It was 11:30 A.M. when he found himself seated in another office, this time waiting for the headmistress, Margaret Heslop, to return from a meeting down the hall. At a quarter to twelve the door flew open and with a cane a woman pushed it wide as she wheeled herself in.

Livingston jumped up. “Can I be of help?”

“Good Lord no, I’ve been managing this since the war,” she said heartily. A sixtyish matron with a pleasant face and gray hair pulled back in a chignon, she settled herself opposite Livingston’s chair and extended her hand. “Margaret Heslop.”

“Nigel Livingston. I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice.”

“I knew it must be important. Otherwise you wouldn’t have come all the way from Oxford.” And then, with an efficient air, she added, “Tell me your business.”

“I need to discuss the background of Valerie Twyler.”

“Valerie Twyler?” Heslop sounded puzzled.

“Her married name was Cook.”

“Of course.” The headmistress’s face clouded as she shook her head. “I never think of her as Twyler. She went back to her maiden name after divorcing a chap in town.”

“I understand she also was referred to as Mary for most of the time she taught here.” For the second time that morning Livingston found himself toying with his pen and notebook.

“All of the time, actually,” Heslop replied.

“Right. Do you know if she ever spent any of her summers working as a governess in Greece?”

“She most certainly did, and that was the start of her troubles.” Heslop rolled her wheelchair over to her file cabinet and pulled out a folder marked “Mary V. Cook.”

“What do you mean, troubles?” Livingston asked quickly.

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” Heslop asked as she snapped the drawer shut and opened the file at her desk. “She was getting a divorce from her husband and wanted to get away for the summer. She worked for a family in Greece where, as I’m sure you know, there was a tragedy. A woman walked in on a burglary and was murdered. Since Mary was the only one living there who was not a family member, she was questioned extensively. When she came back here for the fall term, the police kept showing up and asking her questions. We weren’t too happy about it. It got to be a bit disruptive, embarrassing and all. I gather they couldn’t prove anything. Finally there was an opening at Saint Polycarp’s and she grabbed the chance to get away. She interviewed for the job and I understand has been there ever since. I even heard she’s getting married.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Well, I hope he fares better than Malcolm Cook did in that situation. She could be a rather difficult woman. An excellent teacher but not very personable.”