Vegas! As soon as Luke exited Archer and started back toward his dorm, he realized that he’d forgotten to mention Las Vegas. If he told the headmaster that he knew Mrs. Heckler had vacationed there with someone, that she was whispering sweet nothings to her lover on the phone, and that the dean had never been there, then for sure they would know that she had some boyfriend and try to track him down. Elated, Luke was about to turn around and go back to the headmaster’s office, but then he stopped.
No, there was no way he could tell the headmaster. The person who told him that Mrs. Heckler had been talking lovey-dovey with someone about Vegas was Oscar. And Oscar was their main suspect, so they wouldn’t believe him anyway. It was only a dead end. Dejected, Luke turned back around toward Wilcox. He’d have to find out who went to Vegas with Mrs. Heckler on his own.
Luke walked into his room to see a police officer on his knees searching under Oscar’s bed, and another standing on a stepladder searching through the top shelf of his closet. Mr. Crawford was sitting at Oscar’s desk, but when he turned around Luke realized that it wasn’t Mr. Crawford at all. It was Mr. P. Luke had never noticed how much they looked alike until now. They both were slight but sinewy, with dark hair and those strong features that girls loved. But while Mr. Crawford looked like he could star on a soap opera, there was something a slightly askew in Mr. P.’s looks that made him less handsome. Luke wasn’t sure what it was, but there was a flatness to him. Maybe that’s what all this responsibility did to someone, Luke thought. Mr. P. was the same age as Crawford, but he had a bigger job, and wife and kids to look out for; he seemed more preoccupied and serious. He possessed none of the nonchalance or spontaneity that Crawford had.
“Oh, Luke, hello,” said Mr. P., immediately putting down Oscar’s copy of the directory. He saw that it was open to one of the faculty pages, where Oscar had been very liberal with offensive and disparaging remarks about his least-favorite teachers in the margins.
“What’s going on?”
“Luke, I’m sorry but these officers need to look through your room.”
Luke glanced around the room nervously. They’d finished the vodka at the Dip, and he knew there wasn’t any other contraband in the room, but still, it was unsettling to have people poking through his stuff.
“Don’t the police need some sort of warrant for this?”
“Not when a search falls under safety purposes, which is the unfortunate situation we find ourselves in today.”
“Oh.” Luke knew faculty always had the right to search his room. He just hadn’t realized police could too.
“Isn’t it a little late to be here?”
“Let’s just say that some new information made it necessary.” Mr. P. held up Oscar’s directory. “Oscar has a lot to say about several people at St. Benedict’s.”
“Yeah, but it’s only a joke,” said Luke quickly.
Mr. P. nodded then turned to the faculty page with Joanna Heckler’s picture on it. “Oscar thought Mrs. Heckler was hot.’”
Luke felt the blood rush to his face. “He did? I mean, I guess, in comparison to a lot of the teachers. I mean, no offense, he was just messing around.”
Mr. P. nodded again. “Luke, let’s take a walk while the police finish.”
The last thing Luke wanted to do was take a walk. He was so exhausted and overwrought that he just wanted to dive into his bed and sleep, sleep, and sleep. He thought back to this morning when he was deep in sleep, naïvely dreaming about the World Cup. It already seemed like a lifetime ago.
“I have so much homework,” Luke said when they stepped outside.
“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to your teachers. Have you eaten dinner yet?” asked Mr. P.
“No.”
“Do you want to go to the dining hall?”
“Nah, I was just going to hit the vending machines later.”
Mr. P. put his hands in his pockets and smiled kindly. “They assure me that this will be finished shortly.”
As they walked along the paths, Luke could tell that passing students were eyeing him with curiosity. It was a little weird to be hanging with Mr. P. on a Sunday night. But then they probably all knew about Oscar by now. It was impossible to keep secrets at St. Benedict’s. Everyone knew everything about everyone because they all spent every waking minute of their lives on campus. It could get claustrophobic if you let it.
“Luke, I’m sure this is hard for you, but don’t worry, it will all work out.”
“Yeah, maybe for me, but what about for Oscar?”
Mr. P. swallowed and didn’t say anything. Then finally he said, “I think everything will be okay.”
“So you don’t think he did it?”
“I…” He paused as if he was about to say something but stopped himself. “Look, you know I can’t discuss this with you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s so unreal. All this suspicion…”
Mr. P. stopped and looked at him. “What do you know about this, Luke? Have you been truthful?”
The question caught Luke off guard. “Yes. Of course.”
“What is the connection between Oscar and Mrs. Heckler?”
“No connection. It’s all bull—It’s not true. He’s being framed.”
The dean put his hand under his chin and rubbed his beard growth. “Do you have proof? What do you know? What has Oscar told you?”
Luke stared into Mr. P.’s eyes, which were filled with urgency. He was tempted to give in to him, tell him everything, but then something held him back.
“He told me nothing, but that’s because there was nothing to tell.”
“Why did Mrs. Heckler request him?”
Luke was confused. “What do you mean?”
Mr. P. appeared momentarily disconcerted. “Nothing, I misspoke.”
“She wanted Oscar to work off his demerits in her office?” asked Luke, unwilling to let him off the hook.
“Luke, forget what I said. Let’s move on.”
Luke didn’t want to, but he knew that Mr. P. had shut down. He had obviously slipped up and told Luke something that he wasn’t supposed to. So there was some sort of connection between Oscar and Mrs. Heckler. Luke remembered that Oscar always referred to her by her first name—Joanna. That was weird. In fact, everything was getting weirder.
* * *
That night Luke had horrible dreams. He kept seeing Mrs. Heckler in the woods, and he kept trying to warn her. But she wouldn’t listen; instead she laughed at him and told him he was being stupid. And he kept hearing the voice, the lover’s voice. The falsetto voice that said he’s going to hurt you. At the time, Luke had thought it meant emotionally, but was the man warning her? And was he talking about the dean?
Several times throughout the night, Luke awoke in a sweat. At one point he could swear someone was in the room with him. It was as if something changed in the air and alerted him. He lifted his head, but his body was so tired, every limb so heavy, that he couldn’t sit up to see who it was. He fell back into a deep slumber and dreamed that Mr. Tadeckis was sitting on his windowsill, watching him.
When he woke up, he realized that he had slept through first period, American lit with Mr. Turner. With just twelve students in every class, there was no chance of an absence not being noticed. Oh, well. The other eleven kids (including Pippa) would have to manage the roundtable discussion of The Scarlet Letter without him. He’d talk to Mr. P. about it. Surely there’d be some leniency, considering they’d just booted out his roommate and accused him of murder?
Since Luke had both second and third period free on Mondays, he decided to shower, grab a Pop-Tart, and set out to find someone. The time had come to have another conversation with Mr. Tadeckis.
Mr. Tadeckis’s “office” was located in the basement of Pearson, the humanities building, one of the older structures on campus. As Luke made his way down the narrow hall, ducking under low-hanging pipes and avoiding a small puddle that was forming underneath one, he could see why Mr. Tadeckis was so frustrated. By putting him down in this hellhole, the administration was certainly making it clear that he did not occupy a place of importance.
“Come in,” said the voice on the other side of the door. Luke hadn’t even knocked. How did he know he was there? When Luke opened the door, he half-expected to find some sort of torture chamber, or at the very least a room full of taxidermied animals, but he was pleasantly surprised to find neither. The room was extremely tidy. On one wall, bookshelves were methodically organized with neatly labeled binders and photo boxes. On the other wall, there were several file boxes stacked on top of each other, again with a strong semblance of order. There were a few framed photographs of Mr. Tadeckis with some of his wilderness students, no doubt taken on expeditions.
Luke surveyed the room and finally focused on Mr. Tadeckis, who sat with his arms folded behind a wooden desk. The desktop was empty except for an organizational caddy in the right-hand corner containing some small, color-coded pushpins, paper clips, pens, and staples. Everything was immaculate.
“Hello, Luke,” said Mr. Tadeckis with a knowing smile. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to talk.”
“Excellent. Have a seat,” said Mr. Tadeckis, motioning to the chair in front of the desk. It was only when Luke sat down that he realized the chair was really low. Like really low. He now had to sit up straight as a rail to see Mr. Tadeckis over the desk.
Luke squirmed awkwardly. He could see Mr. Tadeckis trying not to laugh, which made him determined not to express his discomfort.
“I wanted to talk to you about the murder.”
“I’m listening,” said Mr. Tadeckis quickly, as if he had been anticipating this conversation.
“Okay,” said Luke, rubbing his hand through his hair. “Sorry, I just… I had the weirdest dreams last night. I thought you were in my room. In the middle of the night…” Luke let his voice trail off.
Mr. Tadeckis looked at him evenly and waited for him to continue.
“Anyway,” said Luke, changing the topic. “Did you hear about Oscar?”
“Yes.”
“Well, can you believe it?”
“I told you the police were morons, Luke. Now can you believe it?”
Luke rubbed his hands against his pants. “Yeah, preaching to the choir. But look, we both know Oscar didn’t do this.”
Mr. Tadeckis stared carefully at Luke and remained silent.
“I mean, you know who did it, right?”
“I won’t play that way, Luke.”
“Okay…”
“Who do you think did it?” said Mr. Tadeckis. Luke thought he sounded like a child who refused to cooperate.
“Me? I think… Well, I think it was the dean.”
“Which dean?”
The question caught Luke by surprise. “Dean Heckler. Maybe he and his ex-wife cooked up something when he found out the new wife was cheating.”
Mr. Tadeckis remained expressionless.
“I talked to Pippa,” continued Luke. “I don’t think she had anything to do with this. She’s in enough trouble at home, and besides, she didn’t have a motive.”
“She told you that?”
“No, but I mean, I talked to her about this. I think she’s telling the truth.”
“Other thoughts?” asked Mr. Tadeckis.
“Well, of course I want to know who the boyfriend was. Who Mrs. Heckler was arguing with. I’m not sure he did it, I think he took off, but maybe…”
“Jealous rage?”
“Yes.”
“Did it look like a jealous rage to you?” asked Mr. Tadeckis, arching an eyebrow.
“You don’t think so?”
“I’m asking you.”
Luke thought back to the pictures. “Maybe. How would I know? You’re the one who witnessed the murder.”
“Never said that. But you saw the pictures.”
“How’d you know that?”
“Please, let’s not waste our time on how I procure my information.”
“Mr. Tadeckis, if you know who did it, why don’t you just tell the police?” asked Luke with exasperation.
“I don’t want to get mixed up in all this.”
“But, if you know something…”
“You know something, and you’re not coming forward,” said Mr. Tadeckis calmly.
Luke sighed deeply and shook his head. “Yeah, but you’re a teacher. An adult.”
“That’s an insufficient excuse. Look, these are all incredibly flawed people we’re dealing with, Luke. Everyone had broken a rule. The victim herself, one Joanna Heckler, was a loose woman. Immoral. Broke up marriages, cheated, manipulated. Then there is Dean Heckler. I have no love lost for Dean Heckler. He’s a pompous, arrogant bore who thinks he is better than everyone. He still has his ex-wife, the demure little librarian Mary, do his bidding, perhaps spying for him. The boyfriend—Joanna’s lover’s name withheld—he was knowingly committing a mortal sin. Finally, there are the four of you: Oscar, Kelsey, Pippa, and Mr. Goody Two-shoes himself, the hero of St. Benedict’s, Luke Chase. You had broken a major school rule as stated in the St. Benedict’s handbook, on page seventy-six, ‘no one is to leave the dormitory after hours.’”
“But you said that you thought it was good that we were sneaking out!” interjected Luke.
“I think it is industrious. But let’s face it: if we are going to break it down, you were violating the rules of the school. My opinion of those rules is irrelevant. In fact all of the above mentioned were lying, cheating, or snooping around where they didn’t need to.”
“But no one deserved to die!”
“There are consequences,” said Mr. Tadeckis definitively.
“Why don’t the consequences apply to you? You were breaking the rules too! Isn’t your spying the same as Mrs. Heckler’s spying?” said Luke, leaning forward in his chair.
Now more than ever, it bugged him that his chair barely reached the desk. Half of Mr. Tadeckis’s face was obscured.
“Excellent point. You have me there,” said Mr. Tadeckis calmly.
“So are you going to be penalized?”
“You never know. Are you?”
“I hope no one is. Only the killer…”
Mr. Tadeckis laughed. “Luke, you are either naïve or a genuinely nice person. What you don’t realize is that they are all lying to you. All of them. Lying. Your own roommate included.”
Luke felt stung. “I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t. I don’t care. But clearly you came to me because you needed help and guidance. I offer the truth, and you reject me, imply I am just heartless.”
Luke sunk back in his chair. “Okay, then give me guidance.”
“Don’t deviate from the victim.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Live her life, and you will know who killed her.”
“That sounds like crap. Aren’t the cops doing that?”
“They are, but you know things they don’t know. You have access that they can’t ever have.”
“Me? I’m only a student.”
“Exactly.”
“So, what can I do?”
Mr. Tadeckis shook his head vehemently. “Luke, you don’t understand. The reason I am assisting you is because you are more capable than you think. You’re smarter than these security guards wandering around, more competent than the police.”
“Come on,” said Luke.
“I don’t believe I have to remind you of your great escape in the Virginia woods when you were a mere thirteen-year-old. You outwitted professional criminals.”
Luke shrugged. “It was a fluke.”
Mr. Tadeckis bristled. “I don’t understand why you want to undermine your strength and fortitude.”
“I just don’t want to be classified as something I’m not!”
“Why? Too much responsibility?”
“Maybe,” snapped Luke. “Maybe I was just lucky. Maybe they didn’t tie the ropes firmly enough. Maybe they were tired, and I picked the right moment. I don’t want to have this burden of living up to expectations that I am somehow special just because of one thing I did!”
Mr. Tadeckis cocked his head to the side and studied him carefully. Finally, he spoke. “Luke, it took me an immense amount of time to perfect that obstacle course that you completed during orientation. I laid very distinct traps, concealed clues, and placed the zip wire at the highest and most treacherous point. And yet you were able to complete it.”
Luke’s mind raced back to that day. It was true; the course had been a challenge. Most of the kids who got as far as the zip wire balked when they saw there were no safeties. But it was exactly the sort of challenge that he enjoyed.
“That was different.”
“I don’t see how. It’s all in your mindset, Luke. You have to trust yourself. And only yourself.”
Luke’s head was spinning. He felt tired, very tired. He stood up to go. As he turned the door handle, he glanced back at Mr. Tadeckis, who was sitting with a smug look on his face.
“Were you in my room last night?”
Mr. Tadeckis smiled. “No.”
Luke pulled the door open. “Had to ask.”
As Luke made his way out, Mr. Tadeckis called after him. “I was there the night before.”
Jesus. Luke closed the door behind him firmly and leaned against it. Things were definitely getting weirder.