Jill Churchill - The Class Menagerie

"A trait shared by a number of people," Mel said.

Jane ignored his sarcasm. "I think it was mainly because she was basically an extraordinarily snoopy person. She wanted to know what Lila had on people. She might or might not have ever used the information to humiliate them, but she just had to know."

"Like my sister-in-law, Constanza," Shelley said.

"Exactly. Mel? Do you know yet what the notes about Mimi meant?"

"Yes, that was an easy one. Her first child is institutionalized. He's severely retarded."

"Was^Lila trying to hold that over her?"

"She might have intended to, but she never got around to it or she didn't get her facts lined up in time," Mel said. "She would have been unpleasantly surprised if she had. Mrs. Soong was very open about it. She said she doesn't bring it up because it upsets other people, who don't know what to say to her, but it's never been a secret."

Edgar pushed the cream puff tray closer to Jane,

who snatched another one. Edgar asked, "I know you and Shelley had the notes Lila had made, but how did you guess what the ones on Beth meant?"

Much as Jane was enjoying the chance to show off her cleverness, she wished they'd quit asking questions so she could apply herself seriously to the cream puffs. "I heard Trey Moffat make a joke about bribery being a means of getting his baby into a good college."

"I certainly wouldn't have made that leap of logic," Edgar said.

"That's because you're not deep in the agony of getting a kid into college. Just the other day my son Mike was bemoaning the fact that he didn't have anybody important and influential to write him a recommendation and he said, as a joke, that he didn't need to know them, all he needed was some of their stationery. Both Trey Moffat and my son are highly honorable people, but even they recognize that it may 'take less than honorable means to get into a good school.

"Then I remembered a conversation with Mimi. She'd said Lila mentioned that Beth had gotten a great college recommendation letter from Judge Francisco. Mimi was surprised by that, saying that the Franciscos hadn't really approved of Beth."

"I didn't know about a letter of recommendation. Not at the time," Shelley said.

"No, none of you would have. Beth wasn't a brag-ger and she was very close with information about herself. She wouldn't have told any of you about the letter then, even if it had been legitimate. So, I reasoned that if Lila knew about it, she had to have found out by herself as part of her blackmail campaign preparation. Then the notes she'd made about Beth made sense."

"I guess so," Edgar admitted. "But why the silly

practical jokes? Why would someone like Beth play such stupid tricks?"

"Only two of them were her doing. And they weren't jokes at all."

Mel looked at her with surprise. They'd talked about the murder the night before, but not the practical jokes. "What do you mean?"

"This is just a guess, mind you, but Beth was worried about that picture Avalon drew."

"The picture she gave me?" Edgar asked uneasily.

"Avalon said she did it the night Ted died. And it was full of little secret figures. I think Beth was terrified that she was in the picture someplace. That Avalon might have seen her leaving after she started Ted's car. Avalon said she heard the car start and ran away. But what if she hadn't gone immediately? So Beth wanted to find and destroy the picture."

"That's why she searched Avalon's room!" Shelley said. "But why did she wait so long to do it?"

"Because she searched Pooky's room first. Remember how determined Pooky was to have the picture? I was surprised when Edgar showed it to me. I assumed Avalon had caved in and given it to Pooky. Beth probably made the same assumption. So she tore up Pooky's room looking for it."

"And stole the antique?" Mel said doubtfully.

"Just to make it look like it was part of the spate of jokes. Keep in mind that she 'hid' it where we could hardly keep from finding it."

"And by the time she got to Avalon's room, she was getting frantic enough not to bother," Shelley said.

"Probably."

Gordon got up and started stacking plates to take to the kitchen.

"And which of the Ewe Lambs did the other jokes?" Mel asked. He still looked skeptical.

"Gordon, don't take those dishes just yet," Jane said. "Come back. You'll find this interesting."

"You think so?" he asked with a smile.

Jane spoke to Shelley. "Who in your high school class was a practical joker?"

"Why — nobody that I know of."

"You're sure? What about Gloria Kevitch?"

"Gloria who? Oh, yes. I do remember. She was always in trouble over something. How do you know her name?"

Edgar mumbled an exclamation and looked at Gordon. So did Mel.

"Is this another Ewe Lamb we're talking about?" Mel asked.

"No, she wasn't a Ewe Lamb," Shelley said.

"She's the girl the high school yearbook was dedicated to," Jane explained. "Mimi said Gloria Kevitch had applied to be a Ewe Lamb but was turned down. Later on, she died in a car accident. Maybe a suicide, maybe an accident."

"Jane, you've lost your mind," Shelley said. "What on earth could all this possibly have to do with what happened here? Unless you're suggesting that poor little Gloria has come back to haunt the Ewe Lambs. I don't believe you'll ever convince me of that!" she added with a laugh.

"Oh, but she did haunt you. Didn't she, Gordon?"

He was sitting next to Edgar now, drawing patterns on the tablecloth with his fork. He finally looked up at Jane. "You're kind of spooky yourself," he said. "How did you know?"

"I brought in your mail and sorted it into piles."

Gordon nodded. "And something came to me as Kevitch. I see."

"Kevitch?" Shelley exclaimed.

"I presume you only use Kane as your professional name," Jane said.

"Yes, I never legally changed it. But I've been using Kane ever since my first art showing. Gloria was so hurt by being rejected by the Ewe Lambs. I don't mean that she killed herself over it, but it was one of many contributing factors. And she did love practical jokes." He smiled. "When Edgar told me who this group was, well — it just seemed like poetic justice."

"I get it! That's why the jokes weren't very good ones," Shelley said. "Sorry, Gordon, but they weren't, you know. Because they were being done by somebody who didn't really have a feel for the art form. You didn't go to school with us, did you?"

"Same school, about six years earlier."

"Gordon!" Edgar exclaimed. "How could you!"

"I didn't hurt anybody or damage anything. And it was fun!"

"I meant, how could you not tell me?" Edgar clearly had his feelings hurt.

"Because you'd have told me to be sensible and stop horsing around."

"No, I wouldn't—"

Mel caught Jane's eye and gestured toward the door.

The argument was still raging and Shelley had jumped into it with both feet when Mel took Jane's hand and led her past the children and out onto the patio. They sat down on a wooden bench that encircled an old oak tree.

"My mother would call you one smart cookie," Mel said.

"Would she? What would you call me?"

He leaned back against the tree. "An idiot maybe. An interfering busybody with no more sense of self-preservation than a lemming." Without looking at her, he took her hand and kneaded it between his. "Jane, you know I've seen a lot of awful things. But I swear, I've never seen anything that scared me as much as when I came in the kitchen last night and saw you sitting there covered with blood."

"I'm sorry. I really am."

"— and that's why I'm taking back my invitation to go to Wisconsin."

"Oh…. I see….**.

"No, you don't. I meant the weekend for my sake. Sexy fun and games with a little fishing and 'guy' stuff thrown in for good measure. I was being a selfish bastard."