The Next Killing. Rebecca Drake

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СКАЧАТЬ extricating herself politely from his grip.

      She got her chance when he paused to reprimand a student for running and she briskly stepped ahead of him so that he had to hurry to catch up as she crossed the campus toward the dining hall.

      “We’re so sorry that you found Morgan Wycoff,” he said in a stage whisper once he’d caught up. “Not that it would be pleasant for any of us, mind you, but for a new teacher here—” He grimaced and then held the door open for her.

      In some ways, the dining hall was much like other school cafeterias, complete with trays, food being kept warm under heat lamps, served by grumpy-looking, stolid ladies wearing hairnets. The similarities ended just past the cashier.

      Instead of metal-and-Formica molded cafeteria tables, there was row upon neat row of wooden refectory tables with wooden chairs. The tables were laid with white linen, real flatware, and cloth napkins, and every table had a centerpiece of a small flowering plant.

      “There are two prefects chosen from both the sophomore and junior classes and four from our senior class,” Pierce explained. “These girls take turns monitoring the dining hall.”

      Pierce led her toward the faculty section, identical to the rest of the seating except that the long tables were separated from the students by a raised platform. It gave the teachers a clear view of what was happening across the dining hall, but it also afforded them little privacy.

      “One of the downsides of being a teacher,” a middle-aged woman wearing a tweed suit said with a grin as Lauren sat down. “They say being on this platform is putting us in a place of honor, but the truth is that we’re really just on display for the herd. Feels strange, doesn’t it?”

      “Alice, you’ll scare her,” an older man admonished. He stood up and extended his hand across the table. “Leonard Whitecliff, and this is my esteemed colleague in the English department, Alice LaRue.”

      “Oh Leonard, you’re the one who’ll scare her with your Masterpiece Theatre manners.” Alice laughed and offered her right hand to Lauren while taking a small roll from a basket with her left. “Personally, I still eat here for these.” She broke open the bread and steam rose from it. “Aah. Warm bread is the true mark of civilization.”

      A tall, quiet man seated to Lauren’s right chuckled at that. “My vote goes to indoor plumbing,” he said. “James Bolton, science.”

      There was a flurry of other introductions and she promptly forgot most of the names. She’d gotten a salad to eat and there were sweating glass pitchers of iced tea and water with slices of lemon floating in both.

      “We understand that you’re the one who found Morgan,” Alice LaRue said. The others paused in their eating and looked expectantly at Lauren.

      “Yes,” she said.

      “We’ve heard that she was naked? Is that true?” Ryland Pierce asked.

      Lauren’s hand faltered and the iced tea she was pouring splashed onto the linen cloth. A pool of amber spread around her glass as she dabbed at it with her napkin.

      James placed a hand gently on hers, stilling Lauren. “It’s okay,” he said in a low voice. “They’ve seen worse stains.”

      Lauren looked up to see a row of expectant faces. “Yes,” she said. “She was naked.”

      Her appetite shriveled as she said it. She had managed to push the image of that girl’s drawn face and purplish skin far from her mind while she was teaching, but now it rushed back with a vengeance. She could feel bile rising and thought she might be ill.

      “She was a very strange girl,” Leonard said. “She really didn’t fit in here.”

      Alice grimaced. “Oh, Leonard, just because she was a free spirit.”

      “Flouting all the rules, repeatedly—that goes beyond being a free spirit.” Natalie Myers, a startlingly thin math teacher said with a moue of distaste.

      “I’d say that’s the very definition.” Alice countered, slathering another roll with butter. She munched on it placidly.

      “I’m afraid I’ll have to agree with Leonard and Natalie,” Ryland Pierce said, but he didn’t sound at all regretful. “She was quite a handful. It’s just like her to cause controversy even in death.”

      Natalie suddenly said, “She’s dead. Let’s not speak ill of her.”

      “I’m surprised the media hasn’t shown up yet,” Ryland said as if she hadn’t spoken.

      “St. Ursula’s doesn’t need the publicity,” Alice said with dismay. “Not just when we’re recovering from what happened two years ago.”

      Lauren asked, “What happened two years ago?”

      “Two stupid kids killed driving drunk,” Leonard said.

      Alice added, “They crashed into a tree on campus. For some reason it made the national news—you probably saw it.”

      Lauren shook her head. “I was out of the country.”

      “Oh? Where were you?” Leonard gave her an inquiring smile.

      “Studying in London.”

      “Lucky you,” Alice said. “Did you get to Paris? I adore Paris—I got these there some twenty years ago.” She fingered the string of long, swirled-glass beads around her neck.

      “Heavens, Alice, she was a baby twenty years ago!” Natalie said with a laugh. “I’m surprised Sister Rose hired someone so young to replace Sister Agnes. No offense.” The last directed at Lauren with a little laugh.

      She was spared from replying by Alice. “Poor Agnes. That was really awful. It’s amazing how fast the mind can disintegrate.”

      “What happened?” Lauren asked.

      “Alzheimer’s,” Leonard said. “And the worst part was people didn’t understand, well, at least not until the paranoia.”

      Ryland Pierce interrupted him. “Goodness, this is depressing lunch conversation. Let’s turn to something more pleasant, shall we?” He shone his capped-tooth smile on them all and Alice gave a little harrumph under her breath.

      “Tell us about your background, Ms. Kavanaugh,” he said. “I understand you attended a prep school outside of Pittsburgh?”

      Lauren nodded and took a bite of salad. She hoped he’d move on, but it appeared that he’d just started.

      “Where was that?”

      “St. Mary’s Academy.”

      “Oh, I’m not familiar with that one. It must seem like old times coming to St. Ursula’s. Is it similar?”

      “A bit,” she said while thinking, too much. It was too similar to her past, too much a reminder of the girl she’d been and of everything she’d hoped to forget when she went to Europe. “Aah, Catholic schoolgirls wrapped so tight in their little plaid skirts.” Michael laughing as he looked at a class picture.

      “Was СКАЧАТЬ