“Then I’ll go to the hot dog stand.” Pewter’s eyes glistened.
“Stay with us,” Murphy told her loudly.
“Will you two stop fussing at each other!” Harry commanded.
“She started it.” Pewter oozed innocence.
A phone rang in Herb’s pocket.
“What on earth?” Miranda exclaimed when he pulled a fold-up cellular out of his Norfolk jacket.
“The modern age, Miranda, the modern age.” He pulled out the antenna, hit a button, and said, “Hello.”
Susan answered, “Herb, tell the gang I’m on my way. Oh, and tell Harry I dropped off BoomBoom to pick up her truck. It’s ready.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“No. Be there in ten minutes.”
“Fine. ‘Bye.” He pressed the green button again, sliding the aerial down. “Harry, Susan will be here in ten minutes, and BoomBoom is bringing your truck. Susan dropped her off.”
“BoomBoom? Great. Now I have to be terminally grateful.”
“No, you don’t. After all, she wrecked your truck in the first place.”
“Given the way she drives, she’ll wreck it again.”
“Mother, you’re irrational about BoomBoom.” Mrs. Murphy scratched her neck.
“No, she won’t,” Herb answered. “Here we go!”
The game started with St. Catherine’s racing downfield, taking a shot on goal, saved.
“Jeez, that was fast.” Harry hoped St. Elizabeth’s defense would kick in soon.
“May I see that?”
“Sure.” Herb handed Miranda the cellular phone.
She slipped the aerial out and held it to her ear. “It’s so light.”
“I’ll pick up my messages; listen to how clear it is.” He punched in what must have been seventeen or more numbers and held the phone to Miranda’s ear.
“Amazing.” Suddenly her face changed. “Herbie, look.”
Parading in front of the bleachers was April Shively wearing a St. Elizabeth’s jacket. She was carrying three closed cartons that she dumped at Sandy Brashiers’s feet.
Blair noticed this from the hot dog stand. Cynthia hurried over, Little Mini at her heels.
“Deputy Cooper.” A surprised Sandy put his hand on the boxes. “Marilyn.”
“I’ll take those.” Little Mim bent over and picked up a rather heavy carton.
“No.” Sandy smiled falsely.
April, her grin widening, turned on her heel and left. “Ta-ta!”
“Damn her,” Sandy said under his breath.
“Cynthia, you can’t have these.” Little Mim squared her shoulders.
“Why don’t we examine them together? It will only help St. Elizabeth’s if everything is aboveboard from the start.” Cynthia made a strong argument.
“As headmaster, I’ll take charge of those documents.”
“Down in front!” a fan, oblivious to the drama, yelled at them.
“Without me you won’t be headmaster for long.” Little Mim clipped her words, then smiled at the deputy as she changed course. “Come on, Cynthia. You’re absolutely right. We should do this together.”
As they hauled off the cartons, the announcer blared over the loudspeaker, “We are happy to announce that St. Elizabeth’s own Sean Hallahan has regained consciousness, and we know all your prayers have helped.”
A huge cheer went up from the stands.
66
After the game, won by St. Elizabeth’s, Jody, who’d played brilliantly, drove alone to the University of Virginia Hospital.
Sean, removed to a private room, no longer had a guard since Kendrick had confessed. His father was sitting with him when Jody, wearing a visitor’s pass, lightly knocked on the door.
“May I come in?”
Sean turned his head toward her, stared blankly for a moment, then focused. “Sure.”
“Hello, Mr. Hallahan.”
“Hello, Jody. I’m sorry this is such a troubling time for you.”
“It can’t be as bad as what you’re going through.” She walked over to Sean. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He turned his head to address his father. “Dad, could we be alone?”
In that moment Mr. Hallahan knew Jody was the girl in question, for his wife had told him Sean’s words during his first, brief moment of lucidity when Cynthia Cooper was on guard.
“I’ll be just down the hall if you need me.”
When he had left, Jody leaned over, kissing Sean on the cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”
“I was stupid. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it was. I told you—well, the news—when I was pissed off at you and the world.”
“I’ll marry you if you like,” he gallantly offered.
“No. Sean, I was angry because you were paying attention to Karen. I wanted to hurt you.”
“You mean you aren’t pregnant?” His eyes brightened.
“No, I am.”
“Oh.” He dropped his head back on the pillow. “Jody, you can’t face this alone. Lying here has given me a lot of time to think.”
“Do you love Karen?”
“No. I haven’t even gone out with her.”
“But you want to.”
He drew a long breath. “Yeah. But that was then. This is now.”
“Will you walk again?”
“Yes.” He spoke with determination. “The doctors say I’ll never play football again … but they don’t know me. I don’t care what it takes. I will.”
“Everyone’s back at school. My dad confessed to the murders.”
“Mom told me.” He didn’t know what to say. “I wish I could be at Homecoming.”
“Team won’t be worth squat without you.”
“Paul Briscoe will do okay. He’s just a sophomore, but he’ll be good.”
“Do you hate me?” Her eyes, misty, implored him.
“No. I hate myself.”
“Did you tell anyone—”
“Of course not.”
“Don’t.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Get rid of it.”
He breathed hard, remaining quiet for a long time. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“Sean, the truth is—I’m not ready to be a mother. You’re not ready to be a father, either, and besides—it may not be yours.”
“But you said—”
“I wanted to hurt you. It may be yours and it may not. So just forget it. Forget everything. My dad’s in jail. Just remember—my dad’s in jail.”
“Why would he kill Mr. Fletcher and Mr. McKinchie?”
“I don’t know.”
His pain medication was wearing off. Sweat beaded on Sean’s forehead. “We were having such a good time.” He pushed the button for the nurse. “Jody, I need a shot.”
“I’ll go. Don’t worry. You’re sure you didn’t tell anyone anything?”
“I didn’t.”
“I’ll see you later.” She passed Mr. Hallahan, who walked back into Sean’s room the minute she left.
“She’s the one.”
“No.” Grimacing, Sean pleaded, “Dad, get the nurse, will you? I really hurt.”
67
That same night Cynthia Cooper and Little Mim sifted through papers at Little Mim’s beautiful cottage on her mother’s vast estate.
“Why do you think April finally changed her mind?” Little Mim said.
“Had to be that she heard about Roscoe’s affair with Irene,” Coop answered. “Her hero suddenly had feet of clay.”
The minutes from the various committee meetings provided no surprises.
Roscoe’s record book containing handwritten notes made after informal meetings or calls on possible donors did pack some punch.
After a meeting with Kendrick Miller, Roscoe had scrawled, “Discussed women’s athletics, especially a new training room for the girls. Whirlpool bath. Won’t give a penny. Cheap bastard.”
On Father Michael’s long prayers during assembly: “A simple ‘Bless us, dear Lord’ would suffice.” After a particularly bruising staff meeting where a small but well-organized contingent opposed athletic expansion and a film department, he wrote concerning Sandy Brashiers, “Judas.”
As Little Mim occasionally read pungent passages aloud, Cynthia, using a pocket calculator, went through the accounting books.
“I had no idea it cost so much money to run St. E’s.” She double-checked the figures.