The Witch Of Agnesi Part 21

She stuck out her tongue at him. "I'm not sure why I said Edmund's name back there with Jesse. My mouth was forming Ali Griffith when I blurted out Edmund. Surprised the h.e.l.l out of me when Jesse told me I was right."

"Me, too. It makes no sense whatsoever. He res-cues Peyton at Knowledge Bowl then goes out of his way to get Jesse Poole to unleash the wrath of G.o.d on Peyton's skinny behind. What's up with that?"

She spun her index fingers one around the other. "Reverse those."

"What?"

"First, he gets Peyton's a.s.s kicked then he rescues him. And don't forget, somewhere in there he murders Stephanie Templeton." And tries to run over the world's greatest math teacher. And tries to run over the world's greatest math teacher.

"Then there's the e-mail from Ali Griffith, which he takes the time from his busy macabre schedule to read."

"We don't know that for sure."

Armen took a sip of his coffee. "Which don't we know for sure-that he read the e-mail or that it was written by Ali?"

"Either . . . both." She threw up her hands in frustration. "I don't know, but just because the letter is archived doesn't prove Edmund read it, and Your Wicked Little Witch doesn't have to be Ali."

"I see." He scowled, and gave her a look of disappointment. "I didn't know your denial ran that deep."

Her first reaction was to lash out at him. How dare he? I'm Bonnie Pinkwater, G.o.d d.a.m.n it. Doesn't he know most people consider me an inst.i.tution? How dare he? I'm Bonnie Pinkwater, G.o.d d.a.m.n it. Doesn't he know most people consider me an inst.i.tution?

Maybe it was that very thought that extinguished her anger like a torch thrust in a rain barrel. Inst.i.tutions didn't take c.r.a.p from anybody, but they didn't have a lot of friends either. And right now she wanted this cranky Science teacher to be her friend-and maybe a little more.

She gave birth to an honest chuckle. "Don't pull your punches, Callahan. Tell me what you really think."

The remark set just the right tone. Armen matched her smile for smile, and the tension bled from the room.

"Whad-a-ya-say we put the letter on the back burner for a moment."

"I'd say good idea."

He scratched at his beard. "I don't know if you're going to find this any easier to hear, but something else about Ali Griffith has been chewing on me."

"You mean beside the fact that like Edmund at the Academy, she was the only one at her home who actually saw the red pickup truck?" She loved the look of surprise on Armen's face. That's right, Callahan. You'll always get my A-game. That's right, Callahan. You'll always get my A-game.

He blinked like a cat that's been stared at too long. "Well, yes . . . I mean no. Whatever. Don't you think it's funny both of these teenagers saw Jesse's truck, but no one else did?"

"I saw it." She raised her eyebrows ever so slightly, keeping her expression impa.s.sive.

"You know what I mean." He made a steeple of his fingers and regarded her over the tips. "Bon, I've got to tell you. With all that's going on with Ali Griffith, to find out she lied about the truck would cinch it for me."

"Sounds like you're convinced of Ali's guilt already." She went out of her way to emulate Armen's reasonable tone of voice. She didn't want or need to sound strident.

"I don't understand your recalcitrance. The girl did everything but sign her name on that e-mail."

Bonnie slapped the table. "That's just the point. Every word, every punctuation mark in that letter pointed to Ali Griffith. h.e.l.ls bells, she might as well have signed her d.a.m.ned name. If she wrote that letter, Ali Griffith showed the intelligence of a bar of soap."

"So, the girl made an error in judgment. She's just a kid."

Bonnie wanted to shout out her reply, but first she took a sip of coffee to give herself a chance to settle down. "She's not a member of that club. For that matter none of the teenagers in this affair are mere kids. Peyton Newlin might be a boy genius, but Ali and Edmund aren't anybody's slouches. These are acutely intelligent individuals."

"And your point?"

"I'll bet when the police run down the e-mail ad-dresses on those letters they lead to an untraceable sender. From the beginning the letter writer covered her tracks. If Ali is the author then why write a letter that circ.u.mvents all her precautions?" She surprised herself with the vehemence of her objections.

Armen leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest. He studied her, looking like a man who needed to make a proclamation but was choosing each word carefully.

Bonnie let the silence hang uninterrupted. Friends gave one another time to think even if they feared what the other might propose.

He pulled at his goatee. "Bon, I know you'd just as soon not consider this subject, but we need to be able to talk about Ali Griffith being the actual author of that letter. So I'm asking you to entertain that supposition."

Easy for you to say. I've already lost Stephanie, Peyton, and Edmund. Now Ali? Did all four children hold me in contempt? Her head felt heavy as she nodded. "Fair enough. a.s.sume Ali is the author." Her head felt heavy as she nodded. "Fair enough. a.s.sume Ali is the author."

"Thank you." He squeezed her hand. "Consider the letter itself-dated Thursday, and if I remember correctly the archives listed the time at ten-ten p.m."

"Ali was home by then." Bonnie drew in a long breath. "She definitely had the opportunity."

"She comes home and the first thing she does is fire off an e-mail to Edmund. The letter refers to you and her mother. Neither of you suspect a thing, the letter says. Suspect what?"

"Their love affair?"

Armen chewed at his lower lip and beard. "There's always that. She also could have been speaking about Stephanie's death."

"Time's all wrong." Bonnie waved her hand to indicate time past. "Stephanie wouldn't be murdered for another four to five hours."

"All right, Stephanie's impending death." Again silence hung in the air.

Bonnie's throat felt dry. The implications of Armen's a.s.sumption brought back the earlier leering images of Ali and Edmund. "You're saying the e-mail was Ali pushing Edmund to go out and murder Stephanie?"

"She does encourage him to be strong. I don't think anything in a simple teenage love affair would require that sort of encouragement."

"What about Peyton's disappearance? We know the boy spent time in Sheridan's barn. Suppose Ali knew about Edmund's plans and was just encouraging Edmund to keep Peyton safe from his father?"

Armen c.o.c.ked his head and frowned at her. "Are we talking about the same letter? The one I remember is mean-spirited and contains hints and promises of s.e.xual rewards, hardly the altruistic urgings of a Pollyanna."

Bonnie closed her eyes and played the letter across her mental teleprompter. She mumbled the words, "busybody Pinkwater," and "the risk will be worth the reward, if you know what I mean." Then there was the bit about holding her body close to his. Nodding, she said in a voice barely above a whisper, "The probability seems high the letter isn't referring to either an innocent love affair or hiding Peyton."

The inexorable downward spiral of the logic had a dizzying effect on Bonnie's mind. She shook off her lethargy. "Let's try another tack. If Edmund was driving that truck Friday night, and Ali and he were lovers, then why break into her house?"

Armen leaned back in his chair and said nothing. His empty expression answered her question.

"You don't believe the break-in happened?" she asked.

"Not for a moment."

The timer on the stove buzzed. Armen rose and slipped on a pair of oven mitts. He returned with a gla.s.s ca.s.serole dish in which a concoction of red sauce, corn tortillas, and cheese bubbled furiously. After a juggling act involving the transfer of one of the mitts to his mouth, Armen deftly placed the enchiladas in the center of the table. He was heading back toward the oven when the kitchen phone rang.

"Callahan's Pleasure Palace." Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, Armen's expression changed to a grim mask. "Uh huh. My G.o.d! I'll tell her. I don't think it'll do any good." He re-cradled the phone.

When he hesitated in speaking, Bonnie felt the hair on the back of her neck bristle. "Who was that?"

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

"Franklin. He and Keene investigated the footsteps be-hind the Sheridan barn. They found the body of Peyton Newlin buried in a shallow grave."

"WELL, HERE'S ANOTHER FIRST FOR ME." ARMEN NODded and patted Bonnie's leg. "I would've never guessed this evening would've ended in a morgue."

Bonnie recognized Armen's attempt to subtly cheer her, but she wanted none of it. The world had become a madhouse-two of her beautiful children dead, the other two suspects in their murder.

She and Armen sat on a pair of hard metal folding chairs outside the office of Kevin, the County Coroner's solitary night attendant. A tall blonde with multiple facial piercings, Kevin looked as though he'd be more at home carrying a surf board or playing hacky-sack than spending his evenings babysitting corpses.

He'd been surprised at their arrival.

No, Bonnie corrected herself. Kevin had been annoyed.

No doubt, most nights he could count on no one sharing his nocturnal vigil, at least no one capable of conversation. He'd informed Bonnie it might take hours for the crime scene investigators to release Peyton's body, hinting she'd be wise to go on home.

Bonnie declined.

Kevin's tiny Spartan office, big enough for a filing cabinet, desk and chair, felt like the walls were closing in, so Bonnie chose the hall. Here she sat, feeling like G.o.d's first fool.

She glanced nervously at Armen. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

Armen shook his head. "You're not as good at reading people as you believe you are. I don't think you're crazy. I think you feel guilty. The guilt may have led you to this irrational late-night decision to see Wendy Newlin."

It was her turn to undermine an a.s.sumption, even though it was true. "I promised Wendy I'd be there for her then promptly-and conveniently-forgot about her while I . . ."

"While you what? Spent time with me?" He turned away, his face hard.

Well, yes.

"I didn't say that. All I meant was someone needed me, and I forgot about them. That's not like me to for-get a promise."

Armen dug the edge of his fist into his eye and yawned. The hard edges of his brow and jaw softened.

"That wouldn't have prevented Peyton's death. You could've stood by Wendy's side all day. Peyton would be just as dead."

d.a.m.n you and d.a.m.n your logic, Armen Callahan. "What would you have me do?" "What would you have me do?"

For the first time since they'd sat, he turned his tired face her way. "Just what you're doing, being Juanita-on- the-spot to comfort this Newlin woman. But do it for the right reasons. None of this is your fault."

"Should I chant that as a mantra?"

"If it helps to give you perspective." He offered an I'm-on-your-side shrug. "There's an APB out on Edmund's car. They'll find him, Bonnie."

"I know." She rubbed Armen's shoulder. "I'm glad you're with me."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." He pointed at their stark surroundings. "You're opening up new vistas to me."

He yawned again.

"And you're looking a little haggard there, Mister Mouse."

The smile he offered drooped a little at the edges. "Does this mean you no longer find me the ridiculously handsome hero of your secret love fantasies?"

She kissed his cheek. "Don't push it." She nestled against his side.

"You know Franklin's not going to be happy to see us here."

She waved away the statement without lifting her head. "The boy just doesn't know his own mind. If he didn't want me to come, then why call? No call, no Pinkwater and Callahan treading water in the depths of the City and County Building."

"Your logic contains more holes than a Robert Trent Jones golf vacation, but I'm too tired to argue."

She reached up and patted his face. "Wise man. Did Franklin say anything about Ali?"

Armen jostled her with the shaking of his head. "I told you everything he said. Not a word about Ali. I didn't get a sense as to whether he'd read the e-mails yet."

Bonnie sat up straight. "But Wendy is definitely coming here?"

Armen regarded her for a long moment. "That's what the man said. They wanted her to identify Peyton away from the scene, and Wendy agreed."

A twinge of uneasiness rippled through Bonnie. She had no idea how Wendy would view this intrusion. That was the funny thing about good intentions. More often than not when they reared their innocent heads the world played whack-a-mole with them. Here she and Armen sat on these bottom-numbing chairs just waiting to offer whatever a.s.sistance they could to a grieving Wendy Newlin, but it was just as likely the woman would want to be left alone.

And what about Ralph-the-Creep? "Holy Moley, you don't think Ralph Newlin will show, do you?" "Holy Moley, you don't think Ralph Newlin will show, do you?"

Armen winced. "Will you relax? There's no way to know what happened with the good Colonel in the last twelve hours. Considering the man's status with the powers that be, if he finally made an appearance at Peterson then all may have been forgiven. On the other hand, the Colonel could be incarcerated or a fugitive."

The Fugitive?

For a fleeting moment Bonnie held the image of Ralph Newlin chasing the infamous One-Armed Man up an electrical tower. If there's any justice in this world, Ralph should be cooling his heels in some smelly stockade. If there's any justice in this world, Ralph should be cooling his heels in some smelly stockade. She smiled at the thought, then just as quickly remembered their reason for being here. She smiled at the thought, then just as quickly remembered their reason for being here.

Peyton was dead. First Stephanie, now Peyton. That scholarship was proving more fatal than Ebola. The sound of a buzzer sliced through her reverie.

Kevin emerged from his office. He was past where they sat before Bonnie could ask what was happening. He didn't say not to follow so Armen helped Bonnie to stand. She kept a discreet distance behind the night attendant.

Kevin pressed a b.u.t.ton on the hallway wall, and a small garage door rumbled into life. A moment later, Bonnie shielded her eyes against the headlamps of Franklin Valsecci's El Camino.

Kevin met Franklin at his driver's door. After what seemed a heated exchange with Kevin gesturing and pointing up the entrance ramp, Wendy Newlin emerged out of the pa.s.senger side of the car.

Bonnie gasped and clutched Armen's forearm. Ex-cept for the brilliant shock of red hair, Wendy was unrecognizable. The entire left side of her face was bloated in gruesome asymmetry, with the eye on that side swollen shut. The left side of her mouth looked as if the woman's usually full lips had been replaced with engorged night-crawlers crisscrossed with st.i.tches. Her nose appeared broken.

Wendy hesitated then strode past Kevin until she stood face to face with Bonnie. A single tear crept from beneath the swollen eyelid. "h.e.l.l of a day."

CHAPTER 13.