Read Online The Class Menagerie jj-4 by Jill Churchill - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jill Churchill
Tags: det_irony
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maiden name was Crisp. She's the little stylish one with the spike heels, frosted hair, and incredible fingernails. Avalon Smith is the one with the sloppy dark red hair and potato sack clothing. She's from Arkansas."
"Who else?"
"Pooky is that poor woman with the horrible facelift that went wrong and the stiff blond hair that looks like a bad wig. She seems to be stunningly stupid, so keep that in mind when you talk to her."
"I'll do that," he said wryly. "Who's the fat, sloppy one in the carpenter overalls?"
"Kathy Herrmannson. She sees herself as the social conscience of the group. Peace, love, and recycling."
"Is that all?"
"I think s-no, I left out Mimi Soong. She's Chinese and very elegant."
Mel sat back for a moment, digesting this information. Finally he said, "Got any idea who did it?"
"Killed her? No. I think everybody would have liked to. There were jokes about drawing straws."
"Who made the jokes?"
"I won't answer that!" Jane said. "They were just jokes, because she was so unpleasant. I don't even remember who said what. Somebody was also playing practical jokes."
"Oh? What kind? Who'd they play them on?"
"Somebody exchanged the contents of Avalon's and Pooky's purses."
"So?"
"So, nothing. It was' dumb and pointless. Then alarm clocks went off all night. Cheap wind-up ones somebody had hidden in a couple of rooms. And this morning, some of the doorknobs had been taken off the outsides of bedroom doors so people couldn't get out until Edgar rescued them. None of the tricks were particularly clever or even funny, just stupid nuisances."
Mel sat back and tented his fingers. "Odd," he murmured.
"Mel — was it my imagination, or were there beer cans and cigarettes on the floor out there in the carriage house?"
"There were."
"They weren't supposed to be there."
"No, probably not."
"Then you don't suspect any of the Ewe Lambs."
"The
what?"
"Ewe Lambs. That's what the club was called."
"Grown women—"
"They weren't grown women when they joined, Mel.- It's an old club, named before political correctness was the in thing. Back to the beer and cigarettes—"
"The cans are being fingerprinted."
"So you do think it was an outsider."
"Probably so. This place had quite a reputation in the "drug trade until recently."
There was a knock on the door and before Mel could speak, Edgar rushed in. "Detective VanDyne? You're in charge here?" He introduced himself quickly, then said, "Look here, you've got to get to the bottom of this and get the killer out of my house!"
"Edgar!" Jane exclaimed. "It wasn't one of the Ewe Lambs, it was somebody from outside."
Edgar glared at her and VanDyne held his hands up for silence. "Hold it! We don't have any idea yet how it happened and we
will
thoroughly investigate all possibilities."
"Mel! You just said—" Jane began.
But he cut her off. "My personal opinion and my professional duties are not the same thing, Jane. Now, if you'll get your things, I'll have an officer drive you home."
"Home? Why?"
He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Because there's been a murder here, that's why."
"So you're making everybody leave?" Jane asked, wanting to make quite certain she understood before she took a policy position.
"No, not everybody. And I'm not 'making' you
leave. Just offering you the opportunity — which any
sensible person would take, I might add."
"Sensible," Jane said very softly, her eyes narrowing. "I may not be sensible, Detective VanDyne, but I am loyal to my friends and keep up my part of bargains. I told Edgar I'd skivvy and skivvy I will!"
Edgar's expression softened as Mel's took on a cold, professional look. "Fine. Do as you like. But as your friend, your
good
friend, I'd advise you to go home."
That made her feel a tad guilty. "Sorry, Mel. I do have to stay with Shelley and Edgar."
Mel wasn't placated. "Mr. North, may I use this room to question people? Starting with you?"
As Jane left, Mel opened the door for her and
touched her
"Who else?"
"Pooky is that poor woman with the horrible facelift that went wrong and the stiff blond hair that looks like a bad wig. She seems to be stunningly stupid, so keep that in mind when you talk to her."
"I'll do that," he said wryly. "Who's the fat, sloppy one in the carpenter overalls?"
"Kathy Herrmannson. She sees herself as the social conscience of the group. Peace, love, and recycling."
"Is that all?"
"I think s-no, I left out Mimi Soong. She's Chinese and very elegant."
Mel sat back for a moment, digesting this information. Finally he said, "Got any idea who did it?"
"Killed her? No. I think everybody would have liked to. There were jokes about drawing straws."
"Who made the jokes?"
"I won't answer that!" Jane said. "They were just jokes, because she was so unpleasant. I don't even remember who said what. Somebody was also playing practical jokes."
"Oh? What kind? Who'd they play them on?"
"Somebody exchanged the contents of Avalon's and Pooky's purses."
"So?"
"So, nothing. It was' dumb and pointless. Then alarm clocks went off all night. Cheap wind-up ones somebody had hidden in a couple of rooms. And this morning, some of the doorknobs had been taken off the outsides of bedroom doors so people couldn't get out until Edgar rescued them. None of the tricks were particularly clever or even funny, just stupid nuisances."
Mel sat back and tented his fingers. "Odd," he murmured.
"Mel — was it my imagination, or were there beer cans and cigarettes on the floor out there in the carriage house?"
"There were."
"They weren't supposed to be there."
"No, probably not."
"Then you don't suspect any of the Ewe Lambs."
"The
what?"
"Ewe Lambs. That's what the club was called."
"Grown women—"
"They weren't grown women when they joined, Mel.- It's an old club, named before political correctness was the in thing. Back to the beer and cigarettes—"
"The cans are being fingerprinted."
"So you do think it was an outsider."
"Probably so. This place had quite a reputation in the "drug trade until recently."
There was a knock on the door and before Mel could speak, Edgar rushed in. "Detective VanDyne? You're in charge here?" He introduced himself quickly, then said, "Look here, you've got to get to the bottom of this and get the killer out of my house!"
"Edgar!" Jane exclaimed. "It wasn't one of the Ewe Lambs, it was somebody from outside."
Edgar glared at her and VanDyne held his hands up for silence. "Hold it! We don't have any idea yet how it happened and we
will
thoroughly investigate all possibilities."
"Mel! You just said—" Jane began.
But he cut her off. "My personal opinion and my professional duties are not the same thing, Jane. Now, if you'll get your things, I'll have an officer drive you home."
"Home? Why?"
He looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "Because there's been a murder here, that's why."
"So you're making everybody leave?" Jane asked, wanting to make quite certain she understood before she took a policy position.
"No, not everybody. And I'm not 'making' you
leave. Just offering you the opportunity — which any
sensible person would take, I might add."
"Sensible," Jane said very softly, her eyes narrowing. "I may not be sensible, Detective VanDyne, but I am loyal to my friends and keep up my part of bargains. I told Edgar I'd skivvy and skivvy I will!"
Edgar's expression softened as Mel's took on a cold, professional look. "Fine. Do as you like. But as your friend, your
good
friend, I'd advise you to go home."
That made her feel a tad guilty. "Sorry, Mel. I do have to stay with Shelley and Edgar."
Mel wasn't placated. "Mr. North, may I use this room to question people? Starting with you?"
As Jane left, Mel opened the door for her and
touched her
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