The Class Menagerie

Hector had already met her in the driveway and shot into the house between her feet. “Decided against the silk dress, I see,“ Shelley said sarcastically.
    “It seemed a bit festive for the occasion.“ Jane was wearing a denim skirt and a camel-colored sweater Mike had outgrown.
    “You look like a bag lady.“
    “No, I look like Avalon.“ She shoved her purse“
    into the cabinet next to the back door. Hector tried to squirm in and investigate the cabinet, but she pulled him out, protesting loudly. “So, how bad is it?“ she asked Shelley.
    “About as bad as you’d expect. Mel’s in the dining room, interviewing people. Everybody else is milling around in the living room. There are about fifteen of us, excluding the police. But only the five remaining Ewe Lambs are suspects.“
    “Not really,“ Jane said. “I was thinking about it on the way over. You and I are officially on the list even though Mel certainly knows we didn’t do it. And there are two others who have been present for the duration of the reunion. Let’s sit down for a minute. I can’t face it yet.“
    Jane absentmindedly wandered the kitchen, looking at the food that was almost ready to be served. In spite of the morbid circumstances, Edgar had put on a feast. There were stuffed lamb chops, scalloped potatoes with a faint rosemary smell, a braised celery dish, a cold beet salad with sour cream and dill, and a cauliflower concoction that looked as if it had been parboiled and marinated in a spicy dressing. For those with a lesser appetite, there was a melon boat, cold meats and cheeses, and rye rolls. The food smelled wonderful, but Jane couldn’t have eaten a bite.
    Shelley poured two cups of Edgar’s remarkable coffee and they sat down at the kitchen table. Jane lighted a cigarette. Hector, curled in the chair opposite her, gave a disdainful look of disapproval.
    “Who are the other two?“ Shelley asked. “What did you mean by that?“
    Jane lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “Edgar and Gordon.“
    “You don’t think—“
    “No, I don’t. But we’ve been pretty dumb to discount them entirely and you know Mel must be considering them.“
    “But they had no previous connection with the Ewe Lambs.“
    “—that you know of.“
    “Oh, Jane. I wish you’d never said this. I think I’m going mad! Oh, you’ll love this: there are two couples here who actually believe this is a party. They came voluntarily!“
    “No.“
    “Yes. An accountant and some twit who works for a consumer advocacy group. They put their pointy little heads together and decided that they’d paid for a reunion banquet and By God, they were going to attend one, come hell or high water. The accountant has a wife along who looks like she’s hunting for a rock to crawl under. Oh, and Pooky’s plastic surgeon friend came. He didn’t have to, but came for Pooky’s sake. Which I think is sweet.“
    “It looks like one person has come out ahead. I’m glad. Did Mel say anything else about Crispy’s condition?“
    “Just that she’s still hanging on. He did mention that they found the weapon. A heavy stick from those woods behind the building. It must have been a perfect club, heavy, close at hand, and easy to dispose of.“
    “Fingerprints?“
    “No. The bark was too rough.“
    “Anything about the notebook?“
    “Mel said the prints were wiped off,!’ Shelley reported.
    “Shelley, I keep trying to imagine what happened before we got there. Crispy must have had the notebook with her and confronted somebody with what she’d learned.“
    “Presumably.“
    “But who tore the pages out?“
    “Her attacker. Who else would? She probably ran into that little rest room at the visitor center and flushed them.“
    “Not likely. Think about the timing. If her attacker had lots of leisure time, she’d have made sure she’d finished Crispy off.“
    “That’s right. Why didn’t she?“
    “Maybe because we were running up the hill yelling. And even if she didn’t hear us coming, she had to have known that anybody could have walked in any second just to have a look around. She didn’t have a lot of time. Just enough to club Crispy, grab the notebook, wipe off her fingerprints, shove it in the trash, and get the hell away from the place. Tearing out pages and flushing them -would have taken even more time. And I don’t think a toilet was running when I got in there, although I admit I wasn’t noticing much of anything but Crispy, and I