The Class Menagerie

she asked of everyone.
    But nobody knew who Jane was, few remembered Crispy, and none acknowledged knowing any detective. As Jane glanced around a last time, she saw Shelley and Mel hurrying toward her. She ran to meet them. “I can’t find Crispy.“
    “Jane, what’s happened?“ Mel asked with hypnotic calm. “Why are you looking for her?“
    Jane took a deep breath. “I spoke to her a few minutes ago. She said she’d lied about losing the notebook and she’d figured out what something in it meant. She said it was something awful.“
    “What?“ Shelley asked.
    “There wasn’t time for her to tell me. Trey came up just then and practically dragged us back to eat. She said to meet her later.“
    “Where?“ Mel demanded.
    “Behind the visitor center—the little farmhouse— up on the hill.“
    Before Jane had finished speaking, they’d all taken off running up the hill. “Crispy! Are you there?“ Jane yelled breathlessly as they crested the hill. The three of them headed around behind the visitor center.
    Mel, in better shape, was in the lead. “Not here!“ he shouted back. Jane, trailing, changed course and rushed in the entrance door at the east end of the building.
    Crispy was sprawled on the floor, her legs and arms askew as if she were a doll that had been flung down in a child’s rage.

- 22 -

    Jane shrieked for Mel as she flung herself toward Crispy. Being careful not to move her limbs or get near the blood pooling beneath her head, Jane gingerly put her fingers to Crispy’s neck. She thought there was a pulse, but it could have been the pounding of her own heart echoing in her fingers.
    “Run down to the police car in the parking lot,“ Mel ordered Shelley. “Tell the officer to call for an ambulance and crime scene unit.“ He knelt on the other side of Crispy and did as Jane had done, touching her throat with his fingers.
    “Is she alive?“ Jane whispered, her voice clogging in her throat.
    “Barely.“ He put his head down almost on the tiled floor and peered at Crispy intently. He said, “She’s been struck hard on the side of the head.“
    “My God!“ Beth said from the west doorway. Because of the partitions that held the displays, they hadn’t seen her coming until she rounded the comer.
    At the same moment, Pooky came skidding in the east door and gasped at the scene. “We saw you running up here. What’s happened?“
    “Somebody’s tried to kill Crispy,“ Jane said,
    “Ladies, out of the way, please. Each of you take a door and keep everybody out but the medics. Now!“ Mel ordered.
    185 Jane knew she shouldn’t touch Crispy, but took her hand anyway. “Crispy, hang on. Help is coming,“ she said, hoping Crispy could hear or sense the comfort. She put the back of Crispy’s hand to her cheek. It felt as cold as marble.
    Crispy’s eyelids fluttered and her lips pursed as if she were attempting to form words. “Mmmmeee—“ she said.
    Jane leaned closer. “Who did this to you, Crispy?“
    “Meet—“ Crispy tried again with an enormous effort.
    “You met someone. Yes. Who did you meet?“
    Crispy tried to shake her head, but her face crumpled in agony at the movement. “Meet.... Trey....“ she forced out.
    “You met Trey?“
    “No-o-o—“ It began as a word, but ended as a whimpering exhalation.
    Jane could hear sirens in the distance and the babble of excited, alarmed conversation outside the building. Above it, she heard Shelley saying very loudly and firmly, “Step back! Get out of the way! The medics need to get through. Clear a path. Harry! Sylvia! Stop dithering around like dummies and get the hell out of the way!“
    Suddenly a mob of people in white coats was filling the room, bumping into exhibits, giving orders, clanging around shiny, dangerous-looking equipment. Jane was lifted from the floor and nearly thrown aside. Mel caught her as she crashed against a plastic trash container. She let him hold her up for a moment, then leaned back against the wall, trying not to look at what they were doing to Crispy.
    “Come on, Jane. You can’t help here,“ he said.
    “I can’t leave her,“ Jane said. A wiry little blond woman in white had balled her fist and struck Crispy on her breastbone. Jane felt her stomach roll and leaned over the trash barrel to be sick.
    But nothing came except a bitter taste at the back of her throat and a rush of freezing sweat on her face and neck. She was afraid to move for fear she’d keel over. Mel came