Friday morning
IN THE STANDING-ROOM-ONLY AUDITORIUM, RANNIE FOUND IT DIFFICULT to stay focused on the homicide cop’s words. Her mind’s eye kept returning to the horrific scene last night near her building. According to the news radio channel, the latest S.W.A.K. victim had been a single mother with two kids…that hit way too close to home.
Nevertheless, the sergeant’s message came through, loud and clear. He wanted information. Yet sideways glances across the aisle at Ms. Hollins, who appeared genuinely stricken, fueled Rannie’s qualms about going to the police. As she joined the flow of people exiting the auditorium, she asked herself if some residual taboo from adolescence was at work, some deep-seated aversion to ratting out anyone? Or did her reluctance have more to do with ’fessing up to her own nosy-parker behavior? Whatever, it didn’t matter, she concluded: Her allegiance, first and last, was to Nate and information that she had might redirect the arrow pointing at him toward someone else.
In the Annex, Dottie Greenhouse, Mrs. Mac, and other staffers were standing around, murmuring in solemn tones, doing a postmortem on the meeting.
“I suppose we should be thankful. The S.W.A.K. murder kept Tut off the front page.”
“Dottie! You’re terrible,” said the head of upper school admissions.
Rannie was about to join the confab when she saw her desktop and stopped cold. Someone had opened the can of Diet Coke she’d brought in earlier. Next to it now was a highball glass, one with the Chaps crest in gold. It was filled with Coke and ice. An index card that said “Cheers!” in purple block letters was propped against it.
Rannie inched over to it warily. “Did anybody do this?” she inquired in a wobbly falsetto and pointed to the glass. The women turned briefly, their response a communal head-shake no, and resumed chatting. Rannie sank into her chair. There were no carbonation bubbles rising in the glass, a sign that the soda had been poured a while ago. Could Ms. Hollins have done this? Rannie hadn’t seen her before Morning Meeting, but she could’ve been upstairs in her office and waited to do this ’til everyone else had already left for the auditorium. It was a possibility…and even if Ms. Hollins wasn’t spooking her, somebody was. Enough with the scary pranks, Rannie thought, and grabbed her stuff.
Outside, she called Officer Heffernan. She tried not to babble. “There’s a glass of soda on my desk at school. Someone opened a can I brought in and poured it in a Chaps glass.”
“You just saw it?”
“Yes. A little sign said, ‘Cheers!’ It was next to the glass.”
“Have you touched anything?”
“No. I’m outside school now.”
“Okay, look. I’ll have it checked out. You—”
“There’s more,” Rannie interrupted and began jabbering away about meeting Ms. Hollins in the park, running into her Tuesday night.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down…. Look, Ms. Bookman, I think you better come down to the precinct and speak to the sergeant directly. Be here at one. I’ll let him know to expect you.”