The Class Menagerie

If she'd only paid closer attention to something her son Mike had said, she'd have figured it out long ago.

// she was right___

If Lila was right.

JIM

Jane fished the folded paper out of her pocket, excused herself, and went to the kitchen. Fortunately, nobody was there but Hector, who was sitting on a chair, stretching his neck to look at the counter. Jane reached for the phone and punched in the California telephone number that had the star next to it. After four endless rings, a machine picked up. 'This is the admissions office of Stanford University. Our office hours are — '

Jane hung up the phone. Hector said, 'Brbrbreow!' She scratched his ears absently. Yes. Not a hospital. 'Admissions' didn't mean a hospital. It meant a college. And 'S. Francisco' didn't mean San Francisco, it meant Samuel Francisco, the judge who hadn't approved of Beth dating her son, but had inexplicably given her a glowing recommendation that had eliminated the final hurdle to her getting a full scholarship.

Or so Lila had told someone.

Jane paced for a moment and suddenly stopped in her tracks, her mind dashing in sixteen directions at once. Calm down, she told herself, closing her eyes. One thing at a time.

The recommendation was a forgery, just as Mike had jokingly suggested for himself days ago. Ted, still enamored of Beth, had probably stolen some of his father's stationery for her and might have supplied something with Judge Francisco's signature. And Beth had sailed into college on a full scholarship. Not that she hadn't deserved it, but a judge who had gotten an education predicated in part on a forged document would not only fail to get to the Supreme Court, she'd probably be disbarred. But there wasn't any way to prove it. Judge Francisco was dead now. Still, there were handwriting analysts who could prove the case

without him. Even if it were never proved, the scandal would destroy her life's work.

Jane had to tell Mel tight away.

She turned and found herself face-to-face with Beth.

'I think we better go outside,' Beth said calmly.

She had one of Edgar's carving knives in her hand and touched the tip of the blade to Jane's sweater.

'You forged the recommendation, didn't you? That's what all this has been about!'

'Is that what was on those little yellow papers you were carrying around? Crispy was stupid to tear them out and leave them around for a busybody like you to find. Hand them over.'

'I don't have them.'

'Then let's go outside and you can tell me where you put them.' Her voice was eerily calm.

If she gets me outside, I'm dead, Jane thought. / have to stop her inside. But how? An idea skittered through her brain and she latched onto it. It wasn't a good idea, but it was the only one she had.

Hector, unaware of the danger, was stropping himself against Jane's legs.

'You could have,' she stopped. Coughed. ' — have paid her off, (cough, cough) you know. Even if you didn't, it would have ruined your career, but you (cough) wouldn't have gone to jail (cough, cough, cough) for forging the recommendation.'

'Pay her off for the rest of my life? Let's go outside and discuss this in the carriage house. Now!' She pressed the knife through the sweater and into Jane's skin just beneath her breastbone.

Jane gritted her teeth. The carriage house!

It wasn't just forgery, she realized. It was more. Far more! Had Lila figured that out? Or had Beth only feared that she would eventually?

Faking the cough wasn't so hard now. She could hardly breathe for fear. 'When you broke up (cough, cough, cough) with Ted, he was humiliated and threatened (cough) to tell his father, didn't he? (cough, cough) You couldn't afford (cough) to have that happen. You're the one who started the car (cough, cough) after he fell into bed (cough) dead drunk. You killed Ted.'

'Why, you're smarter than you look. Now, move!'

'Wait! I'll (cough, cough) tell you where the notes are. Just let me (cough) get a (cough, cough, cough) drink of water. It's that cat (cough). I'm allergic. Please.'

'Make it fast!'

Still hacking and coughing, Jane cracked the refrigerator door, shoving Hector out of the way with her foot at the same time. The door opened toward Beth. Jane glanced inside and gasped in horror.

Instinctively, Beth leaned forward to see what Jane was looking at, and as she did so, Jane jerked the door open with all her might. It swung around, hitting Beth squarely in the face.

The knife clattered to the floor as Beth fell backward, her hands to her face. Blood was pouring from her nose and she was making a gurgling, screaming sound as she hit the floor and started scrambling for the knife.

Jane dived for the floor, too, and got to the knife first. Beth swung at her, blood splattering everywhere.

Doors flew open and the room was suddenly full of horrified witnesses. Shelley did a running long jump over Beth to reach Jane.

'My God! Jane is this your blood?' she asked, squatting down on the floor next to her.

Jane took a deep, trembling breath and hung onto

Shelley. 'I don't know. I don't think so.' Mel had pushed through the crowd and was holding Beth's arm and mechanically advising her of her rights, but he was looking intently at Jane.

Jane looked at Beth, whose face was twisted with

fury and despair. 'In a way, it's Ted's blood….'

25

'Not the cream puffs again,' Jane groaned. 'I've probably gained a ton this week. No, Edgar. Set them a little closer to me, would you?'

It was Sunday evening. The bed and breakfast was Ewe Lamb-less, except for Shelley. Edgar, who should have been taking a well-deserved rest, had insisted on serving a big dinner to Jane and her family, Shelley and her children, and Mel. The meal consisted almost entirely of leftovers from the night before, but Edgar's leftovers were better that Jane's first-timers, as she told him.

Dinner was over now and the children were in the living room with the Nintendo. Edgar was not only a superior cook, he also had a better selection of games than Jane did. There were several she intended to try before the day was over.

Mel had left the dining room between dinner and dessert and now came back. 'Crispy's been taken off life- support,' he said.

'No! Who gave that order?' Jane asked.

'Calm down. It doesn't mean what you think. She's off because she's breathing on her own. The doctor says she must either have enormous determination to live or a cast iron brain. They think she may even regain consciousness.' He popped a mini-cream puff in his mouth and practically swallowed it whole. 'I don't suppose there's any hope that you made this, Jane?'

'Afraid not.'

'That's too bad. The odd thing is,' he went on, 'there are not one but two of Crispy's ex-husbands pacing the hall driving the nurses crazy. How did they find out? And why did they contact each other?'

'They probably have a support group,' Shelley said. 'With a 1-800 number.'

'I don't suppose Beth's admitted anything?' Jane asked.

'She hasn't uttered a syllable except to remind us that it's our responsibility to build a case and she won't contribute to our efforts,' Mel said. 'But that's all right. We've identified fibers from the rags in the carriage house on the clothing Beth was wearing the night she killed Lila. That proves she was at the murder site and actually came in contact with the fabric Lila's body was covered up with. If Crispy does wake up, we'll have her testimony as well. I don't know that we'll ever prove Beth's role in Ted Francisco's death. It's too long ago and the physical evidence is ancient. But we'll certainly nail her on Lila's. She's also got splinters in her palm that will match with the branch she used as a club, but the legal eagles are having a row about the legality of removing them.'

'Jane, remember when you were talking about us being wrong in our assessment of somebody?' Shelley