****
No such luck. Officer Landers took his time arriving, and then things stopped going our way. He looked through the swing door just in time to see Harley leaving with a group of parents.
“Look, this is a public event. There is no way I can charge him with trespassing even if he isn’t a parent.” Even faced with obvious logic, Officer Landers wasn’t convinced.
“But it is not a public event,” Ms. Kent snapped. “The parents all had to have tickets. He sneaked in or stole a ticket. He wasn’t invited as a parent.”
“You can’t prove it, ma’am, unless we get the guest list, and frankly, I don’t want to.” Flipping his notebook shut, he said in a bored voice, “Give the guy a break, Mrs. Bevison. He’s not doing any harm. I won’t be coming out again without some evidence that a real crime is occurring, is that understood?”
A small bomb was about to go off in front of him, and he didn’t seem to know it.
“Firstly, Officer, my name is no longer Mrs. Bevison. I am Amanda Kent. And that patronizing air of yours is really getting under my skin. We are not trying to railroad my ex-husband; we are merely reporting that he is repeatedly trespassing on school grounds, where he is not supposed to be. As to his harassment of my private life, I am perfectly capable of dealing with that on my own time. Your job is, as my job is, to protect these kids.”
We eight rather taller pipers stepped forward and formed a half circle behind Ms. Kent and tried to look as much as possible like a group that didn’t need defending.
For a big guy, Landers stepped back pretty fast as Ms. Kent’s cascade of words and our presence started pricking his elephant-thick exterior. You could almost see his self-defense mechanisms kicking in.
“Right. Well. Like I said, call next time a crime is in progress.” The coward was escaping through the back door to the kitchen, looking somewhat chastened, a new appreciation of Ms. Kent on his face.
She let out a gusty sigh and raised her hands and eyes heavenward.
“I have had it, absolutely had it. I never thought I’d say ‘Thank God it’s Monday.’ But I can’t wait for a blessedly normal week to start.” She dropped her hands and turned to us, with a rueful look on her small face. “Come on, boys, let’s eat and forget about this. We can’t let a lot of really good food go to waste just because some cop doesn’t have any brains to spare, can we?”
I looked at the heaps of food and headed for the plates. I wasn’t waiting for a second invitation, but I paused as Ms. Kent held up her hand.
“We have kitchen patrol, guys, and we’ll have to help finish cleaning up this dining room for the hardworking ladies and gentlemen of the kitchen after we eat. So Ian, see if you can hijack the Refectory sound system and put on some rockin’ bagpiper. We might as well enjoy ourselves now.”
That was one thing this group knew how to do. Ian put on a CD full blast with some really good bagpipe music thumping through the speakers.
During cleanup, Ms. Kent surprised us by changing her mood with sheer determination, grabbing a broom and dancing all over the room with it. By the time we’d rocked our way through two hours’ worth of music, we were happy, the room was spotless and our stomachs were stuffed to satisfaction.
Deceiving Mr. Bevison Page 12