When Aline arrived promptly at 5:30, Mike waved to her from the corner booth. She slid in opposite him.
“After I spoke to you, it occurred to me that you’d probably prefer to go to a place for a glass of wine versus a cup of coffee,” he said.
“To be honest, that would have been my first choice. As it is, I drink too much coffee.”
Mike smiled. “Aline, the next building over is an Irish pub that just opened. We wouldn’t even have to move our cars. Do you want to walk over there?”
“Sounds great to me.”
Five minutes later they were sitting in O’Malley’s, at a table in the corner of the bar. Aline took her first sip of Pinot Grigio while Mike took a drink from his beer.
“Aline, I know how strongly your mother feels about Alan Crowley’s guilt, which is why I don’t want to have this discussion in her presence. I do believe that he did it, but there are two loose ends that I wish I could clear up. The first is to find whoever helped Kerry with the tire.”
“Is there any way I can help you with that?”
“Seven girls who were at the party are still seniors at the high school. They’re minors. These parents refused to allow them to talk to me. In your work as a guidance counselor, I assume you’re going to interact with some of these girls.”
“At some point I probably will.”
“It makes sense that they might want to talk to you about Kerry.”
“Possibly.”
“Kerry told one girl about the guy who helped her with the tire. She might have told some of these girls as well. If they talk to you about Kerry, could you somehow work that into the conversation?”
Aline exhaled. “You must know I’m on really shaky ethical ground here. The privacy rules for guidance counselors are very strict.”
“I understand that. I’m not looking for personal information on these girls. Maybe I don’t even have to know the name of the girl who shares something with you. But if any of them knows something that will lead me to that guy, it will be enormously helpful. If I give you a list of their names, could you get them to talk about Kerry and bring up the subject of the guy who helped her with the tire?”
Aline considered for a minute. Once again, she knew that she would be taking a chance on losing her job. On the other hand she had seen the disbelieving look on Alan Crowley’s face when he had been photographed leaving the courtroom in prison clothes and handcuffs. If there was even the slightest chance that he was innocent . . .
“I’ll do it,” she said firmly.
Mike’s serious expression brightened.
“Thank you. It’s a lead that may not go anywhere, but I need to follow it through.”
He picked up the stein of beer on the table in front of him. “A glass of beer hits the spot at the end of the day,” he said.
“And so does a glass of wine.”
He leaned his glass forward. “A toast to that.”
They clinked glasses.
“You said there was something else you wanted to talk to me about.” Aline’s tone of voice was more of a question.
“It may be nothing, but that last text Kerry sent you the day of the party sticks in my mind. You had said she was something of a drama queen, but I wonder if you’ve had any ideas about what she might have been referring to.”
“I’ve asked myself the same thing over and over,” Aline said slowly. “The answer is no. Kerry would write something like, got A’s in two classes . . . celebrating that our team won three games in a row. But never anything like ‘something very important to talk to you about.’ ”
“Aline, from my interviews I have learned that Kerry and Alan would break up and then get back together the next day. Do you think there’s any chance that the text was referring to him?”
Aline shook her head. “The answer is I simply don’t know.”
“I thought you’d say that.”
Mike took a sip from the beer. “What I’m asking you to do is to encourage those girls to talk to you about Kerry, ask if she told any of them what was so very important.”
This time Aline did not hesitate. “Yes to that request too.”
“Then we’re on the same page.” Mike paused then added, “I’m getting hungry. Any chance you might stay for dinner? I just came upon this place last month. Wherever they found the chef, he’s excellent.”
That’s the second dinner invitation in a few days, Aline thought.
Her parents were having dinner with friends at the club. Why not? Aline asked herself. “I hope they have corned beef and cabbage,” she told Mike.
“That’s a must when you’re an Irish pub. I had it last week. It’s really good.”
“You’ve convinced me.”
The dinner was as good as Mike had promised. They compared their backgrounds. Aline said, “I went to Columbia. I always thought I would be a social worker or a teacher. But when I was studying for my master’s, I decided that being a guidance counselor would be the right fit for me. I really enjoy helping the kids with their choices.”
“I’m a local guy too. I grew up in Washington Township, played football at St. Joe’s in Montvale and went to Michigan. No, I didn’t play football there.”
“Are your parents, family, still in Washington Township?”
“I’m an only child and no, right after I graduated high school, my parents moved to New York City. Dad walks to his law office and Mom loves being closer to the arts.”
“And what did you do after you finished Michigan?”
“After I graduated, I realized I wanted to work in criminal justice. I got a master’s at John Jay in Manhattan. I was on the police force in Waldwick for a couple years before I got the position in the Prosecutor’s Office. This past June I finished a grueling four years of going to Seton Hall Law School at night.”
“You sound very ambitious. What are you going to do with your law degree?”
“The first thing I’m going to do is try to pass the bar exam. After that, I’m not sure. But if I want to move up the ladder in police work, having a law degree will be very helpful.”
“Have you worked with families like mine, where a family member was murdered?”
“In the six years I’ve been at the Prosecutor’s Office, unfortunately, many times.”
“As a guidance counselor, I’m supposed to be a bit of an expert on coping strategies. I know how bad it is for me, but I can see that my father and mother are torn apart. I wonder if anything will ever bring them peace.”
“When the trial is over and justice has been served, that’s when the real healing will start.”
“I hope so,” Aline said. “They certainly helped me when I was going through hell.”
At the query on Mike’s face, she told him about losing Rick to a drunk driver.
“What happened to the driver who killed him?”
“He was found not guilty because a friend lied for him. Nobody saw the accident. We really believe that his passenger, who was his friend and who hadn’t been drinking, switched places with him before the police arrived. Other witnesses who were at the party said that when he left, and this was just a few minutes before the accident, he had been drinking heavily and he had been driving. And it was his car. But I guess the jury just wasn’t sure, and they let him off.”
“Sometimes those things happen.”
Aline hesitated and then said, her voice quivering, “Right now he’s married, has two kids and a good job on Wall Street, and is living happily ever after.”
“How have you been able to cope with that?” Mike asked gently.
“At first, I was terribly angry and resentful. That was why I took the job in London, at the International School. I wanted to get away. For a long time I was completely bitter. But one day I woke up and realized I was ruining my life by not accepting what happened. And then I realized my being angry and bitter wasn’t going to change anything. As hard and unfair as things can be, I had to move on or else I’d go crazy.”
/> “I’m glad you made that choice. I’m sure that’s what your fiancé would have wanted you to do.”
“I agree.” For a moment Aline was lost in thought. Then her expression brightened. “I just realized something. I was sure you looked familiar the first time I saw you at my parents’ house. In my freshman year in high school my girlfriends and I went to see the spring play at St. Joe’s. They were doing West Side Story. By any chance were you in it?”
“I’ve just met a girl named Mah-REEE-ahh,” Mike began to sing softly.
“It was you! I love that song. You were so good. I’m a pretty good soprano. I’d sing it along with you, but I don’t want us to get thrown out of the bar.”
“If they don’t like that one, we could do ‘Danny Boy’ instead.”
Aline laughed, a genuine laugh. It made her realize it was the first time she had felt really good in a long time.
40
The morning after his arraignment Alan woke up groggy with sleep. He had had a vivid dream involving Kerry and the last minutes he was with her. For a moment he had hesitated after he walked around the house. Kissing her goodbye. The funeral. Kerry asking him, “Alan, why are you wearing handcuffs?” Reporters. Questions shouted at him.
When he opened his eyes, it was 7:45. As his brain cleared, the reality of what had happened leapt into his mind. What will happen next? I’m supposed to go to Princeton tomorrow.
He looked across the room at his half-packed suitcase. Will I be able to finish packing? he wondered as he headed for the shower.
When he went downstairs, his mother and father were sitting at the kitchen table having coffee. They both looked as though they’d had a lousy night’s sleep. Worrying about me, of course, he thought bitterly. His father’s laptop was open in front of him.
Looking up from the computer, he greeted him with a question. “Alan, have you checked your email this morning?”
“No, why?”
His mother and father looked at each other. She said, “Alan, your father and I received an email from Princeton. You were copied on it. It was from the dean of admissions. They urgently need to schedule a teleconference with the three of us today.”
“Today?” Alan said. “So that means they want to talk to us before we drive down there tomorrow. They’re probably going to say they changed their minds and are rejecting me.”
“Alan,” his father said, “let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I replied that we will speak to them at nine this morning.”
“Should we ask Lester Parker if he should be on the call?” June asked.
“Let’s see what they have to say before we start getting lawyers involved,” Doug said.
Alan was sure he would not be driving to Princeton tomorrow. He did not voice that to his mother or father, although he could tell from their faces that that was what they thought too. He remembered how they had hammered into him the need to have good marks. All because they believed graduating from an Ivy League school sets you up for life. Now Princeton is going to tell him to stay home.
His mother suggested making him French toast, his favorite. Her tone reminded him of the time she offered him ice cream after he had his tonsils out. Despite everything, he was hungry.
“Okay, thanks,” he said.
They had breakfast in complete silence. At one minute before nine, his father dialed into the teleconference number provided in the email. He put the phone on speaker.
David Willis introduced himself as Princeton’s director of admissions. “I also have on the call with me Lawrence Knolls, chief counsel to Princeton University.”
Perfunctory greetings were exchanged before Willis came to the point.
“Alan, we are aware of the unfortunate circumstances in which you find yourself. We have come to the conclusion that it would be in the best interest of all parties if you were to defer enrollment until your personal situation is satisfactorily resolved.”
June said, “But we are planning to drive him for freshman registration tomorrow.”
“I know that Mrs. Crowley. That is why we are speaking today.”
Doug jumped in. “You said, ‘if you were to defer enrollment.’ Is this Alan’s choice, or are you telling us this is what he has to do?”
“I’m sorry if I was not clear. It would be awkward under the present circumstances for Alan to take his place in the freshman class.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” June demanded.
This time it was the attorney who responded. “It means when all of the charges against Alan have been dismissed, he can apply for readmission.”
“I told you we should have had Lester Parker on this call,” June interrupted, glaring at Doug.
“We will refund to you the money you have sent to date,” Willis added.
Alan asked, “How did you find out about what happened to me?”
Lawrence Knolls answered, “We make an effort to keep track of our incoming freshmen, but I will not answer more specifically than that.”
• • •
When the call ended, Knolls dialed Willis, who picked up immediately. He said, “David, I guess that went as well as could be expected.”
“Do you think they’ll challenge our decision?”
“I doubt it. Any lawyer who reviews our terms of acceptance will see that our moral turpitude clause gives us wide latitude regarding whom we allow to enroll.”
“By the way,” Willis added, “our news monitoring service appears to have worked. I got an email from the PR firm this morning. They attached the article from a northern New Jersey paper about ‘Princeton-bound’ Alan Crowley being arrested for murder.”
“Well, that’s reassuring that they picked it up,” Knolls said.
“Yes, it is,” Willis agreed.
In this case the monitoring service had not been necessary. Two calls about Alan Crowley had already been made to the university’s Office of Admissions. The first was polite, almost apologetic. The second was a very angry caller who questioned the type of student Princeton was admitting nowadays.
41
As the days passed, Marge became more and more concerned about Jamie. Usually sunny in the morning and looking forward to going to work, he had become very silent. In her attempts at conversation, he invariably brought up Kerry’s name. “Kerry’s in Heaven with Daddy. I want to go there too.”
“You will someday, but not for a long time. I need you here with me, Jamie.”
“You can come up with us too.”
Another time out of the blue he asked, “In Heaven, do people go swimming like Kerry did?”
“Maybe.” Dear God, please don’t let him keep bringing up Kerry’s name, Marge begged. She tried to change the subject. “Now that football has started again, are you looking forward to going and watching the practices?”
“They’re big guys too.”
“Does anyone call you Big Guy, Jamie?”
“Daddy did.”
“I know. Anybody else?”
Jamie smiled. “I call myself the Big Guy.”
Despairing, Marge thought, It’s only a matter of time before he talks to somebody and gets himself in trouble.
42
Aline began to fall into the welcome pattern of busy days at school. True to her promise to Mike, she tried to make a point of meeting the seven girls who had been at the party but had not spoken to the police. She was making slow progress before help came from an unexpected source, Pat Tarleton, who stopped into her office one morning.
“Good morning, Aline. How are things at home?”
Aline sighed. “Okay, I guess.”
“Anything wrong?” Pat asked.
“Last night at dinner my mother and I got into a,” she paused, “let’s say we had a frank exchange of viewpoints.”
“Uh-oh, about what?”
“Mom told us that she called Princeton to give them a piece of her mind and let them know what she thought of the type of students they are admitting. Of course, she was refe
rring to Alan Crowley. I told her I thought that she was wrong. He has only been accused of a crime. He hasn’t been convicted. I told her she should stay out of it. Needless to say, she strongly disagreed.”
“Oh, Aline, I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right, Pat. We’re back on speaking terms.”
“No, Aline. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I called Princeton to make sure they knew about Alan’s arrest.”
“Pat, I don’t understand. Why would you—”
“Because Aline, I have a duty to this school and our current and future students. Every parent in this town is hoping their son or daughter will be accepted by Ivy League schools or the Notre Dames and Georgetowns. As you well know, the competition to get into these places is fierce. It is essential that Saddle River High maintain a good relationship with them, including Princeton. If we didn’t give them a heads-up that one of our students who is headed their way was going to cause them bad publicity, they could make it that much tougher for future students who apply to their school.” She paused. “I didn’t like making that call, but I had to do it. And if I had told you, I could have spared you an argument with your mother.”
“I never thought of it that way, Pat. I guess I still have a lot to learn.”
“You’re doing fine,” Pat said. “And now let me get to the reason why I dropped by. Aline, I have a favor to ask and I promise I’ll understand if you say no. A lot of the girls who were on the lacrosse team this spring with Kerry graduated and have left for college. But last year’s juniors, who are seniors now, are still coping with what happened to her. I believe it would be very helpful if they had a chance to share with you their feelings about Kerry. I’d like you to be the guidance counselor for these girls. Now, I understand if—”
Aline cut her off. “Pat, it’s okay. It will be therapeutic for me too to hear about Kerry through the eyes of her friends. I’d love to work with them.”
Pat left the office, promising to email the names. Aline experienced a tremendous sense of relief. She didn’t have to invent a reason to spend time alone with these girls. Pat had given her one.