunger was so intense it was difficult to stay in the same room with him. Gregor was suddenly more aware than he liked of the utter silence of the House around them.

“Here,” James said, thrusting the papers at him again. “Take them. They may help you.”

“They may help me what?” Gregor asked.

“They may help you,” James insisted. “It’s too late for theschool, of course. It doesn’t matter what Peter Makepeace thinks. He’s not God and he’s not Superman. The school is finished. But that doesn’t mean she should get away with it.”

“She? Do you mean Marta Coelho?”

“Of course I mean Marta Coelho,” James said, impatient now. “Do you know what she’s been doing for days? She’s been running around campus, accusing people—accusing people of things. Spreading rumors and gossip about people. Trying to make all of us look guilty.”

“Guilty of what exactly?”

“Of trying to poison Mark, that’s what,” James said. “At least that, if not more.”

“But nobody knew Mark had been poisoned until yesterday.”

“Then of causing Michael to kill himself,” James said. “What difference does it make? Not that I ever believed Michael killed himself, not for a moment. He wasn’t the type. Homicidal maniacs don’t kill themselves; they kill other people.”

“What makes you think Michael Feyre was a homicidal maniac?”

“Well, look at that thing,” James said. “Don’t tell me you don’t think he wouldn’t have ended up a serial killer if he hadn’t died here. He’s got the mind of a serial killer. He spent enough time working out the methods of attack, too.”

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at,” Gregor said. “Are you trying to tell me that Michael Feyre was murdered, and Marta Coelho killed him?”