a much older man. Ian meets her in Chicago every three or four weeks to… to discuss school business. Most of the board meetings are held in Chicago, easier travel for the members.”
“How old is Dr. Warrington?” Ray asked.
“He’s forty-six. His birthday is in January.
“And his wife?”
“She doesn’t look it, but she’s much younger. Thirty-six or thirty-seven.”
“Tell me, Ms. James… ”
“Sarah. Please call me Sarah, sheriff.”
“Sarah, what brought you to Leiston?”
“I was looking for a school for my son, Eric. He wasn’t doing well in public school. He was bright enough and all, but he wasn’t motivated and lacked confidence. And it only got worse when his father and I divorced. I heard about the school from a friend. We came up one beautiful weekend in late spring. Leiston seemed a good place, but money was a bit of a problem. My ex would have paid, but I didn’t want to take anything from him. Then I found out that they had an opening that I was qualified for, and tuition is an employee benefit. I left a good job in Detroit, but I think we both needed to get away. And it has worked out for both of us. Eric has graduated; he’s at Columbia now, on full scholarship, and doing very well. I should probably move on, also. But I like it here. It’s a good place, I love the area, and I’ve made a life.” She paused, and then asked, “Do you still want a tour of the school grounds?”
“Yes, please.”
They walked around the grounds in the late fall afternoon. The winds had subsided and the sun was starting to break through. A brilliant carpet of leaves covered the lawns, their oranges and yellows softened by the warm tones of the autumn sun. Following a long circular path—the older part in red brick pavers, the newer sections in asphalt—Sarah identified the different buildings and campus areas. They lingered outside of the art building, an old rural schoolhouse that had been moved to the estate in the early years. Sarah explained that art classes were now held in the modern addition at the rear that followed the lines of the original building, and the old school housed much of the school’s permanent art collection.
They stood for a few minutes and watched the women’s soccer team practice. On an adjacent field a group of students, more than a dozen, a few more boys than girls, were having a spirited game of Frisbee. The sounds of basketballs being dribbled drew them to the open door of the large barn near the playing fields.
“Isn’t this a wonderful building?” said Sarah, looking up at the curved rafters. “They say it’s built like an old wooden boat turned upside down. This was the main barn on the estate. Locker rooms were added,” she pointed to doors at the end of the building, “when they converted the building to a gym.”
“And there’s a fencing program here?” Ray asked, noting two pistes and an electronic scoring box at the far end of the gym.
“Todd Danforth, our late drama teacher, had been a collegiate champion at Wayne State, and I think he was on the U.S. Olympic team in the ’60s. He had a flourishing intramural fencing program. The kids loved it. Sadly, after his death there was no one to continue the program.”
“How did you get on with Ashleigh?” Ray asked.
“Initially, I didn’t like her much. I thought she was a real opportunist. But by her second year here, we became very good friends. I will miss her terribly. She’s had an enormous effect on me.”
“How so?”
“She got me involved in all kinds of things. First, she got me into jogging with her in the late afternoon. I lost ten pounds and started feeling so much better about myself. And then she taught me how to ride a mountain bike. I was hopeless at first, but she was so patient and supportive. Ashleigh was a real risk taker, and she had me doing things I never would have done. Eventually she had me rock climbing and kayaking.” She paused. “But it’s not about
“How old is Dr. Warrington?” Ray asked.
“He’s forty-six. His birthday is in January.
“And his wife?”
“She doesn’t look it, but she’s much younger. Thirty-six or thirty-seven.”
“Tell me, Ms. James… ”
“Sarah. Please call me Sarah, sheriff.”
“Sarah, what brought you to Leiston?”
“I was looking for a school for my son, Eric. He wasn’t doing well in public school. He was bright enough and all, but he wasn’t motivated and lacked confidence. And it only got worse when his father and I divorced. I heard about the school from a friend. We came up one beautiful weekend in late spring. Leiston seemed a good place, but money was a bit of a problem. My ex would have paid, but I didn’t want to take anything from him. Then I found out that they had an opening that I was qualified for, and tuition is an employee benefit. I left a good job in Detroit, but I think we both needed to get away. And it has worked out for both of us. Eric has graduated; he’s at Columbia now, on full scholarship, and doing very well. I should probably move on, also. But I like it here. It’s a good place, I love the area, and I’ve made a life.” She paused, and then asked, “Do you still want a tour of the school grounds?”
“Yes, please.”
They walked around the grounds in the late fall afternoon. The winds had subsided and the sun was starting to break through. A brilliant carpet of leaves covered the lawns, their oranges and yellows softened by the warm tones of the autumn sun. Following a long circular path—the older part in red brick pavers, the newer sections in asphalt—Sarah identified the different buildings and campus areas. They lingered outside of the art building, an old rural schoolhouse that had been moved to the estate in the early years. Sarah explained that art classes were now held in the modern addition at the rear that followed the lines of the original building, and the old school housed much of the school’s permanent art collection.
They stood for a few minutes and watched the women’s soccer team practice. On an adjacent field a group of students, more than a dozen, a few more boys than girls, were having a spirited game of Frisbee. The sounds of basketballs being dribbled drew them to the open door of the large barn near the playing fields.
“Isn’t this a wonderful building?” said Sarah, looking up at the curved rafters. “They say it’s built like an old wooden boat turned upside down. This was the main barn on the estate. Locker rooms were added,” she pointed to doors at the end of the building, “when they converted the building to a gym.”
“And there’s a fencing program here?” Ray asked, noting two pistes and an electronic scoring box at the far end of the gym.
“Todd Danforth, our late drama teacher, had been a collegiate champion at Wayne State, and I think he was on the U.S. Olympic team in the ’60s. He had a flourishing intramural fencing program. The kids loved it. Sadly, after his death there was no one to continue the program.”
“How did you get on with Ashleigh?” Ray asked.
“Initially, I didn’t like her much. I thought she was a real opportunist. But by her second year here, we became very good friends. I will miss her terribly. She’s had an enormous effect on me.”
“How so?”
“She got me involved in all kinds of things. First, she got me into jogging with her in the late afternoon. I lost ten pounds and started feeling so much better about myself. And then she taught me how to ride a mountain bike. I was hopeless at first, but she was so patient and supportive. Ashleigh was a real risk taker, and she had me doing things I never would have done. Eventually she had me rock climbing and kayaking.” She paused. “But it’s not about
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