Chapter 58
After listening to Jenny Berrien for the best part of half an hour, I reached three conclusions.
The first was that she’d been wise to keep her suspicions to herself, because she was operating on little more than unease, hearsay, and personal grievance.
The second was that anyone in authority wishing to audit a private educational establishment that didn’t wish to be audited had their work cut out for them.
And the third was that something at the Spero School probably stank.
I closed my notebook. I’d taken down so much information that my handwriting had deteriorated badly by the end, but I could reproduce most of what I’d heard based on key words, and it wasn’t as if I’d be submitting my notes as evidence in court.
Basically, Berrien’s claims amounted to collusion between the authorities at Spero and the person at the Maine Department of Education originally responsible for ensuring that the money provided to the school by the state was not being misused.
“Well?” Berrien asked.
She was standing, because she liked to walk as she talked. I’d remained seated throughout.
“It’s interesting that you’re not alleging widespread financial mismanagement or misappropriation of funds,” I said. “Your assertions involve just one person.”
“By ‘interesting’ do you mean ‘a relief’?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Almost everyone I work with in this department cares deeply about education and the needs of the young,” said Berrien.
“A lot of us could have found higher-paying jobs elsewhere, but we stayed because it allowed us to do some good—so you know, fuck Elon Musk and fuck Linda McMahon. That’s why Spero bothers me so much.
If I’m right, the actions of one individual threaten to make all of us look bad, even if any wrongdoing is historical, not current. ”
I could have reminded her that Scott Theriault’s death wasn’t historical, but it would have been glib, and Berrien’s was a different crusade.
She took a breath, then added: “Wait, why did you say ‘maybe’ when I offered my interpretation of ‘interesting’?”
“Because there’s no proof of fraud.”
“You could try to find it.”
“That’s not why I was hired,” I said.
“But it could be relevant to your case.”
“Maybe.”
“You know, I’m starting to hate that word.”
“I can switch to ‘perhaps’ if it helps.”
Berrien dropped heavily into her chair.
“I feel like I’ve unburdened myself for nothing,” she said.
“Unburdening is an end in itself.”
“This gets worse. It’s like being trapped in a room with the Buddha.
” She rubbed her face before cupping her hands in front of her mouth, her elbows resting on her desk.
She might have been at prayer. “You know, I hate to admit it,” she resumed, “but it does feel better to have put it in front of an independent listener. My only regret is that it sounded so thin, even to me.”
“It’s not thin,” I said. “I didn’t come here looking for legally-binding proof of anything, because that’s not how it works for me.
I spend my days asking questions and being unhappy with the answers, even the honest ones.
Generally, I leave a room no wiser than when I entered, and frequently more confused.
Occasionally, someone tries to hit me. Sometimes”—I pointed to my damaged nose—“they succeed. But today I learned a lot. Frankly, I’d have been disappointed if I hadn’t, this being the Department of Education and all. ”
Behind Berrien, the skies looked dark and heavy. The weather services were hedging their bets, warning of the possibility of heavy rain, even thunderstorms. In my bones, I felt they were right.
“So what now?” Berrien asked.
“I’d like you to make an introduction,” I said. “It’s time to close the circle.”