The Class Menagerie

shelf meant for keeping meats. A meat tray .
    But Edgar kept flat boxes of Godiva chocolates in it. Jane pulled the drawer out as far as it would go and started lifting out the gold boxes of candy. At the back, under the last box, was a little stack of yellow sheets of paper.
    Jane grabbed the papers, glanced through, and shoved them into the pocket of her skirt. Then she hastily put the candy back and closed the door. She went back to the living room, where people were milling around the library table, serving themselves dinner. Shelley and Trey had been cornered by the accountant and the consumer rights advocate, who were giving them hell about the nature of the “banquet“ and the money they’d paid for it.
    “Excuse me,“ Jane said. “Shelley, I need to talk to you.“
    “Now, just a minute, little lady,“ the accountant said. “We got us some business to talk over with Shelley. You’re gonna have to hold your horses.“
    Jane stepped back, fished the papers out of her pocket and held them up for Shelley to see. Shelley’s eyes went saucerlike. “I’m afraid it’s your horses that are going to have to wait; Lloyd,“ she said, pushing past him. “Put those away before somebody sees them,“ Shelley hissed as she took Jane’s arm and hurried her to the library. She slammed the door behind them and said, “Let me see!“

- 24 -

    Jane laid the papers out on an end table next to the sofa and turned on the lamp. At first glance they didn’t seem to mean much of anything. Same names, numbers, many items crossed out. Some starred.
    “I have to give them to Mel right away.“
    “Right!“ Shelley said. She went to the corner where the copier and fax stood and turned on the copier. “Lay them out,“ she said.
    They made two copies and Shelley stayed behind while Jane went to the dining room. She tapped on the door and opened it. “Detective VanDyne—“
    Mel was sitting across the table from Trey Moffat’s wife, who looked like a rabbit caught in someone’s headlights. “Mrs. Jeffry, I’m busy at the moment,“ Mel said sharply. “If you could wait outside for—“
    “I’m sorry, but it really can’t wait.“ Jane came into the room and handed him the yellow sheets.
    He looked down at them, then at her. “Where did you find these?“
    “In the refrigerator. In the M-E-A-T T-R-A-Y.“
    He smiled at her. “Good. Good! Thank you, Mrs. Jeffry.“
    She all but danced back to the library. Shelley was sitting on the sofa, staring at one of the two copies they’d made. By overlapping the pages, they’d gotten
    200 the information from all six small sheets of yellow paper on one page.
    Shelley handed Jane the second copy. “She did a nice job of being obscure. If you didn’t know what these meant, you’d never guess, and some still don’t make sense.“
    Jane studied her sheet. “There isn’t one for Crispy.“
    “She must have destroyed her own page.“
    Under Avalon’s name was a long number and ARK with a date following it. A couple of telephone numbers had been crossed out. “That must be a case number or something for the charge about the drugs,“ Jane said. “Possibly the date the case was filed, or the date the charges were made.“
    “And the telephone numbers are probably the foster care agencies she contacted. I’ll bet the starred number is the one where she actually got the information she was looking for. None of the pages have more than one number starred.“
    “Pooky’s looks pretty much the same.“
    “Kathy’s is the easiest,“ Shelley said. “It’s a list of stock abbreviations and I imagine the figures that follow are the number of shares Kathy has. What are the telephone numbers? Brokers, probably. If nothing else, the police are going to ask the people at these numbers some pretty awkward questions about how Lila got confidential information.“
    “What do you suppose Beth’s means?“ Jane asked.
    Bern’s entry said “S. Francisco—Dr. Page—Admissions“ and a telephone number with a California area code followed.
    “A hospital, it looks like. What would Beth have to do with a hospital?“ Shelley asked.
    “A mental hospital, maybe. A breakdown?“ Jane wondered. “And what does Mimi’s mean?“ Mimi’s entry said “St. Vincent’s—admission date?—b.cert.“ and some crossed out telephone numbers followed it.
    “If starred numbers mean success in getting the information, she didn’t get what she wanted on Mimi,“ Shelley