by Amanda Cross
“Of course they have. But we would rather not believe the dogs are to blame, which sets us off from the police and makes us distinctive and interesting. What time do the dogs begin their rounds?”
Mr. O’Hara, with a sigh Kate recognized as the sort she was wont to draw when she found herself trapped into a cocktail party, dropped into a chair, invited them to do likewise with a barely gracious wave of his hand, and began to make a great business of lighting a pipe. He did not answer until they were all surrounded with clouds of smoke.
“Smells lovely,” Kate said.
“I’ll join you if I may,” Reed said, taking out his own pipe. Mr. O’Hara’s scowl deepened.
“Ordinary days,” he said, “I let Rose and Lily out on their rounds about eight o’clock, when I’ve finished my supper.”
“Cook for yourself?” Reed asked.
“Of course. What do you think I’ve got, a blooming maid?”
“I thought perhaps you got food from the school kitchens.”
“Cottage cheese,” O’Hara said.
“And wet tuna fish,” Kate added. Reed glared at her.
“What do you mean by ordinary days?” he asked.
“When they aren’t planning some blooming fling,” he said. “Dances, meetings, and the like. A school’s a school and ought to steer clear of all that nonsense, but they hired me to guard the place, not to run it. Those nights I don’t get the doors shut and the last of them out till nearly eleven.”
“Do the meetings run that late?” Kate asked.
“Over at ten-fifteen on the nose; Miss Tyringham is very clear about that. But of course the ladies stand around the halls gabbing away, and if it’s raining the men, poor slobs, have to try to get cabs, and one thing and another, it’s damn near eleven before the last of them is out of the building and on her way.”
“Do you wait down there to see them off?”
“I do. I’m there to see them in, too. Has to be someone, or you might have anyone wandering in, now wouldn’t you?”
“Is any real check kept on who enters?” Reed asked.
“Naturally; we are not a public theater. I know the teachers, to look at anyway, and the teachers know the parents.”
“All the same,” Reed said, “if two people, a man and a woman of the right age, and looking right, were to wander in, I bet they could even attend the meeting. The teachers can’t all know all the parents. If there’s a perfectly acceptable couple there, is anyone likely to confront them and say ‘Name your daughter or abandon these premises’? One assumes they’re somebody’s belongings and lets it go at that.”
“Not quite,” Kate said. “The Theban is more organized than it looks to the casual eye. You are asked to say if you’re coming to meetings, in the first place. Admittedly, someone might neglect to send back the form, or to telephone, or she might say she wasn’t coming and then discover she was. But, you see, each parent has a name card with that new sticky stuff that sticks to clothes without leaving a mark. It says, for instance, Mrs. or Mr. Fred Jones, Esmeralda II, Sylvia IV, and each parent sticks that on when she arrives. The box with the correct tags is already out and waiting for the parents having the meeting, and everyone sticks on a tag, the theory being that even if there’s a mama or papa whom everyone doesn’t instantly recognize, she would hardly be likely to stick on Mrs. Jones’s tag when she might sit next to someone who knows Mrs. Jones perfectly well, or Mr. Jones if a man. I do hope you’re following all this.”
“Like all the Theban arrangements, it is simpler to work than to describe; I still say that if someone made herself a tag saying Mrs. Montmorency, no one would challenge her. Everyone would assume she belonged. It’s something to keep in mind anyway. Let’s say an eye is kept for interlopers. Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. O’Hara, but we have to get everything straight and in order. Do go on.”
“With what?” Mr. O’Hara growled, with a rumble in his throat that was reminiscent of Rose and Lily.
“It’s eight o’clock on ordinary days, eleven on meeting days, and then you let the dogs out on their rounds.”
“I didn’t say I let them out on their rounds at eleven, I said that’s when everyone’s left the meeting. I go up and check the floors where the meeting’s been, and straighten up a bit, open the doors and all that. Then I take the elevators up and then I let the dogs out.”
“What about the tour you make through the building after the cleaning staff has left,” Kate asked, “opening doors and so forth?”
“I’ve already made that, same time every day. When there’s to be a meeting, I leave one of the elevators down, that’s all. I have to run that to take up the parents and all.”
“Suppose,” Reed asked, “one of the parents, or someone passing herself or himself off as a parent, were to hop upstairs and hide out after the meeting?”
“The dogs would find her. Or him. That’s what they’re there for. If I was to keep going through the building all night, I wouldn’t need the dogs, would I? And I can’t smell everyone out and they can.”
“Without question?”
“Yes, damn it, that’s what I’ve been telling them—the police, the school, Miss Tyringham, everyone asks the same blooming question. If that crazy dame was in the building hiding out, the dogs would have found her. She wasn’t there.”
“She was found there,” Reed said.
“I know she was, damn it. I found her. Someone dropped her body there after the dogs had finished, either when I had them out for their run, or when they were already upstairs.”
“Mr. O’Hara, rigor mortis had set in. At the time your dogs were out for a walk, she was as stiff as a statue, all in one piece like a hunk of marble. Do you really think someone could carry a life-size statue into this building in the morning without being seen, coming or going?”
“They did it, that’s all I know. You can break the joints in rigor mortis, can’t you? In the army …” He became aware of Kate’s presence and stopped.
“You can, though hardly all the joints. However, they didn’t. That is, there rigor was, unarguably.”
“Well, she wasn’t in the building hiding out, or the dogs would have found her.”
“As you keep saying. Suppose she was in a large room with the door closed.”
“They would have known it. They would have waited outside until I came, having missed the regular signal. Besides, if she was shut up in a room, how did they scare her to death? Why don’t you try hiding out and see?”
“Try what?”
“Hide in a room. Just stand in it and see what happens. Try to hide out where they can’t find you. I’ll know when they’ve found you, and I’ll come. You won’t be hurt if you just stand there. Try it. Hide out in the coziest place you can find. Those dogs, damn it, are as perfectly trained as West Point cadets, and they don’t ask questions.”
“How will you know when they’ve found Mr. Amhearst?” Kate nervously asked.
Mr. O’Hara positively snarled. “I’ve been telling you. The alarm won’t go off, and I’ll know they’ve cornered something when it doesn’t and I’ll go and see. It’s the safest and most secure protection there is.”
“Do you listen for the alarms in your sleep?” Kate asked.
“I sleep in the day if I’m given a chance,” Mr. O’Hara growled.
“We shall take the hint,” Reed said, rising and knocking out the tobacco from his pipe into Mr. O’Hara’s already filled and odoriferous ashtray. “May I get in touch with you if I decide to play the tethered goat? Thank you, and please say goodbye to Rose and Lily for me.”
Mr. O’Hara tramped out and lifted the trap door for them. “Push the bar on the door at the bottom,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. O’Hara,” Kate said in her best Theban manner.
Mr. O’Hara growled.
Nine
THE following morning the Theban opened with an assembly for the whole school. The rumors of the body and the dogs had swept through the student body like w
ind through a field of grass—Kate remembered that Midas’ wife, unable to keep the secret of her husband’s ass’s ears, had whispered it to the reeds by the river, who had spread the news; the metaphor in that old tale went right to the heart of rumor.
It was rare to have an assembly for the whole school in the middle of the year, but Miss Tyringham had recognized the need for some forthright statement, something which joined the students, even the littlest ones, with her in a sense of community. The babies from the kindergarten filed into the front row and sat, their eyes shining at Miss Tyringham, who stood in her gown at the podium, and their silence, the silence of the whole audience, was palpable, like a heartbeat pounding in the ears.
Since it was a morning assembly, they began by singing a hymn: “Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide, In the strife of Truth with Falsehood, for the good or evil side.” They sang with vigor, as though confirming something, and sat down with a rustle of anticipation. Miss Tyringham spoke:
“You will all know, without my having to tell you about it, the reason for this assembly. Our school has suffered an accident of the sort that gives rise to all kinds of speculation. What has, in fact, happened is that a woman, the mother of one of our seniors, Angelica Jablon, was found dead in the school building in the early morning two days ago. We know that she died of a heart attack; she was not killed by violence of any sort. We do not know for certain whether or not she was frightened by the dogs which, as you now all know, patrol the school building at night.
“I am not going to pretend to you that we understand all the ramifications of the death. We do not know what she was doing in the school building, what she was seeking here. We shall do our best, with the help of the police and private investigators, to learn as much of the truth as we can.
“You will all understand that for the sake, not only of the student involved and her family, but also for the sake of the Theban, rumor and gossip must be firmly and quietly discouraged. Of course, people will ask you about ‘the body at the Theban.’ You must answer as briefly as possible, and go on to something else. Do not, I suggest to you, use this occurrence as a way to gain attention. It is often possible, at the price of loyalty and discretion, to become momentarily the center of attention, but the price you pay is, I am sure you will agree, too high. The Theban and the family involved will survive this sad occasion the more readily with your help. I have myself complete confidence in your good sense, which is why, contrary to much advice, I have welcomed this opportunity to take you into the confidence of the school, and to provide you with all the information I, and the faculty and trustees, have. We will now sing the closing hymn, ‘O God, Our Help in Ages Past,’ and I remind the youngest girls that we wait in our seats until the singing of the Dresden Amen and then file out.”
She nodded her head briskly, and the piano struck up the opening chords.
“I hope to God she knows what’s she’s doing,” Julia said to Kate in the doorway of the auditorium.
“I think she’s right,” Kate said. “It’s always better, when you come right down to it, to trust people rather than to try to outwit them. Particularly when they will discover your secret anyway and then feel a proprietary right to it.”
“Oh, she had to tell them, of course,” Julia said. “But why not let the whole thing rest there? Blame the dogs and go on with our routine.”
“I wonder if we should use even dogs as scapegoats.”
“I don’t mean to drive them over a cliff, you know.”
“The fate of the goat never troubles me as much as the fate of those who burden it with their sins. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound ponderous—I’m as troubled as you are, and now, of course, Reed is planning to let those damn beasts corner him to see what happens. Needless to say I’m full of high principles until my husband decides to put them into action. I have never cared for medieval romances, as opposed to epics, and did not know I was marrying a knight of the Round Table.”
“Good God, Kate, I don’t think he’ll actually …”
“Oh, yes he will, he’s as stubborn as a mule when he makes up his mind about something. I’m sure there’s something more stubborn than a mule that he’s as stubborn as but I don’t know what it is. He says, of course, that the dogs are perfectly trained, that he’s seen guard dogs work, that he will wear padding, that he’s in no more danger than in driving on any highway, which is hardly consoling. Meanwhile, there are the Jablons.”
“He’s waiting downstairs.”
“Reed?”
“Mr. Jablon.”
“Whatever for?”
“You, of course.”
“Well, I’m not going to talk to him. I will see Angelica if …”
“Angelica’s in the hospital, under sedation. Perhaps he’ll tell you he attacked his daughter-in-law in the art room, exonerating the dogs, and you can call Reed off.”
“Well, I’ve got my seminar now, so I haven’t time to hear confessions; besides, he ought to deliver those to the police.”
“Stop down and say hello to the old chap. You’ve really got the wind up, haven’t you, Kate?”
“I don’t notice you offering your husband as a tethered goat, and you’re every bit as worried about the Theban as I am.”
“More worried, which is why I would have stuck to the dog story. My husband’s a tethered goat on Madison Avenue, if you really want to know.”
Kate looked at Julia a minute. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m behaving abominably. One misuses one’s friends in the knowledge that they will stand for it. Perhaps we ought to be as considerate of those we love as of those we don’t care for at all, but for some reason we never are.”
“Thank God for that,” Julia said. “Give Mr. Jablon a few kind words, and I will wander in a purposeful way through the corridors, making sure there is no gathering in groups, but a vigorous return to our usual high level of activity. What a hope.”
But in fact the school did settle down with great firmness of purpose to its varied tasks. And Kate, hearing the noise on the stairway, was glad that the building was no longer empty.
Mr. Jablon, who rose when he saw her enter the lobby, said much the same thing.
“Please sit down,” Kate said, sinking into a chair herself. “I have my seminar now. Do you think Angelica will be back with us soon?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t want to come back, which is very bad, of course. Will, that’s what is important in these matters, in all matters. Will.”
“Perhaps it’s not so much a matter of will as of confidence.”
“It is a matter of knowing what one should do.”
“Is it? I’ve come to wonder about that. For myself, I’ve discovered that when I ask myself what I should do I always tumble into confusion. The only clear question is to ask oneself what one wants to do.”
“Isn’t that mere self-indulgence?”
“It sounds like it certainly, but oddly enough, it isn’t. The ‘should’ people are really indulging themselves by never really finding out what they want. It has taken me many years to learn that discovering what one wants is the true beginning of a spiritual journey. I suspect you are interested in spiritual journeys.”
“Why do you suspect that?”
“Instinct. Recognition, perhaps. Mr. Jablon, almost all the violence and evil in the world come from the ‘should’ people. I’m ever so certain of that.”
“And are your long-haired, bomb-throwing college students who serve the Communist conspiracy ‘should’ people?” His face became suffused with anger.
“Of course they are. I don’t grant they’re part of a Communist conspiracy, not believing much in conspiracies anyway—they’re too difficult to work out. But those students are as ‘should’ as you can get, which is one of the reasons they are indistinguishable from the radical right.” Kate paused a minute, thinking of Antigone. She must mention to the students—well, perhaps not today—that Antigone had known a deep, undeniable want, to bury the body
of her brother. One didn’t really have to find religious reasons for her need; it is deeply human to treat dead bodies decently. But Creon had driven them, and primarily himself, to disaster because he was certain that Antigone’s brother should not be buried.
Mr. Jablon, with an effort, returned to practical matters as, Kate supposed, he had always done when questions tempted him down the primrose path of emotional discourse. “Is everyone satisfied with the explanation of my daughter-in-law’s death—that she was frightened into a heart attack by the dogs?” he asked.
“More or less.” Kate paused. “As it happens, my husband intends tonight to convince himself at least whether or not the dogs could have failed to notice her and report, so to speak, her presence. If they were so busy frightening her to death, you see, they would hardly have trotted away to set off their signal at the proper time. If they did fail, it would hardly explain why she came here, but perhaps there would be little inclination to investigate that.”
“I see. Would you, Mrs. Fansler, be kind enough to let me know the result of tonight’s experiment? Of course, if you would rather, I’ll speak to Miss Tyringham.…”
“It will probably be all right for me to let you know; I will if it is. And Miss Fansler is correct.”
“Your husband, you said.”
“Yes. I must hurry, Mr. Jablon. Thank you.” Let him gnaw away at that one, she thought, popping into the elevator. Had Angelica’s mother taken the elevator that night, and if so, who had run it for her, and if not … Oh, Kate thought, the hell with it.
Kate entered the seminar room prepared, if need be, to jettison the schedule—which called for discussions and reports on Ismene and Haemon—and allow the group, all of whom were now, if they had not for years been, close associates of Angelica’s, to discuss her mother’s death. One of the principles with which Miss Tyringham had endowed the Theban was the necessity of allowing the structured curriculum to embrace, immediately and upon impulse, any recent event which seemed to relate to it, however tangentially. The school’s, all schools’ tendencies, had been to say, in effect, That is important, but we must return to the Egyptian dynasty which is the subject matter for today. Miss Tyringham’s vade mecum for a vital school included the rule that the connections discoverable between the Egyptian dynasties and current problems are the breath of life, for Egypt and education both. Kate, poised therefore on the edge of a heart-to-heart about Mrs. Jablon, found herself confined by the students firmly within the bounds of Ismene’s destiny. The members of the seminar had determined either to abide by the advice of the assembly, or to protect Angelica.