The Captain rose. He hadn’t been altogether idle during Proffer’s and Tiger’s remarks. His keen eyes had taken them all in, one by one, unbeknown to them, in a preliminary study of them. They had all passed this preliminary screening, but of course he was reserving judgment. Certainly, it wasn’t the end of the study.
He spoke in conversational tones to them, in his mild way.
“I’m sorry to have to make your acquaintance under such circumstances. I’ve always admired your school— from a distance. My own kids go to G.A.R.—I live in Kitston. I’ve not only admired your school building, which is very beautiful, and athletic grounds, that certainly is a fine football stadium, but also your academic record and standing among the schools in the area. And also, may I say, I’ve admired that remarkable football team of yours, and from time to time that basketball team, also—as a father with kids at G.A.R. you can understand I’m in a unique position to do so!” He paused, that little grin on his face, and from the gathering before him came a subdued but definite murmur of chuckles. Then, silence, quickly. Surcher continued, “I’m going to get to know all of you a lot better, on an individual basis—and please don’t take this the wrong way, because I don’t mean I’m going to interrogate you.” He paused again, briefly. “I only mean that I’d like to talk to each one of you and see just where it takes us in the direction, I hope, of throwing some light, any light, on the identity of the suspect. I’ll tell you right now, frankly, we don’t have any ideas in that direction. My want to talk to all the students. We want to find out just where they were when the girl was murdered. We know roughly when that was, and I’ll know more precisely later on—late this afternoon—Well, we’re going to ask you to confirm their answers. I know this may be something of a problem in some cases, but I would like you to try hard in all cases and to be as accurate as you can. We want to find out all we can about the murdered girl’s friends, her close friends, especially her boy friends. And I’m hoping to find some information that may help us when I visit her home today. I don’t think this was a random killing by some sex maniac. I think it had a motive. Maybe that surprises you. Well, there may be quite a few surprises in store for you before this is over." He paused, letting it all sink in. “Well, that's about all I have to say for now. We’re going to try very hard to conduct this investigation with the minimum of disruption to normal school activities, believe me. And a lot will depend on you, how well we do. I hope we can count on everybody here, believe me, we need your cooperation—one hundred percent of it.” He had put the papers back in his pocket. He was about to sit down.
“Are there any questions anybody wants to ask the Captain?” Tiger inquired of the gathering.
“Yes—” a female voice called out.
“Miss Nectar—” Tiger singled her out.
“Yes, Captain—I wanted to ask, when will you start talking to us—I mean, individually?”
Surcher reflected.
“My assistants will start seeing you this afternoon. I’ll probably see some of you late this afternoon. And tomorrow morning. I’m going to the girl’s house as soon as I leave here, you see.” He paused, “Unless you or anyone else has something to tell me that’s urgent, in your opinion.”
“No, it wasn’t that. Thank you. Captain. I just wanted to know," replied the Librarian, sweetly.
“Captain—” a male voice. Mr. Hinkle, the History teacher, called out, “I just wanted to ask you—How much of a part will the local Police Chief play in the investigation?”
There was a general silence, but also a few subdued titters, definitely, and many more smiles, in spite of everything.
Surcher, with that little grin, answered, promptly, “None whatever.”
“Thank you,” Hinkle told them, obviously relieved, and not attempting to conceal it.
11
Ponce felt lousy. He had walked all the way down Brit-field Avenue, across Eighth Street, and into Maple Avenue, where the nearest Public Phone was located inside Reynolds’ Drug Store, just near the entrance in fact. There were some customers in the place and Ponce was glad of it, because he could just slip into the booth without attracting too much attention, if any at all, that is. Because Ponce, somehow, just didn’t feel like attracting any more attention at all—for a long while. He thought of Decoration Day. The parade that passed this way, on that day, and on the Fourth of July. Those days. He had always been thrilled to see those parades, the Army Reserve Unit, all local boys, sharp and smart, well drilled, that had especially always thrilled him. The Fire Trucks. American Legion. The State Police. The bands. All the school kids. What parades. . . . All he wanted to do now was talk with Tiger. That’s about the only attention he wanted. And just now Ponce felt mighty lousy, because having got through to the high school, finally, that number was busier than anything this morning, he had been told by someone, he didn’t even know who it was, that all the teachers and Mr. Proffer and Mr. McDrew were having a meeting in the Teachers’ Room. And when would they be through? Who knew. That's what the answer was. Now Ponce was on his way home, having eased his way out of that Drug Store. He had left a message with whoever it was at the other end (he hadn’t inquired) for Tiger to call him. But would he get it? Ponce really felt lousy, hunched over almost, on his way back home now.
“Hello, Ponce!” he heard. Looking up, he saw Ray the mailman.
technical experts have found nothing that could help us. We were hoping to find fingerprints, any kind of a print, on a certain piece of paper, which no doubt you all know about by now. We found nothing. Of course, there is that piece of paper. That, in itself, could take us where we hope to go. We’ll have to see how things go. It could well be the armored column, let me put it that way, those of you ex-Army men will appreciate that more than others, leading us to our objective. I don’t know. I certainly hope so.” He paused. “And of course, more detailed study of the—body —” He paused again, having lowered his voice at that word, “By the Pathologist and the technical experts in the course of the—autopsy—” Again he paused, “May reveal a lot more, maybe even everything more. I don’t know. Again, I hope so. If anything along those lines develops, I’ll certainly let you know about it—in confidence, of course. You can understand that.” He paused again, looking them over. “My own hunch, and probably yours as well, is that the culprit is at this moment somewhere in this building. Where, I don’t know. Naturally, we’re checking up on all absentees, etc. What I’m trying to say is that he is a member of the school population, I’m pretty sure. If I’m right, the job of finding him will be narrowed down considerably.” He paused again. “Now, with Mr. Proffer’s and Mr. McDrew’s assistance. I’ve drawn up a plan of operations. Let me familiarize you with it. That’s important, because if it has any chance of succeeding I’m going to need your fullest cooperation.” He pulled out some sheets from his coat pocket. “On these sheets I have the names of all the students in the high school. They’re all grouped, furthermore, according to home-room teachers. Now, my assistants and I want to talk to the students, each and every one of them. Of course, with the girls it will be merely a formality—and also a way of keeping the killer off balance, making him feel safe and that he couldn't ever be detected by a bunch of chumps, namely me and my assistants, who spent time actually thinking a girl might have done it. It’s a way of making him careless and bringing him out in the open. Because another hunch I have is that’s what we’re going to have to do. d think we’re dealing with a pretty peculiar, sinister mind here. I may be wrong, but until proved otherwise—” He paused. “So as I say, we