Mutation

“But Raymond thought your son was troubled,” Stephanie said. “That’s why he tried so hard to get VJ to be less withdrawn. Ray really did try. He thought that VJ was alone too much and was afraid VJ might be suicidal. He worried about the boy—oh, never academically. But socially, I think.”

Marsha nodded.

“How is he these days?” Stephanie asked. “I don’t have much occasion to see him.”

“I’m afraid he still doesn’t have many friends. He’s not very outgoing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Stephanie.

Marsha gathered her courage. “I hope you don’t think me too forward, but I’d like to ask a personal question. Mr.

Remington told me your late husband died of cancer. Would you mind if I asked what kind of cancer?”

“I don’t mind,” said Stephanie. There was a sudden tightening in her throat. “It was a while before I could talk about it,” she allowed. “Ray died of a form of liver cancer.

It was very rare. He was treated at Mass. General in Boston.

The doctors there had only seen a couple of similar cases.”

Although Marsha had expected as much, she still felt as though she’d been hit. This was exactly what she was afraid of hearing.

As tactfully as she could, Marsha ended the conversation, but not before enlisting Mrs. Cavendish’s aid in getting an invitation over to Joe Arnold’s house.

He wasn’t the sort of stuffy history professor-type Marsha had expected. His warm brown eyes lit up when he opened the door to greet her. Like Stephanie Cavendish, he seemed about her own age. Between his swarthy good looks, empathic eyes, and somewhat disheveled clothing, Marsha could see he had a beguiling demeanor. He was no doubt an excellent teacher; he had the kind of enthusiasm students would find infectious. No wonder David had gravitated toward this man.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Frank. Come in, please come in.” He held the door for her and led her into the book-lined study. She looked around the room admiringly.

“David used to spend lots of afternoons right here.”

Marsha felt unbidden tears threaten to appear. It saddened her a little to think how much of David’s life she didn’t know. She quickly composed herself.

After thanking Joe for seeing her on such short notice, Marsha got to the point of why she was interested in seeing him. She asked Joe if David had ever discussed his brother VJ.

“On a few occasions,” Joe said. “David admitted to me that he’d had trouble with VJ from the first day that VJ had arrived home from the hospital. That’s normal enough, but to tell you the truth, I got the feeling it went beyond the usual sibling rivalry. I tried to get him to talk about it, but David would never elaborate. We had a strong relationship, I think, but on this one subject he wouldn’t open up.”

“He never got more specific about his feelings or what the trouble was?”

“Well, David once told me that he was afraid of VJ.”

“Did he say why?”

“I was under the impression that VJ threatened him,” Joe said. “That was as much as he’d say. I know brothers’

relationships can be tricky, especially at that age. But quite frankly, I had a funny feeling about David’s trouble with VJ. David seemed genuinely spooked—almost too afraid to talk about it. In the end, I insisted he see the school psychologist.”

“Did he?” Marsha questioned. She’d never heard about that, and it added to her guilt.

“You bet he did,” Joe told her. “I wasn’t about to let this thing drop. David was very special . . .” For a moment, Joe choked up. “Whew, sorry,” he apologized after a pause.

But Marsha was touched by such an obvious display of feeling.

She nodded, moved herself.

“Is the psychologist still on staff?” Marsha asked.

“Madeline Zinnzer?” Joe asked. “Absolutely. She’s an institution around here. She’s been here longer than anybody else.”

Marsha made use of Joe Arnold’s hospitality to get herself invited over to Madeline Zinnzer’s home. Marsha couldn’t thank him enough.

“Anytime,” said Joe, giving her hand an extra squeeze.

“Really, anytime.”

Madeline Zinnzer looked like an institution. She was a large woman, well over two hundred pounds. Her gray hair had been permed into tight curls. She took Marsha into a comfortable, spacious living room with a picture window looking out over the Pendleton Academy quad.

“One of the benefits of being on the staff so long,”

Madeline said, following Marsha’s line of sight. “I finally got to move into the best of the faculty housing.”

“I hope you don’t mind my stopping by on a Sunday,” Marsha began.

“Not at all,” Madeline insisted.

“I have some questions about my children that maybe you can help me with.”

“That’s what Joe Arnold mentioned,” Madeline said. “I’m afraid I don’t have the memory he does of your boy, David.

But I do have a file which I went over after Joe called.

What’s on your mind?”

“David told Joe that his younger brother, VJ, had threatened him, but he wouldn’t tell Joe much more than that.

Were you able to learn anything more?”