about to tell her. By bedtime, they had at least twelve possible dog candidates, and I had acid reflux.
Monday morning, I went to see Anne Mignano. I felt she deserved a progress report, despite the fact that I hadn’t made the least bit of progress.
Ramona, the school secretary, looked a little surprised when I appeared in the office, and asked if there was trouble with Ethan. I told her no, I was here to see Mrs. Mignano on an unrelated matter, and Ramona’s eyes narrowed. There’s nothing Ramona hates worse than gossip when she’s not in on it.
She didn’t have time to grill me further, however, because Anne appeared in her doorway and waved me in. She didn’t look happy, and what I was going to tell her wasn’t going to lighten her mood any.
I sat down in the visitor’s chair and looked unhappy. Anne sat in her desk chair, and didn’t look any cheerier. We sat and assessed each other for a few moments.
“You don’t look like you’re here with good news,” she started.
“I’m afraid not. Anne, I’m sorry.”
She stood up and checked again to make sure the door was closed, which she knew it was. Anne started to pace, which is something like saying that Jennifer Lopez is the shy, retiring type. The words don’t go together.
“It’s not your fault, Aaron. There’s no way a simple prank should cause this much pressure, anyway. I’m sure I’m just being overdramatic.”
Hearing the word “pressure” from Anne Mignano was a startling experience, like a punch to the gut when you weren’t prepared for it. Anne usually handles pressure the way most of us handle breathing. I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I just don’t have any leads to go on,” I said. “Nobody saw what happened, or if they did, they aren’t going to rat out a friend. You investigated it yourself each time, and now weeks have gone by and the trail is cold. I’m just. . . I wish I had something else to tell you. Anything else.”
The fact that I hadn’t actually interviewed anyone, because I couldn’t think of anyone to interview, didn’t seem like the kind of information I especially wanted to share at this moment. Anne kept walking back and forth behind her desk, playing with a rubber band in her hand. For someone as perfectly controlled as she usually is, this was the equivalent of tearing her clothes off and running naked through the hallways. I was actually frightened.
“It’s not your failure, Aaron. It’s mine. I appreciate your trying.”
So I was defeated, then. I’d let a friend down, and it was going to cost her, if not her job, then something equally precious to her—her dignity. It wasn’t exactly my finest moment.
“How much time do you have left?” I asked.
“A day or two, but no more than that,” Anne replied. “The board meets on Thursday, and they’ll expect a report by then. I don’t really think they’ll terminate me, but they will give me a slap on the wrist in private, and everyone will know about it before I leave the room. Besides, you know, my contract is up next year, and in this town, the people will remember something like this.”
She flopped down in her chair. I was starting to wonder if maybe there were someone who looked exactly like Anne Mignano, and was impersonating her now, because this woman’s behavior was completely opposite that of the principal I knew.
Come on, it had worked for Waldrick Malone. For a while.
“Well, don’t do anything until that meeting,” I told her. “I have two days. I’ll come up with something.”
“Aaron. . .”
But I was already on my feet and at her door. I nodded to Ramona on the way out, and now she was really steamed about not knowing what I was up to.
Halfway out the door, though, it occurred to me that there was someone who might have some insight into the stink bomb incident, and I might as well seek him out while I was here.
Reese McElvoy, the Buzbee School janitor (pardon me, custodian), took any physical assault on what he referred to as “his” school building personally. Reese had been employed as a certified public accountant for a chain of tax-preparation storefronts before the whole adding-and-subtracting thing got to be too much for him, and he ditched it to work among children. He’d never had any of his own, and didn’t have to pay for anyone’s college tuition, so Reese and his wife could