public, private, and secret.
― Gabriel García Márquez
Longmuir
It was a quiet afternoon at Longmuir. I had seen Sylvia and endured an unsettling confrontation and to settle my mind I went for my afternoon walk with Tess.
The weather was cool and made me long for fall but we were still at the end of August and technically still in summer. Maybe I was hurrying the season because I wanted to be free of Haven.
I wanted to start the fall semester in the new school and put my time with Sylvia behind me...
Maybe the truth was, I just wanted to be free of pain.
But I had no sooner gotten in the door when I saw a car pull up outside and two men get out―one was grey-haired and distinguished looking and the younger man reminded me of a football player. They were dressed in suits and looked like police.
They rang the doorbell and when I answered they politely introduced themselves. The older man did all the talking.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Chapman. We're from the Metro police and would like a word with you. My name is Gray Foster and my associate is Paul Remington. Do you have a minute?"
"Of course, come in," I said and stooped down to intercept Tess who was making a bee-line to greet them.
The two men smiled. "That's a beautiful Golden Retriever," the older man said. "Is he about three months old?"
"That's right," I laughed, cradling Tess, "we just got her and are trying to train her not to jump up."
"You're not married, are you?" the detective frowned, as if perturbed his background data on me was incorrect.
"No, not married―my girlfriend and I sort of co-adopted Tess."
He nodded genially but I knew because he carried out a background check this was more than just a cursory visit. No, he wanted something specific.
I put Tess in her crate with a doggie treat and came back and sat down.
"We're investigating an incident at Haven and talking to various staff members. We understand you're friends with Sylvia Fisher―is that correct?"
I nodded.
"And has she put you in touch with a man named Noel Taylor?"
"No, and I have no idea who he is."
"He's the principal of Araby School. So, are you saying you have not been offered a position to teach at Araby School next semester?"
"I have not been offered that position and I've never even heard of the school."
"I see," the man said and glanced at his associate.
"Look, if this has anything to do with Todd Blinker, I can't help you. All I've heard is rumours and second-hand information."
"Now, come Mr. Chapman―you're living with Ms. Fisher and have even co-adopted a puppy with her and you work at Haven where Laird Fisher is a primary partner and yet you claim to know nothing?"
"I live alone and no longer see Sylvia Fisher. I have a new girlfriend. And yes, I work at the school but so do twenty other teachers you could ask who would know more than I do."
"If you don't mind my asking, who is your new girlfriend?"
"Lorraine Brooks."
"Where is Ms. Brooks right now?"
"She's a secretary at Haven," I muttered.
The man gave his partner a pointed glance. "In that case, we'd like to talk to you both. Can we come back this evening?
"She went straight home after work to rest. She'll be dropping by tonight after eight. I suppose you can come by after that."
The man stood up. "Then, we'll see you both tonight, Mr. Chapman. Have a good day."
I watched them get out and get in their car and drive away. It wasn't until after they were gone I noticed my hands were shaking.
I let Tess out of her crate and sat on the couch exhausted. My mind was racing. Should I phone Lorraine right now and disturb her nap or wait until about seven before calling and giving her a heads-up on what to expect?
What could we expect, realistically? Certainly nothing that would complicate our lives.
I decided to give Tom Turner a call. He'd know what to do better than I.
Tom was excellent on the phone―patient and precise. He heard me out and told me to wait while he made a call and promised to get back to me.
Fifteen minutes later, the phone rang.
"I talked to the Teacher's Federation―seeing as you have an oral contract with the board, they'll represent you. They're sending a lawyer named James Quintrell who will protect your interests and advise you. He'll be at your house at seven and he'll also need to talk to Lorraine as well. My advice to you is to do everything he asks of you."
"I don't know how to thank you, Tom," I said earnestly.
"It's all part of your apprenticeship, Matt. That course you took at teacher's college on the structural and legal basis of the school system was just an overview―now you get to see your rights protected in action, Don't worry, you're in good hands."
I trusted Tom. I didn't doubt his judgment for an instant.