Only you can prevent fires.”
Myron spotted Grady. “Bingo.”
“Where?”
“Turning the corner. On the left. Mr. Fashion.”
Gary Grady was wearing a yellow Century 21-like blazer with Keith Partridge orange-striped pants. Win looked visibly pained at the sight. They made their approach.
“Hi, Jerry.”
Grady’s head shot around. “That’s not my name.”
“Yeah, you told me. It’s your alias, right? When you do business with Fred Nickler. Your real name is Gary Grady.”
Nearby students stopped walking.
“Keep moving!” Gary snapped.
The students restarted their grudging trudge.
“Impatient teachers,” Myron said.
“Sad,” Win agreed.
Gary’s thin face seemed to stretch even further. He stepped closer so that no one could overhear.
“Perhaps we can continue this conversation later,” he whispered.
“I don’t think so, Gary.”
“I’m in the middle of a class.”
“Tough tittie,” Myron said.
Win arched an eyebrow. “Tough tittie?”
“Something about being back in high school,” Myron said. “Besides, I thought it appropriate considering the situation.”
Win considered for a moment. “Okay, I can accept that.”
Myron turned back to Gary. “The fire drill will last a little while. Then it will take a little while for the kids to file back in. Then they’ll want to goof around in the halls for a while. By then we’ll be all done.”
Gary crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”
“Option two, then.” Myron took out a copy of
Grady coughed into his fist. A loud fire whistle sounded. Sirens came closer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, taking a few more steps away from the kids.
“I followed you.”
“What?”
Myron sighed, gave him exasperation. “You were in Hoboken yesterday morning. You picked up the mail at an address used for advertising sex lines in porno rags. Then you went home to Glen Rock, saw me, panicked, and called Fred Nickler, the managing editor of said rags.”
“Amateur,” Win added with disgust.
“Now, we can discuss this with you or with the school board. Up to you.”
Gary glanced at his watch. “You have two minutes.”
“Fine.” Myron gestured to the right. “Why don’t we step into the teachers’ lavatory? I assume you have a key.”
“Yes.”
He opened the door. Myron had always wanted to see a teachers’ bathroom, see how the other half lives. It was unremarkable in every way.
“Okay, you have me here,” Gary said. “What do you want?”
“Tell me about this ad.”
Gary swallowed. His enlarged Adam’s apple bobbed up and down like a boxer’s head avoiding jabs. “I don’t know anything about it.”
Myron and Win exchanged a glance.
“Can I stick his head in a toilet?” Win asked.
Gary straightened his back. “If you are trying to frighten me, it won’t work.”
Win’s voice was semipleading. “One quick dunk?”
“Not yet.” Myron turned his attention back to Gary. “I have no interest in busting you, Gary. You’re a perv, that’s your business. I want to know about your connection with Kathy Culver.”
Sweat appeared above Gary’s upper lip. “She was a student of mine.”
“I know. Why is her picture in
“I have no idea. I saw it for the first time yesterday.”
“But that’s your ad, right?”
He hesitated, giving silent half-shrugs to no one in particular. “Okay,” he said, “I admit it. I advertise in Mr. Nickler’s publications. No law against that. But I did not put that picture of Kathy in the ad.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you admit operating sex lines?”
“Yes. It’s harmless. I do it to make extra money. Nobody gets hurt.”
“Another prince,” Myron said. “How much extra money?”
“In the business’s heyday I was making twenty thousand dollars a month.”
Myron wasn’t sure he heard right. “Twenty thousand dollars a month from phone sex?”
“In the mid-eighties, yes. Before the government got involved and began to crack down on 900 lines. Now I’m lucky to clear eight grand a month.”
“Damn bureaucrats,” Myron said. “So how does Kathy Culver fit into all this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Gee, Gary, a naked picture of her is in your ad this month. Maybe that’s what I mean.”
“I already told you. I had nothing to do with that.”
“Then I guess it’s a coincidence, her being a student of yours and all.”
“Yes.”
“I won’t hold him under long,” Win promised. “Please.”
Myron shook his head. “You wrote her a glowing recommendation letter for college, correct?”
“Kathy was a wonderful student,” Gary replied.
“And what else?”
“If you are suggesting that my relationship with Kathy was something other than student-teacher-”
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”
Once again he crossed his arms over his chest. “I will not dignify that with a response. And I am now terminating this conversation.”
Gary was addressing them in that way teachers do. Sometimes teachers forget that life is not a classroom.
“Dunk him,” Myron said.
“With pleasure.”
Gary probably had two inches on Win. He leaned up on his toes and gave Win his most withering glare.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Gary said.
“Mistake number one.”
Win moved with a speed that videocameras would not catch. He took hold of Gary’s hand, twisted it, and pulled down. Hapkido move. Gary dropped to the tile floor. Win pressed his knee against the point of Gary’s elbow. Gently. Not too much pain. Just enough to let him know who was in control.
“Damn,” Win said.
“What?”
“All the toilets are clean. I hate when that happens.”
“Anything to add before the dunk?” Myron asked.
Gary’s face was white. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone,” he managed.
“You’ll tell us the truth?”
