vicious bastard. So there was no chance. I tried a few times, when I could hear her snoring, but as soon as I made a move, the dog would do this low growling bit and I'd have to stay dead still. I tell you, standing still for near on nine hours is not something I want to do again in a hurry.”
“Poor Kiffo. It does sound appalling. So how come you got out when you did? Don't tell me she gets up at five a.m. to go for a 10K run?”
Kiffo brightened.
“It's sorta weird, Calma. Get this. At four-forty-something the phone rings. I damn near crapped myself. I'd kinda fallen asleep on my feet by then and I thought it was a police siren. The roach in my trousers started jumping about. Like that Irish idiot. So I'm wide awake and I can hear the Pitbull talking. She's really tired, her voice all grumpy at being woken up. ‘Who the hell is it?’ she says, or something like that. And then there's this long silence and then she says, ‘What, now? It's nearly five in the morning. Can't it wait?’ More silence. And then she says, ‘Let Ravioli deal with it.'”
“She's talking about pasta at five in the morning?”
“What?”
“You said ‘ravioli.’”
“Well, it was something like that. Some Italian name.There's more silence and then she says, ‘All right. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Don't let him get away from you this time, or you're dead.’ Something along those lines, anyway. So she gets up and leaves the house, taking the bloody dog with her. What is all that about, Calma? I mean, who gets up at five in the morning for secret meetings, and what does she mean about not getting away and ‘or you're dead’?”
“I've no idea, Kiffo. Business, maybe.”
Kiffo snorted.
“Business? She's a teacher, Calma. What business is she doing at five on a Saturday morning? Comparing exercise books? No, she's up to something. You didn't hear her. She sounded really mean on the phone, like whoever she was going to see was going to regret it. Like, major.”
“She always sounds mean.”
“Not like this. This was serious.”
“So what do you reckon it was?”
Kiffo leaned toward me conspiratorially and lowered his voice. Not that he needed to. There was no one awake within a ten-mile radius.
“I reckon she's a member of the Mafia.”
I shook my head firmly.
“Kiffo. As you pointed out just now, she's an English teacher in a high school. Just how many Mafia members do you think take on second jobs in the Education Department? ‘This Mafia business doesn't seem to be paying very well. I think I'll get a teaching job to enhance my superannuation.’ Come on. I mean, there'd be opportunities for drug supplying,I guess, but it's not like she's operating a numbers racket on the oval or offering the canteen protection.”
“Well, I dunno, do I? But I'm going to find out.”
“Kiffo, give it a break. We both had a horrible night last night.” I decided that I wouldn't tell him about my protestations of undying love to Miss Payne. Kiffo's not the kind of person to take the charitable view. He'd give me heaps if he knew. “Let's just cut our losses. Anyway, you've trashed her place now, so that's it, isn't it? Revenge accomplished.”
A look of sheepishness passed over Kiffo's face.
“You did do it, didn't you, Kiffo?” I said. “I mean, that's why you went there. That's why you spent hours in her wardrobe. So you could trash her place when she and the hound left. Don't tell me you left without doing it.”
Kiffo looked pained.
“I forgot,” he said.
Mrs. Mills:
Please make yourself comfortable, Calma. How are you today?
Calma:
Fine, thanks, Mrs. Mills.
Mrs. Mills:
Anything bothering you?
Calma:
Only that I was told to come to your office.
Mrs. Mills:
It bothers you, coming to see the student counselor, does it?
Calma:
No. Well, a bit, I suppose.
Mrs. Mills:
And why do you think that might be?
Calma:
Because it suggests I need counseling, I guess.
Mrs. Mills:
And do you think that you
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