Free Saints Of New York by R.J. Ellory Page B

rain came without warning,
and by the time Parrish and Radick reached the outskirts of Williamsburg it was
pounding down on the roof of the car.
    They sat for a while, hoping it
would ease off.
    'We do the school first, right?'
Radick asked.
    'Sure. I called the principal and
he's expecting us.'
    'And anything more on Danny
Lange's friends?'
    'Danny Lange didn't have any
friends.' Parrish turned and looked at Radick. 'You did Narco, Jimmy. You know
how this goes. Junkies are a breed all their own. Addiction is stronger than
any loyalty. Friends, family, it all goes by the board. The only thing that
will get any of his compadres or associates talking is money.'
    'You have money?'
    'Don't worry about it,' Parrish
replied.
    At eleven they left the car and
hurried across the street. They checked in at the front lobby, waited for
someone to come collect them, and then made their way through a maze of
bi-colored hallways to the principal's office.
    The principal got up as they were
shown in.
    'Frank Parrish. We talked on the
phone.'
    'Of course.'
    'This is my partner, Jimmy
Radick.'
    Radick extended his hand.
    'David Carlisle.' Carlisle walked
around his desk. 'Please,' he said,
'take a seat.'
    Parrish asked the usual
questions. Carlisle wasn't defensive.
    'I have six hundred students
here, Detective. I do my damnedest to keep track of all of them, but it's
simply not possible twenty-four seven. Rebecca didn't show for school on Monday
morning—'
    'She
didn't show on Monday?'
    'Right.
She was here last Friday, and then didn't appear Monday morning.'
    'And
you contacted her guardian?' Radick asked.
    'I'm
afraid that's where we fell down, Detective. Strictly speaking we should have
called, but we did not. We had a couple of teachers away on a course, we had
subs in . . .' Carlisle shook his head wearily.
    'But
you called on Tuesday?' Parrish said.
    'Rebecca's
father called us.'
    'Her father?'
    'Yes,'
Carlisle said. 'Her father called Student Reception on Tuesday, told them that
Rebecca had been ill on Monday, would be back on Wednesday. Then later that day
we got a call from this woman, Helen Jarvis, and she said she was Rebecca's
legal guardian. That was when Reception informed me of the situation. I didn't
tell Miss Jarvis that the girl's father had called, I just called the police
immediately. They told me that they had some information on it, and they were
waiting for the guardian to file a Missing Persons Report. I then checked our
records and we had Helen Jarvis listed as Rebecca's mother, not her guardian.
It's not that uncommon to find mothers and daughters with different surnames
these days.'
    'And
did you tell the police about the call from the girl's father?'
    'Yes
I did.'
    Radick
was taking notes, and then he looked up at Carlisle. Carlisle was confronting
the fact that he had a great deal more to deal with than a missing student.
    'She
didn't come in on Tuesday because she was already dead,' Parrish said
matter-of-factly. 'We can only assume now that her killer called in and posed
as her father to delay any alarm being raised about Rebecca's disappearance.'
    'Dead?'
Carlisle echoed. 'Oh my God . . .'
    'She
was dead on Monday,' Parrish repeated.
    'Oh
my good God almighty . . .'
    'And
whoever called on Tuesday saying that he was the girl's father wasn't her
father at all,' Radick said. 'We need to know who you spoke to and at which
precinct.'
    'Yes
. . . er . . . yes, of course. Oh this is terrible. This is truly terrible. I
don't know what to say.'
    'There
isn't a great deal you can say, Principal Carlisle. The details of whoever you spoke to at the police
precinct would be really appreciated.'
    'Yes
... I think his name was Trevitt. I'll see to it now.'

 
    'So
she leaves home at - what? - seven o'clock Monday morning? She comes down to
Brooklyn. She's dead somewhere between eight and two. That's a pretty narrow
window.'
    'But
nevertheless enough time to get a haircut and do her nails. More likely, to
have someone do