Jazz Funeral

people who’d see it as a window to opportunity. Skip shuddered, hating to think of Melody on her own.
    Maybe on her own with a murderer.
    What was she like in her natural habitat, wearing jeans and T-shirt? Did she ever smile? Did she smile too much, pretending?
    Skip spotted Blair walking with a guy who wasn’t tall enough for her. She got out of the car, waving.
    Blair waved back, reminding Skip of a model in a commercial—there was something languid and liquid about the movement. She loped over with her friend, whose fashion statement ran to clean wrinkles. He was a handsome boy, olive-skinned, brown-eyed, who should have been wearing Top-Siders but had opted for Reeboks. He looked as if he belonged on a sailboat, or at least a squash court. He’d probably been born in a country club.
    Blair said, “We were looking for you.”
    “You were?”
    “Mrs. Murray asked Flip to wait for you.”
    Skip turned to the boy. “You’re Flip?”
    He stuck out his hand, a credit to his upbringing. “Basil Phillips. What can I do for you?” The kid got right down to business.
    “I wonder if there’s someplace we can talk.” She left off the word “alone,” but looked at Blair in a way she hoped was clear.
    Blair said, “We both need to talk to you.”
    Skip came alert. “You’ve heard from Melody?”
    “No. We just want to tell you something.” She glanced around. “Mr. Nicolai’s coming right out.”
    Flip said, “Blair, I’ll do it. Look, officer …”
    “Skip.”
    He flushed, hardly able to deal with it. “Skip. What happened was, Blair and I …” He was obviously too discreet to complete the sentence. “I decided to quit seeing Melody, and I made the mistake of phoning Blair while she was there.”
    Skip wanted it nailed down. “You and Blair became an item behind Melody’s back—is that what you’re saying?”
    Blair looked down, but Flip held her gaze. His granddad had probably been a Confederate general. “That’s about it,” he said.
    “You dumped her, in other words.”
    He winced. “I was going to tell her Tuesday night.”
    Skip turned to Blair. “So what really happened at your house?”
    “I guess she was starting to suspect something—that’s all I can figure. Anyhow, when Flip called, I said I’d have to call back, but maybe I looked guilty or something. She figured it out—I don’t know how. She just knew. She grabbed the phone and yelled at him and he said something to her—”
    “I said I was sorry.” He had his hands in his pockets and his cheeks were still pink. Being caught out of school apparently wasn’t done among the Phillipses.
    “And what did she say?”
    “She didn’t answer.”
    “She handed the phone back to me,” said Blair, “but before I could figure out what to do, she was out of there. Disappeared for a minute and came back running.”
    Nicolai joined them silently.
    “Disappeared where? Where were you at the time?”
    “We were in the kitchen. I guess she went in my room.”
    “Why would she do that?”
    Blair closed her eyes, held her hands in front of her face, willing her brain to work. Her eyes flew open. “Her pack! She went to get her pack.”
    “You saw her leave with it.”
    “Yes. I came out and called her name, and then she came running down the stairs. I saw it but didn’t think about it till now.”
    “Did she have anything in the pack that she particularly needed?”
    Blair looked bewildered, thought about it. “No, I don’t think so.” She thought some more. “What do you mean? Drugs or something? Melody doesn’t do drugs.”
    “Oh, really?”
    Flip said, “Just a little pot.” He looked at Nicolai and flushed. The counselor stepped back a foot or two, pretended interest far across campus. “She likes it, though. She might do other stuff if she had access to it.”
    Skip nodded. She’d been like that herself. It wasn’t that the high was so great, just that it replaced the pain. “I appreciate you two being so honest.”
    Blair said, “Listen, I’m really sorry if I caused any trouble. I couldn’t talk about it before, I just couldn’t believe it had really happened, that she’d run away, I mean. I thought she’d come back, especially when she found out about Ham.”
    Skip was pissed. “Didn’t it occur to you she might have been kidnapped?”
    “Well, yes. But my telling what happened wouldn’t change that and wouldn’t help find her.”
    Skip had to admire a fine mind at work. “You’re