The Witch Of Agnesi Part 19

Bonnie took Armen's hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.

"Here they are." Molly punched a triumphant fist into the air. "Brother mine, I told you to clean out your archives."

Bonnie squinted at the list of e mails. Her own address appeared in the list from when she'd written the Knowledge Bowl team concerning a canceled practice. At least a dozen were t.i.tled YWLW. Molly double clicked on the last of these, dated April 30th, Thursday, ten-ten PM-the night of Knowledge Bowl.

A single paragraph filled the screen.

Dear Samurai, Keep the faith. It won't be long before we Keep the faith. It won't be long before we can be together. Mother doesn't suspect can be together. Mother doesn't suspect a thing, and neither does that busybody a thing, and neither does that busybodyPinkwater. I promise you, the risk will beworth the reward, if you know what I mean.I can't wait to feel your body next to mine.Be strong.Your Wicked Little Witch.

Molly turned from the screen to stare up at Bonnie. Cold triumph shone on her face. "That's how the b.i.t.c.h signs all her e mails-Your Wicked Little Witch. Get it-YWLW. The Samurai is different, though. She usu ally calls Edmund Casper."

Bonnie nodded, feeling as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. She tried to gather her wits, not willing to say aloud what each of them was thinking. "Did you check this address against Edmund's address book?"

The elated look on Molly's face faded to a glimmer. "I couldn't find it in there."

"But you did find Ali's address, and it wasn't the same?"

"That's right. They're not the same. But it's got to be her."

"Fair enough." Bonnie drew a deep breath so her impatience wouldn't show. "I think I know a way through this problem. Go back to the archives."

The girl gave Bonnie a hard stare then did as she was told.

When the list reappeared, Bonnie noticed what she should have seen before. Several of the addresses, while all containing YWLW, differed in suffixes. "Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it difficult to trace these. This Wicked Little Witch has at least four different addresses. Molly, would you print out the list?"

"This is a waste of time. Who else could it be besides the Griffith girl?"

Bonnie's hand wrapped around an imaginary lollipop. You want I should bop you with this here hard to get cinnamon? Just do it. You want I should bop you with this here hard to get cinnamon? Just do it.

She forced a smile onto her face. "Honey, we can give the e mail addresses to the police, and let them try to ferret out the writer. That's what we all want, isn't it?"

"I suppose." She clicked on Print. The printer sprang to life.

"Thank you." A pain was building between Bonnie's eyes. Right then, her dearest wish was, with list in hand, to see this house grow small in Alice's rear-view mirror.

Molly gathered up both pages of the list and handed them to Bonnie. She wanted to say something encouraging to the girl, but came up empty. No matter that right now Molly was angry with her brother. It wouldn't be long before anger mutated into guilt and guilt into sadness. Edmund had made some bad choices, but this crippled girl would reap at least some of the consequences.

s.h.i.t. Bonnie turned to Armen. "Mister Mouse. How 'bout we get out of here?"

"You got it, lady."

Molly ushered them to the back door and out onto the ramp landing. She sat in the doorway, her hands on her lap. "I did the right thing . . .didn't I?"

This was no time for equivocation. "You did."

Bonnie held up the printed lists. "The police will find these extremely helpful."

Molly looked dubious. "But the lists won't help Edmund."

How can I lie to this young woman? "No, sweetie. I don't think they'll help Edmund." "No, sweetie. I don't think they'll help Edmund."

Without another word, Molly rolled her wheelchair back and closed the door, leaving Bonnie and Armen standing together in the fading twilight.

"Your chariot awaits, my lady."

Armen extended an arm, and Bonnie noticed the time on his wrist.w.a.tch. "Oh, my G.o.d."

He looked back at her nonplussed. "What?"

"Missus Newlin. I promised I'd call her hours ago."

THE PLAN WAS TO CALL WENDY NEWLIN ON THE WAY to Armen's, where the man could change clothes and perhaps procure a shower. After that, who knew? If everything was okay with Wendy then there was the vague promise of dinner prepared ala Callahan.

The plan died in infancy. Armen hadn't driven Alice out of shouting distance from the Sheridans when a battered silver El Camino came fishtailing down Belleview.

"That's Franklin's car. Pull over, and make sure he does the same."

As he stopped, Armen laid into the horn.

The El Camino and its corresponding cloud of dust came alongside, Franklin driving, Keene at shotgun. Franklin rolled down his window. "We're in a hurry, Missus P. Got reason to ask Edmund Sheridan some pointed questions."

Bonnie leaned across Armen. "We just came from there. Edmund's not home." She went so far as to hand the printed lists out the window then pulled them back. Not so fast, my Beamish Boy. Not so fast, my Beamish Boy.

"You need to know a few things." She s.n.a.t.c.hed her crutches and hobbled around to Alice's driver side.

Keene was out of the El Camino and leaning on the fender. The big man pulled a toothpick from his mouth. He held it up like he was making a toast. "Just for you, Pinkwater."

She nodded to him. "Let's see."

Keene smiled what in some circles might be considered a s.h.i.t-eating grin.

Bonnie moved in close to make her inspection. "Clean as a whistle. You, sir, shall set a new standard for oral hygiene."

Keene reinserted the toothpick. "Now that we're past the bulls.h.i.t, just what in h.e.l.l are you doing here?"

The man kind of grows on you. She handed him the lists. "A girlfriend has been writing Edmund." She recounted Friday's e-mail verbatim. She handed him the lists. "A girlfriend has been writing Edmund." She recounted Friday's e-mail verbatim.

"Busybody, huh?" Keene chewed his toothpick and chuckled. He bent down and threw the list onto Franklin's lap. "We'll take the computer into the station. See what we can find."

He turned back to Bonnie. "Still haven't answered my question."

There's no way to do this except through the front door and down the long hall. Peppered with interruptions from both Franklin and Keene and seasoned with Armen's embellishments, Bonnie walked everyone through the mental gymnastics she and Armen had performed that afternoon. She finished with Ali's phone call and shrugged. "I ask you. After all that, wouldn't you feel the need to talk to Edmund?" Peppered with interruptions from both Franklin and Keene and seasoned with Armen's embellishments, Bonnie walked everyone through the mental gymnastics she and Armen had performed that afternoon. She finished with Ali's phone call and shrugged. "I ask you. After all that, wouldn't you feel the need to talk to Edmund?"

Keene and Franklin exchanged glances.

"She's your friend," Keene said.

"I know." Franklin drew in a couple of quick breaths as if he was gathering resources. "As a matter of fact, Missus P, I probably would have. Of course, the difference between you and me is that I'm a cop, and you're an algebra teacher."

"You got me there, youngster. There's no denying our contrasting vocations but-"

"But what?" Keene asked impatiently.

"How about the fact we found the spot where Peyton Newlin spent Thursday and probably Friday night," Armen shouted. This time most of his face matched his pink ears. "Put that in your pipe."

My white knight to the rescue. "In the barn, we found a sleeping bag and this." "In the barn, we found a sleeping bag and this."

She handed Keene the strip of medical tape. "I saw Peyton wearing this b.u.t.terfly suture Thursday morning.

You also need to search behind the barn. We found some footprints."

"You done?" Keene took the edge of the tape with the tips of his thumb and forefinger and handed it to Franklin who deposited it in a small plastic baggie.

Bonnie held up a hand to quiet Armen before he could lay into Keene again. "I think that about covers it."

"Good. Now you listen to me. This ain't no game, math lady. We got it on the best of authority this Edmund character already tried to flatten you once."

She locked eyes with Franklin. "The lab report on the truck came back?"

Franklin nodded then got out of the El Camino. He stepped between her and Keene. "That's why we drove out here . . . to get this bad boy. And what do we find? Two school teachers leaving the suspect's house admitting they came there to interrogate him."

"It sounds bad when you say it like that."

Franklin slapped his hands to the sides of his face, giving himself a hangdog look. "You're not listening to me."

She laid a hand on his arm. "I hear you. And to show you how much, I promise to back off, no more risks. Just tell me what they found in Poole's truck."

Franklin whacked Alice's driver door, startling Armen. He pointed at the Science teacher like he was shooting a pistol. "You heard her. I expect you to hold her to it. Okay, Missus P, here goes. On the headrest of Jesse Poole's pickup truck they found a single hair."

"What kind of hair?"

"One blond hair with black roots-Asian."

"I KNOW d.a.m.n WELL I'M FORGETTING SOMETHING." Bonnie braced herself as Armen navigated Alice over the ruts and potholes decorating East Plains Acres trailer park. "It's gnawing at the back of my head like a rabid beaver."

"Nice imagery." Armen slowed and eased the car through a particularly deep rut. "But I thought you didn't forget anything-ever."

Bonnie waved away the notion. "Not true. If I want, I can most times recall a name or an event, but I have to know what I'm after. I can't dredge up things without that first hook to hang onto. And right now, like Never-Never Land after the crocodile ate him, I'm hook-less."

From the corner of her eye, she spied someone smoking a cigarette in the glow of a yellow bug light-a bald-headed someone.

She spun around, but too quickly intervening trailers hid the man from view. "Is that who I think it is?"

"That depends." He shrugged with his mouth. "Do you think it's Geraldo Rivera?"

She c.o.c.ked her head and stared at him, unable to keep from smiling. "Armen Callahan, you are peculiar in the extreme."

Armen put his hand to his chest and bowed his head. "I do what I can. How about Jesse Poole? Did it look like him?"

A dip followed by a mud speed b.u.mp sent Bonnie sailing to the ceiling where she b.u.mped her head. "G.o.d d.a.m.n it!" The pain shot the length of her body and ricocheted back, causing both her foot and head to ache simultaneously. "Slow down, you madman. Of course, I mean Jesse Poole."

Armen steered around the next b.u.mp. "Well, then, yes. That was Jesse back there."

"You never told me you lived in the same park as Jesse Poole."

"It never came up." He slowed in front of a faux wood-sided and white double-wide trailer. "Here we are, home sweet home."

He parked Alice beneath a fibergla.s.s awning constructed to look like an aquarium-fish and all. He reached for the door release.

"Hold on. We have to go back and talk to Jesse."

Armen's eyes expressed everything he had to be thinking. "I'm tired and hungry." "We've been on the road since early this morning." "I'm working on about four hours sleep." "I need a shower."

To his credit he said none of these. "You're darn lucky you're so cute."

He kicked Alice into reverse and pulled back onto the trailer park's rutted lane. "I hesitate to mention that not twenty minutes ago you made a promise to Franklin Valsecci."

Bonnie laid a hand to his cheek. "You really think I'm cute?"

"Don't change the subject." He shot her a frown. "And yes, I think you're plenty cute."

As they approached the killer speed b.u.mp Bonnie braced herself against the dash. She stared a hole in the side of Armen's head. "I wouldn't mind taking this puppy a little slower this time, please."

At the last moment, Armen slowed and crept over the b.u.mp.

"Thank you, Mighty Mouse," she whispered in her best s.e.xy voice.

He didn't respond. Still frowning, he kept his eyes on the rough road.

Men.

"Armen, be reasonable. I promised not to put myself at risk. This shouldn't be anything close to risky."

"Uh huh. Whatever you say. We're here."

Jesse was sitting on the top of three wooden steps rising to a powder blue double-wide. The yellow bug light glowing in a holder next to the side door lent a sickly pallor to his face and white sleeveless T-shirt.

Armen pulled Alice onto an oil-stained concrete slab. If Jesse was surprised or anxious about their arrival, he didn't show it. He took once last drag on his cigarette and stubbed it onto the step beside him. He leaned back, his arms folded across his chest.

Now what, Pinkwater? She struggled out of the car and settled into her crutches. Maybe if she took enough time, she'd think of something to say. Surprisingly, Poole came to her and took her elbow. She struggled out of the car and settled into her crutches. Maybe if she took enough time, she'd think of something to say. Surprisingly, Poole came to her and took her elbow.

He guided her to the steps and brushed away the remains of the cigarette.

Even though a streak of ash painted the top step, Bonnie sat. "Thank you, Jesse."

Without a word, he took her crutches and leaned them against the trailer.

Armen slammed Alice's door. "Jesse."