I didn’t have to ask her about her ex-husband, Derek Morgan. I’d already gotten the information I needed. Derek was violent, and she’d called the police on him a few times before they eventually divorced. She’d laid a charge against him twice, so I knew she’d suffered his wrath.
The thing I didn’t get was why Mrs. Grant had lied about her son. It was obvious she knew something.
Early in our sessions, I’d asked Alyssa if he had been violent, and she’d rolled her eyes, almost sneered. She didn’t have to say anything for me to know she was waiting for that question. It was obvious Malcolm Morgan never hurt her like that. From what I could gather, he treated her like a porcelain doll.
I stood and thanked Mrs. Grant for her time and cooperation. Then she walked me to the front door.
“My son was a good man, Dr. Greene. Nobody can tell me otherwise.”
I nodded and walked toward my rental.
There was one more stop before I caught a flight back.
The principal of Mal’s old high school had agreed to meet me on the weekend at the school.
Walking into the building, I was reminded of the countless years of my life spent in a building like this. The same brick buildings and grounds where students loitered more than playing sports. The same feeling of pressure and excitement filled me as I made my way down the corridors. I’d thankfully had a peaceful high school life.
Entering the principal’s office still unsettled me, though. It didn’t matter how many years had passed. You only ever saw the principal when there was trouble.
Mr. Henry Thomas was an elderly man who’d taught at the school for ten years before becoming principal for another six. He was dressed in brown pants and a tweed cream jacket with brown leather patches on the elbows. He wore thick-rimmed glasses and had a mustache almost completely covering his mouth. His stocky figure made him look about average height, and after shaking hands, I sat across from him at his desk.
“Would you like some coffee, Dr. Greene?” he offered.
“Some water will be great, thanks.” He stood and walked to a small bar refrigerator. I only then realized that Mrs. Grant lacked even basic courtesy. She hadn’t even offered me coffee. I guess that was not something I could judge her son for, but I made a note of it anyway.
“So, how can I help you?” He looked at me attentively, folding his sausage fingers together enthusiastically.
“Like we discussed on the phone, it’s about a student, Malcolm Morgan. I’m not sure if you remember anything—”
“Maniac Morgan, that’s what we called him,” he interrupted. “He was a piece of work, that one.”
He reached into his drawer and pulled out the thickest school file I’d ever seen. On it was the nameM. Morganwritten with a permanent marker.
“I took the liberty of grabbing this out of the archives. You’ll just have to sign this confidentiality form.”
“Of course, thank you, that’s brilliant. It will really help with the questions I need to ask you.”
“Shoot.” He leaned back against his revolving chair, which creaked, causing me to think he might fall over any minute.
“Did you ever teach Malcolm when he was schooled here?”
“Sure did, for two years, worst two years of my life. Malcolm was a strange boy, quiet one moment and wreaking havoc the next.”
“What kind of havoc?”
“He was aggressive as hell as he got older. Got into fights all the time. He was controlling, you know, always wanting to be the star of the show, so he wasn’t a very popular boy. Anyway, after a while, he seemed to quiet down, but then we realized he was terrorizing the younger kids.”
“How so?”
“He didn’t seem to have respect for authority, so he would go into a class, pull a kid out, and give them a beating if they didn’t do what he wanted. The teachers tried to control it, but nobody wanted to get on the wrong side of his father, one of the biggest financial donors to the school. The government doesn’t meet all our needs, you know? Needless to say, we were glad to see the back of Malcolm when he completed high school.”
“Would you say that the other kids feared him?”
“Definitely! He only had one friend, really, a girl. I don’t remember her name, but she seemed to think the world of the boy. Everyone else wanted to run and hide from him, especially the girls. He scared them, and we never quite understood why. We paid little attention to it. Honestly, we had bigger fish to fry. Had a suicide that year.”
I figured I’d try to get a hold of the yearbook and track down some students.
“I heard he straightened out. It was a shame to hear about what happened to him,” the principal continued.
