“What’s up,” Jesse said when they were alone.
Simpson’s real name was Luther. He was a big kid, with blond hair and a round face. He wasn’t as young as he looked, but he was young. He was called Suitcase after the baseball player, Harry “Suitcase” Simpson.
“This is weird,” Suit said.
Jesse waited.
“Mrs. Ingersoll,” Suit said, “the principal. Christ, she was principal when I was here.”
Jesse waited.
“There was some kind of after-school dance yesterday,” Suit said, his voice speeding up a little. “Eighth-grade dance. And before the dance, Mrs. Ingersoll took all the girls into the girls’
locker room and picked up their dresses to see what kind of underwear they had on.”
Jesse stared at Suit for a time without speaking.
Then Jesse said, “Huh?”
“That’s what the girls claim.”
“Why did she do that?” Jesse said.
“Don’t know,” Suit said. “But when the girls got home a lot of them told their mothers, and .
. .” He gestured toward the crowd.
Jesse nodded.
“Where’s Mrs. Ingersoll?” Jesse said.
“In her office.”
“You ask her about this?” Jesse said.
“She called in and said there was a disturbance. So we came down here and found what you see. It was like a damned lynch mob. We sort of wrangled them into the lobby, and Mrs.
Ingersoll went in her office and won’t come out, which is when we called you . . .
and”?Suitcase looked a little uncertain?“because of the, ah, nature of the alleged crime, you know, we thought Molly should come, too.”
Jesse nodded.
“How about the girls?” Jesse said.
“That got, ah, checked?” Suit said.
“Uh-huh.”
“I guess they’re in class,” Suit said. “I haven’t had time to do a lot of investigating. Me and Eddie had our hands full with the parents.”
Jesse nodded.
“Isn’t this swell,” he said.
Suit shrugged.
Jesse walked down the corridor to the lobby. The crowd of parents was silent now, standing in angry vigil.
“Get them down to the auditorium,” Jesse said to Suit. “Get the names of their daughters and ask the girls to go there, too. You need help, call Steve, tell him to send some.”
“You gonna talk to Mrs. Ingersoll?” Suit said.
“Yep.”
“Then you coming to the auditorium?” Suit said.
“Yep.”
“You know what you’re gonna tell the parents?”
“Not a clue,” Jesse said.
2
JESSE BROUGHT Molly with him when he went into Mrs. Ingersoll’s office.
“Chief Stone,” Mrs. Ingersoll said when he came into her office. “How lovely to see you.
And this is?”
“Officer Crane,” Jesse said.
“How do you do, Officer Crane,” Mrs. Ingersoll said.
Molly nodded.
Mrs. Ingersoll smiled brightly.
“Have you dispersed those foolish people?” she said.
“We’ve asked them to wait in the auditorium,” Jesse said. “And we’ll ask their daughters to join them there.”
“My goodness,” Mrs. Ingersoll said.
“Tell me about this situation,” Jesse said.
Mrs. Ingersoll was sitting behind her big desk. The desktop was immaculately empty.
“Situation? Chief Stone, I fear that it overstates things to call it a situation.”
“Tell me something,” Jesse said.
“I have very little to tell,” Mrs. Ingersoll said. “I’m not angry at these parents. They are concerned with their children’s well-being, as am I.”
Jesse waited. Mrs. Ingersoll smiled at him. Jesse waited. Mrs. Ingersoll smiled.
“The girls say you picked up their skirts and checked their underwear.”
Mrs. Ingersoll continued to smile.
“Did you?” Jesse said.
Still smiling, Mrs. Ingersoll leaned forward and folded her hands on her desk.
“I have given twenty years of my life to this school,” she said, “the last five as principal.
Most people don’t like the principal. Being police chief, you may understand. The students think I’m here to discipline them. The teachers think I am here to order them about. Actually, of course, I am here to see to the well-being of the children.”
Jesse nodded slowly. When he spoke his voice showed no sign of impatience.
“Did you look at their underwear, Mrs. Ingersoll?”
“I have done nothing illegal,” she said brightly.
“Actually,” Jesse said, “that’s not your call, Mrs. Ingersoll.”
Her eyes were big and bright. Her smile lingered.
“It’s not?”
“You’ve been accused of an action,” Jesse said pleasantly, “which, depending on the zeal of the prosecutor, the skill of the defense, and the political inclinations of the judge, might or might not be deemed a crime.”
“Oh, Jesse,” she said. “That’s absurd.”
“Did you check their undies, Betsy?” Jesse said.
She continued to smile. Her eyes continued to sparkle. But she didn’t speak.
“Would you care to come down to the auditorium with me and thrash this out with the kids and their parents?” Jesse said. “Try to keep this from turning into a hairball?”
She remained cheerfully motionless for a moment. Then she shook her head.
“Do you know who my husband is, Jesse?” she said.
“I do,” he said.
“Well, I’m going to call him now,” she said. “And I’d like you to leave my office, please.”
Jesse glanced at Molly. Molly’s lips were whistling silently as she stood studying the view from the window behind Mrs. Ingersoll. He looked back at Mrs. Ingersoll.
Then he said, “Come on, Moll, let’s go talk to the girls.”
As they left the office, Mrs. Ingersoll picked up the phone and began to dial.
3
“I’D LIKE to drag her down to the station and strip-search her,” Molly said. “Give her a little taste.”
Jesse smiled.
“That option remains available, Moll,” Jesse said. “But we probably need to talk to the victims first.”
“I know,” Molly said, “I know. But if it were one of my kids . . .”
The auditorium was subdued, as if the parents and the children were a little frightened by the circumstance they’d created. It was a small auditorium. Jesse sat on the lip of the stage.
“I’m Jesse Stone,” he said. “I’m the chief of police. We can do this several ways. I can talk to you all, together, right here. Officer Molly Crane and I can talk to the girls separately, alone, or separately with a parent”?he grinned at the scatter of fathers?“or parents.”
A hard-faced woman with brittle blond hair and a dark tan sat next to her daughter in the front row. She put up her hand. Jesse nodded at her.
“What does Ingersoll have to say?” she asked.
“Mrs. Ingersoll has neither affirmed nor denied anything,” Jesse said. “So I thought I’d ask you.”
The parents and children sat still in the auditorium. Eddie Cox and Suit leaned against the wall. Molly stood beside Jesse, resting her hips against the stage.
“Would one of the girls who were, ah, examined, like to tell us about it?” Jesse said.
The daughter of the brittle blonde looked down and didn’t say anything. Her mother poked her. She continued to look down and shake her head.
“Me.”
Jesse saw her, in the middle of the third row, a dark-haired girl, just developing a cheer-leader’s body if all went well.
“What’s your name?” Jesse said.
She stood up.
“Bobbie Sorrentino,” she said.
“Okay, Bobbie,” Jesse said. “Is that your mother with you?”
“Yeah,” Bobbie said, and nodded at her mother. “Her.”
“Okay,” Jesse said. “Tell me about it.”
“I gotta stand?”
“Nope, stand, sit, up to you.”
“I’m gonna stand,” she said.
Jesse nodded.
“They got this stupid Wednesday-afternoon dance,” Bobbie said. “You know, keep the kids off the street. Teach them manners.”