Page 46 of A River Red With Blood
“It was Levesque,” Elgot said.“No one else here would do that to another boy.”
“Regardless,” said Santopietro.
“Regardless what?”
Santopietro didn’t like Elgot’s tone, but resisted the urge to tear him a new asshole, if only because Elgot might try to insert another stick up it.
“Regardless, we can’t go making accusations without evidence.”Santopietro really wanted Elgot gone, off to serve tofu, wheatgrass, or whatever else his girlfriend was shilling to the yacht crowd down in Boston.“But I’ll speak with Leonard privately and advise him of the necessity of behaving respectfully toward the staff and students of this institution.To cover myself, I’ll have to give a more general warning to the rest of them, but I promise you, Leonard Levesque will get the message.”
Mercifully, Elgot had left it at that and they parted on good terms.Once Elgot was gone from the campus, Santopietro called Renders.
“Give me an hour or so to finish up what I’m doing,” he said, “then get that bastard in here.”
Chapter 43
Hailee Theriault, Scott’s mother, and her husband Jerry Rakestraw maintained two properties in the state: a cottage on Mount Desert Island, which would enable Rakestraw to meet the residential requirements for representing the 2nd district, should he someday choose to run there; and a home in Kennebunk, in the 1st district, where their children attended school.If he did want to get his name on the ballot, Rakestraw might have to make Mount Desert Island his primary residence, but for now he could keep a foot in both political camps: the blue of the first and the deep red of the second, all while mulling over a tilt for governor.
The Kennebunk house was one of the more modestly sized on Beach Avenue, which meant it was worth closer to a million dollars than two.I’d called ahead—I wasn’t about to intrude on grief unannounced—and spoken to Rakestraw himself, who agreed to give me some of his time on Saturday morning, though he couldn’t guarantee his wife would do the same.“It has been very tough for her,” Rakestraw explained.I told him I understood, and Idid.
But as it happened, Hailee Theriault was seated in a window nook when Rakestraw showed me into the big kitchen, the gauzy horizon of the ocean visible through the trees.She was wearing a yellow cotton dress and her feet were bare.She was a small woman, made smaller by her husband, who had played point guard for the Black Bears in his college days.Rakestraw was dressed in chinos and an open-necked formal white shirt.Like his wife, he looked weary, but unlike her, his eyes didn’t have the subdued glassiness of the sedated.They offered coffee, or soda or tea if I preferred.Since the coffee was already made, and they were each drinking a cup, I took coffee.
“The house isn’t usually this quiet,” said Rakestraw.“The kids are playing at a friend’s place.”
He made an odd, apologetic little gesture with his hands.I had only just arrived and he’d already referred to kids and uncommon silence, words he might have preferred to have avoided in front of his wife, especially when the subject at hand was her deceased eldest child.
Hailee Theriault didn’t move in the alcove except to turn her head to regard me; neither had we shaken hands, nor had she spoken.Only when her husband was pouring my coffee did she ask: “Why has Ward hiredyou?”
“He’s unhappy with the verdict of accidental death,” I replied.
“Does he blame us for what happened?”
“I believe he blames himself above anyone.”
She snorted air through her nostrils in lieu of laughter.
“It’s a little late for Ward to become a martyr.”
“It’s never too late for that,” I said.
She shrugged.“You may be right.Perhaps I’ll join him.Perhaps I already have.”
She went back to looking out the window.Rakestraw sat next to her.She moved her bare feet so they rested against his thigh, but otherwise did not acknowledge his proximity.
“If you have questions,” said Rakestraw, “we’ll do our best to answer them.”
I began by going through much of what Ward Vose had told me, including Scott’s intolerance for alcohol.Hailee Theriault confirmed the diagnosis, but claimed it hadn’t stopped Scott from fooling around with booze.
“Not hard liquor,” her husband clarified, “only beer.And not much of that,” he added.
“Not that we know of,” said his wife, “but Scott was running wild by the end, and alcohol might have played its part.Who can say?That was why we had to send him to Spero.”
“By running wild—?”
“He was mouthing off,” said Hailee, “smoking pot, skipping school.He was impossible.”
“He was difficult,” said Rakestraw.
“Impossible,” his wife repeated, but without feeling.
