Pamela was still standing next to Fletcher loyally, her hand resting on his chair. Now, she stared at the gold-plated flashlight, stared at him, and took her hand away.
“That’s Maggie’s,” she said, her voice soft and, for once, too slow for incoherence. “Her parents gave it to her when she graduated from high school, and last year, on Fletcher’s birthday, she gave it to him because she couldn’t afford to buy a present. When she broke up with him, he said he’d always carry it with him as a symbol he still hoped she’d come back to him. She cried about it. Later, she bought a plastic flashlight, since she didn’t have her gold one any more.”
Bolt’s eyes were sad with understanding. “Maggie wouldn’t listen to you, would she, Mr. Cantrell? Disgusted, you tore the flashlight from your own key chain and hurled it at her. She put it in her pocket. Perhaps she said some taunting thing. Now, your fury erupted. You grabbed the back of her neck and struck her head against your dashboard. Perhaps you didn’t mean to kill her. But when you realized what you’d done—”
Once again, Fletcher Cantrell III’s fury erupted. Roaring, he leapt up, charging straight for Bolt. With a mighty yell, I snapped into a Jackie Chan stance, jumped in front of Bolt, tripped over the podium, fell down flat on top of it, and collided with Fletcher just as he surged forward, hands outstretched to grab Bolt’s throat. Fletcher toppled over on me, his head bouncing down beyond my feet, hitting the floor, knocking him out. By the time he came to, Bolt had him handcuffed and was reading him his rights, cradling his Miranda card in one hand and holding out aspirin in the other.
That’s pretty much it. After the coroner matched the mystery hairs on Maggie’s coat with hairs from Fletcher’s head, Fletcher, on the advice of his father’s lawyer, pleaded temporary insanity, admitting everything happened just the way Bolt laid it out. The Pi Alpha girls confessed too. After our tech guy finally found the Blue Elegance Web site, they didn’t have much choice. Bolt and I hauled them in on prostitution charges, but after the prosecutor and his staff questioned them — at the sorority house, and at a hotel suite he rented for the weekend because he wanted privacy for the interrogations — he decided he needed them for state’s evidence against Fletcher. So he let them off with a warning. I was surprised he needed all the girls as witnesses, but lots of people think it’s a good idea. The newspaper and the TV stations did stories about the plight of college girls forced into prostitution by the rising tide of tuition costs, and the mayor and the public safety commission made sympathetic statements. Don’t think those girls will go unpunished, though. Dean Collard suspended their party privileges for one whole semester.
So that’s why I took a firm stand with Kevin — and not just because I found out Blue Elegance had been sending weekly bulletins to old Miss Prichett. No, it’s because I think it’s time Kevin learned what loyalty really is, and what it really isn’t. I mean, sure he wants to protect his Little League buddies. But shouldn’t loyalty mean more than covering up for lies and bad behavior? Like Bolt pointed out, maybe those Pi Alpha girls thought they were being loyal to Maggie when they lied about the initiation, but really, weren’t they mostly being loyal to themselves? Sometimes, claiming to be loyal can be a pretty good way of hiding selfishness. And shouldn’t Kevin feel loyal to Miss Prichett too? I know she’s mean — I remember how she called me “faltering Walter” every time I messed up on a psalm — but she deserves credit for getting up early every Sunday, just to shove religion down the throats of ungrateful adolescents. So I told Kevin no Internet till he coughs up the truth. Ellen’s so proud of me that she’s dropping more hints about giving Kevin a sibling, but that’s another story. Anyhow, Kevin’s close to cracking. A few stern words from you might do the trick. If you provide them, you’ll have the gratitude of
Your loving son,
Walt
Dear Kevin,
If you want my support on this one, you’re out of luck. It’s a tough situation, but tell the truth and let your friend take his punishment. In the long run, he’ll be better off for not getting away with doing something wrong. Maybe he’ll thank you one day. Well, maybe not. Don’t worry about that. You’re growing up so fast — just make sure you feel good about the kind of adult you’re becoming. After all, before long you may have to set a good example for someone else who will also be very important to
Your loving
Grandmother