to ask lots of questions about everything so that when they got to Matthew’s office she wouldn’t look too interested in what Matthew kept on his mantelpiece. After leaving the kitchen, and pausing briefly in the dining area, Hen was hoping they’d turn right toward the office at the back of the house, but they went through the living room first, Mira explaining in detail how they’d knocked out the wall to the foyer to open up the space. When they finally got to the office, Mira said, “Nothing in here, of course, has anything to do with me. This is Matthew’s domain.”
“I want to see how big the desk is, because we need to buy one ourselves.”
They stepped into the room, Hen shocked all over again by how different it was from the rest of the rooms. Her eyes went immediately to the mantelpiece, noticing straightaway that the fencing trophy was no longer there. In its place was a flat wedge of rock with writing on it glued to a stand. Hen tried not to stare and let her vision sweep around the room, to see if the trophy had been moved.
“Do you want me to get a measuring tape for the desk?” Mira asked.
“Sure. Why not?”
Hen listened as Mira went up the stairs, probably to her craft area. She went closer to where the trophy had been. For a brief moment, she considered the possibility that she’d been confused the night of the dinner party, that she’d seen it somewhere else, but, no, she was sure it had been there, centered above the fireplace. It had been moved.
He’d moved it because he’d seen her looking at it. He knew she knew.
And Hen was sure now that Matthew had killed his former student. She was as sure of it as she’d have been if the fencing trophy had Dustin Miller’s name on it.
“I found it,” Mira said, coming back into the room with the measuring tape. She pulled out a length of the yellow tape, and it snapped back. Both Hen and Mira jumped, then laughed. Together they measured the desk.
Chapter 6
Matthew made himself a pork chop for dinner the way he liked it: a little salt and pepper, then cooked in the cast-iron pan with butter. Boiled potatoes on the side, and steamed broccoli. He put a heaping spoonful of applesauce right on top of the pork chop.
He ate the meal with a glass of milk while he watched the local news. Another private school, one in the western part of the state, had just admitted that seven former teachers had sexually abused students in the 1980s. Sussex Hall, as far as Matthew knew, had never employed any such teacher. There had been the scandal with William Roth, a first-year English teacher, who quit after he became romantically involved with one of the senior girls. This had been only a few years after girls were first admitted to Sussex Hall, and most of the older teachers blamed the incident on that fact, rather than William’s inability to control himself. It turned out okay in the end. William Roth left the school, and Maggie Allen, who never lodged a formal complaint, went on to graduate at the top of her class.
After dinner, Matthew’s brother, Richard, came over. Matthew had told him that Mira was out of town, and Richard was taking advantage of her absence. There had been a time in the past when Richard and Mira could occasionally be in the same room together, but that time was long gone.
“Have a drink with me,” Richard said, as Matthew poured him a large Scotch and soda, the same drink their father used to love.
“No, thanks,” Matthew said.
They sat in Matthew’s study. He knew it didn’t make sense, but having Richard over to his study felt less like a breach of Mira’s trust than having Richard in one of the rooms that Mira had designed.
“I was thinking about you last week,” Richard said.
“Oh yeah?”
Richard leaned forward and pushed his hand through his hair. He had a widow’s peak, another similarity with Dad, although Richard’s hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a couple of days.
“I was, uh, driving down Merrimack Avenue, and I was at that four-way stop for about five minutes because a whole gaggle of your students were jogging by. Jesus Christ, Mattie. What was that, the girls’ cross-country team?”
“I don’t know. Were they in uniform?”
“Green, right? Half of them were in those tight little shorts. How