Free Death of an Aegean Queen by Maria Hudgins Page B

the bed that would have been George’s, the one that hadn’t been slept in. “Poor George has had such a rough time since he lost his principalship. I told you about his troubles, didn’t I?”
    “You mentioned it. Tell me.” I kicked off my sandals and moved to the sofa, tucking my feet behind one cushion.
    “George was a great history teacher. Students, faculty, administrators, everybody, respected and admired him. Kids used to come to him with their problems. Other faculty members asked his advice. They talked him into taking over as principal when the former one died and that’s when he found out about all the dirt, the petty squabbles, the politics, which had been under the surface all along, but which he’d never been aware of before. Certain factions on the faculty were trying to get him fired and others would come to him with all sorts of rumors and demand he take action. Well, you can’t fire somebody because somebody else says she’s getting too friendly with her students, can you?”
    “Of course not. And I know what you’re talking about, Kathryn. My own college has those factions, those cliques, but I’ve learned to stay out of school politics.”
    Kathryn gave me an impatient look and went on. “There was a certain young lady a teacher sent to George with a note charging her with cheating. The teacher had solid proof, so George suspended the girl. Her parents protested, because she was a graduating senior and a suspension would, they claimed, jeopardize her chances of getting into the college of her choice. I say ‘they claimed’ because her whole high school record made it unlikely she’d get into any decent school.
    “She told her parents George had come on to her. Kissed her. Fondled her. Told her he knew she wasn’t really cheating but if she ratted on him, he’d suspend her. Totally ridiculous, of course, but parents will believe anything their little darlings tell them.” Kathryn’s upper lip curled on the word darlings . “She said she told George she would indeed tell all, and that’s why he suspended her.
    “Somehow, the thing snowballed. George refused to back down on the suspension, and the girl embellished her story until it was, ‘He raped me.’ She got some of her friends to say George was always leering at them during cheerleading practice, that he gave unlimited hall passes to girls who ‘cooperated’ with him. And, of course, there were certain faculty members who were delighted to add fuel to the flames, any way they could. Oh, it was just awful!” Kathryn paused and turned her splotchy-red face toward the wall. When she went on, her voice was softer.
    “It went to court. George was charged with taking indecent liberties with a minor, because the rape charge, they knew, would never stick. All the girl’s friends testified that . . . well, it seemed as if they were competing to see who could make up the most outlandish story! It got worse and worse. George resigned because he knew he couldn’t be an effective principal after all that, but it wasn’t good enough for them. They wanted blood.”
    “And the verdict?”
    “George was convicted but he was spared a prison term. He’s required to register as a sex offender everywhere he goes. Wherever we live, our neighbors always find out he’s a sex offender because all they have to do is go on the Internet.” Kathryn had been fiddling with a hairbrush as she talked, but now she wrung it in both hands, banged it on the edge of the bed, and flung it against the far wall. The brush ricocheted, landing back at her feet. “He can’t get a decent job. We have no friends. Even me, I know my co-workers talk about me behind my back. You know, ‘Kathryn’s husband is a sex offender!’ ”
    The phone rang. Kathryn, still shaking, asked me to answer it for her. It was Marco and he was looking for me. I told him I’d meet him in the lounge as agreed, but I might be a few minutes late. I went to my own room and called