Stork Raving Mad (30 page)

Michael and the chief burst into the hallway in a dead heat. The chief skidded to a stop to draw his weapon and back Sammy up. Michael hurried to my side. Behind the chief, Art, Abe, The Face, Dad, and an assorted crowd of students were jostling in the hallway, trying to see.

“Are you okay?” Michael asked.

“I’m fine,” I said. “We need to—”

“She hit me with a piece of furniture,” Blanco said.

“That’s because he was attempting to kidnap me,” I said.

“I can’t believe the SUV that hit Hawkeye was parked right outside all day,” Sammy said. “If only I’d had a chance to patrol the grounds earlier.”

“Sammy!” Horace burst through the front door. “He’s got suitcases in his car! He was about to flee the jurisdiction.”

“You might want to search the suitcases for wads of cash, or bearer bonds, or whatever absconding embezzlers like to pack these days,” I said.

“No, he’s probably just taking clothes.” Josh pushed through the crowd, carrying a laptop under one arm. “I just figured out a little while ago that he sent a whole bunch of wire transfers
this morning to his off shore banking accounts. The college would have been fifty million dollars poorer if he’d gotten away with it.”

“Fifty million dollars!” The Face yelped.

“Would have been?” the chief echoed.

“I fixed it,” Josh said, punching the air with his fingers as if imitating their rapid flight over the keys of his computer. “The money’s all back in his U.S. accounts now. Easier to reclaim.”

“No wonder he wasn’t paying the damned bills.” Randall Shiffley’s voice came from the crowd behind the chief.

“His real name’s Henry White,” I said. “Dr. Wright found out he was pretending to be Hispanic and she was blackmailing him into helping her persecute drama students. He killed her.”

“You’ll never prove it!” Blanco said.

“We’ll see about that,” the chief said. “Now, Ms. Langslow, if you could tell me just what—”

“Later,” I shouted as another cramp hit me. “Call Dr. Waldron. Take me to the hospital!”

“Breathe,” Michael ordered, and he began doing the hee-hee-hee-hoo breathing.

It wasn’t just him. I looked up to see not only Michael, but also Art, Abe, and Rose Noire, all hovered over me, going hee-hee-hee-hoo. Dad was checking my pulse. The chief was looking anxiously from me to the coaching squad, as if not sure whether to hee-hoo or not.

“Enough already,” I said. “Save it for the next contraction. I need to talk to him.”

I pointed to The Face, who started, making his normally handsome features look just a little like those of an anxious sheep. Everyone else turned to stare at him, visibly puzzled.

“Now!” I said. “And give us some privacy,” I added. “Everybody out but Michael, Art, and Abe!”

“And me,” the chief said.

“I’m staying,” Dad said.

“Whatever,” I said. “But I need air. Get the rest of these people out of here.”

“Everybody out!” the chief said. “Right now!”

People streamed out of the hall in every direction.

“Aren’t you going to read me my rights?” Blanco asked.

“You hush up a moment,” the chief said. “Your time will come. This could be important.”

The Face shuffled cautiously nearer. Just as he reached my side, another contraction hit. I hee-hee-hee-HOO’d though it and when I turned my attention back to The Face, he was wide-eyed with terror.

“Sorry about that,” I said. “I’ll make this quick. When the chief and his men finish sorting through Dr. Blanco’s and Dr. Wright’s offices, I think they’ll find that in addition to Blanco’s fiscal misdeeds, the two of them have been up to a great many things that you don’t approve of.” At least I hoped Blanco had been pulling the wool over his boss’s eyes, not carrying out his policies. If The Face was in on it, Caerphilly was in more trouble than I wanted to imagine.

“Oh, yes, definitely!” The Face said. He was almost babbling. “I can’t tell you how dismayed I am. He seemed quite reliable,
of course. Unfortunately that led to his being given a great deal of independence. I’m afraid most of his recent actions and decisions will have to be very carefully reviewed by the appropriate administrative entities. There may need to be changes.”

“Yes,” I said. “For example, you may want to rethink his attempt to cancel the performance of a play by one of Spain’s most distinguished living dramatists.” Michael coughed slightly at that, but I pressed on. “Think of the international incident that would occur if the play isn’t performed. And if the press found out that it was canceled at the behest of a cold-blooded murderer . . .”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s no problem with the play going on,” The Face said. “It’s a little risqué, of course, but then so is Shakespeare at times. I’ve been quite enjoying the rehearsal. The play can definitely proceed. Is that all?”

“Not quite,” I said. “Did you know that my grandfather has been trying to give the college a building?” I asked.

“A building?” The Face liked the sound of that. He assumed the unctuous look he usually reserved for large donors. “What building?”

“A new state-of-the art theater,” I said. “Unfortunately, it looks as if Dr. Blanco was trying to get his hands on the money Grandfather was planning to donate and abscond with it.”

The Face frowned—a rare expression, and one that could only have been evoked by the idea of someone extracting money from the college coffers rather than adding to them.

“Fortunately, the chief has foiled his plot,” I said. “And the donation can go forward. Of course, it comes with a few strings.”

The Face sighed. He was probably all too familiar with the kind of strings donors thought up.

“He’s taken a dislike to the English department,” I said. “Doesn’t want to give them a building. Can’t blame him, given all the revelations we’ve had about Dr. Wright’s dirty tricks. But if there were an independent drama department to take charge of it . . .”

“Is that possible?” The Face asked.

I glanced at Art and Abe.

“I think you’ll find we’ve already worked out a feasible structure for the change,” Abe said. He took The Face by one elbow. Art closed in on the other side, ready to steer him away and close the deal. Abe gave me a thumbs-up sign behind The Face’s back.

“Good work,” Michael said.

“Once the department’s independent, I think you should talk Kathy Borgstrom into reapplying for the Ph.D. program,” I said.

“That’s a great idea,” he said. “But right now we need to head for the hospital.”

“One more thing,” I said. “Where’s Grandfather?”

“Right here!” He stumped in from the living room. “I overheard you talking to that bureaucrat. You think I’ll get my building?”

“Odds are good,” I said. “Meanwhile, I’d really like to come home to a house empty of students.”

“I hear you,” he said. “I’d like to move back to the Caerphilly Inn, but fat chance of that, either. No offense, but your guest
room doesn’t quite match a five-star hotel. Still, it’ll have to do till they fix the heating plant.”

“Randall!”

Randall Shiffley loped into the room.

“Thanks,” he said. “Looks like we’ve solved the mystery of why that jerk wasn’t paying me. Maybe I won’t go broke after all.”

“If someone were willing to front you the money to buy that part for the heating plant, how fast could you get the damned thing working?” I asked.

Randall and my grandfather looked at each other.

“I’m not sure we could have it done by the time you get home,” Randall said. “They kick new mothers out of the hospital awfully soon these days. But I’ll do my damnedest.”

“How much money do you need?” my grandfather said.

“Go talk about it somewhere else,” Michael said as he helped me to my feet. “We have a rendezvous with an obstetrician.”

“Meg, can I have the gun now?” Horace asked.

“Okay, Dr. Blanco,” the chief said. “You’re under arrest. Sammy, read him his rights.”

“You have the right to remain silent,” Sammy began.

“I’ll give my statement later,” I said as Michael opened the door.

“Hey,” Randall called. “You still haven’t told us what you’re having. Boys, girls, or a mixed set?”

“Wait and see,” Michael and I said in unison.