‘Mr Abimbola, could I have a word?’
Greg looked up from the door handle of his Mini Cooper to see Detective Lev walking along the slushy sidewalk toward him. Her manner was open and casual, a chance meeting of acquaintances. Which was nonsense, of course. She must have been waiting for him.
Greg glanced around. She seemed to be on her own. There was no sign of Cassidy, or anyone else for that matter. The FSB, when they stopped you on the street, always came for you in pairs. Pittsburgh PD operated more leanly, apparently.
‘Of course, Sergeant. What can I do for you?’ Greg, who had been standing in the street as a prelude to getting into his vehicle, drifted back to the sidewalk.
‘A couple of things, if you don’t mind. First, what’s a person of extraordinary ability like yourself doing in Pittsburgh?’
‘I wouldn’t describe myself that way.’
‘Maybe not, Mr Abimbola, but the US government does. You’re here on an O-1 Visa. For, and I quote, “persons of extraordinary ability”. So, why are you here?’ Lev allowed herself a dangerously amused smile. ‘And what makes you so special?’
Greg was careful to keep his expression bland.
‘I’m here to teach,’ he said, gesturing toward Calderhill’s high, brick façade. ‘As for the visa, I have a knack for languages.’
‘Really?’ Lev looked skeptical. ‘How many?’
‘Five. Russian, French, Arabic, Latin … and English, of course.’
The sergeant, Greg noticed, was trying not to appear impressed.
‘And why Pittsburgh? Why not New York, or Chicago, or LA?’
‘Too big. Pittsburgh is the perfect size. It has all the advantages of a major city without any of the hassles.’
For Pittsburghers, it was almost an article of faith.
Rachel Lev nodded.
‘OK. Second thing. I was wondering if you could maybe explain to me your relationship with Maybelline Velasquez.’
‘I don’t really have one. We both work at the school, we chat from time to time, that’s about it.’
‘You seemed kinda intimate when I saw the two of you in the corridor on Monday. And you went to a lot of trouble – and detail – to tell my lieutenant that we were making a mistake arresting her. So it seems to me that you have a more than casual relationship.’
‘It’s a free country, Sergeant. You can think whatever you want.’
‘Then explain to me why you’ve tried so much to help her.’
Greg shrugged his shoulders.
‘She asked.’
‘She asked?’ Lev sounded incredulous.
‘Wouldn’t you?’ Greg responded. ‘Love your neighbor and all that.’
‘So you love her, then, is that it?’
‘Only in the Christian sense.’
‘And not the biblical?’
Greg had to smile at that. The woman was quick.
‘No, Sergeant, not the biblical. I’m sure Ms Velasquez would tell you the same thing.’
‘This “Christian” love of yours didn’t extend to Ms Delcade, did it?’
‘A failing for which I should berate myself every day,’ Greg said, ironically. ‘I didn’t like her. But then, almost nobody did.’
‘But you’re the only one that got hauled into the principal’s office on Monday morning, sir. Because Lindsay Delcade complained about you. That’s true, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you admit you had a motive to kill her?’
‘I admit that I didn’t like her. I had no desire to kill her.’
‘And I understand there was some trouble with the son? What was that about?’
‘I’m afraid that’s confidential.’
‘This is a murder investigation, Mr Abimbola.’
‘It’s still confidential.’
Lev sighed.
‘So, a woman you don’t like, plus trouble with the woman’s son on the same day. You can see why I have to ask you about this?’
‘Not really. I know you’ve looked at the security footage. You know I left the school well before seven p.m., and you know I didn’t come back until the following day. So I couldn’t have killed her, could I?’
‘Any other murder, I might agree with you, sir. But not this one.’
‘And why’s that?’
‘The footage doesn’t show Ms Delcade coming back to the school, either. Yet that’s where we found her, inside your school, large as life and deader than roadkill. Odd that, don’t you think?’
And with that, the detective turned on her heel and headed back up the street, her tall frame unbowed by the weather, slush ground to paste in the deep tread of her winter boots.
Greg watched her go, absent-mindedly scratching his eye patch as he did so.