Michele Martinez - The Finishing School

“Melanie Vargas from the U.S. Attorney’s Office. I’m investigating your daughter’s death.”

“Whoop-de-do. That doesn’t give you the right to barge into my bedroom !” Charlotte said, dissolving into a fit of phlegmy coughing.

“I apologize for the intrusion, but we’re at a critical point in the investigation, and I really need your help. I want the people responsible for your daughter’s death caught and punished.”

“Hooray for you. Now, get the hell out of here, or I’m calling the authorities.”

“You miss the point, Mrs. Seward. I am the authorities. I need to ask you some questions. You can answer them here in the comfort of your home, and I’ll go away and leave you alone. Or I can drag you before the grand jury.”

Charlotte contemplated Melanie with eyes that were simultaneously sunken and much too bright. Judging from the massive pharmacy on her bedside table, it wasn’t difficult to see why. After a moment she sighed, her shoulders drooping in resignation.

“Magdalena, leave us please. Close the door on your way out, and no listening at the keyhole. I know your sneaky ways.”

The maid cast her employer a long-suffering glance and strode out of the room.

Charlotte waited until the door snapped shut, then turned to Melanie. “Honestly, you’re wasting your time. Whitney got careless with drugs and OD’d. Locking up some dealer isn’t going to bring her back. Besides, I don’t know where she got her stash. She didn’t get it from me, I assure you. Heroin was not my poison. I didn’t think it was hers either.”

“I’m not interested in your drug use, Mrs. Seward. I’m not even concerned with your daughter’s. I’m here because I have new evidence suggesting Whitney was murdered.”

Charlotte had been dragging on her cigarette, but Melanie’s words sent her into another violent coughing fit. “Jesus, you’re kidding,” she said after a moment, her eyes watering.

“No. Unfortunately, I’m not.”

“Sit down,” Charlotte said, nodding toward a chair in the corner. Melanie pulled the chair over to the bed.

“You know, I loved my daughter,” Charlotte continued. “Things between us were never easy. But I loved her a great deal.”

“Of course. I’m a mother, too. I understand.”

“To hell with that motherhood crap. This was different. Whitney was the only good thing I ever did, the one thing I accomplished in my life. So if somebody killed her, that would really piss me off.”

“Well, I would hope so.”

“I’d do anything in my power to hunt that person down.”

“Of course.”

Charlotte shook her head. “But, you know, I find what you’re saying hard to believe. Whitney OD’ing makes so much more sense to me than somebody purposely killing her. You see, Whitney was like me. A thrill seeker. When you’re born with everything, what else is there? Whatever you achieve, people think it was handed to you. What’s left but to flame out spectacularly? When she died, I assumed that was what she was doing. Asserting her personality. You could almost say I applauded her choice.”

No wonder the girl went so wrong, Melanie thought. Her mother set the perfect example of a wasted life.

“Our evidence is solid,” Melanie said.

“But who would want Whitney dead?”

“What about your husband?”

“You’re not here to investigate him, are you?”

“It depends. Carmen Reyes is missing. She was working on the Holbrooke endowment campaign, and somebody’s trying to embezzle a lot of money from it. Your husband may be involved.”

“Carmen,” Charlotte said, startled, and looked away.

“Do you know something about Carmen?”

“I just-No, I’m not sure.” She kneaded her forehead with her fingers.

“What about the Holbrooke endowment money?”

“Well…” Charlotte fell silent, looking absently at her cigarette, which was dripping ash onto the comforter.

“Mrs. Seward, you can’t pick and choose what to talk to me about. Things may fit together in ways you can’t understand.”

“I don’t want James arrested. I’ve spent too much time and money keeping him out of trouble to let that happen.”

“I’m going to follow this trail wherever it leads. If it leads to him, I’ll find out anyway. So you might as well tell me whatever you know about the endowment money now.”

Charlotte looked gaunt and ill, and there was misery in her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know. He’s sleeping with that headmistress, and she’s an evil, scheming little bitch . James would do a lot for money. He’s stayed with me all these years, hasn’t he? All right? Satisfied, now that you’ve humiliated me?”

“I’m not trying to upset you, Mrs. Seward, but I have to ask these questions. Carmen Reyes disappeared from this apartment the same night your daughter and Brianna Meyers died. I know you were here then. Is it possible your husband-”

“Wait a minute! You say Carmen was here, in my house?”

“Yes. She came upstairs around seven-thirty. I know your husband brought you home around nine o’clock.”

“Let me ask you something,” Charlotte said, her mind behind her tortured eyes working furiously. “What exactly is the evidence you have that Whitney was murdered?”

“The toxicology screen found a suspicious mix of substances in her blood.”

Charlotte clutched at her throat as if she couldn’t breathe. “ What substances?”

“Highly lethal doses of heroin and OxyContin-”

“Aaagh!” Her eyes popping, Charlotte hauled herself to the edge of the bed and began digging furiously among the bottles on the bedside table. Tears began to stream down her hollow cheeks.

“What is it? Are you okay?” Melanie asked, alarmed.

“Bud! I trusted him! I thought he was helping her. Yes, here it is!” she cried, holding up an empty bottle. “OxyContin. It was full, and now it’s empty! He was here that night. I’m remembering.”

“ You know Bud?” Melanie asked, startled.

“Of course.”

“The Bud who worked for Jay Esposito?”

“For who ?”

“Jay Esposito, the nightclub owner.”

“ Bud worked for a nightclub owner?”

“Yes, the same one your daughter was dating. Esposito was murdered last night.”

“Whitney was dating a nightclub owner who was murdered? I never heard any of this! Are you making it up?”

“No. Of course not! Listen, Mrs. Seward, please, this is extremely important. You say Bud was here that night. What can you tell me about him? Do you know his last name or where he lives? A telephone number, a physical description? Anything, anything at all that might help us locate him.”

“Are we talking about the same man? Bud Hogan ! He was Whitney’s guidance counselor at Holbrooke! I remember now. I came home in bad shape. Whitney took me to my bed. I heard a voice calling, and it sounded like Carmen. I’ve known the child for years, you see. Then it just… stopped, like she’d been silenced. I asked Whitney about it, and she told me I was hallucinating. Which was entirely possible, given everything I’d ingested that night, so I believed her. I passed out. And then, sometime later, I woke up to find Bud standing over my bed, going through my pill bottles. He told me I was dreaming and to go back to sleep. So I did.”

“Harrison Hogan is Bud ?” Melanie said.

“Yes, that’s what Whitney called him. And he killed my daughter!”

AS SHE LEFT the Sewards’, Melanie reached Detective Leary on his cell phone and explained what she’d just learned. She needed a patrol car dispatched to Harrison Hogan’s apartment right away. But there was a problem. Charlotte Seward hadn’t known Hogan’s home address, and it turned out his telephone number was unlisted. That meant that the fastest way to get the address-short of asking somebody at the school, which might tip Hogan off-was sending a rush subpoena to the telephone company. But by the time Melanie could get back to her office, type a subpoena, and fax it over, Hogan would be long gone with the money, and Carmen would probably be dead. No-their best bet was intercepting Hogan at the school before he could transfer the ten million.