Gun Games - Faye Kellerman [90]
“Actually I’m going to dinner with my son and daughter-in-law.”
“That’s lovely.”
“Yeah, it’s fun.” He let go with a smile and she asked what was funny. “It’s especially fun for them. I always pay.”
A flash of the badge and B and W’s campus security guard gave ground without a fuss. They walked past the Administration Building and promptly got lost looking for Saul Hinton’s classroom. They asked a fireplug of a boy in a letter jacket where to find room 26 and he walked them to the correct classroom. Erasing a whiteboard, Hinton had his back to the door when they came in. Marge cleared her throat and he turned around, frowning with immediate recognition. But his speech was civil. “I did get your message, Detectives.” He continued erasing the board. “I just haven’t had a moment to call you back.”
Marge said, “I know, sir. We’re sorry to intrude if this is a bad time. We were just on our way home.”
“Where is home?” Hinton asked.
“About a half mile from here,” Marge answered.
“So you live in the district where you work.”
“I do. So does Detective Oliver.”
“I suppose that’s admirable.” Hinton put down the eraser. “What can I do for you?”
Oliver said, “Do you mind if we sit down?”
“So this is going to take a while?”
Oliver shrugged. “I’m just old and tired.”
A small bit of red came to Hinton’s cheeks. “Of course. Sit anywhere. No need to even ask.”
Marge said, “Are you all right, sir?”
“I’m fine.” Hinton chose a student’s desk chair. “What do you want to ask me?”
“The gun that Myra Gelb used to kill herself . . . it was stolen.”
“I heard something about that.”
“It was taken in a year-old burglary along with some CDs and an iPod. We all think that kids did it.” Marge waited for a reaction and she got it—a deep blush. “There are rumors, sir, about certain seniors who like guns. And the same certain seniors were people that Myra did not like.”
“She used to draw cartoons of them,” Oliver said. “The only reason we’re not mentioning names is that we want to see if you mention the same ones first.”
“If you do know someone at the school who might be dealing in stolen weapons, now’s the time to tell us. Remember, please, that two stolen guns were used in two separate suicides.”
The thin man with the long arms seemed to fold up over himself. “We’re all probably thinking about the same people. I won’t mention names because anything I’d tell you would be speculation and I don’t speculate.”
“Even if it could save another depressed teenager’s life?”
Hinton looked away. “I can’t help you. Take it up with the administration. They’re the only ones allowed to open school lockers and they won’t do it without probable cause or a court order.”
“So we have to wait until another child commits suicide to get what we need?”
“First Amendment rights supersede the nebulous possibility of something that may happen in the future.” Hinton spoke but his heart wasn’t into it.
“First Amendment rights don’t apply to the kids in this school,” Marge said. “I know that the parents and kids sign contracts that allow the administration to go into school lockers without asking their permission.”
“With probable cause.”
“If you implied that a certain person might be dealing, that would be probable cause,” Oliver said. “Think about Gregory Hesse or Myra Gelb. If you could have done something to stop their suicides, you would have done it, right?”
Hinton became very pale and Marge grew worried. Perhaps the accusation came too fast and too pointed. “You’re white, sir. Are you okay?”
He dropped his head between his knees. “I feel a little dizzy.”
Oliver stood up. “I’ll get you some water.”
Hinton said, “There’s a bottle of orange juice in my backpack. I think my blood sugar is low.”
Marge retrieved it and gave it to the teacher. He drank greedily. A minute later, he could sit up, but his complexion remained wan. “If I tell you names and the administration opens lockers based on my accusations and it turns out to be wrong, I could get fired. Worse still,