My Old School
7:35 AM - Sunday, November 2, 2014
Pacific Heights, San Francisco
Jeannie woke with a jolt two minutes before her alarm at 6am. It was barely sunrise as she sat having a quiet cup of coffee in the kitchen, still swaddled in her oversized cardigan. She sat and watched the light change outside the window, wondering if the day would offer up any answers. She forced herself to make some scrambled eggs, not being hungry for them, but knowing she’d need them. She showered and dressed in plain clothes, as everyone had agreed this might make the students more comfortable. Jeans, turtleneck, low-heeled boots, and a tweed blazer - one of the only ones that was large enough to allow her to carry her firearm in a shoulder holster, along with the requisite two backup clips. She liked seeing herself out of uniform in the mirror; this version of herself felt familiar — the uniformed version still felt like a stranger.
She took her father’s old Mercedes 300 wagon that was parked down in the garage. Somewhere along the line her Mom had christened the car “Martha”, which was likely a nod to Martha Stewart’s elegant housewifery. It was from the early 90s and while it was once pristine, it was now basically a huffing, rattling contraption for taking Fergus from place to place. But, it was still a Mercedes. Martha Mercedes.
She made two stops on Polk Street to get some additional fuel for the morning: Peet’s coffee for a large cup of dark roast, and then further down the street to Bob’s Donuts. A fresh batch of apple fritters was coming out of the oil for the morning rush and she immediately snagged a half dozen. If nothing else, she thought maybe Mark would appreciate it.
Arriving early at Holy Heart at the top of the hill in Pacific Heights and was able to park Martha right out front. Jeannie sat and looked at the place while sipping her fresh cup of Peet’s.
The Flood Mansion which housed the Holy Heart school was built in 1915 as another example of west coast Beaux Arts architecture. Built for one of the eldest sons of one of the Silver Kings of the 1880s, the house was designed to show off the wealth of an Irish immigrant family that had gone from running a saloon to running a financial empire almost overnight. Most people thought of the Gold Rush of the 1850s as the big boom for California, and while true for the population, the real money was made years later in the silver mines of the Comstock Lode. The Flood Mansion was designed to be a massive wedding cake of white marble, combining elements of Italian Renaissance, Rococo, Tudor (in the private chapel), and Georgian. You wouldn’t think it would work, but Bliss and Faville had a way of tempering multiple influences into a cohesive balance. Famously prolific in San Francisco and the Bay Area, the duo had studied at MIT together and then worked for McKim, Mead, & White before heading to California to build opulent homes and commercial buildings for newly monied westerners, like the Floods.
Jeannie thought of the Dagonet mansion again, also part of their work, and wondered if Charlie Dagonet even knew about the architects. She always thought their buildings, while dazzlingly opulent, also offered comfortable, intimate spaces. After all, she had spent 10 years of her life walking the halls of The Flood Mansion when she attended Holy Heart.
She still had dreams about running errands up into the dark attic to find something for a teacher, a labyrinthine warren of desks and storage that served as the offices. She knew the ghost stories the older girls told about Mrs Flood’s roses, and knew exactly where they spooky angels were located inside the old elevator shaft — a set of Cherubini sketched on the wall by a daring artistic student decades ago who stopped the elevator between floors to complete the work. No one seems to know the artist’s name. The whole place was a monument to educating proper young women, while the young women themselves seemed to run wild with rebellion, as is the case with most expensive girls’ schools.
Jeannie smiled to herself, and realized that the heavy bronze gates at the front of the building were already open. Gathering up her things, she headed toward the door, pausing to look over the opulent carved marble around the portico. Some part of her was still awed by its scale and intricacy.
But that was nothing to the main hall inside. Running the length of the building front to back, the glossy white marble floor was flanked by sets of pillars along both sides, as well as traditional urns that were currently filled with massive flower arrangements that stretched to the high ceiling. At the far end of the hall, a set of huge curved windows framed a 180-degree view of San Francisco Bay, from the Golden Gate Bridge to Telegraph Hill. Making her way toward the view, she noticed a woman inspecting a set of gold chiavari chairs ahead of her. She looked up as Jeannie approached.
“Morning!” She said eagerly, the sound echoing around the vast hall.
“Good morning, I’m Jean Hagen from the SFPD? I’m here for the meeting - the Dean helped us arrange it.”
“Yes, I’m Jane Sullivan - I do facilities here at the school.”
“Thank you so much for opening up for us today. We really appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem - we had a wedding here yesterday, which you can see from the flowers. They picked up most everything last night, but there’s still some lighting and chairs here, as you can see. I hope they won’t be in the way.”
“Do you think we could use them? The chairs, I mean?” Jeannie asked. She already could see the set-up.
“Hey Jeannie.” She spun around to see Mark arriving with bags of gear. A younger agent was with him, also toting a bag of gear. “This is Raj, he’s part of my tech team.”
“Great. Welcome to the Flood Mansion.” She knew it was a lot to take in for the first time. “I was thinking we could set everyone up here with the chairs so we can do our initial spiel and then break out into the parlor or the chapel.” She indicated the two rooms on either side of the hall. Mark shrugged.
“That should work. I actually had an idea, well, it was my wife’s idea.” He started rummaging into his bag and pulled out a tiny camera no bigger than a pen cap. “We wouldn’t be able to use it as evidence, but I was thinking we could set up a camera on the group, and record their reactions. We won’t be able to catch everything ourselves, so it may be good to have a video to go back to later.”
“I like it, yeah.”
“Where do you think we could put it?”
The alcove at the end of the main hall with the windows also had a grand piano parked right in the center of the window overlooking the Bay. Of course. The school had pianos everywhere, although this one was likely part of the wedding combo the night before.
“The piano? We could put up the lid and tuck it inside?” Mark smiled. It was the first time she’d seen him smile fully.
“Perfect. Raj - will you?” He handed off the tiny camera, and Jeannie led him into the parlor.
“You came with backup today.” She said quietly.
“Raj is a genius. If he weren’t honest he’d be a hacker on the dark web. He’ll get everything he can off of the phones.”
“Good. Well…this is what used to be The Lady’s Parlor,” Jeannie explained as he took in the murals and tapestries. “I think it will be good for interviews, although it’s usually used for fancy dinners, teas, receptions… There’s even a secret room back there,” she pointed to the corner, “but it’s been sealed up forever.”
“You know this place?” Mark asked.
“Yup. My old school.” She looked around. It was odd to be back in these rooms; they were the same but the scale of the spaces felt smaller somehow. “Only until eighth grade. Then I went to Xavier.”
“Ah…I knew you were a ringer.” He smiled a little.
“You’re in a good mood.”
“Well, better than yesterday. Had a rough night though.”
“Same.” She offered quietly. “Which is why I got us donuts.”
“Donuts?”
“Not just any donuts, these are Bob’s famous apple fritters - they’ll change your life.” She popped open the box and the smell of warm sugared dough filled the air.
“Did you just say Bob’s apple fritters?” It was Stephanie Choy standing in the doorway. Owen Dunne was standing behind her. The Captain had assigned them to the meeting as extra hands to help corral the group and facilitate the interviews.
“None for you.” Jeannie said, jokingly. “Mark’s never had them.”
“Oh shit? They’ll change your life.” Steph gave her best smile and dove into the box, pulling away a big chunk of a fritter.
Paco arrived a little later with Meg, the Park Police intern. They were followed by the Deans of Holy Heart, Xavier, and the Headmaster of Academy, who agreed that he would be the one to announce the death of Alexa Thomas. The group had a briefing in the parlor and then set up their stations: Paco and Meg running check-in, Mark and Raj running the data scans after check-in, and Jeannie, Steph and Owen setting up the chairs and interview room. While the students were encouraged to bring a parent if they wanted, the school representatives would also be on hand to sit in on interviews. Since these were initial interviews and not formal statements, the morning should move along quickly, giving context for the evidence review on Monday.
It was just about the time when the students would start arriving, and Mark pulled Jeannie aside.
“I think you should take the lead with these kids.” Jeannie considered him.
“Mark, I’m here to help, not lead…my role’s pretty clear. The Captain reiterated it to me again this morning, he sent me a text…”
“I know. But he put you here for a reason, which is that you know these kids and where they come from. That’s our in right now.” He looked at her meaningfully. “Please. I’m not sure we have anything otherwise. These aren’t the kind of kids that cower to authority. They’ll respect you.” While this was good to hear, Jeannie knew it was more responsibility than she wanted, and was unsure she was ready for it. She tried to ignore the excitement she felt in her solar plexus. Taking a deep breath, she looked at him.
“Okay. You’re the boss.”
“Good. We need a timeline of what happened on Friday night - what went on, who was where and with whom.” Mark said. “If they lead us to something deeper, we can follow it, but the main thing is sorting out Friday night. This won’t be pleasant news for them, so let’s leverage that and get them to open up.” Jeannie nodded. “Follow your instincts, Jeannie.”