“Surely you are not devastated by the loss of our factotum, our worthless dogsbody? We’ll get a replacement, and we’ll be better off for it, as will the building and the ignoble savages. By the way, I have arrived at a startling insight, Evelyn-one that warrants serious cogitation. It involves Pitts’s vile habit of eavesdropping through that little hole. It must have been the precise size to accommodate his mind-which contradicted the tenet that natura abhorret vacuum.
I did not take it personally.
“What do you mean, Sherwood?” said Evelyn. “And get to the point without any incomprehensible asides, please. The first-period bell is going to ring any minute.”
“it seems to me that certain information conveyed in confidence wormed its way upstairs to the domain of our resident Zeus. it has now been demonstrated that the walls have ears- perhaps they also have mouths.”
“I understand your Latin better. What, Sherwood?”
“Among his other virtues, Pitts must have been a snitch. You heard Weiss’s crack about the library, Evelyn, and only you and I knew about that matter. How else could he have learned of that absurd accusation, unless Pitts overheard our conversation and tattled to his boss?”
I willed him to explain. He didn’t.
“That may be,” Evelyn said, “but it’s irrelevant now. Weiss and Pitts are both dead, so it doesn’t matter what either of them heard. It’s very convenient for you, isn’t it?”
“Mutatis mutandis, a change for the better. May I presume my secret is safe with you. Evelyn?” There was a pause during which I prayed for a brief reiteration of said secret. There wasn’t. “Ah, halls swell with the undeodorized.”
good, I knew I could trust you. We’d better retreat before the A door closed. I rubbed my ear as I tried to make sense of the tidbits I’d heard. I did understand why Pius eavesdropped; the conversations were entertaining and provocative, if not lucid. All I had to do was determine the meaning and what bearing, if any, these secrets had on two cases of murder. A transcript and an accusation about a library. Was either worthy of murder?
The bell jangled. I realized it was time for the first period and made my way through the outer room. I opened the door-and crashed into Sherwood Timmons.
“My goodness,” he said, tugging at his goatee, “what have we here? Have I caught you in flagrante delicto, Claire?”
“You have caught me in the hall-and on my way to meet my first-period class. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Sherwood, I must-”
“I fear I must insist you explain your presence in Mr. Pitts’s closet. Were you seeking clues, or listening to your elders through a convenient hole in the wall?”
“Don’t be absurd. I simply wanted to take a look around, to see if the police overlooked anything of importance.”
“Overlooked-or overheard?” He moved forward until I could smell the wintergreen of his breath. “I had thought better of you, held you in the highest esteem, idolized your famed deductive prowess. Now I wonder if my Athena is but a mortal, as flawed as the rest of us.”
“I am indeed flawed, but my vices do not include tardiness. It’s first period, Sherwood, and I must meet my class.”
“We shall meet again,” he said, bowing slightly.
He stepped back and I hurried away, as pink as a small child caught in the vicinity of a forbidden cookie jar. A misdemeanor, but still embarrassing. I survived the first two classes by debating whether to tell Peter what I’d heard-or overheard, anyway. It was moot. On the one hand, he would be gratified that I cooperated, for once. On the other, he would not be gratified that I was still investigating. In mystery novels, the amateur sleuths are not hindered as they sniff around for clues and analyze casual remarks for Freudian slips. The police share all the evidence and are unflaggingly grateful for what assistance they receive.
I concluded that Peter needed to read more fiction, after which I might consider cooperating with him.
The second-period class wandered away, and I went to the lounge to ponder the puzzle. I was pondering away when Evelyn came in.
“What a nightmare,” she said once we were settled cozily over coffee. “Especially for you, since you found the body. Why were you in the building yesterday afternoon, Claire? Did you really come back for the yearbook layouts?”
The speed with which gossip spread through the school was astounding, but I was beginning to get used to it. I told her about riffling the files for Mrs. Platchett’s and Mae Bagby’s addresses, and the reason for doing so. And the subsequent failure to find Miss Parchester at either residence. I did not tell her that I had also stained my jeans with peach juice, and allowed Peter to prove his manhood with a hammer.
“Poor Emily,” she sighed. “She is so unpredictable, and I hope she doesn’t do anything rash in the name of freedom of the press. It’s her guiding force in life; she’ll defend it to the death, murmuring about the Judge all the while.”
“To the death?”
“No, that was hyperbole. But she is devoted to the cause, which resulted in a lot of rumbling about the Falcon Crier. There were some stories that were outrageous, filled with misinformation, adolescent ravings, and controversial stands on taboo subjects. I know Weiss bawled Emily out on several occasions, but she refused to censor anything her apprentice reporters wrote.”
“Do you think this Miss Demeanor nonsense has anything to do with the murders? Most of it was drivel, but the business about the Xanadu Motel was different.” I chewed on my lip, trying to recall a snippet of conversation that seemed as if it might have meant something. It remained steadfastly out of reach, like a mosquito bite in the middle of one’s back.
Evelyn was staring at the wall. “it doesn’t have anything to do with what’s happened in the last week, Claire. I can’t explain, but it really is irrelevant.”
“Why can’t you explain?”
“It was just a tacky little attempt on someone s part to stir up trouble,” she said. “Once the newspaper was halted, so was the smear campaign. There’s no point in worrying about it now.”
I chewed off the rest of my lipstick, then said, “It was blackmail, wasn’t it? You’ve got to tell me what it meant, Evelyn. It could be important, and I must know who was blackmailing whom-and why.” When she shook her head and looked away, I took the obvious shot. “Do you and Sherwood visit the Xanadu on a regular basis?”
“I’m single, and so is he. We both live alone, so we would hardly pay for a sleazy motel room for an afternoon romp, would we? And even if we did, it wouldn’t be much of a crime. A scandal, perhaps, but not a very big one in this day.”
“Then who?” I demanded, forcing myself not to grab her by the shoulders and shake it out of her. I liked her, although her recalcitrance was straining the friendship. Caron evokes the same emotion in me.
“I can’t tell you. You’ll have to trust me when I say that it has no connection to Weiss’s murder, it would make no sense whatsoever, and letting the gossip spread is unconscionable.”
I let it go for the moment, although I wasn’t prepared to accept her word. “Then let me ask you something else. What did you think about Weiss’s comment in the teachers’ meeting about Jerry’s transcript? Is it possible that he falsified it, that he didn’t really graduate and doesn’t have a degree?”
“I don’t see how,” Evelyn said. “He has to have state certification to be employed as a coach and teacher, and the district office keeps the necessary forms on file. The state board of teacher certification grinds exceedingly slowly, but it does grind and cannot be avoided. I just thought Weiss was needling our golden boy, most likely out of petty jealousy.”