Irregardless of Murder (Miss Prentice Cozy Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page B

stories?”
    I shook my head. “Quite the contrary. She was scrupulously honest.”
    “How about mental problems?”
    “What?” I was honestly shocked.
    He waved his pen hand vaguely. “You know, delusions, that sort of thing?”
    “Who told you that? You didn’t know Marguerite, did you?”
    He locked eyes with me for a split second before jerking his gaze down to his writing. “I’m not at liberty to say right now,” he said quickly, tilting his eyebrows slightly by way of apology.
    “Oh.” Interesting. “I understand. But no, I don’t think there was anything wrong with Marguerite. She just tried a little too hard and the other kids didn’t understand her.”
    “But you did?”
    I thought carefully. “Not necessarily. But I didn’t make fun of her, and I praised her when she did well. I was just doing my job and being decent to the girl, but she thought of me as her special friend. You’d be surprised how many students are starved for attention. Sad, really.”
    “It’s very sad, Miss Prentice.” Dennis stood, tucking the pad and pen in his pocket. “Well, I guess that’s all for now. I’ll call you if I have any more questions.”
    “Please do. And say hello to Dorothy and Meaghan for me. Is she still in nursery school at St. Anthony’s?”
    “Kindergarten now, all day long,” he corrected me, smiling. The class bell sounded and he departed as my fourth period class began straggling in.
    “Hey, I know who that was,” said Hardy Patschke, sliding into his seat. “He’s a cop, like my dad.”
    “He’s also a former student of mine, Hardy,” I pointed out. Let him think it was some sort of reunion.
    “No kidding!” The boy tilted his head and squinted at me. “How old are you, anyway?”
    “I plead the Fifth Amendment on that one.”
    “Huh?”
    “Look it up, or better yet, ask Mr. Sweeny in social studies.”
    “Does he know how old you are?”
    I smiled at him sweetly. “A question like that calls for another question, I think. Ten, in fact. Everyone take out a sheet of paper and number from one to ten.”
    The class groaned.
    I’d planned a pop quiz all along, but they had no way of knowing that.
    At noon I called Marie LeBow from the pay phone just outside the lunchroom. She answered immediately, sounding much stronger than I’d expected.
    “I’m glad you called. I wanted to talk to you.” Her voice was girlish and a little nasal, an echo of her daughter’s.
    “Oh, Marie, I am just so sorry.”
    “I know you are,” she said wearily. “Thanks. I don’t feel it yet, you know? Don’t seem real.”
    “I know.”
    “The neighbors have been real nice. Brought food and everything. My sister’s coming over to stay with me. People at the college give me a week off.” Marie worked in the campus dining hall.
    “That was good of them,” I said, choking up a little.
    “She didn’t take drugs, Miss Prentice. She hated drugs. She didn’t do what they said in the paper. You believe me, don’t you?”
    “Of course I believe you, Marie.” What else could I say?
    “You were special to her, you know? ‘Miss Prentice is my favorite teacher,’ she told me.”
    “She did?” I was crying in earnest now. “She was special, too. She was a sweet girl. You did a good job with her.”
    “Yeah. Listen, I got something for you.”
    “What?” I was blowing my nose.
    “Marguerite wanted you to have something.”
    “Oh, Marie,” I protested, embarrassed. “That’s not necessary. I couldn’t possibly . . . ”
    “Nope,” she said stubbornly. “I’m supposed to give it to you. Can I bring it tonight?”
    “Wouldn’t you rather I came to your house?”
    “Nope,” Marie said again, and paused. “I don’t think so. I’ll come tonight.”
    “You come whenever you like. We’ll have a chance to talk.”
    “Yeah. We’ll talk. Listen, one more thing: What’s UDJ mean?”
    “What is that? A radio station?”
    “It’s not important. Just something I was wondering