Claire Malloy - Poisoned Pins Part 3

aWhatas going on?a I asked Ed in a strangled whisper. Before he could answer, a uniformed officer loomed over us. aHands on the table, all of you! Keep your mouths shut! This is a raid, not a d.a.m.n tea party!a Hooked up with a cool expression meant to chide him only a bit for his presumptive error. aThereas been a mistake, Officer. I merely came by to have a word with someone. I know nothing whatsoever of any illegal activity, and Iave never made a bet in my life. I think it would be for the best if I slipped away quietlya aThat your money?a He pointed at the five-dollar bill. aNo, it most certainly is not. It belongs to the comatose gentleman beside me. Now, if you donat mind-a The comatose gentleman rolled his head to one side. ad.a.m.n straight itas mine. The senator here and I have a little bet, and in a minute Iam going to-a His head went back down, flattening his nose. He began to snore.

aPolitician, huh?a The policeman gave me an icy smile as he recited the Miranda warning to me.

During the caravan-style ride to the local jail, handcuffed and squished between two odoriferous patrons in the backseat of the police car, I learned that the Dew Drop Inn had been under surveillance for over a year. My arrival had not been a factor in the decision to raid the establishment. Iad chosen a particularly inopportune day to visit, a day when gamblers surfaced like worms after a shower and law enforcement agents could count on copious quant.i.ties of money and betting slips to be within the establishment.

It was educational, I suppose, but not the stuff of which warm memones were made. I was subjected to fingerprinting, being photographed (I demanded to be a!lowed access to a mirror first, but they were less than cooperative), and ultimately placed in a barren cell and informed that theyad get to me sooner or later.

Earlier in the afternoon, after the unpleasantries with Peter, Caron and Jnez, and the anonymous caller, Iad a.s.sumed things couldnat get much worse. Sitting on a metal bench, acutely aware of the darkness and aroma of urine in the air, idly reading obscene graffiti, facing the possibility that I might be doing the same twelve hours in the future, I had to admit Iad been wrong. And what had I accomplished? Iad met Ed Whitbred, but I had no reason to think he had any involvement in Jean Hallas death or Debbie Anne Wrayas disappearance. He was not my manin-the-moon proWler, unless head happened upon an incredibly effective remedy for baldness.

I wasnat at all sure what the appropriate behavior was for my situation. I would be allowed to make a phone call before they interrogated me, but theyad implied it might be some time before my name rose to the top of the list. I had neither a metal cup with which to bang on the bars nor a bent spoon with which to tunnel out. I didnat know any spirituals.

I was considering using my one telephone call to order a pizza when the cell door opened and Jorgeson came in. aGood evening, Ms. Malloy,a he said as if we were meeting under the portico of the Book Depot. Had he been wearing a hat, I was certain he would have touched its brim ever so urbanely. aI understand youare in a jam.a aItas actually a cell. How did you know Iad been left here to rot for hours and hours?a aAccording to the arresting officer and the desk sergeant, youave been in here for less than half an hour- although Iam sure it felt longer. Time doesnat fly in the Farberville City Jail, or so Iave been told.a aWhat else have you been told?a He seemed to have a decent idea of the events that had led to my incarceration, and related them in a carefully noncommittal tone, then said, aOne of the officers at the scene recognized your name and called Lieutenant Rosen, thinking head want to hear about it. He called me.a Iad been irritated earlier, but now I was beginning to get angry. aWhy didnat he come down here himself?a Jdrgesonas bulldog face turned red and his ears quivered-a response Iad seen on previous occasions when he was deeply uncomfortable. Looking at something on the wall above my head, he said, aAh, the lieutenant said something about being busy, being tied up. Once he heard Arnie Riggles had been picked up in the raid, he said he figured you were up to your old-that you were interfering-I mean, involved in an investigation. He said head call the desk and tell aem to release you to my custody until the arraignment.a aThe arraignment, Jorgeson? Are you implying that Lieutenant Peter Rosen has no plans to have a quiet word with the head of the operation and make it clear that I am totally innocent of anything more wicked than a tiny lapse in judgment? That I will be brought to court to face a fine or further time in this charming room? Is that what youare implying?a aI donat think heall let it go that far, Ms. Malloy. The call caught him in a bad mood, and he was kind of sputtery when he heard about your friend with the motorcycle. Iam sure heall do something to help in the morning.a aWhat did you mean when you said he was busy?a I continued relentlessly, my face quite as red as his and my ears tingling, if not quivering. aJust precisely what was he doing when he received the call?a Jorgeson closed his eyes for a moment, and his gulps were audible. aI think maybe he had company. Letas go back to the desk and arrange your release. Youall be home in no time, sitting on your sofa with a nice hot cup of tea, and all this will seem like a bad dream.a aCompany?a I said, although I did leap to my feet and follow him down the corridor.

aI believe he mentioned something about Lieutenant Pipkin. Itas none of my business, Ms. Malloy; Iam just following orders.a aThat was an inadequate defense at Nuremberg, Jorgeson. Whoas this Lieutenant Pipkin? Is he on the CID squad?a He stopped so abruptly that I narrowly avoided a collision, and he pulled me aside as another of my coconspirators from the Dew Drop Inn was escorted to a cell. aLike I said, itas none of my business what Lieutenant Rosen does when heas off duty. We sometimes have a beer or go to the college baseball games, but for the most part we go our separate ways. My wife and I were watching a video and Iad like to get home so we can finish it before midnight. If youare curious about Lieutenant Pipkin, call her yourself. Sheas on the campus security force.

Despite the unruliness of my thoughts, I remained impressively impa.s.sive as Jorgeson did the necessary paperwork to gain my release, drove me to the Airport Arms, and waved as he pulled onto the highway. Ed Whitbredas motorcycle was not there, and I felt a little guilty as I realized he wouldnat have been in the Dew Drop den of iniquity had he not escorted me there. Arnie deserved everything that happened to him, and a good deal more, but Ed had been minding his own business- until Iad shown up.

I opened my car door, then glanced at the second story Edas apartment was dark, as was the one next to it; I knew where the renters were, and were likely to be until their arraignments in the morning. Would I take advantage of the fortuitous circ.u.mstances that had led to my premature release? Would Oral Roberts accept a blank check?

I went upstairs and along the balcony to the penultimate apartment. Back in the Airport Armsa heyday, a renter might have been able to lock the door to protect himself from his feral neighbors, but now the k.n.o.b felt loose enough to come off in my hand with only a minimal yank. It was just as well; Arnie would have lost a key as easily as he did consciousness. I opened the door a few inches and said into the darkness, ah.e.l.lo? Is anybody here?a If anyone was there, he or she was not in a congenial mood. I went inside, closed the door, and felt for the light switch, trying not to think about the last time Iad been in a similar situation. Arnieas environment was more likely to host rats.

I flipped on the light and hastily pulled the drapes together. Although the light was visible, I hoped that anyone bothering to notice would a.s.sume the tenant was home. The living room was squalid, to be charitable, and decorated primarily with beer cans, plates of petrified food, teetery piles of yellowed magazines and newspapers, and furniture that looked downright dangerous. I knew I was in the right apartment.

The kitchen was filthy, the bathroom more so, and the bedroom surely had been the target of an invasion of the magnitude of Desert Storm. Like the Kappa Theta Etas, Arnie preferred to utilize the floor rather than the closet, although there were no pink cashmere sweaters amid the paint-splattered overalls and dingy gray jockey shorts.

It was hopeless. If there was anything to explain his involvement, I was not going to stumble across it without several hours of intensive search through nasty stuff. I opened the dresser drawers, looked inside the closet, and forced myself to kneel for a quick peek under the bed. If Iad been hunting for dust bunnies and liquor bottles, I would have been incredibly successful, but as it was, I reminded myself of the inanity of my mission and returned to the living room.

On the inside of the doork.n.o.b hung a camera on a black plastic strap. I wasnat any more familiar with cameras than I was with male rites of spring, but I examined it and concluded a roll of film remained inside it. Would one shot be of a startled bookseller, her mouth agape, fingers splayed to block the blinding flash? And, more interestingly, of whom or what would the others be? Arnie was not an amateur engaging in his hobby beneath the windows of the Kappa Theta Eta house. Earlier Iad opined that he was not a murderer, but this was in no way to imply that Iad ever doubted his capacities as a voyeur. Or a blackmailer, in which case the film was likely to hold his evidence.

After a series of futile attempts to disengage the roll of film, I decided to borrow the camera long enough to have one of the nice young people at the one-hour photo service a.s.sist me. I switched off the light and opened the door.

Ed Whitbred blocked my way, intentionally or otherwise. aaSometimes they shut you up in jail-dark, and a filthy cell; I hope the fellows built them jails, find aem down in h.e.l.l.a E. F. Piper, of course.a aOf course,a I echoed lamely. aIam delighted that youave been released, Ed. It was my fault that you were at that place, and I want to apologize to you. If they end up pressing charges, Iall certainly testify on your behalf.a aAnd I wonat have to call you at an office in Washington, D.C., will I? I can drop by your upstairs apartment next to the sorority house, or catch you at the Book Depot on Thurber Street.a I was disturbed not only by his faintly sardonic tone, but also by his undeniable bulk, which seemed to have taken root on the balcony outside Arnieas door. aAny time, Ed. Thanks for the motorcycle ride. It was the first time Iad been on one, and it really is a special sensation of its own, isnat it?a My hands were sweating as I clutched the camera, but it was a little late in the scenario to put it behind my back. aWell, Iad better run along home now. My daughter will be worried, and my brief time in jail has left me ravenous, and of course a cup of tea will be divine. You wonat believe this, but I was thinking about using my call to order a pizza when. . . they released me. Isnat that silly?a He was unmoved by my dithering. aWhat were you doing in Arnieas apartment, Ms. Malloy? The only thing worth stealing is his fancy new camera. It took me more than a week to teach him how to use it, but he finally got the hang of it.a I couldnat force my way past him, and I had no desire to retreat into the apartment behind me. It was something of a stalemate. We stared at each other for what seemed a long time, neither of us commenting on the incriminatory object in my hands. I finally decided it was a checkmate and thrust the camera at him. aI simply wanted to a.s.sure myself that no one disturbed Arnieas apartment during his absence. When I saw this, I was concerned that someone might steal it, so I thought Iad keep it for him until his return. However, as long as youare here, you might as well a.s.sume responsibility for it.a As he reached for the camera, I shoved it into his belly hard enough to throw him off-balance, and darted past him. I clattered down the staircase, fumbling in my purse for my keys, and did not look back until I was inside my car, the doors locked, the windows rolled up tightly, and the key in the ignition switch.

The balcony was deserted. A light shone from behind the curtains in his apartment. While Iad escaped like a gawky heroine, gasping and moaning, imagining his thick fingers encircling my neck or jerking me off my feet, Ed Whitbred had gone inside and most likely opened a beer. If he was to be a villain in the piece, he definitely needed to work on his role.

9.

aAnd he quoted Milton?a gurgled Luanne as she fell back against the bench, laughing so hard that beer sloshed out of her gla.s.s. aWhy? Did you ask him why?a I knew what she meant, but I chose to misinterpret it. aIam sure he felt that the occasion demanded it.a It was noon of the following day, and wead met at the beer garden to picnic at our preferred table. Nothing had happened after Iad returned from my disastrous outing to the Airport Arms. Caron and Inez were huddled in the bedroom, too concerned with finances to notice my absence, and Peter Rosen must have been too busy with his distaff counterpart from the campus security force to worry about me.

Jorgeson had called earlier in the morning to tell me that my name had been deleted from all reports of the raid and I need not appear at the arraignment. I spurned his offer to send me my mug shot as a souvenir. Theread been no sign of activity at the Kappa Theta Eta house when Iad walked to the Book Depot, and neither Debbie Anne nor my anonymous caller had deigned to interrupt the ensuing hours of idleness.

Luanne wiped tears from her cheeks and attempted a more decorous voice, although little noises that resembled m.u.f.fled sneezes erupted periodically. aHereas this h.e.l.las Angel with the exterior of--I donat know-the interior of a comic book, but undeniably with the soul of a poet. Having escaped from the local penal colony, the two of you meet on a moonlit balcony. Do you flutter your eyelashes and softly say, aGood night! Good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say good night till it be morrowa? No, you knock him into the railing and run downstairs. You ought to give up those dreary mystery novels, Claire. Read some romances! Surely Azalea Twilight did one about the raw and primitive pleasure of the motorcycle between oneas thighs, the wind caressing oneas b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the taciturn yet incredibly virile hero.... No, the guys usually have mysterious scars, not elaborate needlework.a I frowned at her. aEdas no d.a.m.n easier to characterize than anyone else in this mess. I canat decide if heas a potential party guest or a killer, but why should I have any more luck with him than with any of the others? None of the character references have come from what we might consider unbiased sources. The Kappas adored Jean and loathe Debbie Anne. Mrs. Wray espouses the mundane maternal line. Vouching for Ed Whitbred is none other than Arnie, whoad profess adoration for a barnyard animal if there were anything in it for him. Why canat I have a nice group of disinterested parties?a Luanne finished her sandwich and wadded up the paper wrapper. aLike some of the professors at the college?a aI was about to say that very thing.a When I got back to the bookstore, I called the apartment and let the telephone ring until Caron acknowledged defeat and answered it with a drowsy snarl.

aI need you to watch the store this afternoon, dear I said. aBe here in thirty minutes or kiss your evening plans goodbye.a aAnd pa.s.s up a Totally Tedious slumber party at Rhondaas? You mean I canat do the limbo and run around all night in pink sponge curlers? Dine on generic chips and onion dip made out of the same chemicals as napalm? Make prank calls to the football team? Please donat throw me in that brier patch, Braer Mother.a I was impressed with the quickness with which she went from somnolence to sarcasm. aJust be here,a I said and hung up before she reached her optimum pitch. I needed Debbie Anneas cla.s.s schedule. In the past I might have called Peter to see if I could wheedle it out of him with my usual dexterity. Now I would sooner have arranged for an amputation. The registraras office would refuse in the middle of my first sentence, citing student privacy. Lieutenant Pipkin of the campus security force would be no more forthcoming-and would report my request to her newest boyfriend.

I called Eleanor Vanderson, who did not obligingly answer the phone on the first ring or any of the next fifteen. She was apt to be lunching on chicken salad with the faculty wives, or playing bridge. I suspected she would be very good at the latter-and would never touch the former unless it contained homemade mayonnaise and slivered almonds. No one answered the phone at the Kappa house.

aI Cannot Believe youare doing this to me, Mothera Caron said as she and Inez dragged into the store an hour later aAlthough this country was founded on the economic necessity of indentured servants and slaves, I seem to think Mr. Lincoln put a stop to it more than a hundred years ago. I was planning to go through the yearbook and make a list of potential My Beautiful Self clients. Pippa said she did that when she was getting started. Do you know how much money sheas made in the last three years?a aShe bought a convertible at the end of her first year,a Inez contributed. aOver spring break she went to Cozumel and made enough money while she was there to pay for the entire trip. She did sessions right on the beach.a Caron disappeared behind the self-help rack, but the barrier in no way diminished her voice. aPippaas mother helped her a whole bunch in the beginning by having parties and persuading her friends to have sessions. Her mother has lots of friends because sheas a past member of the Junior League, an active Kappa alumna, something in the hospital auxiliary, and something else at the country club. Decorations chairperson, I think.a aWhile youare burdened with a mother who has to earn a living,a I said as pleasantly as I could. aPerhaps you can drum up some business at Rhondaas tonight.a Caron peered over the top of the romances. aAfter we limbo?a Inez blinked with the solemnity of a small brown barn owl. aRhondaas got this thing about the limbo. Itas almost like an obsession, and if you say you donat want to or even lock yourself in the bathroom, sheall literally drag you into the living room and push you under the broomstick.a aHow low can you go?a oozed a disembodied voice from the direction of the cookbooks. aNo one can go as low as Rhonda, because she carries all that excess weight on her hips and her center of gravity is lower than everyone elseas.a aEnough!a I said. aIall be back in an hour or so. Donat take candy from strangers and donat take one red cent out of the cash register unless youare making change. You can still go through the yearbook to find victims; odds are good that no one will disturb you in my absence. In truth, the odds are excellent.a I put a notebook in my purse and was on my way through the door when Caron said, aThat man called again.a aWhen?a I demanded. aWhat did he say?a Shead moved behind the counter and was eyeing the cash register with an enigmatic glint. aIt was so dumb. When I answered the phone, all I heard was this heavy breathing. I didnat want to waste my time, so I asked if it was an obscene call, and he-a aYou asked if it was an obscene call?a I said carefully. aWhy should the line be tied up if all he was going to do was breathe, Mother? Someone might have been trying to call to arrange a My Beautiful Self session. Anyway, he kind of harrumphed and said it certainly was not and he didnat appreciate being accused of tacky behavior I pointed out that he was the one doing the hyperventilation bit, not I. He said he was thinking about what to say. I told him he should have done that before he called, and then I hung up.a aBut he called back,a Inez inserted bravely, then faded behind the science fiction rack. Caron, like any temperamental star, does not care to be prompted by an understudy.

aHe called back?a I said.

Caron had taken a compact from her purse and was examining the tip of her nose with the intensity of a microbiologist. When I repeated my question, she snapped it closed and sighed. aAbout two minutes later, if you can believe it. He did admit that he should have decided what to say before he called, although he was still huffy about my perfectly reasonable question.~~ Her perfectly reasonable mother was too bemused to do more than mmmur aAnd ...

aHe said that if you didnat stop b.u.t.ting into his affairs youad find yourself on the sidewalk selling burnt offerings. It was So Dumb. I mean, hasnat he ever heard of fire insurance? You do have adequate insurance, donat you?a Her green eyes turned the precise shade of mint ink. aWould there be enough left over to buy a used car?a aNo! There most definitely would not be enough left over to buy anything. I have some insurance, but-a I held in a groan as I looked at the old, dry wood of the rafters, the numerous racks of flammable paper products, the cardboard cartons stacked alongside the wall, the stacks of invoices and order forms, the catalogs. I could have renamed the place Tinder Box Books, had I been in a whimsical mood. I was not. aDid this man say anything else?a aNot really,a Caron said, still appraising the possibilities of a lovely check from the insurance company. aHe said something about if you had the negatives, youad better give them to him.a aWhat negatives?a aHe didnat say, and frankly, I was getting pretty tired of him. I said I wasnat your private secretary, told him to call you himself if he had any more obtuse messages, and then Inez and I left before he could call a third time. Thatas why we were late getting here.~~ aWhat about his voice?a I said. aCould you tell anything about his age? Did he have an accent?a aHe wasnat a kid, and he didnat have an accent. He was trying to be clever by talking in a whisper, which meant I had to keep asking him to repeat things until I was ready to scream. If you donat have decent manners on the telephone, you shouldnat be allowed to use it.a She crossed her anns and gave me a cold look. aDonat you need to go do whatever it is? Inez and I donat have all afternoon, you know. Weare supposed to be at Rhondaas at six, and we have to do our haira I walked back to my apartment in a daze of confusion and anger. Who was this anonymous jerk? I resented being threatened in such a manner; if nothing else, it wasnat sporting. I could do nothing in retaliation until I knew who he was. I didnat have his d.a.m.n negatives-of what? It was possible Ed Whitbred had them, or had them until Arnie was turned loose once again on an insufficiently leery society. There were other cameras in Farberville. There were plenty of cameras in the Kappa Theta Eta house, if the number of coy photographs was indicative.

I sat on the edge of my porch. If the prowler was also my caller~ he might have been searching the third floor of the sorority house for the mysterious negatives. Was he being blackmailed by one of the girls whoad gone home for the summer? The last thing I needed was another Kappa Theta Eta cluttering up my admittedly tenuous scenano.

Next door, Winkie came out onto the porch, holding an unhappy cat. She looked aimost comical in a fussy pink broad-brimmed hat that seemed to have settled on her head of its own accord and refused to leave. After carefully locking the door, she headed for the sidewalk.

aAny word from Debbie Anne?a I ca]led as I approached her I stopped out of reach of Katieas teeth, although I was in range of her maievolent gaze.

aNo, nothing at all. Itas been three days now, and I do hope the police will take her disappearance more seriously. Her mother has been calling me at ail hours of the day and night, and thereas nothing I can tell her Rebecca and Pippa are quite sure Debbie Anne doesnat have a boyfriend. I called those few girls who were her friends during the year. They could suggest nothing, and none of them has heard from her This is by far the most inconsiderate stunt sheas ever pulled. That girl will never be a Kappa.a aDo you have a copy of her cla.s.s schedule? I thought I might speak to her professors and see if any of them have any ideas.a I held my breath and smiled with the shiny expectancy of a rushee.

aI suppose I do, but itas inside and Katie has an appointment at the vetas office.a She hesitated, then said, aIall go get you a copy. It certainly canat hurt to speak to them, and if we donat find her soon, Iam going to lose my temper and be brusque with Mrs. Wray. You hold Katie while I go back inside.a The cat was thrust into my arms in a manner not unlike that Iad utilized with the camera. aDonat do this! Please!a I said, but Winkle was already on her way to the door, muttering about late-night calls and inconsiderate girls. It took the eat only a few seconds to realize what treachery had befallen her, and she let out a yowl of outrage that emphasized her shared ancestry with jungle cats. Less than a second later, she bit me on the hand so viciously that I instinctively flung her to the ground as I stumbled backward.

I gaped first at the blood welling from the jagged wound, and then at a flash of white as the cat vanished into the shrubbery. Blinking back tears, I fumbled in my purse for a tissue and tried unsuccessfully to stop the blood. The wound throbbed so sharply that I began to feel light-headed. I sank down on the lawn and cradled my hand, oblivious to my surroundings, and therefore was startled when Winkie said, aWhat happened? Whereas Katie? Why are you behaving so oddly?a I showed her the bite and grimly related the story. aAnd she ran that way,a I said, gesturing with my uninjured hand. I did not continue with a description of what I dearly hoped the animal would encounter on its escape route.

aThis is dreadful,a Winkie said. aWe must take action immediately, Claire.a aThe bleeding has stopped, and I donat think Iall need st.i.tches. I have some iodine at my-a aWe must find Katie,a she interrupted sternly. aHer appointment at the vet is in less than an hour. I was taking her there so that she can be rendered incapable of reproduction. An irresponsible individual knocked the screen off my window several days ago, and Katie spent the night outside the house. I donat intend to have kittens underfoot in that cramped apartment.a She went to the pertinent shrub and called, aHere, kitty kitty kitty. Come on, Katie; that woman wonat hurt you again. Come to Winkie.a I stood up, the tissue still pressed to my hand, and tried to stir up a trace of sympathy from her aShe bit me once before. I tried to tell you when you shoved her at me.a aThatas ridiculous. Katie doesnat bite.a She held out a piece of paper. aHereas Debbie Anneas cla.s.s schedule. I think Iad better go back inside and have a gla.s.s of wine. Being a housemother isnat easy by any means, but this is becoming more than I can bear. Eleanor will have to find someone else for the remainder of the summer term. The pressureas entirely too much for me.a She went into the house without so much as a glance at my bloodied tissue. Kappa Theta Eta housemothers were not, apparently, instructed in the gentle art of first aid.

After Iad doctored the wound as best I could, I set off toward the campus, fantasizing about a rustic cabin somewhere in the woods. No one sat beside me on the deck as the sun sank behind the mountains; I was alone with a gla.s.s of scotch and a plate of crackers and cheese. I amended it to freshly baked bread and expensive Brie. No one whined, complained, bit me, badgered me, scolded me, or, most of all, sent me into the arms of a tattooed motorcyclist while reclining with a member of the campus security force.

I went into the yellow brick building that housed the education department. Since it was summer school, Debbie Anne was taking only two cla.s.ses, and at that moment should have been in a cla.s.sroom being instructed in Reading Readiness Skills, a.k.a. EE1009.

aWhatever they are,a I growled, then accosted a perky young thing in jeans and asked where the room was. The door was ajar, and I hovered in the hall until I determined that Debbie Anne was not among the half-dozen girls numbly gazing at a blackboard as an elderiy woman droned at them.

The instructor of Developmental Psychology (EE1147) was not in his or her office, unless he or she was cowering behind a locked door A second perky young thing informed me that cla.s.ses would be out in ten minutes, and she didnat know when I might catch Professor Costandaza. She herself had taken the psych course from Professor Simpson because he was aan absolute hunka and it was all she could do not to alike literally seduce him right there on the desk, you know.a Fearing for the future of civilization, I read the notices on the bulletin board, gleaming tidbits about symposiums on A-V equipment, potluck dinners, and opportunities to study abroad for a zillion dollars. Eventually something buzzed and students drifted out of cla.s.srooms. I went to the original room. The woman was packing her briefcase, and was minimally cordial when I introduced myself and told her my proposed topic.

She consulted her watch, sighed, and said, aI have a faculty meeting in fifteen minutes. I heard about the Wray girl on the local news last night, and there was something in the newspaper Very sad business, that, but faculty meetings come right after death and taxes.a aI was hoping you could tell me about Debbie Anne. Everyone seems to have a strong opinion about her, but also a biased one.a aWhen I watched the news, I tried to remember what I could of her I had her last spring in a cla.s.s, and again this semester. She was shy and quiet, rarely contributing to the discussion, turning in ordinary, uninspired work.a She paused to think. aI do recall being surprised when she wore a sorority sweatshirt to cla.s.s one day. Fewer and fewer of them major in education these days, but I used to have hordes of them in my cla.s.ses-to my dismay. Now, I understand, theyare all majoring in business. She didnat seem the sorority type.a aDid Debbie Anne ever cheat or lose her temper?a The woman picked up her briefcase. aNo one cheats in Reading Readiness Skills; itas much too easy. As for losing her temper, I donat know that she has one to lose Mrs. Malloy. Sheas just one of those drab, modestly intelligent, poorly prepared girls from a little town. If this hadnat happened, shead squeak by, graduate, and go teach in another little town in order to send us more poorly prepared girls.a I went outside and sat on a stone bench. For the first time in nearly three days, Iad made progress, albeit measurable in millimeters rather than leaps and bounds. Debbie Anne Wray was a soggy-nosed ninny, accepted into the sorority by an economic imperative and rejected by a social one. Jean Hall had forced her to do something illegal, and this had sent Debbie Anne into hiding. Someone else had gained access to Debbie Anneas car key and run Jean down in the alley.

There were a few minor unanswered questions, to be sure, along the lines of who and what and when and where and why and how, but I wasnat nearly as confused as Iad been earlier. Contemplating my next target, I stood up, smiled vaguely at a couple of students, and decided to go back to the Book Depot, where I could make lists in the amateur-sleuth tradition. I would be the sole champion of the cause-the innocence of Debbie Anne. The police detectives could sit and wait. I would take action, make brilliant deductions, identify the guilty, and rescue the innocent.

And this time, I told myself, Claire Malloy would not cringe from the limelight and allow the police to take all the credit. Iad grant interviews, appear on the evening news, pose for photographs in front of the Book Depot. If the mayor insisted on giving me some sort of award for my civic-minded behavior, Iad accept it with becoming modesty.

As I came around the corner of the library, I was practicing smiles rather than paying any attention whatsoever to the trickle of pedestrians. I thudded into someone, stumbled back, and looked up to offer an apology (with becoming modesty, of course). And found myself face to face with the man in the moon. I goggled at him; he goggled at me.

aYou!a I croaked.

He quit goggling and gave me a shove hard enough to send me across the sidewalk and into a very old, very hard tree trunk. My head hit first and then snapped forward, pain ripped along my shoulder, and all the breath swooshed out of my lungs. I fell to the ground, fighting to fend off swirls of blackness and to regain my breath.

aAre you okay?a asked a voice so close that I nearly screamed.

I opened my eyes. The boy squatting in front of me had dark hair and a lean, nearly cadaverous face. I finally found enough oxygen to say, aThe man in the moon-I mean, the man who knocked me down-did you see him?a aI saw someone go around the corner, but I didnat get a good look at him. Maybe youad better stay down for a few more minutes until everything stops spinning.a He looked over his shoulder at a huddle of students. aSomebody call the campus cops and tell aem itas an a.s.sault.a aNo,a I said, but as I tried to straighten up, the black blotches flooded my eyes and my ears reverberated as if Iad taken residence in the bell tower. . . or the belfry.

aJust lean back, maaam,a the boy said patronizingly, no doubt certain he knew what was best for an incapacitated octogenarian whoad identified her a.s.sailant as the man in the moon.

aOh wow, itas Mrs. Malloy!a Pippa squealed as she dropped her books and knelt beside me. aWhat happened? Did you faint? Caron mentioned that youare experiencing menopause, and that can make you dizzy or-a aSomeone pushed me,a I muttered. There werenat very many students in summer school, but the sidewalk was so crowded that most of them must have been drawn to the drama.

aThatas awful! Who?a aA man,a I said sourly, daring the boy to say a single word. He obligingly stared at the ground. aI crashed into hUn as I came around the corner, and he overreacted to the lapse in etiquette.a Pippa dimpled indignantly. aSome men are just plain bullies, arenat they? My mother was playing golf last week and these men played through without any concern for safety or common courtesy. They let anyone in the club these days. Oh, good, here come the campus cops. Maybe itas not too late to find this man. He didnat try to molest you, did he?a aIn the middle of the afternoon next to the library? No, Pippa, he merely removed me from his path.a I recognized one of the uniformed officers approaching as Officer Terrance. The other was a woman, tall and lithe, moving gracefully. I slumped back against the tree trunk and willed myself to pa.s.s out. I scrunched my eyes closed. I held my breath. I told myself that the gender of the officer was a coincidence and that Iad had my quota for the day. For the year. I debated whether to make a deal with the devil. What was the worth of my soul compared to the impending humiliation?

aMrs. Malloy,a I heard Terrance say with what I felt was inadequate surprise. aDo you need medical attention?a aNo, Iall be fine in a minute.a I opened one eye to a slit. There on the womanas name tag was the dreaded word: Pipkin. It was preceded by a less specific M, as in Marion or Melinda or Mockery. There had to be a way to force myself into unconsciousness, I thought as I closed the eye and concentrated on the rough bark cutting into my back. My head ached dully, but I knew within the hour it would feel like the beach during a hurricane. My hand still throbbed where the cat had bitten it. I was not enamored of this latest quaint coincidence.

aShe muttered something about the man in the moon,a my traitorous savior was saying in a low voice. aI caught a glimpse of an older guy heading past the agri building. He was walking briskly, not running.a Pippa squeezed my knee. aHereas your purse, Mrs. Malloy. I gathered up all your things for you. Do you want to try and stand up now? I know more about the psychological aspects of shock than the physical, but your coloras come back.a She paused, then with what I suspected was a tactful dimple, added, aYou really shouldnat wear navy.~~ That did it. I opened my eyes, and from under a much lowered brow, glowered at her. aI do not need a Beautiful Self a.n.a.lysis to be a.s.saulted in my proper palette!a I brushed off her hand and made it to my feet. aI can describe the man, Officer Thrrance. This is the first time Iave been this close, and I only had a brief moment before he knocked me down, but I know what I saw.a aIam Officer Pipkin,a the woman said with professional compa.s.sion that didnat fool me. aWead appreciate it if youad accompany us to the office, and on the way we can swing by the infirmary to let them check you or give you an aspirin.a aThank you for your solicitousness, Officer Pipkin,a I said. I touched the lump on the back of my head and wished I hadnat. aThe skinas not broken, and I have ample medication at home. Iad prefer to get this over as quickly as possible.a Officer Terrance cleared his throat. aYou said this is the first time youad been so close. Does this mean youave seen this man before-say, on the third floor of the Kappa Theta Eta house?a aWe can discuss it at your office,a I said firmly.

Pippa patted my arm. aOh, Winkie told us how you freaked out when you saw a reflection in the window. She said you called the police to report we had a prowler, when it was nothing more than the man in the moon! Donat you think thatas too priceless?a

10.

The campus police department was housed in a relatively new metal building on the far side of the football stadium. Students grumbled as they stood in line to pay traffic tickets at a counter, and others sat dispiritedly on a bench in the hallway. Uniformed officers moved inside a gla.s.s-walled room filled with electronic equipment. Unlike the local jail, there was nothing in the air here more sinister than the staleness of a modern office building with sealed windows.

Officer Terrance escorted me to a conference room decorated with maps of the campus and posters that admonished us not to overindulge. Officer Pipkin joined us with a tray holding mugs of coffee, packets of sugar, and a jar of powdered pseudo-cream.

While she busied herself playing hostess, I took a harder look at her~ strictly out of curiosity. She appeared to be no more than thirty years old, with short dark hair, a pleasant face, a trim body, and the implicit strength and agility of a gymnast. Shead spoken only a few words while we drove to the department, but her voice held no trace of a regional accent. I had not yet decided if it had held an edge of amus.e.m.e.nt.

aNow then, Ms. Malloy,a she said as she placed a clipboard on the table, acould you please tell us what happened?a Officer Terrance glanced at his watch and pushed back his chair aDammit, I nearly forgot that I have to pick up my wifeas sister at the airport. Can you handle this on your own, Officer Pipkin?a aIall muddle through, Officer Terrance.a She waited until he was gone, then gave me a quirky grin. aAll by my little lonesome, too. Iave been on the force three years longer than he has, and could have been his baby-sitter when he was in disposable diapers. Iam a second-degree black belt in karate, have better scores on the firing range, and am working on a mastets degree in personnel management. Itas not impossible to understand why some women become cloistered nuns, you know?a aI know,a I said, determined to maintain a civil distance between us. This could have been a ruse. For all I knew, she was wearing a concealed microphone and Lieutenant Rosen of the Farberville CID was in the adjoining room, peering through a peephole and smirking as he eavesdropped. aIad like to get this over with, if you donat mind. My headas beginning to ache. I came around the corner of the library, and-a aWhy were you on the campus, Ms. Malloy?a Name, rank, and serial number, I told myself stiffly. aIt was such a lovely afternoon that I thought Iad go over to the senior walk and read the names, admire the flowers, toss a few coins in the fountain in front of the student union. I came around the corner, admittedly lost in reverie, and crashed into that man. Perhaps he reacted reflexively, and when he realized what head done, panicked and fled.a She held a pen in her hand, but she was not scribbling frantically. aDid you get a good look at him?a aAbout five foot seven, maybe shorter, small pale eyes, very thin blond hair that gives him the illusion of baldness, and a distinctively round, white face. Anywhere from fifty to seventy years old, Iam afraid. That type of babyish face is hard to read.a aWearing . . . ?a she murmured, now at least taking notes.

I winced as I tried to remember. aSorry, I didnat notice. This encounter lasted only two or three seconds, and then I was slumped against the tree while the fireworks and the sirens went off. I didnat see anything for a while.a She gave me a disturbingly acute look. aAnd have you ever seen this man before, Ms. Malloy? Please, take your time. If youad like, I can see if anyone has aspirin.a aI have aspirin in my purse.a I wasnat sure how to answer her question, and opted to consider it while I dug through my purse for the little metal box. My fingers finally encountered it, but there was something missing, something I was accustomed to touching, to hear jingling. I put the aspirin box on the table and said, aCould I please have a cup of water?a As soon as she was gone, I opened my purse and searched again for my key ring. Iad walked to the Book Depot, rather than driving, and when I returned home to tend to my cat bite, Iad a.s.sumed that Caron had left our front door unlocked. But I had unlocked the store, which meant Iad had the key ring in my purse. And had not removed it.

Officer Pipkin returned with the water aYou seem a little dazed, Ms. Malloy. Please let me take you to the infirmary, so they can make sure you didnat suffer a mild concussion, and then Iall drive you home. Tomorrow, or whenever you feel up to it, Iad like to ask a few more questions, and let you look at some mug shots at the Farberville Police Department.a I swallowed two aspirin with a sip of water. aI donat want to go to the infirmary, but I would prefer to put this off for a day or two and go home to take a nap. Why donat I call you when Iam ready to continue this? Maybe my memory will have improved.a aLetas hope so,a she said mildly.

Once we were in the car, I told her my address and then said, merely to make conversation, aHow long have you been a detective?a aSince the report of your a.s.sault came in. Iam usually a.s.signed to public relations, but the grown-ups were all responding to other calls, and poor Officer Terrance was stuck with me.a She braked at a crosswalk and waited as the students ambled by. aActually, Iam on a joint task force with the local police department. Weare trying to find ways to cut down on property theft. During the last academic year, over a hundred thousand dollarsa worth of property was stolen on the campus. We recovered less than a third of it, but thatas close to the national average.a This wasnat precisely the subject Iad introduced, but it was preferable to a discussion of my a.s.sailant. aSomeone mentioned theread been thefts in the dorms and Greek houses. I can understand how a kid leaves his door unlocked, thus inviting someone within the residence to sneak inside and grab whateveras on the dresser. But how could someone steal a large, bulky computer from a busy office on the campus?a aWeave had reports on computers, VCRs, speakers that were screwed to the walls, overhead projectors, photocopy machines-you name it. The problem is apathy. Someone strolls into, say, the biology department, announces that Professor Smith said to take the computer to the laboratory on the third floor, and carries it out the door. Professor Smith thinks a colleague must have borrowed it, and merrily goes away on his sabbatical for three months. In the next building, someone says heas from the repair service, flashes a form, and takes the photocopier Not one grad student or secretary bothers to demand credentials, and the polite student who holds the door for the thief is too worried about his thesis to look at anyoneas face. Office and cla.s.sroom doors are left unlocked at night. The storage building for the landscaping crew is in a lonely corner of the campus.a aHow can you stop it?a I asked.

She parked in front of my duplex. aWe canat, and it costs the taxpayers a lot of money to replace all these electronic toys. While weare on the topic, I saw a report that might interest you, Ms. Malloy. A clerk at a boutique at the mall recognized Debbie Anne Wrayas face on the news and called us. Several months ago Debbie Anne went into the store and requested a refund on an expensive wool jacket. Although she didnat have a sales receipt, the tags were still on the coat and it hadnat been worn. Because the store makes every effort to court business from the coeds, it has a liberal return policy. The clerk was counting out the money when the manager returned from lunch and noticed it was a brand not carried there. When he said as much, Debbie Anne burst into tears and ran out of the store, leaving the coat behind. It was so odd that he and the clerk remembered her face.a aWhy would you think this would interest me, Officer Pipkin?a aJust a hunch,a she said as she shifted gears. aIad better get back for a meeting, Ms. Malloy. Please call me when you feel better.a Debbie Anneas peculiar behavior would have to wait. I sat down on the porch steps and made sure my key ring was not hidden somewhere in the murkiest corner of my purse. My purse had been in my presence since Iad left my duplex in the mornlng. When Katie bit me, Iad dropped it, but it hadnat burst open. Therefore, I thought with a sigh worthy of my daughter at her pinnacle of martyrdom, the key ring must have fallen out of my purse when I was attacked by my man in the moon. Pippa had gathered up the contents and replaced them, but had overiooked the key ring under a leaf or in a clump of gra.s.s.

Well-organized people not only have spare keys, they also put tags on them and know exactly where they keep them. Others of us hazily recall the existence of spare keys, likely to be in a kitchen drawer crammed with junk ... or m a little box along with foreign coins and insufficient postage stamps ... or in a s...o...b..x with expired coupons and postcards from unfamiliar people whoad wished we were there. I knew about well-organized people, having once been married to a man who sent in warranty cards, filed receipts, won arguments with the bank, and watched, in precise chronological order, every episode of Upstairs, Downstairs. He empathized with the latter group who made the household run smoothly and efficiently, while scorning those dithery sorts who were forever misplacing their parasols and white kid gloves.

I went across the street and trudged toward the library, promising to abandon my slothful ways if I found my keys. Cla.s.ses seemed to be over for the day; only a few students were sitting on benches outside the library or waiting for the stoplight to change across from the student union. It was not a dark and stormy night, however, and I was more concerned about my keys than about potential muggers in the bushes.

They were nowhere in the gra.s.s around the tree. I searched methodically in a fifteen-foot radius, then leaned against the trunk and considered every action Iad taken since unlocking the front door of the Book Depot at nine oaclock. I had not removed my keys from my purse, and it had been in my possession-with the exception of the few minutes when it had been propelled out of my hands. Along with sweet dimples, indignant dimples, and enthusiastic dimples, it seemed possible that Pippa had among her repertoire a few larcenous ones. I glumly contemplated the ramifications of not having a car key, a house key, a bookstore key, or any of the other odd keys that I kept religiously, year after year, in ease I ever remembered what they fit.

Clearly, I needed to have a word with Pippa, and a round of fisticuffs if necessary. My reluctant relationship with the Kappa Theta Etas had caused nothing but a series of headaches, of both the literal and figurative variety. Iad been bitten twice, thrown in jail, hurled into a tree, and exposed to several bizarre subcultures that had thus far existed quite successfully without any intervention-or interest-on my part. My resolution to defend Debbie Anne to the bitter end was melting away like a scoop of ice cream.

I continued to allow it to melt for about three steps, faltered, and veered toward the sidewalk that went past the agri building. My a.s.sailant was not likely to be dallying behind the shrubs, but I hadnat done noticeably well in predicting his behavior to date. I circled the building, staunchly ignored a pair of coeds who giggled at me, and headed in the direction head purportedly taken.

The journalism building appeared deserted, as did a squatty structure that I thought housed philosophy and other cerebral, and therefore nonmarketable, majors. Secretaries were now leaving for the day, replaced by the custodial staft a few humorless students, and a rare faculty member with a bulgy briefcase and the obligatory leather patches on his or her elbows.

It was approaching five oaclock, which meant Caron was likely to be working herself up to a fine figure of a snit. My meandering had deposited me at the door of Guzman Hall, home of the law school; unlike the other buildings, it was lighted, and students were visible inside a lounge and a library. I decided to hunt up a pay telephone to tell Caron that she could close the store-if she could find a key in the drawer below the cash register or in any of my desk drawers, or in the box of junk on the filing cabinet, or in a similar container in the cramped bathroom. If she had no luck on this jolly little treasure hunt, shead have to call a locksmith and wait until he arrived. My head began to throb steadily as I imagined her response to the final option.

I entered the building with the due caution of a civilian entering a lionas den. The students brushing past me appeared normal, even nondescript, but I was keenly aware of their chosen careers and kept my face averted as I prowled for a telephone. The main office, an adjoining room apparently used for moot trials, and the deanas office beyond it were all dark. No one was home to offer aid at the legal clinic. I heard distant laughter from around the corner of the hallway, and surmised it came from the lounge Iad glimpsed through the window. Surely there was nothing in the corpus juris of the library worthy of a laugh, or even a tiny chuckle.

A lounge was the logical place for vending machines, uncomfortable furniture, merriment, and telephones. I turned-and gasped as I found myself once again confronting the eerie white face of the man in the moon. My eyes wide and my mouth flapping mutely, I recoiled into a water fountain before I realized it was only a portrait attached to the wall, the last in a string that decorated the hallway like pretentious ancestors.

Once Iad regained my composure, I went to the portrait and managed to make out the words on the bra.s.s plaque beneath it: John W. Vanderson, Dean of the Guzman Center for Law, 1983- . I frowned at this, and then at his depiction, trying to convince myself that I was muddled, addled, mistaken, in the throes of a concussion, just plain crazy. But I wasnat. His face was distinctive and easily recognizable, although in this case he was beaming genially at me from behind a broad, uncluttered walnut desk, with bookcases, framed diplomas, and an American flag in the backwound.

I made sure I was alone, then sat down on the opposite side of the hall and gazed up at John W. Vanderson, dean of the law school, husband of the Kappa Theta Eta house corps president (whatever that was), parlous pedestrian, and skilled prowler. Despite my efforts to the contrary, I could produce not one flicker of doubt that he was the man whoad stopped in front of the Kappa house to rub his jaw, the man whoad looked down at me from the third floor the next night, and the man whoad only a short time earlier knocked me into a tree and fled. He was the leading candidate for the anonymous caller I rubbed my jaw much the way he had as I tried to make sense of this, but I might as well have been sharing my secret whistle with him. I understood why Winkie had recognized him from my description; she would have met him when he escorted Eleanor to alumnae functions at the sorority house, or at the Vandersonsa house. Her reticence was more difficult to understand, but for all I knew, it was based on a dictum from National or arose from an anagogic rite of sisterhood.

Clanks, clatters, and bits of conversation from the direction Iad come caught my attention. I stood up, and after a parting frown at Dean Vanderson, retraced my path to the main hail. Offices that had been dark were now lit, and within the nearest I saw a man emptying a wastebasket into a large plastic container, and a second wheeling a bucket into an inner sanctum.

The door of the deanas office was ajar. If he could prowl, so could I, altkough I chose to do so with a great deal less impunity. I waited until the custodians were both out of sight, then darted into the office. I froze behind the door, and only when my heart stopped bouncing did I smugly conclude I had accomplished this minor intrusion unnoticed and unchallenged. What I now intended to do was a good question, but I saw no reason to pester myself with such paltry details.

The reception room contained a desk, a computer covered with a plastic hood, filing cabinets, and two straight-backed chairs on either side of a small table with journals and a bowl of mints. The door on the far side was closed, but not necessarily locked, I told myself cheerfully as I glanced at the still-deserted hallway and hurried across the room.

Seconds later I was inside Dean Vandersonas private office, gripped by a sensation of dj vu until I realized his portrait portrayed the room right down to the leather accessories on his desk and the diplomas on the wall. Beyond the windows was an expanse of lawn, and in the distance Farber Hall rose imposingly above the treetops.

I willed myself not to compare it to the tiny, crowded, dusty office at the back of the Book Depot, where Iad always wondered how the c.o.c.kroaches fared in battle against the mice in the wee hours of the night. Beside the desk was a table, and on it sat a telephone. As long as I was in the midst of a crime spree, I decided there was no reason not to compound the felony and save myself a dime.

I dialed the number and leaned against the desk to brace myself for a barrage of outrage. aHi, dear,a I began as soon as Caron picked up the receiver. aIam going to be a little late, so why-a aA Little Late? We are talking one hundred and fiftyseven minutes late, Mother. I told you we had to do our hair before we went to Rhondaas. I called her earlier to tell her I wasnat going to limbo if she paid me, and she said Louis and some other guys on the football team are coming by after they go to a movie. Do you want me to walk in there as if Iad arrived on a watermelon truck? Itas bad enough that ..

She may have added quite a bit here, but I wasnat listening; I was staring at a sliver of pink paper visible under the computer at the other end of the table. The color was familiar evoking unpleasant sensations not tinlike chilblain.

aLock the store when you leave,a I said, hung up the receiver and cautiously edged toward the computer. I was not tampering with evidence, I told myself as I tried to coax out the insidious pink cat. Not one of the police officials, campus or local, believed my story that Iad seen John Vanderson on previous occasions. Therefore, there could be no evidence because theread been no cnme, even of the lex non seripta variety. Half an hour in Guzman Hall and Iad already prepared my first brief, I realized, increasingly irritated that I couldnat get enough fingernail on its edge to pull it out.

I poked at it with a pencil borrowed from dear Johnas leather cup, but it was pinned firmly by the weight of the computer Honest soul that I was, I replaced the pencil, studied the computer for potential handholds, and had hoisted it up a few inches when a cold, unfriendly voice said, aPut that down.a I did.

aWhaddaya think youare doing, lady? If you want a computes go buy one at the store instead of stealing it from the college.a I looked back at a middle-aged man who wore a gray uniform and brandished a mop. His expression was as unfriendly as his voice. aI was not stealing this,a I began, paused to clear my throat, and with more a.s.surance than I felt, continued. aIt does look odd, doesnat it? I feel awfully silly being caught like this, but all I was trying to do was ... well, what may appear to be . .

aYou work on it while I call the campus cops,a he said, shaking the mop so hard that drops of water rained on the floor. aEvery time one of you steals something from the law building, the cops come sniffing at me. I need this job, lady. Iave got a family just like everybody else, and three kids to put through college.a He glowered at me as if Iad announced an increase in tuition. aThree kids, all wanting to be something more than a janitora aI understand,a I said soothingly. aI have a fifteenyear-old daughter whoas demanding a car at the end of the summer. And the cost of four years of college is enough to-a aJust stay there, okay?a He went into the front room and reached for the telephone.

I had all of ten seconds to lift the computes grab the construction-paper cat~ stuff it into my pocket, and rush into the front room before he hit the final b.u.t.ton. aWait!a I said as I grabbed his wrist. aPlease donat call the police. The computers still attached to everything; thereas no way I could have moved it more than an inch or so without undoing cables and unplugging it. I swear I wasnat stealing it.a He did not appear any more impressed by my logic than he had been by my previous attempt at parental camaraderie. aThatas what they all say, lady. What were you doing? Moving it so you could dust? I donat remember hearing youad been added to this buildingas crew.a It hadnat occurred to me that I needed to concoct an explanation before I made my unauthorized entrance into the deanas private office. Unlike glib characters in mystery novels, my mind went as blank as the top of John Vandersonas head. aIam not-no, well-itas obvious that Iam not on the crew,a I managed to stammer.

aNo s.h.i.t, Sherlock.a He disengaged my hand and began to redial a number that would result in a veritabk mora.s.s of complications for me.

He was on the sixth digit when I finally thought of something. I pushed down the b.u.t.ton to disconnect him lifted my eyebrows, and said, aI think Dean Vanderson will be very displeased if you bother the campus security department. Since I am his wife, I am more than ent.i.tled to be in his office. In fact, he asked me to come by and pick up a file for him. He thought it might be under the computer but he was mistaken.a aHis wife?a aI am Eleanor Vanderson,a I said, articulating carefully and wondering what to do if head met her in the past.

We seemed to clear that hurdle, but we encountered the next one with dizzying speed. aYou got any identification?a aMy dear man,a I said with the imperiousness of a Kappa Theta Eta alumna interviewing a rushee over tea, aI most certainly do have identification, but I have no inclination to show it to you. On the other hand, I will be happy to call the dean and explain that I was delayed because of your petty suspicions. We are due at a faculty engagement at six oaclock sharp. Itas at Thurber Farber Manor home of the president of the college. I have no quarrel with you, but I can only hope the dean doesnat file a complaint with your supervisor. I should hate for you to lose your job with those three college-bound offspring.a He continued to entertain his petty suspicions for a long while, but at last he shrugged and said, aI dunno about this, lady. If youare really the deanas wife, you would have said so in the beginning, instead of acting like a thief caught in the act. But I got work to do, and Iad like to catch the end of the ball game when I get home.a He picked up the mop and went to the door aIam gonna lock this office. Next time you come by on an errand for the dean, plan to show proper identification.a aI shall impress the dean with your cooperation,a I said, still caught up in my role. I swept past him and sailed out the door of the Guzman Center for Law, and only when I was on the far side of the agri building did I sink down on a bench and allow myself to revel in the absurdity of the scene. I had no qualms about awarding myself an Oscar Best actress in an ab libitum role seemed apt.

I took the folded construction-paper cat out of my pocket, smoothed it, and steeled myself for a sugary message. As expected, the photocopied line read: aKatie the Kappa Kitten Says Thanks!a The handwritten addendum was: aFor remembering to pay your dues.a Pay his dues? John Vanderson was not and never would be a Kappa, and his wife was hardly the kind to need cutesy notes to remind her of anything whatsoever I doubted alumnae paid dues, although they were likely to be dunned by National on a regular basis right up until the opening strains of the funerary procession.

The handwriting was feminine in its swirls. I hadnat saved the two previous cutouts, but as best I remembered, this newest message was not written by the same hand. If I ruled out Jean and Pippa, I was left with Rebecca, Debbie Anne, and the other sixty or so Kappa Theta Etas who had access to what I envisioned as boxes and boxes of pink construction-paper cats. I examined it carefully, but there was no way to determine if it had been sent that day or six months ago.

The cat was in my hand, if not out of the bag, and it proved my theory that Dean Vanderson was in some way involved. Perhaps not to Officers Terrance and Michaels, or even to Officer Pipkin and Lieutenant Rosen, who were having such a grand time on their joint task force that they were willing to work overtime.

I strolled across the lawn, the cat fluttering between my fingers, and paused on the opposite side of the street. Scaffolding had appeared on the front of the Kappa Theta Eta house, indicative of the imminent arrival of painters. If Ed Whitbred and his beetleheaded a.s.sistant had won the contract, they might well be there the next day. I had no idea what I needed to ask them, but I was confident questions would spring to my lips as easily as lies had in the law building. I would pin them down with no more mercy than a lepidopterist, wrench answers from their treacherous mouths, and walk away with some semblance of a hypothesis that would lead me to the whereabouts of Debbie Anne Wray, the murderer of Jean Hail, and maybe the definitive solution to global warming.

Much later the latest paper cat was propped against the coffee pot. A rusty key lay on the kitchen counter; I dearly hoped it fit the door of the Book Depot. No one had answered the telephone at the sorority house, so there was nothing I could do about my key ring for the moment. Caronas cosmetics case and sleeping bag were gone, as was she. Iad called Luanne and related the highlights of the afternoon, eliciting gurgles, snickers, sharp intakes, and a few brays of laughter Wead agreed that my next a.s.signment needed to be an appointment with John Vanderson. A package that had contained a low-fat, low-sodium microwave meal was discarded in the wastebasket, its contents having been made palatable with the addition of salt and b.u.t.ter I was soaking in the bathtub, occasionally twisting the hot-water tap with my toes, allowing the heat to nurse away the dayas acc.u.mulation of bruises, and reading a mystery novel in which the clever amateur sleuth, a woman of moderate years who had the courage to admit she hated cats, was outwitting b.u.mbly, fumbly, grumbly policemen on every page.

I was reaching for my drink when I heard a scream.