Catch a Falling Knife

hips and continually taking off and putting on their tops. I was interested in the heading that read, “March Patrons at Club Cavalier,” and the list below it that contained license plate numbers plus make, model and color of the vehicle associated with each one.
    Mark showed me how we could do a search on any of those items of information if we were looking for a particular vehicle, using Albert’s pickup as an example. It was there, all right, and we could find by searching on any combination of “Toyota,” “Tacoma,” “blue,” and his license plate number.
    “So,” I said, “if you are a suspicious wife, mother, girlfriend, employer, minister, whatever, you can check this site periodically to see if your guy is straying.”
    “Exactly,” Mark said. He chuckled. “Talk about Big Brother. But, according to what you told me, it isn’t keeping the young studs of Bethany in line. You said Club Cavalier had quite a crowd there last night.”
    I had told him everything I had done, if not everything I was thinking of doing. I did it in such a way that I knew he wasn’t going to go running off to Club Cavalier to confront the Shooting Star. In fact, he was more or less resigned to what he considered to be his fate. He had agreed to return to work on the weekends at the restaurant where he had been a bartender, figuring that he would probably be suspended from his teaching job sooner or later.
    “What do we know about the person who created this website?” I asked.
    “We have his e-mail address. In fact, he’s so proud of what he’s doing that he even listed his name. Here it is: Eric Hoffman. Probably a pillar of the Bethany community.”
    “You must know the young woman who gave me the information about Club Cavalier. She said she was taking physics from you, but not the same course as your accuser. And she works in the Administration Building. You may have seen her when you went to talk with Priscilla Estavez.”
    Mark thought. “Yes, I did see her and yes, I do know her. If you give me a moment I’ll remember her name. It’s Donna…Donna Somerset. She’s taking my advanced class. Quite smart, actually. But I don’t know of any connection between her and…my accuser.”
    “Perhaps she gave me a bum steer. Who knows why? Maybe it’s her idea of a joke. She did tell me not to tell you the information came from her. In fact, she seemed to be afraid of being found out.”
    “If she’s really trying to help me, I can understand why she’s afraid of being found out. Helping me might be a hanging offense. At the very least, she would lose her job in the Administration Building. And speaking of my accuser, she showed up for Chemistry lab today.”
    “How did it go?”
    “We ignored each other.”
    Mark had more forbearance than I did. Next topic. I asked, “When is your appointment with Burt Brown?” Burt was a lawyer friend of mine. I wanted Mark to speak to him, even though he couldn’t be present at Mark’s hearing.
    “Tomorrow afternoon.”
    “Say hello to him for me. I hope he can help you.”
    “At least he won’t make things any worse.”

Chapter 8
     
    “Don’t go too fast, Lillian. Give me a chance to read the numbers.” Tess had a road map in her lap and held a piece of paper containing directions she and I had written down before leaving Silver Acres.
    “It shouldn’t be far from town,” I said. We had turned off the main street of Bethany onto one of those side roads that permeate North Carolina, barely two lanes wide, with no shoulder. My eyesight was fine for driving during the day, except that I had trouble reading road signs. Tess had come along to act as my navigator.
    “We’re getting close.” Tess eyed the curbside mailboxes as we drove by, many of which had addresses on them.
    I slowed some more and tried to read the numbers, myself, but by the time my eyes focused on one we had passed it. At least the weather cooperated. It was cloudy and cool but the predicted rain had held off. It seemed that weather forecasts were particularly inaccurate in this part of the country.
    “Stop; this is it,” Tess said.
    I pulled my old Mercedes into the gravel driveway because there wasn’t any room to park it on the street. I glanced at Tess, who looked neat and put-together in a casual dress that said she wasn’t a casual person. I had told her not to dress up, but this was about as dowdy as she got. I wore slacks, which I preferred because of my varicose veins.