Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [76]
“About.”
Marge said, “I’ve heard that you’re the editor of the paper.”
“Junior editor. You have to be a senior to be editor in chief.”
“She’s already been offered that position for next year,” Georgette said.
“Mo . . . om.”
Decker smiled to himself, how kids managed to make Mom or Dad into a two-syllable word. “I think the point Sergeant Dunn was making is that you’re pretty involved with the school paper.”
Heddy nodded. “Since I was a freshman. I took journalism in ninth grade and was hooked. The teacher, Mr. Hinton, made the class exciting. He liked my writing. He encouraged me to try out for the paper.”
“He’s the adviser?”
Heddy nodded. “But he really has a soft touch when it comes to editing. Which is exactly what we need—help, but not someone who’s, like, bossy.”
“Who got Myra involved in the paper?” Marge asked.
“That would be me,” Heddy boasted. “She was a terrific cartoonist. Ever since I’ve known her she’s drawn, like, funny caricatures of teachers and everyone.” The girl’s smile was sad. “Her cartoons could really make you laugh.”
Marge said, “We noticed on Myra’s phone that she had Mr. Hinton’s cell-phone number. She called him, texted him as well.”
Heddy said, “I have his cell number, too. That’s not weird or anything.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that it was,” Marge said. “Her texts were about her cartoons. All I meant to say is that he seems like an accessible guy.”
“Oh, he is. He’s just terrific. Mr. Hinton has been voted Bell and Wakefield’s best teacher for like five years in a row.”
“We’ve been looking through some of Myra’s things, specifically her artwork. She did do a lot of caricatures.”
“It’s what she liked to do.”
Marge said, “She could be biting.”
“Myra could be funny sarcastic. It’s what I loved about her.” The eyes got wet again. “She had a great sense of humor and didn’t pull punches.”
Decker said, “How did the recipients of her humor feel about it? Specifically the drawings of some of her classmates sitting on the toilet.”
Heddy sighed and shook her head. “She only showed those cartoons to the people close to her.” A tear ran down her cheek. “I miss her so much.”
Georgette was misty eyed as well. “It was a terrible shock and a terrible loss.”
Decker said, “Did she seem unusually upset before it happened?”
Heddy’s eyes teared. “She seemed . . . maybe a little down after Gregory Hesse committed suicide. You know about that, right?”
“Of course.”
She averted her eyes from Decker’s face for just a millisecond. “I hope she didn’t get any weird ideas from him. She told me she could understand being that depressed.” She bit her lip. “I asked her over and over and over . . . was she okay. She kept saying she was . . . brushing it off.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I should have pushed harder.”
“We’ve been through this before.” Georgette’s eyes were moist. “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself—”
“Of course I blame myself!” Heddy was sobbing now.
Marge put her arm around the girl. “There is no way you could have prevented this.”
“That’s not true!” she cried out. “I should have told her mother.”
Georgette said, “You told Mr. Hinton. It was up to him.”
“You told Mr. Hinton that Myra was depressed?” Marge said.
She nodded. “I should have told her mother. She had a right to know!”
Decker said, “Heddy, your mother is right. You brought it to the attention of a responsible adult.”
“It didn’t help!” She dried her tears.
“Sometimes nothing helps, honey, and that’s the sad truth.” But Marge’s mind was awhirl. Why hadn’t Hinton mentioned anything when she and Oliver had talked to him? Did he drop the ball somewhere and was feeling guilty? Could that have explained his hostility toward the police? “Could I ask you a few more questions?”
“Of course! Anything.”
“I was going through Myra’s voice mail. She didn’t have any messages—either pending or saved—before she died.”
“That’s weird. I called her, like, a few hours before and left a message.”
“And she never called back?”
“No.” Then Heddy asked, “What does that mean?”
“Maybe she erased all her messages