The Headmaster's Wife(144)

“Everybody says Michael was a sadist, not a masochist,” Brian said. “Why did he want someone to tie him up?”

“Control,” Gregor said. “The idea that he was so completely in control of this other person that even hog-tied he could direct the scene and never once be disobeyed. I think Michael Feyre sincerely believed that that was what was going to happen. He wouldn’t have put himself in the position he was in otherwise.”

“It sounds like Alice Makepeace,” Brian said, “doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Gregor admitted, “it does. She’s always been the one with the most to lose in all of this, and she’s always been the one ruthless enough to get whatever she wanted however she wanted it. And she would have known that the suicide of a student would not close the school or even bring on much in the way of an inquiry. Nobody wants an inquiry into a student suicide. The parents don’t want it; it only rakes up memories they can’t handle. The school doesn’t want it; it makes them look bad. The police don’t want it; there isn’t much of any point to it and they only end up looking like insensitive asses. You’re to be commended for doing as much of an investigation as you did.”

“Thanks a lot,” Brian said. “Now all we have to do is start rolling some people under there and find what you think they can find, even though you can’t tell them what to lookfor because you don’t know what it is. They pay you lots of money to do this sort of thing?”

“My best guess,” Gregor said, “is that it’s going to be some kind of wallet.”

“A wallet,” Brian said.

Gregor kept his cell phone in the pocket of his sports jacket, not handy, because he never used it. Now he heard it ring, and for a moment he thought the sound belonged to something Brian Sheehy was carrying. When he realized it belonged to him, it took him long seconds first to find the phone and then to get it out where it could be useful.

He flipped it open and checked the call waiting. It was a magnificent phone, a gift from Bennis on his last birthday. It reminded him of weapons used in Star Wars movies, although he had to admit that he never paid much attention to Star Wars movies. If Tibor wanted company, Gregor went with him and half slept through a large popcorn.

There were only three people in the world who had this number: Bennis, Tibor, and Lida Arkmanian. Lida would only call if one of the other two had died. Tibor would only call in an emergency. Gregor stared down at Bennis’s number showing in the identification window and said, “Excuse me. There’s something I have to do.”





2


Gregor had never really reconciled himself to cell phones. He knew they were convenient, and that they could be life-savers in some circumstances. He would not like to be stranded on a deserted road with a flat tire without one, and he understood the value of them in radically traumatic events: the people who had called from the top of the Twin Towers, just before the towers themselves went down in flames, to say good-bye to the families they loved; the people who called from the edges of earthquakes and tornadoes and hurricanes; the people who called from the insides of banks during the progress of a robbery or a hostage situation. Gregor didn’t think cell phones were a bad thing. He just didn’t like the idea of standing out in the open where everybody and anybody could hear him, having a private conversation without even the small comfort of being able to sit down.

There was nothing he could do about that at the moment. There was no place close enough for him to retreat to. The library was several yards up the hill behind him. He didn’t want to be that far from the action while the uniformed policemen moved in. He settled for backing up to just beyond the crowd of law enforcement, but not so far that he backed into the crowd of students, faculty, and onlookers who were being held back by even more uniformed police. He was surprised Windsor had this many people in its department. He wondered what crime was going unpoliced while what seemed to be the entire force was here tending to the scandal at Windsor Academy.

He turned the phone on and said, “Hello?” The wind was picking up, and although it wasn’t as cold as it had been last night, it was still frigid. Gregor found himself wishing he’d worn a hat or even owned one.

“Hi,” Bennis said.

“Well,” Gregor said. Then he felt like an idiot. He’d known this woman for nearly a decade. He’d been living with her, officially or unofficially, for quite some time. There had to be something to say besides “well.”

“I’m watching you on the news,” Bennis said. “There’s a camera right behind you, looks like at the top of some hill you’re halfway down. They pointed you out a minute ago.”