Roz didn’t have the heart to be angry with him for withholding more facts from her. His shame showed plainly on his face.
***
Roz sat woodenly on the edge of a chair.I wonder how many of the people who work here are werewolves?Konrad had said his pack ran the school, so it could mean several were, even the nice secretary she’d just spoken to.
The current dean of Newton Prep had refused to see her, but his secretary told her not to leave. Apparently she knew others who would be willing to talk with her about Konrad.
At last the secretary returned.
“If you’ll follow me to the faculty lounge, I can introduce you to several staff members who’d love to talk with you.”
Roz rose. Love to?She followed the woman out the door and down a long corridor, heels tapping loudly. “It’s unusual for lawyers to be welcomed with open arms. Usually we’re met with reactions more like that of your dean.”
“Oh, no. I think you’ll find there’s a great deal of interest among the faculty as far as Konrad is concerned. Can you tell me where he is now? Is he okay?”
Roz raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Doesn’t he keep in touch?”
The woman dropped her gaze. “Sadly, no. And I can’t say I blame him. We made a terrible mistake and treated him horribly. I think it’s safe to say that all’s forgiven now, at least on our end.”
“He told me he was kicked out. I don’t think he’s angry, just sad.”
The woman stopped in front of the door that said “Faculty Lounge” in bold letters on the window. “I wish I could stay with you, but I’d be missed if the phone rings.”
Roz stiffened. “Why? Am I not safe alone in there?”
She chuckled. “No, it’s not that. You’re perfectly safe. I just have to get back to my ass hat of a boss.”
“Oh.” Roz smiled at the woman’s candor. “Well, thanks. Maybe I’ll see you later.”
“That would be nice, but the others will fill me in.” She opened the door for her. “It’s better if the dean doesn’t see you talking to any of us.”
A normal-looking group sat around a table. They glanced up and stopped eating as soon as she entered the room. The men stood.
One of the gentlemen pulled out a chair for her. “Have a seat, Miss Wells.”
“Thank you.” Fortunately, her seat was close to the door, in case anyone looked hungry.
Before he even returned to his seat, he said, “We’re all very curious about how Konrad is doing. You said you were his lawyer. Is he in trouble?”
“Unfortunately he might be. I need to verify his alibi. He said he was with some of you here on the evening of March 18, 1990.”
The group looked at each other. Finally a woman spoke up. “How are we supposed to remember where we were on a particular evening more than twenty years ago?”
Roz cleared her throat. “It was the night of the burglary at the Isabella Stewart Gardener Museum.”
A collective gasp filled the room. The woman who had spoken before said, “You can’t possibly think he had anything to do with the stolen art.”
Roz still didn’t want to commit to a position, but the fact that these people seemed to find it impossible to believe helped.
“It doesn’t matter what I think. The state thinks there’s enough evidence to bring him to trial.”
Several people began speaking at once. Some asked Roz more questions. Some expressed outrage. Others were having one-on-one conversations.
“Hold on!” the gentleman who had seated her said. “This isn’t going to get us anywhere. Let’s all think, and if anyone remembers anything from that night, share it, one at a time.”
“And please give me your names as you do,” Roz added.
An older gentleman raised his hand. “Wendell is my name. I have one question first.” He glanced around the room. “I think we need to know what she knows…about us.”
