The next day while sitting in the university meeting room, Marlene smiled at the memory of O'Toole's banter with his players. Not exactly the sort to use sex and booze to recruit youngsters, she thought, and looked over at Huttington and Barnhill. So why were these two so willing to throw him under the truck for some racist jerk just because some fat-cat booster wants his boy on the baseball team?
Two hours after the deposition began, Meyers asked for a quick break so that he could go back over his notes and make sure he didn't miss anything. Back on the record, he asked a few housekeeping questions and then finished with a question that Karp had suggested during their telephone conversation.
"We're about finished here," he said, and looked directly into Huttington's eyes. "Is there anything else you can think of that would be relevant or significant regarding this case? Something I might have missed or was omitted?"
Barnhill scoffed. "What kind of a question is that? President Huttington has been completely forthcoming with both the ACAA investigation and your rather lengthy deposition today."
Up to this point, Meyers's demeanor had been polite and reserved. But now he fixed Barnhill with an angry glare, which made the other attorney laugh nervously and look quickly away. "Mr. Huttington, I asked you a question," Meyers said tightly. "This is a deposition and you must answer my questions, even if your attorney objects. And do remember you're under oath."
Barnhill scowled and began to say something, but Huttington waved him off. "That's okay, Clyde, we have nothing to hide here."
"Yeah, that's right, Kip," Barnhill agreed, though the smile he tried to assume looked almost painful. "Nothing to hide."
Marlene got the distinct impression that a message had just been passed between Huttington and his attorney. Indeed, it made her wonder what they were hiding.
"Your answer?" Meyers demanded.
Huttington blinked at the tone. Nice timing, Marlene thought. Richie's sending his own message.
"Uh, no, I can't think of anything to add that would be relevant or significant," the university president replied.
Meyers smiled like he'd just caught Huttington in a lie. "You're sure?"
Recovering his nerve, Barnhill angrily retorted, "Are you implying that President Huttington is lying?"
"Not at all," Meyers replied, his tone suddenly light again. "People sometimes forget when they're asked something in an uncomfortable circumstance, such as a deposition. So I was just making sure he'd had plenty of opportunity to answer the question completely and honestly."
"Then your question has been answered."
Meyers grinned. "Indeed. Thank you, that's all."
Huttington and Barnhill stood up quickly and left the room without saying anything more. Meyers looked at Marlene. "How'd I do?" he asked.
"Perfect," she replied. "Butch would tell you he couldn't have done it better himself."
"He's a great coach," Meyers replied.
"He had a great coach, too," Marlene noted, looking out the window. Big flakes of snow were floating gently to the ground. She shivered. "Someplace around here where a gal can get a hot cup of coffee?"
"You bet," O'Toole replied. "There's a great little Basque coffee shop around the corner."
They got up from the table and walked out into the hallway just in time to see Huttington and Barnhill confronted by an olive-skinned man wearing a bright red beret and carrying a wooden cane. "Where is my daughter?" the man demanded in heavily accented English.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Santacristina, we've been over this; I have no idea regarding the whereabouts of Maria," Huttington replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me." He started to move toward his office but Santacristina blocked his way.
Barnhill took a step toward the man. "I believe there is a restraining order that prohibits you from coming within one hundred feet of Mr. Huttington. Now, do I need to summon the police?"
"Summon whoever you want, Barnhill," Santacristina shot back angrily. "I'm sure the newspapers and television stations will enjoy the story of the father who was arrested for asking a married university president what happened to the student he was having an affair with."
On cue, a campus police officer appeared from inside the president's office. "Is there a problem here?" he said to the men.
Marlene expected that Huttington would have the angry man thrown off campus or in jail, but instead the university president shook his head. Glancing nervously in the direction of Marlene, O'Toole, and Meyers, he said, "No, it's all right, Officer. Mr. Santacristina's daughter, Maria, was a student intern in my office. She was reported missing by her father last spring, and he now labors under the mistaken impression that I know something about her disappearance."
"She was more than a student intern, wasn't she, Huttington?" Santacristina demanded. He pointed to the university president with his thick wooden stick. "This man used his position and smooth words to lure a young woman into an illicit affair. What would any father think?"
"Thinking might actually be wise before 'any father' goes around making more wild accusations," Barnhill retorted. "Or shows up drunk at a university dinner party thrown in honor of Mr. Huttington and makes a scene in front of all the guests, which is what got him slapped with a restraining order…an order, I might add, I am about to invoke if he doesn't get out of our way. Or maybe it's the Immigration and Naturalization Service I should call."
Santacristina glared at the two men. "I will leave," he said. "But I will never stop haunting you until justice is done." He turned to go but hesitated when he saw Marlene looking at him. His eyes narrowed as if sizing her up; then he headed for the exit, with the police officer following to make sure he left. Huttington and Barnhill glanced once more in their direction before walking into the president's office.
"What was that all about?" Marlene asked.
"Well, it was pretty big news here for a little while when Maria Santacristina disappeared late last spring," O'Toole said. "But that's the first I've heard that she was having an affair with Huttington."
"Do you believe it?" Marlene said. "Or is…what's his name-Santacristina?-a desperate father grasping at straws?"
O'Toole shrugged. "Believe what? That good ol' Kip was having sex with a student? What's not to believe? She was a lovely girl; he's a good-looking, well-spoken older guy. But I'm sure he wouldn't want that to get out. Sawtooth is a pretty small, conservative town-screwing students, excuse the imagery, would not go over well. Plus, he married into big local money, and knowing his wife, Suzanne, she'd leave him penniless. But the part about Huttington knowing what happened to her? That's not something I've heard about, either."
"Do you know the father?" Marlene asked.
"Not really. His name is Eugenio Santacristina," O'Toole replied. "He's one of our local Basque sheepherders, but well respected in their community from what I gathered from the news reports when Maria disappeared. Otherwise, quiet, keeps to himself like a lot of the other Basques."
Marlene recalled seeing a group of swarthy, mustachioed men standing outside the Navarre Restaurant in Boise wearing white leggings beneath red skirts and red berets. Willis had pointed them out and said they were Basque dancers taking a break from a festival taking place at the Basque Cultural Center on West Grove Street.
Marlene followed the other two out into the cold and headed for the Basque coffee shop. Several inches of snow had fallen since they'd gone into the university building, and Marlene was shivering by the time she spotted the sign for the restaurant. She stepped inside, gratefully basking in the warmth and the smell of fresh roasted coffee. However, as they made their way to the counter to order drinks, she noticed that the other patrons and waitresses were nervously eyeing four young men sitting in a corner booth.