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It was late in the afternoon by now, and said cop had not returned to chastise my daughter and listen to my latest bit of treachery. I wasted a few minutes chastising myself for losing Miss Parchester-for the umpteenth time, then took a piece of notebook paper and a pencil and sat down at the kitchen table. Charts and timetables had never worked yet, but one did cherish hope.

I listed all the names and drew arrows hither and yon. The paper began to look like a highway map, but I persevered until I had sorted out the relationships. I circled Sherwood’s name as the only possessor of an illicit key, and Miss Zuckerman’s as the possessor of a notably lethal bottle of tablets. I then underlined her name as the possessor of the most brazen motive. But she had been in the hospital, I reminded myself as I decorated the circle around her name with flowering vines.

But she did have loyal friends. Who were likely to visit that evening at seven o’clock.

I was staring at the paper when Caron and Inez slunk into the room. “Peter hasn’t called or come by,” I told the mendacious duo. “He will, of course, so you’d best call in Perry Mason to conduct your defense.”

Caron put her hands on her hips. “You’re the one who bungled things, Mother. Inez and I kept Miss Parchester on the line; you were supposed to find her and deliver her to the police.”

“I did find her,” I admitted, “but she managed to slip out the back door. There may be a way for us to redeem ourselves, however. I think she’ll visit Miss Zuckerman this evening at the hospital. If you two-”

“No way,” Caron said. She picked up her notebook and her purse, shot me an indignant look, and hobbled toward the door. “Inez and I are not about to stake out the hospital. The situation was totally humiliating. Come on, Inez, we’re going to Rhonda’s house. At least we won’t be Tackled and Thrown to the floor there.”

“What about your career?” I said. “It’s possible that we can sort things out so that Miss Parchester can return to her classroom Monday morning, and the Falcon Crier can resume publication. You’ll have the opportunity to write the Miss Demeanor column.”

“I have decided to drop the journalism class. My design for the freshman class float won first prize; everyone agrees I have a talent. Therefore, I have decided to apply myself to set design in the drama department.”

Inez bobbled her head. “And Rhonda heard that Rosie is over the mono and coming back to school next week.” They limped out the door, discussing the Untimely Recuperation and the Lack of Consideration shown by certain parties.

I sat for a long time, then went into the living room and called Peter. I listened to a lot of unkind words about my darling daughter and admitted the purpose of the ruse. I then admitted I’d lost Miss Parchester, but that I had a good idea when next we might find her. He skeptically agreed to meet me at the hospital at seven o’clock.

That left an hour. I wandered around the apartment for.a while, visions of arrows dancing through my mind. I called Miss Dort again, and listened to the phone ring in vain, then snatched up my jacket and exited, although not with Caron’s style.

There was a car in the parking lot at the high school. I tapped my car keys on the glass door, and Miss Dort subsequently appeared. The first time I’d gone through the routine, Miss Dort had been irritated to see me. This time she smiled as she held open the door; the Cheshire cat couldn’t have looked more pleased with itself.

“Did you forget the yearbook layouts,” she asked as we walked to the office, “or did you just want to work in peace? I do enjoy the school when the students are elsewhere. At times I think we could be more efficient if they simply stayed away, but that wouldn’t work, would it?” She giggled at her heretical proposal.

“No,” I said, bewildered by her behavior. “I wanted to ask you why you allowed Immerman to play in the Homecoming game. I realize it’s none of my business, but I hoped you might tell me.

“I simply felt it was best for the school, although the Falcons failed to win the game. Immerman s not as important as he thought he was.”

“I guess Jerry was disappointed,” I said, beginning to get a glimmer of an idea. A decidedly tacky idea. “After all, he made quite a bargain in order to get Immerman reinstated before the game.”

Miss Don patted her hair, if not her back. “An agreement was reached, but it had nothing to do with the issue of reinstatement. Immerman was persuasive, and student morale is always uppermost in my mind.”

“But you and the coach had quite a discussion.”

“I called him in to inform him of my decision, but at that time I began to realize Coach Finley was much too valuable an asset to be left on a football field. Once we discussed the various directions his career might take, he agreed most readily to take on the position of administrative vice-principal.”

“That’s not what Weiss intended for him, is it?”

“Herbert wanted to have him fired, but he was afraid lest he alienate Miss Hart. He was biding his time until he could find a way to dispose of Coach Finley. Someone disposed of him in the interim.”

I saw no reason to enlighten her. “You weren’t caught in the same dilemma, Miss Dort. Offending Miss Hart surely is not your worst fear. Being alone on Thursday afternoons might be, however. Is that the bargain you made with Jerry-he stays on at Farberville High School, both as vice-principal and paramour?”

“I am getting older, Mrs. Malloy, and I have neither time nor inclination to join singles’ clubs or prowl nightclubs. As acting principal of the school, I must maintain my standards.”

“How persuasive was Immerman?”

“I fear it was a letter to Miss Demeanor that convinced me to let him play. Once I read it, I realized Cheryl Anne was the culprit, and quite vindictive enough to contact the school board with all sorts of misinformation about my little meetings with Herbert. She is incorrigible.” Miss Don gave me a tight smile. “To be succinct, Mrs. Malloy, she’s a little bitch.”

“That’s how you discovered the identity of the poison-pen letter writer, isn’t it? You took the packet of letters from the counter in the office. Sherwood and I searched the building for over an hour, but we couldn’t find anyone.

“This is, as the students say, my turf. I suppose Herbert must have put the letters in his drawer and failed to mention it to me. It was most fortunate that you found them, Mrs. Malloy. They have since been destroyed.”

“But Cheryl Anne and Immerman still know about the Xanadu. How can you be sure they won’t use the information against you in the future?”

“Cheryl Anne is aware that I will report her blackmail scheme to the authorities should she try any more shenanigans. As for Immerman-we intend to discuss it on Tuesdays,” she said. She settled her glasses on her nose, picked up her clipboard, and sailed out the office door.

A large percentage of my arrows had missed the target. Once I recovered from the shock and could move, I left the building and drove to the hospital, trying very hard not to dwell on the images that came to mind. Miss Dort would be caught eventually, and the school administration would not be impressed with her afternoon schedule. Thud was hardly a model of discretion, and Paula Hart was hardly the sort to give up gracefully. I was comforted with the knowledge that I would no longer be around the high school when the gossip started. Again. Rosie’s journalistic integrity would be put to the test.

As I entered the hospital, I glanced around for undercover policemen and little old ladies in disguise but saw neither. Either I was wrong, or everyone was enjoying some degree of success. As I took the elevator upstairs, I prayed for the latter. Peter was waiting for me by the nurses’ station.