Ray Elkins mystery - 02 - Color Tour (16 page)

“No,” Quertermous cut him off sharply. “At least I don’t think so. What I’m saying is that early on she had a sense of entitlement, probably because of her special relationship with Mrs. Howard. That said, she was a good student, naturally gifted, actually. She didn’t have to work too hard to do well. She was the salutatorian of her class; with any effort on her part she could have been the valedictorian.”

“And socially?”

“Early on she was quite moody and shy. But by the time she was a junior she’d come out of her shell. I think that’s about the time she became sexually active.” He gave Ray a knowing look. “I got the impression from what some of the boys said that she was quite the hot number.”

“And this ties with the recklessness you mentioned?”

“Sex was part of it. She always had a devil-may-care attitude, even as a student. Those days I used to take the students skiing. Ashleigh was impossible. She was always trying to see how fast she could go; she was never quite in control. I always anticipated I’d have to bring her back in a box.”

“Did you?”

“No, fortunately,” Quertermous responded.

“I think you said at the meeting something to the effect that this was bound to happen and that you’d tried to warn people. That sounds like you have some special knowledge of who might want to harm her,” Ray probed.

“I didn’t mean that at all,” he retorted argumentatively. “Well, what did you mean, Mr. Quertermous?”

“I was talking about her lifestyle. She was just reckless. And she’d drag all kinds of men home.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Janet Medford, she’s a good friend. She told me about the way Ashleigh carried on. I guess she was quite the little trollop. And yes, you’re going to say she was a consenting adult and all, but… ”

Ray cut him off sharply. “Mr. Quertermous, I wasn’t going to say anything. I’m just listening.”

“Well, that’s what some of the people at school said, our resident, knee-jerk liberals.” Quertermous’ face had reddened as his agitation increased. “As if the way someone lives doesn’t rub off on their students. We are models of the adult world,” he proclaimed, his words filling the vast space. “And Ashleigh, well… ”

“Well what?”

“There’s the sex thing, and I imagine drugs were involved, too. Those people seem to want to heighten every experience.”

“Those people?”

“The people like Ashleigh’s generation, pleasure seekers.”

“And your warning, I’m still unclear about what you said. Why did you anticipate something awful would happen to Ashleigh?”

“Really, sheriff, I don’t think you’re listening. She was a risk-taker: her rock climbing, her kayaking, all the men and drugs. Things happen. Even up here in paradise.”

“So, you have no specific knowledge of anyone who might have wanted to harm Ms. Allen?”

“No,” he said, settling his small frame back on the couch. “Just the knowledge that if you play with fire often enough you’re going to get burned.”

“When did you last see Ms. Allen?”

“Her classroom was in the same wing as mine. I saw her all the time. Just passing, of course. And I would see her at lunch. That is if she deigned to share her eminence with us. Most of the time she ate with the students.”

“And this past week, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday?”

“Quite frankly, I don’t remember.” He finished his drink.

“And the men she dated, can you give me some names?”

“Sheriff, I don’t live on campus. I just heard she had many gentlemen callers. It was also rumored that she had a brief fling with Warrington. Fortunately, he had the good sense to end it.”

“And the drugs, you suggested that… ”

“It’s lifestyle, sheriff. It just fits.” Quertermous paused and looked over at Ray. “Aren’t you going to ask me where I was this weekend? I’ve heard that’s a question you’re asking everyone.”

“Where were you this weekend, Mr. Quertermous?”

“I was here. Saturday evening Janet Medford was here for dinner. I made a crown roast of lamb. I think it is Janet’s favorite meal.”

“And about what time did she leave?”

“Janet had a bit too much to drink. I was worried about her driving and insisted that she spend the night.” He looked mildly embarrassed. “Not what you’re thinking, sheriff, I assure you. She slept in one of the guest rooms.”

“Are you a hunter, Mr. Quertermous? I notice you have a collection of weapons.”

“My father was a hunter. Big game. He loved going to Africa. That was back in the ’40s and ’50s before the native poachers ruined it. I’ve kept a few of his rifles.”

“And the shotguns?”

“Those are mine. I used to do a lot of skeet shooting. Haven’t done much in recent years.”

“You also have some beautiful knives on display with the other weapons, yours or your father’s?”

“Those are mine. I started collecting them a few years ago. Each one is handmade. They’re art objects more than anything else. Is there anything else, sheriff?”

“This house, when was it built?”

“It was completed a year ago September.” Quertermous got up from his seat and walked to the window. “I inherited the land from my father. He used to own a big part of this coast, from here all the way down to that point where the river empties into the lake. That’s before our wonderful government decided to seize all the land up here. They paid him a fraction of what it was worth.” His voice became wistful. “My father was a developer, and he had great plans for this area. He would have built a fantastic resort. Restaurants, hotels, condos, golf courses, and a yacht basin, it would all be here. Everything would have been first-class and filled with the right kind of people, if you know what I mean. And what did we end up with?” He gestured toward the beach. “Sand, pine trees, and a bunch of bare-assed bathers and their scruffy urchins.”

23
Ray walked along the narrow lane toward the quaint duplexes designed to look like Cotswold cottages. The walls were clad in a limestone ashlar that matched the stone used in Leiston’s main house. The dwellings had originally been built as quarters for the estate staff and accommodations for the Howards’ many guests. In the years following Leiston’s founding, five more duplexes in the same style were added for faculty and staff. The buildings were in a rolling, heavily wooded area. The separate entrances and small, walled gardens provided residents with a sense of privacy. The heavy, masonry construction prevented the intrusion of noise from neighbors.

Each building was named for an English county. Janet Medford lived in Devonshire Cottage, in the front unit that faced the small lane, and Ashleigh had lived in the back half that faced the woods and the lake.

Ray stood on the porch in the fading light and listened to the music coming from the interior—vintage Brubeck. He knocked politely at first and waited; then knocked a second time with greater force. The volume of the jazz dropped, the porch light—a dull frosted bulb in a jar-like globe, the bottom filled with dead insects—switched on. The door opened the length of the safety chain; a face peered at him.

“Yes,” came a tired voice. The smell of tobacco and bourbon hit Ray’s nostrils.

“Sheriff Elkins, ma’am. May I come in?”

“What is this about?” Janet Medford asked, not moving from the door, her face wrinkled and weary.

“I have some questions about Ashleigh Allen that perhaps you could help me with.”

She slid the chain, opened the door, and moved back reluctantly, allowing Ray to enter. “Can I get you something, sheriff?” she asked, her voice deep and raspy. “I’m having a Manhattan. I’ve also got beer and Coke. And I can make you a cup of instant coffee.”

“Coke will be fine, thank you.”

He watched her disappear into a kitchen, then looked around the room. The walls were covered with oil paintings of a shared style, minimalist seascapes in bold colors. Ray wondered if they were her work and studied the initials at the bottom left of each canvas. JM was deftly fashioned on each, four strokes of a palette knife in raw umber. Most of the furniture was ’50s modern, elegantly designed and carefully crafted pieces in teak whose style had successfully weathered the passage of time. A couch was placed against the longest exterior wall and faced a stone hearth. Two Wassily chairs sat at right angles to the couch and formed a U around a coffee table. Ray walked around and studied the neatly organized bookcases, dominated by art and architecture books, with a small collection of dated fiction and a few volumes of poetry.

Medford returned and handed him a glass with ice and an open bottle of Coke. She set a freshly filled decanter on the coffee table and, after adding a log to the fire and pushing things around with a poker, settled onto the couch. She drew two maraschino cherries from a small jar, dropped them into a heavy-bottomed whiskey tumbler, and poured in some golden liquid from the decanter.

“I used to drink these for the cherries,” she said after taking a large sip, her voice deep and raspy.

“What do you drink them for now?”

She looked puzzled, like she hadn’t really thought about it. She brightened a bit, and responded, “I like the blurring effect. They blot out the pain and make the evenings endurable. I go to bed and sleep. During the day I’m busy, it’s the nights that get to me.” She lifted a cherry from the glass, catching a drop of the drink with her tongue before she closed her mouth around it. “But I’m sure you’re not here to talk about me, sheriff.

“What can you tell me about Ashleigh Allen?”

“Ashleigh Allen. I’m sure I can tell you lots of things. I’ve known her for years. But if you’d be more specific, I can save both of us some time.”

“What kind of a relationship did you have with her?

Medford sipped her drink and gave Ray a long look. “Quite frankly, we didn’t have a relationship. In truth, I rather loathed her. It wasn’t her fault, really. She hadn’t done anything to me. It was just seeing her so goddamn happy all the time.”

“Do you know anyone who would want her dead?”

“Not dead, that’s taking it too far. But more than a few of us were pissed that she was the fair haired… I guess that doesn’t quite work, does it?” she laughed. “You know what I mean. She usually got anything that she wanted for her program, and the rest of us waited in line. But no one is going to commit murder over that.”

“Did you see or hear anything unusual in recent weeks?”

“Well, she had a lot of people coming and going, but then she always did.”

Ray noted a condemnatory tone in her voice. “Who?”

“Students, for one thing. She did most of her tutorials at her cottage. The rest of us do them at the academic building. We want to separate our personal space from student space. And it’s been sort of the rule since… ”

“Since when?”

“Since they fired Tyler; he was an English teacher, our poet-in-residence—I still have a couple of volumes of his stuff.” She motioned toward a shelf. “He got way too friendly with some of the girls. Might have been going on for years before someone noticed. Quite a scandal. He got one of the sweet young things pregnant.” She ground the cigarette out and lit another.

“When was this?”

“Been a while, probably fifteen or twenty years, maybe more.” She paused and inhaled. “Moved on to a university job, he did. Word was that he found lots of coeds who wanted to be had by a poet. Won the National Book Award a few years ago.” Her tone changed as she returned to the earlier topic. “Since Tyler’s time the faculty housing has been mostly off limits to students except for cohort meetings.”

“What’s that?”

“Groups of students working on special projects. We’re supposed to help the students learn to work cooperatively, to be team players, and all that happy horse shit. Part of the team building is that the kids prepare a meal together each week with their faculty mentor. It’s all part of Warrington’s scheme to prepare students for the,” her tone became increasingly sarcastic, “the information economy. Rather high-sounding bullshit, if you ask me. But no one asks us about education any more. It’s all the fluff that Ian feeds the board and parents. I don’t think the man is capable of speaking normal English. He just spouts the latest buzz words that… ”

“So, students visited Ashleigh. Who else?”

“Well, I didn’t sit around here and watch the comings and goings,” she grumped defensively.

“I’m not suggesting you did,” Ray said, “but if you did observe others… ”

“Yes, there are times when it’s been unavoidable. Like her first semester Warrington was lurking about a lot. And then students, especially boys, but the girls were drawn to her, too. And then this guy she was found with. He spent the weekend with her… let me think… probably once a month.”

“How long has that been going on?”

“It seems like he’s been around from almost the beginning, but he’s become more of an item since last spring. They may have gone off together last summer.”

“Do you know where they… ”

“Not Paris, that’s for sure. Probably off in a kayak, saving the fucking whales.”

“Anyone else?”

“Well,” she smiled. “There was that rustic Adonis we had here fixing the barns. We were all envious, but he didn’t seem to last long. Pity. I wish she had kept him around. I just liked looking at him.” She finished her drink, refilled the glass, and gave Ray a wicked, drunken smile.

“How about women? Any women friends?”

“Not that I saw. I don’t think she was interested in women.”

“No women friends?”

“Sarah James, they were friends. But she was mostly with men, doing guy things. Ashleigh was very outdoorsy; she seemed addicted to every type of exercise,” she said with disdain in her voice.

“Female students? Anyone she was close to?”

“I don’t think so.”

“How about drugs, drinking?”

“I don’t know about any drugs. She was the yogurt and granola type, can’t imagine she’d befoul her body with drugs or drink.” She raised her glass with an unsteady hand.

“Someone suggested that she used drugs.”

“Let me guess,” she chuckled drunkenly. “Alan Quertermous is always kidding me about having a crack whore next door. He has a very naughty mouth.”