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It had only taken a decade to sink in.
…
The Crimson Press room was swathed in warm morning light, making the first interview of the day on Monday deceptively cozy. As Allie expected, Jeremy arrived promptly. Not entirely unexpectedly, Sam arrived a minute later. He sat down behind a computer, where he’d be able to observe Jeremy from over the top of the monitor as he pretended to prepare for his first class.
“Jackson Williams started teaching at St. Andrew’s a couple of years after I came on,” Jeremy said after she got the camera rolling. Allie hoped he’d relax soon. His shoulders were as stiff and straight as his black pinstriped suit. “I was a student counselor for the upper classmen. He was very well liked by everyone. The students, most of the faculty, and even Mr. Driscoll, the principal at the time, were impressed with his dedication.”
Allie nodded at the mention of Mr. Driscoll. He had been a very intense, religious man who’d never seemed particularly approachable. She glanced surreptitiously behind her to find Sam not even trying to disguise his interest in the interview.
“I suppose Mr. Williams had a way about him that drew people,” Jeremy continued. “He was really good at working the fundraising events for the school, charming the deep pockets, you could say.” Jeremy smiled, but for some reason, she got the impression this was said with more bitterness than appreciation.
“So, he was good at generating enthusiasm in our financial supporters,” she reworded and made a mental note to edit Jeremy’s mention of “deep pockets” out of the video, if they ever hoped to receive another donation.
“Absolutely.” Jeremy nodded. “He had the support of a number of parents on the board. Some actually thought he’d be a good contender for the vice-principal position that opened up. You remember Mr. Borrows? He left at the end of the year for a teaching position in Washington.”
“But you were given the position, if I remember correctly?” she asked.
“I was.” He preened a bit, sliding his hand through the thin hair at the side of his head. “It was a happy coincidence, really, and totally unexpected so early in my educational career. It ended up propelling me, fifteen years later, to my current role as principal here at St. Andrew’s.”
“You mentioned Principal Driscoll had considered him a candidate for vice principal. Was Mr. Williams interested in the role?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Jeremy seemed to shut down for a moment. “If I were to guess, I’d say no. An administrative position takes a certain level of… authority. The ability to make tough
choices, to run the risk of unpopular decisions. Mr. Williams liked to please people. He wouldn’t have been able to make those hard choices.”
Allie couldn’t argue that. Mr. Williams truly did care what people thought and would have taken that into consideration. She didn’t agree, however, that this trait meant he couldn’t have been a good or effective administrator. But that was an argument for another day.
“Any other observations or thoughts about Jackson Williams?”
“I was honored to have worked with him for the time he was here. I know he was an inspiration to so many of the kids, such as yourself, Allie. He’d be proud and happy to hear about the work you’re doing to preserve and honor his memory.”
A bunch of fluff, but it could be used. She turned off the camera. “Thanks for doing this, Jeremy. I should have enough to present next Thursday to the planning committee.”
Jeremy’s eyes seemed cool as he gazed at her, despite the smile on his face. “You can be quite determined when you want something. Good luck with your presentation. Be prepared for some objections. You know how Meredith can get.”
Oh, she knew, all right.
On his way out the door, Sam stopped him. “By the way, have the police told you anything about the progress of the investigation?”
Jeremy hesitated, then said, “I understand the gal they have looking at his remains—a forensic anthropologist—has been able to ascertain a high level of toxicity from the hair and bones. A level that indicates he was probably being poisoned. There was some breakdown of the—well, I can’t remember the exact term, but it indicated Mr. Williams had been exposed to arsenic in the months before his death. But oddly, that wasn’t what killed him.”
Wait. Poisoned?
Hearing it stated so bluntly like that, a large lump formed in Allie’s throat, and she blinked back tears. But why? And who…?
She managed to ask, “What did kill him, then?”
His eyes positively glistened with the excitement of being the first to give the news. “He was stabbed. In the heart.”
Involuntarily, her hand flew to her chest. Sam let out a curse.
Jeremy winced dramatically, totally oblivious. “Remind me never to piss off the cafeteria ladies.” He laughed heartily at his own joke. He never could be called Mr. Sensitivity.
Allie’s head was spinning as he left the room, but not from feeling faint. She dropped into a chair in front of the other computer.
“You okay?” Sam’s gaze was on her.
She tried for a smile. “Wow. It just…surprised me. Hearing it like that. So brutal.” She slid the thumb drive from the camera into the computer and uploaded the footage she’d recorded.
