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Stork Raving Mad(91)

By:Donna Andrews


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.”