I found Mankato West High School on the other side of town near the Minnesota River. It was a midsize school, educating over 1,200 students grades nine through twelve, and it took its security seriously. I was intercepted first in the parking lot and then just inside the front entrance by people who were very keen to know my identity and business. After explaining, I was given both a visitor’s tag that I wore around my neck on a chain and an escort to Grace Monteleone’s office.
The years had not been as kind to Monteleone as they had been to Suzi Shimek. She was forty pounds too heavy, she had changed the color of her hair from auburn to a kind of orange-blond to mask the gray, and her face was etched with the lines of responsibility. Her eyes were clear, yet held the slightly wearied expression of someone who had been lied to often and was still having trouble getting used to it.
Monteleone’s greeting was friendly, yet not warm.
“You have questions concerning the Victoria Seven?” she said, repeating what I told her over the phone. “I’m not sure I can help you.”
I glanced around, trying to get a sense of the woman from the decor of her office. There was little to grab hold of. The carpet matched the drapes, which matched the chairs, which were made of the same wood as the desk, credenza, and file cabinets. Plaques testifying to Monteleone’s competence were set at eye level and arranged eighteen inches apart. I could sniff the aroma of coffee, yet found no coffeemaker or mugs. Nor were there any unsightly stacks of paper or loose pads and pens lying about. The room could have been a display in an office furniture store showroom for all the personality it revealed, except for the few photographs arranged neatly on the desk.
“Your family?” I asked.
“Yes. This is my son and daughter-in-law.” Monteleone held up the largest of the photographs. “This rapscallion”—she spoke the word proudly—“is my grandson.”
“Good-looking kid,” I said.
“Yes, and he knows it, too.” Monteleone smiled proudly. “He’s only twelve and already the girls are swarming around him. He’s very bright, too. But you have to keep an eye on him. He’s a Sagittarius like his father, and Sagittarians are adventurous, which means he can be a lot of trouble. Fortunately”—Monteleone set the photograph back on her desk—“that’s my daughter-in-law’s problem. I’ve already done my time.”
I pointed at the third photograph. It was smaller, a three-by-five of a young soldier taken with a pocket camera, the color fading badly.
“Is that your husband?”
“Yes,” Monteleone said.
“Suzi Shimek said he was killed in Vietnam.”
“You spoke to Suzi?”
“Yesterday.”
Monteleone nodded.
“Suzi never knew my husband. I hardly knew him. We found each other in June after I moved here from Victoria. We married in August, right before he shipped. He was killed on Christmas Eve.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Thank you.” Monteleone returned the photograph. “Why are we meeting?”
“John Allen Barrett. He was one of your students in Victoria.”
“Governor Barrett. Yes, he was my student, I am proud to say.”
“Why proud?”
“When a teacher sees one of her students become a success, she likes to think she played a small part in that success.”
“Suzi said he was your pet.”
“Teacher’s pet?” Monteleone chuckled. “I suppose he was. I wanted him to do well. He was capable of doing so very well.”
“He won the state high school basketball tournament.”
“I don’t remember him for that.”
“What do you remember him for?”
“His kindness. His consideration. He had the gift of making the people around him feel better about themselves.”
“Suzi said he was very intelligent.”
“Oh yes. That, too.”
“He dated Elizabeth Rogers.”
“She was the prettiest girl in high school. Who else was he going to date?”
“I heard she and Barrett had a fight the night she was killed.”
“I never heard that.”
“That’s why he left the party early.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Why do you think he left the party early?”
“He was tired of it. Tired of the hoopla surrounding the team. Jack liked basketball. It helped him get noticed at an early age. It earned him a scholarship at the University of Minnesota. Yet it was never as important to him as it was to everyone else. He was smart enough to appreciate that it was just a game.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Many times.”
“Were you close?”
“No more than any teacher and student.”
“The two of you spoke a great deal, I’m told.”
“Jack had dreams beyond basketball. He was grateful to have someone he could confide in.”
“What were his dreams?”
“To get as far away from Victoria as possible.”
“Why do you say that?”