The Lady Sleuths MEGAPACK TM(252)

                “Come in,” I called, not looking up from my laptop.

                The knock sounded again, louder this time.

                Annoyed, I pushed away from my desk and went to the door.



                             Standing in the hall was a complete stranger. How had he gotten into the building? The Midd-wide access-card system had recently been changed to 24-hour security, and now only students, faculty and campus police could enter Middlebury College’s dormitories without an escort. The stranger wasn’t in uniform—he wore a conservative gray suit and held a snap-brim hat in his right hand—so I knew he wasn’t a campus cop. He was old, too old to be a dad, and there was a scowl on his lined face which seemed somehow more sad than threatening.

                “Can I help you?” I asked.

                “I’m looking for Ally,” he said, leaning forward against the door jamb. “She in?”

                “Ally? No, sorry,” I said, “there’s no Ally here.”

                “Sign says Ally,” he frowned, pointing at one of the postings on my door.

                I glanced at the cardboard square and laughed. “Ally,” I explained, “as in the Allied Powers. Not like a deserted alley. It’s a job description, not a name. My name’s Maxine—everybody calls me Max—and I’m officially a Junior Counselor and unofficially an Ally, what we call a ‘safe space,’ which means kids on the floor who want to talk about their sexuality without fear of being judged can come to me. All us Residential Life staff members are Allies, it’s sort of part of the job.” I caught myself before launching into an op/ed piece on the importance of education and acceptance in the gay community and got back to the point. “Who are you?” I demanded. “What do you want? And how did you—?”

                “I’m Detective Branigan, Max,” he interrupted, flipping open a leather wallet and showing me a gold shield with the words “Burlington PD” on it. “I’m with the Homicide Bureau.”

                I took a step back into my room, away from him. “H-homicide?” I stammered. “What—what are you doing here?”

                His scowl deepened. “I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, Max, but one of the ‘kids’ on this hall died sometime last night.”

                “Died?” I repeated, bewildered. “One of mine? Are you—are you sure?”



                             He nodded sadly. “I’m sure. Her roommate found the body and called it in. She’s already identified her, but, since you’re the JC on the floor, well, we’d like you to confirm the identification before we notify the parents.”

                There were a hundred questions I probably should have asked, but somehow I couldn’t think of any of them.

                One of my girls was dead? I had no idea how to react, how to respond. This was something they hadn’t covered in my JC training.

                My heart pounding dully in my chest, I followed him as he left my doorway and walked next door to the women’s bathroom.

                Usually deserted at this early hour on a weekend, the bathroom now was bustling with activity. In the middle of a circle of policemen, a white sheet covered what had to be the dead girl’s body.

                Detective Branigan moved to the figure’s head and pulled the sheet away from her face. At first, all my mind could absorb was that she was completely naked.