“Oh?”
“Miriam Jilton was the judge for that essay contest you got fired from.”
It took me a moment to figure out he meant Focus on Fiction.
“It wasn’t essays,” I corrected. “It was fiction—short stories to be exact.” I shook my incredulous head. “Miriam Jilton ended up judging that?”
“Interesting, huh?”
I agreed the coincidence was astonishing, and Wilson explained the details. Apparently there had been some controversy about the winner. Ms. Jilton picked three finalists, but only one student won the thousand-dollar scholarship for college.
“The two runners up were pretty unhappy,” he said.
“And one of them killed her? That seems pretty far-fetched.”
“That’s the problem. It’s not much of a motive. And we’ve checked them. And their parents.”
I cringed. “Maybe it’s a good thing I got fired.”
Wilson agreed being the town pornographer did have its advantages and mentioned my license plate. “That’s still the million-dollar question,” he said. “Jilton was having an affair. And the killer was making a statement.”
“Have you found her phone?”
He shook his head and told me Lieutenant Densmore was checking her phone records and e-mails instead. “We’ll have the answer soon enough.” He groaned. “But not nearly soon enough for Superintendent Yikes and Rita Sistina.”
“Have they been in touch?” I asked oh so casually.
“Pestering me all day. You’ll be happy to know Dr. Yikes is not acc—”
“—accustomed to waiting,” I said.
Oops.
Wilson stared at me. “What have you been up to?”
“On, nothing,” I said. “But I think I read somewhere that Dr. Yates is rather impatient?”
He kept staring. “Rita Sistina’s not much on patience, either. You might be a little scary, but that woman’s a lot scary.”
Speaking of which, Dianne Calloway popped into mind, and I whimpered slightly.
“What are you up to?” Wilson repeated, and I wondered if I should ask him the same thing.
***
I suggested it was time for bed and stood up to clear our glasses. “I assume Loretta is on cat-care duty at the shack?”
“It’s not a shack, and yes.” Wilson stood up and stretched, and we agreed how lucky he was to have a cat-loving neighbor. Loretta Springfield adored Bernice and Wally, and the feeling was mutual. Good thing, since Wilson had to leave his cats alone a lot.
“If you lived with me, Bernice and Wally wouldn’t be cooped up all alone,” he said as we got ready for bed.
“They have each other, and Loretta, and their cat door onto the porch,” I said. “And if Snowflake and I weren’t here, you’d be driving out to the boondocks right now.”
“If you lived out in the boondocks, you wouldn’t have to worry about Alistair Pritt protesting outside your door.”
I thought of a retort as we brushed our teeth.
“If you arrested Alistair, he wouldn’t be able to protest,” I said as we climbed into bed. “Does he even have a permit?”
“Not today, he didn’t. It’s Sunday.”
I refused to lie down. “I can’t believe you let him stay out there illegally! You should have done something.”
“Think, Jessie. What would happen if someone from the department cleared Pritt off the street?”
I had to agree it would only give Jimmy Beak more ammunition against me. He’d have a field day claiming the police were offering me undeserved protection due to my relationship with Wilson.
“And it’s not like Pritt’s a violent criminal,” Wilson said. “I had Sergeant Sass check.”
“I’m surprised you bothered. Alistair must be low on your priority list right now.”
Wilson reminded me he doesn’t like coincidences. “This sudden book-banning craze at the same time as the murder? I don’t like it.”
“I’m not too crazy about it either,” I said. “Did Tiffany learn anything incriminating?” Dare I say, I was hopeful? Sergeant Tiffany Sass is a good cop, and very thorough.
But unfortunately Wilson shook his head. “Pritt’s a law-abiding citizen, with lots of law-abiding family. No connection to Jilton.”
I sighed dramatically and slipped under the covers. “I assume all those law-abiding family members are helping him with his protest?”
“Yep. According to Sass, they’re also manning the coffee shop. He’ll have plenty of free time to harass you again tomorrow.”
“Oh goody,” I said and turned off the light.
Chapter 11
Willow LaSwann stood at the edge of her property and gazed at the house in the distance. Kipp Jupiter’s house. She sighed dramatically and her bosom strained its bonds. Pretending to be a man was so very difficult. But what choice did she have?
Willow recollected Uncle Hazard’s final warning.
“Beware!” he had written in his last missive. “Guard your true identity, my dear Willow, or the varmints who call themselves your neighbors will eat you alive. They’ll seize your property and drive you out of town. That is, if you’re lucky!”
Willow shuddered at the thought of it.
Kipp Jupiter couldn’t be one of those varmints, could he? Why, that very morning he had come by for a nice neighborly chat. “About the water situation,” he said.
But as Mr. Jupiter started explaining the problem with her well, Willow felt herself blushing and had shooed him away. Indeed, she had treated him as if he were nothing more than a vicious hornet pestering her cattle!
But what if Uncle Hazard was wrong? What if Kipp Jupiter wasn’t a varmint at all?
Willow vowed to find out. She would saddle up her horse Sparkle and ride into town that very day! Surely someone in Hogan’s Hollow could tell her the true nature of Kipp Jupiter’s character.
Willow strode over to her barn with new resolve. Today was the day! The day she would learn whether Kipp Jupiter was a good guy or a bad guy.
“I hope he’s a good guy!” she exclaimed to Sparkle.
***
“Oh, for Lord’s sake, Willow! Of course he’s a good guy!” I hit the off button on my computer with far more gusto than necessary, and Snowflake tore her eyes from the scene below to glance over.
I curled my lip at the bad guys on Sullivan Street and phoned Karen.
“Ready for some sleuthing?” I asked her.
“I’m surprised you’re still up to it. I take it you didn’t watch Jimmy Beak’s report this morning?”
I blinked twice. “Why?”
“Girlfriend! Haven’t you heard of keeping your friends close and your enemies even closer?”
I reminded Karen my enemies were close enough. “Right below my window, to be exact.”
“Which is exactly where they were when Wilson left this morning.”
“Excuse me? Wilson left at six a.m. to get back to work. Surely Alistair didn’t start that early?”
“No, but Jimmy Beak and his cameraman did. They were in our parking lot when Wilson got out there.”
I rolled my eyes. “And let me guess. This encounter made it onto the news?”
“Oh yeah. Jimmy made a big deal about catching him red-handed—spending the night with you without the benefit of wedlock.”
“He actually said that?”
“You think I could make this stuff up? He accused Wilson of cavorting with the enemy, and then accused him of illicit and licentious behavior.”
I scowled. “I’m surprised Jimmy knows how to use licentious in a sentence.”
“That’s exactly what Wilson said.”
***
“Lookee what I have.” I stood in Karen’s doorway proudly jiggling the hall pass dangling from my neck. “Gabby Yates herself gave it to me.”
“Yates as in Yikes?” Karen seemed skeptical, but I insisted it made perfect sense and explained the deal Superintendent Yates and I had brokered the evening before.
“So you see?” I said. “Everyone wants me to solve this murder. Even Gabby.”
“I can’t believe she lets you call her Gabby?” Karen motioned me into her condo while I outlined the plan.
“You’ll use your hall pass to talk to the janitor, and I’ll use mine to interview the principal and some teachers. We’ll make an excellent team.”
“Speaking of which, Kiddo feels left out.”
“Not anymore. I called her at work and gave her an assignment.” I grinned. “A task that has Candy Poppe written all over it.”
“You’re a little scary,” Karen told me.
I pointed to the huge dining room hutch and table parked in the middle of her living room and argued the same could be said for her. Karen’s condo is in reality her carpentry workshop, replete with tools, power tools, and—
“What is that smell?” I asked.
“Varnish.” She went around the room switching several industrial-sized fans to high. “The first coat’s always the worst,” she yelled over the din. She took off her tool belt and hoisted it over her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I hope you’re okay with taking time away from your work,” I asked as we stepped out to the lobby.
Karen explained her latest project as she locked her door. “The Fister-Bickerson wedding is this Saturday,” she said. “Between their parents and the bride’s extended family, the happy couple will have every piece of furniture ever invented by mankind. In size large.”
“And let me guess. You’re in charge of building it all.”
“I can handle it. But I can’t handle them.” She pointed to the outside door looming before us, and presumably to the bad guys on the other side. “What’s your getaway plan?”
“Let’s do it the old-fashioned way,” I said.
She turned slowly and glared. “Meaning we’ll make a run for it and hope for the best.”
“You know we can outrun Alistair.”
“Yeah, and what about Jimmy?”
I had to agree Jimmy was far more nimble on his feet. “But his cameraman is almost as clunky as Alistair,” I said optimistically. “By the time he gets the camera rolling, we’ll be halfway down Sullivan Street.”
Karen shook her head. “Your getaway plan stinks,” she told me.
***
Maybe so, but it worked.
We peeked out the door, and when Alistair turned his back, Karen and I made a run for it.
Ace reporter that he is, Jimmy Beak saw us, or else he heard Karen’s tool belt clanking. He raced right over and reached us just as we dove into the van.
Karen threw her tool belt at me and locked the doors while I complained that hammers hurt when they hit your lap.
“The public has a right to know!” Jimmy rapped on my window.
Safe behind locked doors, I smiled and displayed the hammer.
Jimmy retorted with an altogether rude gesture and ran around to Karen’s window.
She watched him jump up and down for at least half a second before checking her rear view windows and starting the engine. The cameraman arrived as she put the van into reverse. He and Jimmy stepped directly behind the vehicle, and Karen mentioned something about suicidal tendencies as she ever so slowly began backing up.
I twisted around and reported they were not moving.
“They’ll move.” Her eyes never left her rearview mirror.
And so they did. Then they followed along each side of the van as Karen inched her way to forward.
“I’ve a good mind to report you for hazardous driving,” Jimmy yelled at her.
I couldn’t believe it when she opened her window to speak to Jimmy. “You have exactly one second to get out of my way,” she said and hit the gas.
Talk about a little scary.
Chapter 12
“I don’t suppose you have a plan?” Karen asked as we entered the high school.
“We amateur sleuths like to play it by ear,” I said, and she mumbled something I didn’t quite catch.
I stopped short. “Is that a cop?” I jerked my head to the man who was clearly a uniformed cop guarding the entrance to the main office.
“They’re called resource officers,” Karen informed me.
“Things sure have changed since I was in school. Do you think he knows Wilson?”
Karen rolled her eyes. “Do you think we should have planned this better?”
She didn’t wait for an answer, but marched over to the cop, who might as well have worn a sign saying “Informant for Wilson Rye.”
I caught up as Karen greeted Officer Poleski. He was not the friendliest of people. With nary a hello, he held out his hand and demanded picture IDs. Apparently our hall passes weren’t adequate.
We produced our driver’s licenses and held still while Officer Poleski examined those, the hall passes hanging from our necks, and our faces. We held still again while he lined us up against the wall and took what amounted to a mug shot of each of us.
These pleasantries completed, he led us through the glass door and into the office. “Sign in and state the purpose of your visit with Ms. Chen,” he ordered, and we obediently approached the secretary’s desk.
But I’m showing my age again. According to the placard on her desk, Jodi Chen was not the principal’s secretary, but the school’s administrative director.
“Jessica Hewitt!” Ms. Chen seemed friendly enough. “We’ve been expecting you. Dr. Yates called first thing this morning to prepare us for your visit.”
I blinked twice. “Umm. I’m glad she did that, Ms. Chen.”
“Jodi,” she said. “I think it’s terrific you want to teach here this fall.”
“I do?” I shook my head. “I mean, you do?”
“A creative writing course for our honors students is just the thing. But I can see why you’d want to visit first.”
“You can?”
“Dr. Yates explained it.” Ms. Chen gave the slightest sideways glance toward Officer Poleski, who remained stationed in the doorway. “You need to see the school before committing to anything.”
“Oh?” I said, and Karen jabbed me in the ribs. “Oh!” I changed my tone. “Right you are!”
Jodi opened the guest book on her desk and tapped a blank line. “Sign in and put ‘prospective English instructor’ where it asks your purpose.”
While I was doing as directed, the efficient Jodi Chen spoke to Karen. “Hey, girlfriend. I suppose you’re here about the plumbing in the boys lavatory?”
“What else.” Karen pulled the book away from me and signed on the next dotted line. “And Jess needed a ride. We’re neighbors, and she’s without wheels right now.” She handed the roster back to Jodi. “We thought we’d kill two birds with one stone. Jess can check out the teaching opportunities while I hang out in the boys bathroom.”
She asked where she could find Jack MacAdoo and was told he was working on the air conditioning unit in Corridor B. She wished me luck, saluted Officer Poleski, and slipped around him out the doorway.