it! Complain to your parents, as I did, and they say, ‘For this we’re paying thousands a year?’” I sipped tea and gave them a wide grin. “Man, I just loved going to a big-name school.”
Schulz explained placidly to Audrey, “Goldy has an excitable temperament.”
“Nah,” I said, surprised by the passion in my little diatribe. “What the heck, I even give the school money.”
The phone rang. Schulz raised his eyebrows at me again, and again I nodded. This time it was Julian. He had heard about the spider incident when Hank Dawson fulfilled his promise and delivered the cookies. Julian was frantic. Schulz tried to lighten it up by saying, “I’ve warned her not to try to cook with spiders,” but Julian was having none of it. I could hear him yelling.
I signaled, “Just let me talk to him.” When Schulz resignedly handed me the phone, I said, “Julian, I’m fine, I want you to quit worrying about me ? “
“Who put that spider in the drawer?” he yelled. “Miss Ferrell? Trying to take attention away from her other problems?”
“Whoa, Julian. Of course Miss Ferrell didn’t put it in the drawer. Come on. Everybody knows black widows live all over Colorado. I hardly think Miss Ferrell, or anybody else for that matter, would deliberately try something nasty like that.”
“Want to bet? She just told me she doesn’t know anything about food science! I’ll bet she doesn’t think it’s worthy. She’s not going to give me a good recommendation, I know it. She’s a class A bitch from the word go.”
“I’ll talk to her,” I volunteered. “Lot of good that’ll do,” he replied bitterly. And then he sighed. It was a deep, pained, resigned sigh.
“What else is going on?” I asked, concerned. “You sound terrible.”
“We’re all staying until about six. There’s a vocabulary-review thing going on in Ferrell’s room. Arch is in the library, don’t worry. We’ll just be home late.”
“How was the Stanford rep? Did you have some cookies?”
“Oh, the room was packed. I didn’t go.” He paused. “Sheila Morgenstern told me she mailed in her early decision application to Cornell. She’s sixth in our class, but she got 1550 combined on her SATs last year. I’m happy for her, I guess, but it’s bad for me. Cornell will never take two kids from the same school. Especially if one of them isn’t going to get a good recommendation from the college counselor.”
“Oh, come on, sure they will, Julian. You’re just making yourself miserable. Lighten up!”
There was a silence. “Goldy,” Julian said evenly, “I know you mean well. Really, I do. But honestly, you don’t know a thing.”
“Oh,” I mumbled, staring at my swollen finger. Maybe he was right. My life did seem to be a mess at the moment. “I didn’t mean to ? “
“Aah, forget about it. To make things worse, I flunked a French quiz this morning. And I flunked a history quiz too. Not my day, I guess.”
?FIunked?”
“Oh, I was tired, and then Ferrell asked five questions about the subjunctive. Schlichtmaier asked about Lafayette, and I guess I missed that part when he talked about him.” He mocked, “Veil, ve don’t know for shoor …”
“Don’t,” I said. “Yeah, yeah, I know, don’t be prejudiced. Forgot to mention, half the class flunked too. Nobody’s learning a thing in there.” There was a silence. “And hey, I’m not the one making fun of Schlichtmaier. I stick up for him every chance I get.”
“I’m sure you do.”
But Julian’s tone had again grown savage. “You want to know the truth, the guy who used to make fun of him is dead.”
11
“Now, that’s a happy note.” I hung up the phone, somehow managing not to bang my injured finger. “Julian says I am totally ignorant. And worse, he’s afraid Miss Ferrell isn’t going to write him a good recommendation for Cornell.”
“He’s sunk,” proclaimed Audrey. “He won’t get in now if he invents a solar-powered car.”
“Oh, give me a break.”
“Come on,” Schulz interjected. “That’s just the kind of car we need down at the Sheriff’s Department.”
Audrey smiled shyly. On my index finger the bite area throbbed. I peeked under the bandage and saw that the redness had resolved itself into an enormous, ugly blister. I pondered it glumly. Schulz poured more tea. He wasn’t going anywhere, and I didn’t know whether this sudden lack of purpose stemmed from concern for me or curiosity about Audrey. I suspected the latter.
Audrey got to her feet. She left the bouquet of carnations on the table beside her empty teacup. “Well, I suppose I ought to be moving on. Think you’re going to be okay to cook Friday? It’s just a few days away.”
I held out my hands helplessly, as in, Do I have a choice? I told her she could come by at six. “And thanks for the flowers. They’re a great addition to the shop here.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Schulz volunteered with unnecessary enthusiasm. I looked puzzled. He ignored me.
Outside, he stood talking with Audrey for a few minutes, then walked her to her pickup. After a few moments he came back, slowly sat in one of my kitchen chairs, then gently lifted my right hand and examined it. “I have to ask you the obvious, you know. Do you think that spider was intended for you? Or for somebody else?”
“I do not believe it was intended for me, or anyone else for that matter,” I replied firmly. “There was a lot of confusion in the kitchen, a big crowd, a lot of chitchat about tasting jam.” I saw my hand, as if in slow motion, go into the silverware drawer. “It just happened.”
He mused about this for a while. For the first time I noticed the care he had used to dress for our lunch: pinstripe shirt, rep tie, knitted vest; corduroy pants. While I was looking him over, he winked and said, “Audrey didn’t mention going to college herself.”
“She went, all right, at least for a while. But it rained so much, she said her bike ran over fish on her way to classes. And I guess the classes themselves were awful. Dates were nonexistent. And everyone at her high school had told her it was going to be this wonderful experience. She got some therapy there at the school clinic. She hated that too. She finally concluded that what was making her unhappy was the school itself. So she left and got married. And now the marriage is breaking up.”
Schulz gave me his impassive face. “How long’s she had that pickup truck, do you know?”
The question was so unexpected that I laughed. “Gosh, Officer, I don’t know. For as long as I’ve known her. Maybe it’s part of her financial settlement. My theory is that she drives it because it’s part of her image.”
Schulz squinted at me. “Think she’s capable of killing somebody?”
My skin went cold. I said, choosing my words carefully, “I don’t know. What do you suspect?”
“Remember K. Andrews down in Lakewood?” When I nodded, he continued. “I went down, questioned all the neighbors, even though the Lakewood guys had already done it. Hardly anyone’s around during the day, and nobody saw anything unusually suspicious. A blue Mercedes, a silver limousine, an old white pickup, maybe a new ice cream truck. No identifying features. One young mother glanced out her window and saw somebody stopped at Kathy Andrews’ mailbox one day. She’d already reported it. ‘Something unusual,’ she says, ‘something out of place. That’s all I can remember.’ “
“Something out of place?” I said, puzzled. “A moving van? A flying saucer? Is that all you could get out of her?”
“Hey! Don’t think I didn’t try. I say, ‘Not a car from the neighborhood? Not Fed Ex or UPS?’ She shakes her head. I go, ‘Not the usual mail person?’ ‘No, no, no,’ she says, ‘it was something it was too late for, just one instant, there and then gone.’ That’s all that registered with her. I say, ‘Too late for what? The mail?’ And she says, ‘I just don’t know.’ “
“So you checked with all the delivery people, limousine people, and nobody was late for anything.”
“Correct. Nada. Same as the Lakewood guys found.” He sipped his cold tea. “Then I see Ms. Audrey Coopersmith’s pickup truck parked out front of your house, and I think, ‘an old white pickup,’ the way one of the other neighbors said. Kathy Andrews’ old boyfriend drove a pickup, I found out. Would you say Audrey Coopersmith’s truck looks old?”
