“You don’t remember her saying anything to you?” The Captain queried, gently.
Yvonne shook her head, “Nothing out of the ordinary, Captain—she was just the same old Jill, the same as ever. Honest.”
Surcher nodded.
“Yvonne—” he said now, “I’d like to ask you to think about yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and weeks and months before yesterday—” He paused. “Did Jill ever talk about anything, anything at all, that seemed to be troubling her? Did she talk about boyfriend trouble, for example? Or anyone, for instance, anyone at all, in a way that made you feel there was something troubling her? I’d like to ask you that. It’s important.”
The girl gave a good think to it, dried her tears, sighed, and answered, “She didn’t. Captain. That’s the truth. Honest, she seemed real happy to me. She had this terrific personality. It was really terrific. Captain. She was the most popular girl in the whole school, I know. Ask anybody—” “Did she go steady?” Surcher queried.
“No, she didn't.”
“But she had boyfriends?”
“Oh, sure—a few of them.”
“Who were they?”
The girl reflected.
“Well, gee—I don’t know that you really could call them boyfriends, Captain—I mean, they just took her out, that’s all—” she answered.
“It might be important though, Yvonne. Who were they?”
“Well, honestly, it couldn't have been one of them— Captain—”
“I’m sure you’re right, Yvonne. But will you give me their names?”
A pause.
“Do I have to?” She asked.
“I wish you would,” Surcher said.
The girl’s big brown eyes showed all signs of concentrated thought on the issue. Surcher searched them.
“Well—” she announced, finally, “Let’s see—” she went
“Do you date any of those boys you’ve just mentioned, Yvonne?”
“Not really.”
“Do you or don’t you, Yvonne?” He pressed, gently.
“Well—Dink’s taken me out for sodas and stuff—Lennie walks me home sometimes—I’ve been to a movie or two with Petie Smith—” She paused. “That’s about all.”
“What do you think of them?” Surcher asked.
“Oh, they’re fine! They’re really fine boys, Captain, all of them! I see what you mean—” She told him, quickly.
Surcher nodded. He sat quietly. The girl touched her hair, sat back in her chair. From time to time, she turned her big brown eyes on him.
He said, finally, “Is there anything else you want to tell me, Yvonne? Anything. Anything at all that you might have on your mind, or that you may have forgotten, or overlooked, that we should know about?” He paused, looking at her, “Think about it.”
The brown eyes were on him. she seemed to be breathing a little quicker, or catching her breath a few times. She swallowed, quickly. He felt the youthful vigor and sensuousness of the girl. The warmth of her. It filled the office. A fine figure of a girl, blooming with life, fragrant with it. No doubt of it. A winner of an All-American girl, if ever there was one. Surcher couldn’t help admiring her. He thought of his own girl, fondly.
“Gosh, Captain, honestly, there just isn’t anything, not a thing, oh how I wish there was, I’d tell you,” She told him.
He nodded. He waited awhile.
“Yvonne, who do you think did it?” He asked, very quietly.
“I wish I knew! I really do!” She blurted at him.
“Do you suspect anyone? Do you have any ideas?” He went on.
“I’m just—baffledshe told him, finally, finding the word. “I just hope—” she added, “I hope you find him— Captain—” She told him.
Surcher nodded.
“Alright, Yvonne,” he said, “That’s all now. Thanks for your cooperation.” He got up, she got up, he showed her to the door. “If there’s anything else you want to tell me or talk to me about, anything at all you might recall or think about, please don’t hesitate, Yvonne. It might be important Very important. Can I count on you?”
They were at the door.
“Oh, I’d come to see you right away, Captain, don’t worry. You can count on me.”
She told him.
He was about to open the door.
“By the way, Yvonne—” The Captain said, his hand on the handle.
“Yes?” She asked, standing before him.
“Did any of those boys you mentioned have the habit of calling Jill 'Honey'—that you know of?”
The brown eyes were really on him now, almost asking him to fall head first, into them.
“No,” she replied, “Not that I know of—”
She stood still near him. He heard her breathing. He could almost feel her heart pounding.
“Alright, Yvonne,” he said, opening the door for her, “Thank you.”
“Thank you, Captain,” she told him, in a very soft voice, a whisper almost, and smiling.
She departed, smiling.
18
Ponce, departing finally from the Guidance/Counseling office, turned left into the hallway and walked up it with something like his old steady confidence and grip on life again. He knew that would happen. That’s what a talk with Tiger would do, always, no matter the circumstances. And the long discussion, examination, and analysis of football plays had engaged him and stimulated him, profoundly, as always. He had even devised two new ones based on the special left and right decoy “I” formation. They excited him. He knew Tiger had been excited by them and would try them as soon as he could. He always did. All in all, therefore, Ponce didn’t feel too bad. Not wonderful—of course—but definitely, certainly, not bad. At all. He walked up the hallway, now deserted, to all extents and purposes, since the schoolday was over and certainly there wouldn’t be anything in the way of extracurricular activities going on tonight, of all nights. Ponce remembered his very different journey along this very same hallway earlier in the day. He cringed at the memory, though he had thoroughly discussed it with Tiger. He hadn’t been able to mention Mummer though, no matter how close he came to it several times. He just hadn’t been able to. That he was sorry about, and he resolved to tell him one day, without fail, possibly tomorrow even. He hoped secretly though he wouldn’t have to, that Surcher would have cornered the culprit by then, or before then. He hoped fervently for that. He heard his footsteps, very soft ones now of course since he had changed into a pair of suede shoes whose soles and heels were made of thick, soft rubber, or facsimile thereof, at any rate. He could creep along like a cat on them, almost. Like Peppy, almost. He grinned, thinking of his funny cat. He just loved it. What a cat. It was a cat-and-a-lialf, or more, and who didn’t know it? He thought of Tiger, he heard his voice, he saw his morale-boosting, confidence-inspiring face before him, he saw the whole of him before him, in short, Tiger internalized. He saw his mother, also, and felt her warmth, her love for him, inside him. He saw his father. And brother. That cute little Rusty Joe, what a sweet little brother, shooting questions at him a million a minute, and sometimes more, and always trying to be like him. He saw Peppy. How he loved her. Was there another cat like that in the whole world anywhere? He wondered. She could sit on the kitchen doorstep for hours, watching something, watching him, he saw her sitting there, watching him. Those big, yellow-green eyes, watching him. She loved him. He knew that cat loved him. What a purrer! The whole kitchen shook with her purring, especially at night, when he fed her, or his mother did. And held her. And stroked her. He reached the lavatory. He would have to walk past that lavatory. Where were all the Troopers? He wondered. Where had they got to? He wondered and wondered. Maybe there were some inside. That could be. Ponce’s heart started pounding, he half-expected somebody to come tearing out of there like a space shot, running, screaming, down the hallway. He braced himself, and pushed himself, hanging on to Tiger, his mother, his father, Rusty Joe, and Peppy. He heard her purring. He hung on now, to all of them, as he started to walk past that awful door. That unavoidable door. He saw Miss Smith, suddenly.