Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [14]
The voice on the other side was female and hesitant. “I’m returning a call from Sergeant Dunn.”
“She’s driving right now. Who am I talking to?”
“This is Nora Stanger.”
“Ah, thank you for calling back, Mrs. Stanger. I’m Sergeant Dunn’s partner, Detective Scott Oliver. We’re going over some details of Gregory Hesse’s tragic suicide and wondered if we could talk to you. I understand your son, Kevin, was a friend of his?”
“The boys hadn’t seen each other in a while.”
“Yes, I know Kevin transferred out of Bell and Wakefield. I was hoping that your experience could shed some light on what happened. Gregory’s mother, Wendy Hesse, is suffering, and any answers we could give her would be helpful.”
The voice over the line was baleful. “That poor woman.”
“She’s really in the dark about what happened. And we don’t know a lot about Bell and Wakefield. The administration, of course, is protective of the school. Maybe you can fill us in. My partner and I have an open schedule. What would work for you?”
“I . . . I have to talk to Kevin. At this age, I can’t make decisions for him.”
“You have Sergeant Dunn’s number. Let me give you mine.” Oliver rattled off some digits. “Le me know when it’s convenient for you to meet us. And thanks for calling back.”
“You’re welcome.” Nora cut the line.
Oliver stowed Marge’s phone back in her purse. “She has to ask Kevin.”
Marge nodded.
“What did you think about Punsche?”
“Glad-hander and a bullshit artist,” Marge said. “But I believe him when he said that he wasn’t aware about Kevin Stanger’s problems.”
“He must have known that the kid transferred.”
“Maybe he knew about the transfer, but maybe not why. If the kid was bullied, I do think the school would have reacted.”
“Maybe.” Oliver thought a moment. “I wonder how much Nora Stanger knows about her son’s problems.”
“Enough to pull him out of the school,” Marge said. “Kevin’s the one we really want to talk to. He’s the one who can name names.”
Dr. Olivia Garden, M.D., and Dr. Gary Pellman, M.D., ASDP, was a medical corporation. The office was in a one-story strip mall that shared a parking lot with a doughnut shop, a sandwich shop, and a Laundromat. Marge found street parking and fed the meters.
Once inside the office, Oliver knocked on the sliding glass partition. The woman behind the door was in her sixties, with short gray hair, a round face, and brown eyes. She wore no makeup but her skin was baby smooth—a walking advertisement for the practice. She had on a white coat, and a stethoscope dangled from her neck.
“The office is officially closed until two, but maybe I can help you.”
“We’re looking for Dr. Garden,” Marge said.
“You found her.” After Marge presented her badge, the doctor said, “Come around the side.” She opened the door. “Let’s go into my office. I’m just finishing lunch.”
“We’re sorry to interrupt,” Marge said.
“No problem.” She ushered them inside her personal domain. “Pull up a chair.” She sat behind her desk and took a bite out of a half sandwich. “So what’s this about?”
Oliver said, “About six years ago, you reported your gun stolen—a .380 Ruger.”
“You found it?”
“Yes, we did. It was recently used in the suicide of a fifteen-year-old—”
Olivia Garden gasped. “The one in the papers?”
“Yes. His name was Gregory Hesse. Did you happen to know him or his family?”
“No.” The doctor shook her head. “Oh my, my, my. How’d that poor boy get my gun?”
“That’s why we’re here,” Oliver said. “We have a couple of questions about the burglary.”
Marge pulled out a notebook. “We understand that the gun was taken from your office.”
“Yes, it was—a long time ago. . . .”
“Was it only the gun taken or was that theft part of a larger burglary?”
“No, I believe it was only the gun.”
Oliver said, “Why did you have a gun in your office?”
A pause. The doctor said, “As I recall, there had been a rash of medical office break-ins in the area. The police never arrested anyone, but we held some neighborhood watch meetings and we all thought that it was some hype looking for drugs. Anyway, the tipping point