“Does Mr. Whitfield know about Donny?”
“I was unable to reach him. He has a house in Palm Springs, a condominium near the harbor and a yacht moored at the marina, but he wasn’t at any of those places.”
A waiter approached the table and Mrs. Holbrook ordered a cup of coffee and Aragon a bowl of soup. He knew the soup came from a can and nothing much could be done to ruin it.
“Donny’s a wild boy,” Mrs. Holbrook said. “I had a great many misgivings about accepting him at the school. But he put on a good show during our initial talks. He was sweet, contrite, eager to please, ready to cooperate. I bought the whole act. His first violent rage came as a shock to me. I didn’t report it to his father. Donny himself was the victim of violence. It was almost inevitable that he’d pass it on.”
“He told me he was on probation. What for?”
“Assault with a deadly weapon.”
“Then you’ll have to call the police in on this.”
“I will, of course. I’m stalling, trying to give him a chance to come back of his own accord. If he doesn’t, his probation will be revoked and he’ll be sent God knows where. I would like to prevent that. Donny’s a victim. His father is what is politely called a wealthy playboy, meaning a rich man without discipline, morals or responsibility. His mother was a bit actress who took to booze and barbiturates and eventually overdosed when Donny was five. A succession of stepmothers and live-ins weren’t much improvement.”
“Where do I fit into this?” Aragon said. “You didn’t go to the trouble of coming here in order to discuss Donny Whitfield’s case history.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“The boy’s escape is the one I owe you. How do you want it paid?”
“Let me state my position, not as a person, but as the head of a school which serves an important purpose in the community.”
“Go ahead.”
The soup arrived, overwatered and underheated, but Aragon ate it anyway while Mrs. Holbrook watched him with the ill-concealed irritation of someone who is not hungry.
“You pay me back,” she said finally, “by keeping silent.”
“About what?”
“Donny Whitfield. His disappearance is not yet generally known and I’d like to keep it that way as long as possible. He may come back of his own volition. Meanwhile something else has happened. Mr. Jasper has called a meeting of the board of directors for this afternoon at two o’clock at the school. Each member of the board contributes heavily to our endowment fund, so it doesn’t function merely as an advisory committee. I wasn’t invited as I usually am, and Mr. Jasper didn’t tell me the reason for the sudden meeting, but I think something more is involved than just Cleo running away from home. My efforts to contact Roger Lennard have failed and I’ve begun to suspect the worst.”
“What’s your idea of the worst, Mrs. Holbrook?”
“What you mentioned as a possibility the first time we met, that Cleo and Roger are together somewhere. Even worse than worst, that Mr. Jasper has found out about it. Mr. Jasper has never called a meeting of the board before, in fact has seldom attended one. He must have discovered something linking Cleo and Roger, and he’s going to blame the school for it.”
“He didn’t discover it,” Aragon said. “I did.”
“I can’t believe it. Roger’s not a bisexual, or a promiscuous homosexual. He’s had the same lover ever since he came to town last December. I’ve seen him when he’s come to pick Roger up at the school several times. A man about Roger’s age, a muscle-beach type, evidently the macho partner in the marriage. That’s what Roger called it — a marriage.”
“Do you know his friend’s name?”
“We were never introduced, but in our conversations Roger referred to him as Timothy.”
Timothy North, of the pink bungalow and the exercise machine and the cock-and-bull story about a stranger coming into the bar with a lost basset hound. The story had been crazy enough to be true. And Aragon had accepted it because there seemed to be no reason for him to lie.
“One of the factors in my hiring Roger in the first place was his steady relationship with this man Timothy. Call it a marriage, a pair bond, whatever. They were like an ordinary couple searching for a house to buy which they could afford. Because of the strength of this relationship, I felt Roger could be completely trusted with both the male and female students. I’m at a loss to explain what could have happened.”
“No one is asking you to explain.”
“No?” She stared into the cup of coffee as though she could see its bitterness without bothering to taste it. “Do you know how the board of directors will regard this? They will question my judgment, my hiring practices, my character, perhaps even my sanity. The school will be found guilty, its administration, its faculty, its policies, all guilty as charged. They must not be given an additional count against me, like Donny’s running away.”
“I don’t intend to tell anybody, Mrs. Holbrook.”
“Oh, they’ll find out anyway, of course. But meanwhile Donny might decide to return voluntarily. It’s quite possible.”
But her troubled eyes indicated she didn’t think so. Neither did Aragon.
“It was a mistake to put him on that diet,” Mrs. Holbrook said. “I argued with the dietitian about it but she insisted it would improve Donny’s self-image if he lost some weight. It’s frightening how logical theories and good intentions can blow up in your face. I wonder — I’ve often wondered — are the Donnys and Cleos worth the trouble they cause? Twenty years ago if I’d heard myself asking a question like that I would have been appalled. Now I simply grope for answers and come up with more questions. How many lives should be warped for the sake of one disturbed child? If it’s true about Roger and Cleo, why in God’s name didn’t he have sense enough to realize what he was getting into and back out of it? Couldn’t he see what a dismal future was in store for him?”
“Cleo will inherit a million dollars when she’s twenty-five,” Aragon said. “That might make his future less dismal.”
“Roger doesn’t care about money. His work, his books, his music, these are the things he values.”
“A million dollars will buy a lot of books and music. Even if Cleo could be found mentally incompetent to handle her own affairs, once she’s married to Roger he will be her guardian, not Jasper, no matter what legal maneuvers he goes through.”
“You wouldn’t be so cynical about Roger if you met him.”
“I intend to do just that.”
“I can’t believe that Roger would — I just can’t believe—”
“Yes, you can, Mrs. Holbrook,” Aragon said. “You’ve already started.”
He paid the bill and walked her back to her car, a black Seville parked about a block away. The front bumper overlapped the parking space marker by at least two feet, a fact that did not go unnoticed. A handwritten note pushed under the windshield wiper read Lern To Park. Although she smiled slightly as she crumpled the note in her hand she didn’t look amused. To people in her profession reprimands were to give, not to take.