of our privacy.” He sank down and looked up at me for salvation, as though by simply listening to me he might be free of whatever demons were tearing up his insides.
“Okay,” he gasped out, recovering at least some of his composure. “What do we need to do?”
I slumped back down on the couch, looking at Carl across the coffee table. “For starters,” I began, “you can explain to me why you didn’t tell me right away about you and Tricia.”
Carl looked across the room directly into my eyes, looking for some confirmation that he ought to break his own silence and reveal the details of what had been happening.
“You’re going to need to trust someone now,” I told him gently. “It may as well be me. Your wife sounds like she’s gone, I can’t imagine anyone at school is going to come near this. Tell me the truth. Were you having sex with Tricia?”
“Yes,” he said. “I was.”
At least that much was out in the open. Glancing at my watch, I realized that in mere moments Smythe would not be able to restrain her partner any longer, and Carl would be led out in cuffs.
“Was this a one time thing, or was it a relationship like Tricia described?”
Carl stared at me, his eyes pleading for me to understand. “It isn’t what you think, Win. It really isn’t. I, we were in love.”
“You loved her?”
“And she loved me. My God, it was so wonderful but so wrong at the same time. I’ve been making this constant trip between heaven and hell for over a year.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look. It wasn’t some perverted thing, as much as it sounds that way because of her age and the fact that I’m her teacher. I don’t know if she’s very mature for her age or I’m immature, but she is just the most wonderful woman in the world.” Carl continued to refer to Tricia in the present tense. Denial, perhaps? Or was this still the liquor talking?
“It started out very innocently. She was in my Grade Eleven biology class. Of course I noticed her physical appearance. She’s a beautiful girl, and objectively I could see that. But I never set out to seduce her or anything.”
“Tricia told me you first got, uh, together one night working late on a biology lab,” I interjected, trying to move it along.
“That’s right. We’d had lots of conversations, she would just hang around and chat and then one night, it just happened. I don’t know how to explain it except to say that we kind of looked into each other’s eyes, and the next thing you know we were kissing madly. It was right out of some teenage romance movie.”
“And no one ever suspected anything? You kept it hidden for nearly a year?” I asked incredulously. In the nearly three months I had been at J. Mac, I had most definitely learned that schools are a hotbed of gossip. Even I knew about which teenager was dating which teenager. It seemed impossible to believe a teacher and student could be romantically involved for so long without word getting out, no matter how hard they tried to conceal it.
“No. At least I don’t think so. We were very discreet. We used to meet in the evenings. Sometimes on the weekends. It was like dating. We talked about everything. She is the most understanding, giving person I have ever met.” Tricia had resumed the present tense again.
“Then why did you ‘break up’ with her?”
Carl looked down at his hands. I couldn’t be sure, but he seemed to be examining his left hand, where his wedding ring would be sitting were he wearing one. “I don’t know. Somehow Bonnie, my wife, suspected that something was going on. I don’t know if she knew anything for sure, but she hinted around that she thought I was spending so much time away from home that something must be going on.”
“So just like that, you were able to dump Tricia?”
“God, no,” he protested. “It was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I even spoke to my priest about it. He’s the only other person who knows this, Win. He’s the one who insisted I break up with Tricia. He said I owed it to God to honour my wedding vows.”
I could relate to that one. Having made the decision to forego my wedding vows, my priest, and the entire organization of the Roman Catholic Church, had essentially told me where to go.
“So?” I prodded.
“So I made the decision that it would be best for both of us to call it off. I’ve never been so depressed.”
“And Tricia?”
“She was crushed at first. She sobbed and cried, but she didn’t seem angry. She never asked me to change my mind. She never demanded anything of me. She was entirely mature about it.”
“Until she threatened to expose you.”
He looked up at me again. “That’s just it. It was well over a week since we had broken up. She was pleasant and everything in class. I thought things were going to be fine. It’s like she suddenly snapped.”
I sighed. I hated to have to ask the next part. “What happened next?”
He looked back at me with what appeared to be genuine surprise. “What happened when?”
“On Wednesday. The day Tricia was killed.”
Carl’s face broke into a pained, near horrified expression. “Winston!” he proclaimed. “You don’t think that . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.
“I told you, what I think isn’t important. You have to understand the police have even more good reason to think you killed her.”
“But I didn’t!” he wailed. “I love Trish. I would never do anything to hurt her.” With that, the damn burst, and Carl slumped over in the chair, painful sobs flowing from him. I had no way to comfort him, so I just sat back to let him cry himself out.
While I was waiting, my cellular phone beeped again in my pocket. Reaching in, I popped it open and answered, knowing full well who it would be.
“Time’s up, Counsellor. Should we come in?” Smythe asked me politely.
I knew I had no right to ask, but I did anyway. “Five more minutes, and I’ll bring him out myself.”
“I’ll give you two,” she replied and hung up before I could respond. Even good cops have their limits.
“Come on, Carl,” I told him soothingly. “It’s time.”
He sat up and began wiping away at his face. “I’m sorry, Win. I really am. I’m just so lost. I can’t believe she’s gone.” I hated myself for it; I could feel myself being dragged into his emotional response, starting to believe what he was saying to me. There was just one piece that didn’t fit.
“Carl,” I asked him as he rose to his feet, “the police found Tricia’s underwear with your DNA on it in her laundry basket. When was the last time the two of you were together?”
He looked at me wounded, caught like a kid skipping classes. “When I went to try to
