Joan Hess - Dear Miss Demeanor

“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.

“Miss Parchester can’t possibly sneak in here,” he said. “I’ve got men all around the building.”

“She was here earlier this afternoon, apparently not too long after we were here. Did your men happen to notice her?” When he shook his head, I sweetly pointed out that she’d managed to avoid his men for a week, without having to miss any of her social obligations or school functions.

I was telling him about her escape from Happy Meadows when Mrs. Platchett and Miss Bagby came out of the elevator. They acknowledged our presence with nods. We all trooped into Miss Zuckerman’s room and positioned ourselves around the bed.

“How exciting to have so many visitors,” she said. “It’s almost a party, isn’t it?”

“We’re expecting one more,” I said. “I think Miss Parchester will be here shortly.”

The Furies exchanged looks. Mrs. Platchett at last cleared her throat and said, “Emily is a good and true friend, and she has been determined to spend as much time as possible with Tessa.”

“Not that I have much time,” Miss Zuckerman contributed. She looked at Peter. “I doubt you’ll have an opportunity to arrest and detain me, Lieutenant, but I shall gladly sign a confession if that will assist you in your paperwork.”

“For one murder-or for two?” I asked gently.

“Why, for two. I didn’t intend to poison Mr. Weiss, but I seem to have done so anyway. I certainly intended to poison Mr. Pitts. I used exactly the same number of tablets.”

“You couldn’t have, Miss Zuckerman,” I said. “You might have put the tablets in the whiskey, but you couldn’t have taken it to the teachers’ lounge and left it there.”

She turned her head to one side. “But I did, Mrs. Malloy, and I insist on taking full responsibility.”

At this point we heard a squeak outside the door. Peter and I stepped into a corner and watched as a green-clad orderly with a surgeon’s cap and mask came into the room, pushing a wheelchair. It would have been more convincing if the orderly had not been wearing fuzzy pink slippers.

Mrs. Platchett and Miss Bagby tried to warn her, but Peter closed the door and positioned himself in front of it. “Miss Parchester, I’m Lieutenant Rosen of the Criminal Investigation Department. We’ve been looking for you.”

“So I’ve noticed.” She took off the cap and mask, then sat down in the wheelchair. “You really ought to speak to your men about their behavior, Lieutenant; it has bordered on police brutality. At times my civil liberties have been endangered by their youthful enthusiasm.”

“We were discussing the identity of Pitts’s murderer,” I said as I came out of the corner. “Miss Zuckerman claims responsibility, but that’s impossible.”

“I did put Laetrile in the whiskey,” Miss Zuckerman said in a firm voice that had stopped many a student in midstep. “I put one dozen tablets in the bottle. I would have put in a few more for good measure, but that was the last of them.”

“Pitts was despicable,” Mrs. Platchett said.

“He corrupted the students,” Miss Bagby said.

“He had to be stopped,” Miss Parchester added from the wheelchair. “Tessa’s actions were warranted, even if they did violate his constitutional rights. The judge was always harsh with criminals, especially those who were a threat to society.”

Peter joined the circle around the bed. “But Miss Zuckerman did not buy the whiskey; someone else did and brought it to the hospital to be laced with poison. Someone then took it to the lounge where Pitts found and drank it. Either knowingly or unwittingly, one of you three ladies is an accomplice to murder.”

The three looked back steadily, with nary a blink. One steely-eyed cop was no match for one hundred sixty collective years in the front of a classroom.

“One of you is guilty,” he persisted, although with an increasing air of hopelessness. When he received no response, he looked at Miss Zuckerman. “Which one of your friends helped you murder Pitts?”