Matt didn’t need the sociology lesson, though he didn’t disagree with her. “You mentioned another teacher who had a conflict with Mr. Marston.”

“No—not a teacher. It was an employee. And ever since those nice officers left, I’ve been trying to remember his name. I can almost picture him.”

“Him. That’s good. What was the conflict?”

“Mr. Marston fired him—and I honestly don’t think I ever knew the circumstances around it. But it must have been egregious. Mr. Marston rarely fired anyone. Teachers are hired by the school district, and he wouldn’t be able to specifically terminate any, though I’m sure he would have a say. All serious discipline was handled by the school board. But he had discretion over other hires.”

“Like?”

“Maintenance, teaching assistants, some of the support staff.”

That’s good. That narrows it down, Matt thought.

“How are you aware of this?”

“It was winter. I remember that much, because we had just come off three snow days in a row. We’re used to snow and ice here, but this was a particularly bad storm. This man pushed Mr. Marston when he was getting out of his car. Just pushed him down into the snowbank. He was belligerent, yelling at Mr. Marston. I had just driven into the parking lot—I got out of my car and told them I was calling the police. Mr. Marston said no, don’t. A couple other teachers were there and we were talking about calling the police, regardless of what Mr. Marston said. We didn’t know if the man had a weapon, or if he was going to use his fists. The man yelled more, pushed Mr. Marston down, then left. Stomped through the snow to a car on the far side of the lot. Later, I asked Mr. Marston what had happened. He said he had to let the man go because he’d come to work drunk again. The way he said it, it was clear it wasn’t the first time. I asked why he didn’t go to the police, and Mr. Marston said the man had lost his wife a year ago, and hadn’t been the same since.”

Matt leaned forward. “You didn’t tell the other officers that.”

“I guess I didn’t remember this morning.” She smiled. “You’re very good at your job.”

“You just had more time to think about it. And you don’t remember his name?”

“No, I recognized him, but I never had interactions with him, if that makes sense. I taught American History to high school juniors for thirty years, until I retired eight years ago. This happened—well, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen years ago. Maybe longer? I haven’t lost my mind, thank the Lord, but I don’t remember everything well.”

Sixteen years ago—that was when Marston left Spokane to get his PhD. That would help. “I can find out exactly when because you had three snow days in a row, correct?”

“Oh my, yes! You would. The school district would have records of that. And it was February, I’m almost positive. I drove to school irritated because the neighbors didn’t take down their Christmas lights yet and I had lost a bet.”