This was of interest, naturally, and I related the recent events, glossing over my reluctance to be drawn into a quagmire of cuteness. “I can’t remember the woman’s name,” I concluded, “but she’s the wife of the law school dean. She’s also some kind of alumna adviser, so I suppose she might have the names and addresses of the girls’ families.”
Peter sent Jorgeson to work on it, then gestured for me to follow him out of Jean’s room. “What can you tell me about the Wray girl? Do you have any theories why she’d want to hurt the victim-or where she might be at this moment?”
“Debbie Anne told me that Jean gave her a bad time, but I failed to spot any flicker of diabolical desire to seek revenge in the alley because of it. She’s a limp, impassive girl, more likely to sit in a corner and whimper than to do something violent.” I shuddered as once again Jean’s face forced its way into my mind, and I halted and leaned against the wall to steady myself. “As for her whereabouts, I doubt she’s out on a date. You might try the library if it hasn’t closed.”
“I’ll need a description.”
I was doing my best to paint a colorful picture of a girl less animated than the faded carpet in the hallway when we heard a scream from the front part of the house. Peter hurried past me, careened around the corner, and vanished. Having become somewhat desensitized to the Kappas’ screams, I trailed after him with more decorum and arrived in the lounge in time to see Winkie clutch her neck.
“Men are not allowed in the private rooms,” she gasped as her eyes rolled back and she crumpled to the floor.
5
“Well, at least we know where two of them are,” I said as I knelt beside Winkie and patted her cheek. At my request, Jorgeson went to the kitchen and returned with a damp dishtowel; I toyed with the idea of using it on myself, then relented and placed it across my patient’s forehead. “You must have scared her pretty badly, Jorgeson. What’d you do to her?”
Peter glared at me as if I were in some way responsible for this most recent disaster, as well as everything else that had occurred of late, including but not limited to the breakdown of the Middle East peace talks and the hole in the ozone layer. Barely able to spit out the words, he said, “And this is…
“Mrs. Winklebury, the housemother.” Irritated by his unseemly attitude, I sat back on my heels and looked up at him with a bland smile. “But I’m quite sure she’ll insist that you call her Winkie. There’s some sort of obscure tradition that all the housemothers must have fuzzy-wuzzy nicknames. The cats, on the other hand, are invariably called Katie.” I noticed Jorgeson was scribbling notes and added, “That’s Katie the Kappa Kitten, to be precise, immortalized on those zillions of construction-paper cutouts plastered on every surface in this residence. If science is unable to meet the challenge, they’ll continue to proliferate at an alarming rate and soon we shall be awash in them.”
Peter bristled so fiercely I could see the dear little hairs on his neck rise. “Thank you for your insight into sorority traditions. Perhaps it’s time for you to-”
“What happened?” Winkle said groggily, thus rescuing me from a temporary eviction, if not a permanent exile.
“You fainted.” I helped her to her feet and guided her to the nearest sofa. “Would you like some water?”
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. It was so silly of me to overreact that way, but with all these prowlers outside the house and the problems among the girls and my medication, I’m a nervous wreck. I simply don’t”-she dropped her voice to a noticeably fermented whisper- “understand why these men are roaming all over the house. Who are they and how did they get inside?” She pointed a stubby finger at Peter and Jorgeson. “You cannot remain in the lounge! It’s not allowed, not allowed at all!”
I glanced at Peter, who nodded at me and herded Jorgeson out to the foyer, where they began to talk in low and, unfortunately, inaudible rumbles.
Winkie deflated into the upholstery, her complexion as gray as her dress. “I do hope I wasn’t too brusque,” she said dispiritedly. “Because of allergies, I take rather strong antihistamines, and they add to my anxiety. I haven’t had a night off since spring break, you know, and I decided to slip out and go to the movies, to be surrounded by people of my own generation instead of these… girls.” Her small, childlike hands shot into the afr and saliva dripped down her chin. “But what should I see as I approach the theater? A long line of high school and college students, all pushing and braying and behaving as if each and every one of them had been raised by wolves.”
“Oh dear7 I murmured, bemused by her lack of interest in the presence of Peter, Jorgeson, and me in the house. Her initial reaction had been strong enough to evoke a bout of the vapors, but now she seemed much more concerned about justifying her absence than demanding explanations.
“Sitting in the theater with them was out of the question,” she continued. “I ended up taking a nice, quiet drive up on the mountain, where I could admire the lights below and enjoy the tranquility. I can’t tell you how lovely it was to be all by myself for a few hours.”
“I’m sorry the officer frightened you.”
She clutched my arm. “Officer? That man who was here? I heard a noise in the lounge and came to investigate, fully expecting to find the girls playing bridge or studying together. With the exception of the cooks and waiters, men are never allowed in the back of the house. National has very strict rules about that. If one of the girls allows her date to so much as step across the threshold, she’ll find herself facing the standards committee within twenty-four hours. One of my most sacred duties is to accompany any repairman who needs to go beyond the public rooms.”
Her antihistamines must have been industrial-strength, I thought as I waited for her to return to the issue at hand. Either that, or whatever kind of training she’d endured to become a housemother included a partial lobotomy, “National” was sounding less like a committee of conscientious alumnae and more like a squadron of Gestapo agents in pink silk suits.
I took a deep breath and said, “I think you’d better hear what happened tonight. There’s been an accident, and I’m afraid one of the girls… was run down in the alley behind the house.”
“Run down? What do you mean? I don’t understand what you’re saying, Claire! Is she dead? Who?”
I gave her a skimpy account of what had happened, admitted we’d been in the four bedrooms in search of information concerning Jean’s next of kin, and omitted to mention that the car registration had been traced to someone who coincidentally shared the same last name and hometown of a Kappa pledge.
“Then it was a senseless accident?” Covering her face with her hands, Winkle began to rock back and forth, moaning softly and occasionally flicking away a tear with an impatient gesture. “Oh, that poor, poor girl. She was so intelligent, so determined, so decisive, and a truly outstanding Kappa Theta Eta. She’s maintained the highest grade point average in the house since her first semester as a pledge, and it was very likely that she would receive a stipend from the scholarship foundation to help finance her law studies.”
I allowed her to carry on for a minute, then eased her hands away from her face and handed her the dishtowel. “The police haven’t been able to locate Jean’s parents yet. Do you have paperwork with that sort of information?”
“There’s a file cabinet in my bedroom. The keys to it and to the suite are in my handbag there on the floor I’d appreciate it so much if you could see to it, Claire. Never has any of the girls been seriously ill, much less… passed away while under my care. I feel responsible for Jean’s tragedy. If only I’d been here, she might not have walked up the alley but instead chosen to stay on the sidewalk. I don’t know how many times I’ve scolded them for utilizing shortcuts at night.”