The Class Menagerie

said.
    “Shelley, could you please talk to Lloyd!“ Trey Moffat said from the doorway. He was jiggling the baby, who was starting to look tired and cranky.
    They hadn’t heard him open the door. Jane and Shelley hastily folded and concealed the papers they’d been studying. “Oh, Trey, just smack him, why don’t you?“ Shelley snapped. “This party is your problem, not mine.“
    “C’mon, Shelley! The police are grilling my wife! Help me out here!“ Trey’s good nature had finally run out.
    “Okay, but you aren’t going to like what I say to him,“ Shelley said, getting up and rejoining the group in the living room. Not being especially eager to see bloodshed, Jane stayed back, opened her sheet of paper again, and studied it for a few moments without making any more sense of it. Slipping it back into her pocket, she wandered out to the living room.
    Lloyd was sitting down next to the television with a plate of food on his knees. His wife was fussing over him and trying to conceal a smile. He looked like he’d been hit between the eyes with a brick. Shelley must have laid some pretty brutal truths on him. Shelley herself was calmly serving herself from a casserole of scalloped potatoes and chatting with Avalon and Edgar. Much as Attila the Hun must have done after a day of looting and pillaging , Jane thought to herself.
    Mrs. Moffat had been turned loose from the glare of police attention and seemed enormously relieved. She was sitting on the sofa next to Trey, playing pat-a-cake with the baby and making syrupy cooing noises. Pooky was sitting on the other side of Mrs. Moffat, laughing. Pooky’s new friend was standing over her, his hand on her shoulder. Jane was drawn to this pleasant circle. She sat down in the chair at right angles to the sofa.
    She had it. She knew somewhere deep in her subconscious all this made sense. If she could just pull out the right pieces and make them fit together.
    “Is he headed for the ministry, too?“ Pooky’s friend asked Trey.
    “If he wants,“ Trey said, putting his arm around his cute little wife and smiling idiotically at the baby. “Or the law, or medicine. My only responsibility will be to see that he gets into the best college that money or bribery can buy!“ He laughed uproariously.
    “What did you say?“ Jane asked, sitting forward so suddenly she nearly upset the coffee table with her knee.
    “Oh, it was just a joke, Mrs. Jeffry!“ Trey said, alarmed that she might have taken him seriously. It seemed he’d just realized that ministers shouldn’t make jokes about indulging in illegal activities.
    “Yes. I know. The best college...“
    “Are you all right?“ Trey asked her.
    “Yes, fine. Fine. I just—Pooky, what was Ted’s father’s first name?“
    ‘Ted’s dad? The judge? I have no idea. No, let me think—Samuel, maybe. Or Steven. No, it was Samuel. Why?“
    “S. Francisco—“ Jane muttered.
    If she’d only paid closer attention to something her son Mike had said, she’d have figured it out long ago.
    If she was right...
    If Lila was right.
    Jane fished the folded paper out of her pocket, excused herself, and went to the kitchen. Fortunately, nobody was there but Hector, who was sitting on a chair, stretching his neck to look at the counter. Jane reached for the phone and punched in the California telephone number that had the star next to it. After four endless rings, a machine picked up. “This is the admissions office of Stanford University. Our office hours are — “
    Jane hung up the phone. Hector said, “Brbrbreow!“ She scratched his ears absently. Yes. Not a hospital. “Admissions“ didn’t mean a hospital. It meant a college. And “S. Francisco“ didn’t mean San Francisco, it meant Samuel Francisco, the judge who hadn’t approved of Beth dating her son, but had inexplicably given her a glowing recommendation that had eliminated the final hurdle to her getting a full scholarship.
    Or so Lila had told someone.
    Jane paced for a moment and suddenly stopped in her tracks, her mind dashing in sixteen directions at once. Calm down , she told herself, closing her eyes. One thing at a time.
    The recommendation was a forgery, just as Mike had jokingly suggested for himself days ago. Ted, still enamored of Beth, had probably stolen some of his father’s stationery for her and might have supplied something with Judge Francisco’s signature. And Beth had sailed into college on a full scholarship. Not that she