The Class Menagerie jj-4

by Jill Churchill

  Jane looked uneasily at Mel, afraid he was going to dismiss Shelley's theory in terms that would put them back to Mrs. Nowack and Detective VanDyne with her smoothing feathers in the middle.

  But he came through like a champ.

  "It's possible and the psychology might account for a lot," he said, "but the physical evidence refutes it. She might have struck herself in the temple with the paint can hard enough to inflict a severe wound, but then she'd have had to remain conscious to wipe the fingerprints off the can, as somebody did. And then smother herself. That one's pretty hard to do. Not impossible, of course. She could have forced her own face into the rags, but then she'd have been facedown, not faceup as she was found."

  Shelley smiled at him. It was the first time Jane could remember Shelley's actually smiling sincerely at Mel. "Thanks," she said. "Just to be positive— I don't suppose the boys who discovered her could have turned her over?"

  "They were so traumatized by merely seeing her, I don't think you could have gotten them to touch her if you'd put guns to their heads."

  They sat quietly for a moment; Shelley was gazing into her cocoa, now cold and getting a nasty skin. Jane munched another disgusting cracker.

  "Aren't you going to ask me?" Mel finally said, breaking the silence.

  "Ask you what?" Jane said.

  "What I've learned about the Ewe Lambs — God, what a name! I can hardly stand to say it. It's like being forced to order something by a cute name in a restaurant."

  "We didn't think you'd tell us," Shelley said.

  Mel took a cracker, bit into it, and looked unpleasantly surprised.

  "Oh, just spit it out in this napkin," Jane said.

  He swallowed melodramatically and patted her thigh in a very friendly manner. "Ladies, you know I'm not supposed to share information with you, but in light of the fact that you were both at the bed and breakfast that night, and because you have occasionally provided me with some interesting information that helped in solving a case—"

  "Helped!" Jane exclaimed. "We solved—"

  He held up his hand again.

  "You could be a crossing guard if you get tired of detecting," Jane said. "Okay, I'll shut up. Just tell us what you know."

  "Understood that this is absolutely confidential?" he asked.

  They both nodded.

  "For now and forever?"

  Jane laughed. "Cross our hearts and hope to die. Maybe there's a Ewe Lamb Oath we could take, too. Shelley? Like, I promise I'll never go ba-a-a-ack on my word—"

  "I thought you'd gotten over that," Shelley said coldly.

  "I thought I had, too. Must have just been a momentary relapse. So, we promise, Mel."

  He said, "As I've told Jane before, my staff can only easily find out about people if they've had a bout with the law, either an arrest or a lawsuit—"

  "And one of the Ewe Lambs has a record?"

  "One has a record. And one has a lawsuit. Your Pooky."

  "Oh, we know about that," Shelley said. "She sued the man who ruined her face and got a big settlement."

  "That's not the suit I mean. It was a very nasty divorce proceeding that involved criminal charges. Deborah—"

  "You mean Pooky?" Jane asked.

  "Yes," Mel replied. "I just can't call a grown human being 'Pooky.' Deborah was married to a man who had adopted his previous wife's son. When Deborah married him, she also adopted the child. Reading between the lines, it appears that when she lost her looks, her husband lost interest in her, but became very interested in her money from the settlement. They divorced and it went well enough until it came to custody of the child. Since the boy wasn't genetically related to either of them, it seemed likely that Deborah would get custody. But at the last moment, her soon-to-be-ex-husband filed charges against her, claiming she'd sexually abused the boy."

  "No!" Jane said, horrified. "That's impossible!"

  "The judge agreed. It seems to have been a pretty blatant last-ditch effort to get at her money through the boy. The husband was trying to claim alimony, child support, and psychological damages on behalf of the child."

  "What a jerk!" Shelley said. "Poor old Pooky! As if life hadn't treated her badly enough."

  "As I say, the judge agreed. But he decided that the

  boy should go with the adoptive father, with whom he'd lived before the marriage anyway. The husband didn't get a penny. But he did get the child."

  "Yes!" Jane said suddenly. "I remember now! Lila said something about Pooky understanding the psychology of boys. I thought it was a dig about Pooky as she was in high school, implying that she slept around, but I'll bet that's what she meant. And the accusation still stands in the legal record," Jane said. "Available to anyone who knows how and where to look."

  "Like Lila," Shelley said. "Poor Pooky…."

  20

  Mike came downstairs, said hello to Shelley and Mel, got a carton of orange juice, and went back upstairs. When he was out of earshot, Shelley spoke to Mel again. "You mentioned somebody having a record?"

  He nodded. "Avalon — and Jane wasn't so far off."

  "Drug kings in the Ozarks?"

  "Not drug kings, but there was definitely a handoff of some kind that went on at their house. The drug squad had been following a dealer. Avalon and her husband claimed to have no knowledge of what was going on and there wasn't any proof that they were directly involved except to allow the parties into their home. Still, the foster children were all taken out of their keeping for a year. They were charged, but the charges were later dropped for lack of evidence. They got the kids back eventually. Some kids. I don't know if it was the same ones."

  "So Lila could have had knowledge of this, through the legal records," Jane said.

  "But why would she go after Avalon?" Shelley asked. "Supporting all those kids, she can't have much money. And she runs a little craft store and lives off in the hills someplace…."

  "There are mansions in those hills these days," Mel said. "And if Lila believed that Avalon and her husband were still involved in drug traffic, she could

  have assumed they had lots and lots of money. As they,

  might. Has she ever talked about her house? How she

  lives?"

  Jane and Shelley exchanged questioning looks. "Not around me," Shelley said.

  "Me neither," Jane added. "The only time I heard her mention her home was something about having to build a ramp to the porch to accommodate a wheelchair. But she didn't indicate anything about the size of the house."

  "You've found nothing on Crispy or Mimi?" Shelley asked Mel.

  "Lots of divorces in the first case. Nothing about Mimi except a huge number of parking tickets, which isn't unusual in a college town."

  Jane's mind immediately went to Mike. Did this mean she was going to have to budget for parking tickets when he went away to school next year? Who would have thought?

  "How about Kathy?" Shelley prodded..

  Mel shrugged. "Nothing. Pillars of Oklahoma society. Wild kids in some trouble. One driving without a license charge. Destruction of property after a drinking party. Charges dropped as all the parents made restitution. I don't think you can even embarrass a Southerner with that kind of thing. Lots of them consider it the norm."

  "Who's that leave? Only Beth," Jane said.

  "She's easy to find out about, but there's nothing questionable," Mel said. "Highly respected judge. A list of civic involvements as long as your arm. All at one remove, it seems."

  "What do you mean?" Jane asked.

  "Just that she serves on advisory boards, rather than

  getting out into the trenches. But that's not so strange in her position. No debts, no marriages or divorces, lives modestly, doesn't drink or smoke. Employs a housekeeper, a gardener, and several law clerks."

  "It sounds like you've gone beyond the basics on her," Jane said suspiciously.

  "Only because it seemed if blackmail were the trigger, she was a logical one to blackmail. But if anybody foun
d out something to her disadvantage, they've got better investigators than we have," Mel said.

  "It didn't seem that Lila was terribly skilled at investigating, just good enough to scratch the surface," Jane said.

  "We'd know better about that if we had her note-

  book," Mel said sourly.

  "Mel, I told you—"

  "I'm not criticizing. Just saying it might have been helpful."

  "Or maybe not. If Crispy's.telling the truth, there wasn't anything valuable in it."

  " 'If is the operative word. Do you think she's lying?" he directed this question at Shelley.

  "You mean, is she capable of lying?" she replied. "Probably. I didn't know her well in high school and I certainly don't know her well now. But why would she need to? If she'd already read the contents, why wouldn't she have been willing to turn the notebook over?"

  "Maybe it had something detrimental to her in it." Jane said.

  "She could have just torn that page out, if that were the case," Shelley said.

  "But that would have been obvious, if she'd turned it over to Mel with one page missing."

  "She could have said it was missing when she found

  the notebook and while I might not have believed her, I wouldn't have been able to prove otherwise," Mel said.

  "Let's assume somebody did take it from her," Jane said. "Where could they have hidden it?"

  "It would be easy to hide something in a big, old house like that," Shelley said.

  "But we found the pen set easily," Jane said.

  "We were meant to," Shelley reminded her. "It was just lying there in an otherwise empty wastebasket. If somebody had really meant to hide it, we might never have found it."

  "Why haven't you gotten a search warrant to look for the notebook?" Jane asked Mel.

  Mel sighed. "Because they aren't that easy to get, even in a murder case. You see, the crime scene team may define the crime scene as broadly as they want at first. It could include the entire house, the whole block, for that matter. And we can keep the scene sealed for as long as we need to. The law gives us a lot of latitude. If we'd known about this notebook at the time, we could have searched anybody or anyplace for it.

  "But once the team leaves the area, going back to search puts you in a legal swamp. The defense attorney, when it gets to trial, makes mincemeat of the evidence when you've had to go back for it. That's why we have to be so thorough to start with. Add it's why judges are very reluctant to issue search warrants after the crime scene's been unsealed."

  "Besides," Jane said wearily, "people had been in and out by the time I remembered to tell you about it. I'm really sorry."

  "It might not matter," Mel said generously.

  Shelley stood up and stretched. "I've got to go home."

  Mel got up, too. He gestured questioningly at the refrigerator. Jane said, "Help yourself. Didn't you get dinner?".

  "Not to speak of," he said, opening the refrigerator door and staring in a bewildered manner at the contents.

  "Shelley, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Jane asked.

  "Oh, I'm glad you asked. I'd forgotten to tell you about breakfast. You don't need to help Edgar in the morning."

  "He's not doing breakfast? How are you feeding them?"

  "I thought he and you both deserved the mom-ing off. I'm picking up McDonald's breakfasts and bringing them over."

  "Edgar must be horrified!" Jane said with a laugh.

  "Oh', he is. He says I'll destroy his reputation if I'm seen bringing them into the bed and breakfast. He actually insisted that I put them all in a covered box before I even drive into the neighborhood. But he's also exhausted from the extra strain we've put on him and couldn't make himself turn down the offer. Besides, our class president, Trey Moffat, is hitting him up for another big job."

  Mel was unearthing sandwich makings and piling them on the counter and Jane was hoping he didn't find anything revolting enough to ruin their relationship. Given how long it had been since she'd cleaned the fridge, it was possible.

  "What job is that?" she asked Shelley.

  "The dinner tomorrow."

  "But that's at the country club, isn't it?"

  "It's supposed to be. But Trey's in a panic. A bunch of people who said they were coming didn't show up. Then about half who did come were so put off by this

  murder that they're going home after the picnic lunch. Some have already left."

  "But he can't cancel the country club this late, can he?"

  "Well, there's something odd going on there, too. He thinks the kitchen staff is threatening to strike or something. Anyway, the country club is willing, if not downright eager, to let him off the hook."

  "Have you broken this news to Edgar yet?"

  "Yes, right after I insisted on bringing in breakfast."

  "He's willing?"

  "For a really substantial price," Shelley said wryly. "He and Trey are hammering out the details. Thank God that doesn't involve me."

  "Why do I have a feeling it does involve me?" Jane asked.

  "Only a little," Shelley said. "Edgar's doing a buffet. All you're needed for is carrying in an occasional replacement dish when they run low."

  Jane groaned. "Do I have to wear a maid's uniform? Maybe one with a short skirt and fishnet hose?"

  "You will not! You'll wear that apricot silk dress I made you buy when it was on sale last month."

  Jane saluted. "Yes, ma'am. You did promise to loan me your pearls when I wore it."

  "Jane, don't you have any mayonnaise?" Mel asked.

  "Mel, in a house with teenagers, mayonnaise is The Staff of Life. Keep looking. Okay, Shelley. I'll help drive a load to and from the picnic tomorrow at one o'clock," Jane said, ticking items off on her fingers. "Then dinner duty when?"

  "Seven or a little before."

  "Then drive one bunch to the airport Sunday morning, right? No changes in that schedule?"

  "Lord knows they've tried to change their plans and

  get away sooner, but Mel hasn't let them."

  Jane glanced at Mel, but the only part of him visible was his back end, bent over, while he rummaged in the fridge. Shelley leaned close to Jane and whispered, "You better get him out of there before he discovers the Biology Drawer. I'm off now. See you tomorrow around one." —.

  Mel emerged victorious with a jar of mayonnaise and told Shelley good-night very cordially before he began constructing his sandwich. Jane sat down and watched with disgust as he put it together.

  He caught her look and said, "I have a sergeant who claims that peanut butter is a good investigative tool. He says you can tell where a person is from by what they add to peanut butter sandwiches. Bacon means they came from Philadelphia, bananas mean Memphis or maybe Tupelo. Jelly means different places, depending on the kind of jelly. Grape is Omaha, I think he said. Guava is California and raspberry is Connecticut."

  Jane laughed. "And what does mayonnaise and lettuce mean?" she asked as he slapped some rather limp leaves onto his sandwich.

  "Outer space," he replied, biting into his construction with a happy grin.

  After Mel ate, they sat on the sofa watching an old Jean Harlow movie. Mel had his arm around Jane, and after a while, gently leaned his head on her shoulder. She shivered with anticipation of the nice neck-nuzzle kiss that was coming.

  But after a moment she realized his breathing was altogether too regular and even for kissing. He'd fallen asleep. She smiled and snuggled closer, thinking

  how very comfortable it was to have a sleeping man around again. She didn't really think she wanted it to be a permanent situation, but it was certainly nice for a change.

  21

  On Saturday morning Jane broke down and cleaned out the refrigerator. This was like closing the barn door after the horses had gone, but made her feel better anyway. She'd have to be sure Mel saw the inside of it next time he was here, just so he'd know it didn't always look like it had the evening before. Although, in fact, it usually did.


  As always when she did this chore, she found things she had no memory of buying. The red cabbage, for instance. What had she been thinking, getting that? It had rolled back into a corner and turned papery with age. There were the usual sprouting onions and potatoes and a carton of unspeakable cottage cheese. What if Mel had noticed and opened that, she thought. The answer was that he'd probably have fallen over, asphyxiated, as she almost did when she discovered it. Even Willard, who considered the refrigerator a veritable feast of odors, had backed away from it.

  "Mom, what's that smell!" Katie said, stumbling into the kitchen in her nightgown. She picked Max up and cuddled him. Max, who's idea of what was edible was at significant variance from Jane's, meowed to be put back where he could watch for any tasty morsels Jane might unearth.

  "A lot of very old things," Jane said. "Why did somebody put the lunch meat back here without closing the wrapper?"

  "Must have been Todd. He's the only one who eats that yucky stuff," Katie said with a yawn. "It looks like a frilly hockey puck."

  She leaned around Jane and fished a can of tomato juice out of the refrigerator and took it back upstairs, presumably to give her strength to begin a strenuous day of telephoning.

  Mike came down a few minutes later, already showered and dressed. He poured himself a gigantic bowl of cereal and Jane automatically handed him the milk. "She's already on the phone," he mumbled around the first mouthful of flakes. Meow was sitting on the chair opposite, watching him eat.

  "I know. Don't give that cat milk on the table! What are you up to today?"

  "Scott and I are going to the library, then over to some school that's having a football game he wants to see."

  "Funny, I didn't think Scott was that crazy about football," Jane said, sponging off a shelf with baking soda solution.

  "Cheerleader," Mike explained. "You didn't need me for anything, did you?"

  "No, but I need my car."

  "It's okay. Scott's driving."

  Mike had left and Jane had the refrigerator done when Elliot's mother called. "Jane, I saw something in the paper this morning about a county fair that sounds like fun. We're going to make a day trip of it. Well, day and night really. We'll probably go to the carnival in the evening and stay overnight. You don't mind if Todd comes along, do you?'.'