“Who did?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you admit operating sex lines?”

“Yes. It’s harmless. I do it to make extra money. Nobody gets hurt.”

“Another prince,” Myron said. “How much extra money?”

“In the business’s heyday I was making twenty thousand dollars a month.”

Myron wasn’t sure he heard right. “Twenty thousand dollars a month from phone sex?”

“In the mid-eighties, yes. Before the government got involved and began to crack down on 900 lines. Now I’m lucky to clear eight grand a month.”

“Damn bureaucrats,” Myron said. “So how does Kathy Culver fit into all this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Gee, Gary, a naked picture of her is in your ad this month. Maybe that’s what I mean.”

“I already told you. I had nothing to do with that.”

“Then I guess it’s a coincidence, her being a student of yours and all.”

“Yes.”

“I won’t hold him under long,” Win promised. “Please.”

Myron shook his head. “You wrote her a glowing recommendation letter for college, correct?”

“Kathy was a wonderful student,” Gary replied.

“And what else?”

“If you are suggesting that my relationship with Kathy was something other than student-teacher—”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

Once again he crossed his arms over his chest. “I will not dignify that with a response. And I am now terminating this conversation.”

Gary was addressing them in that way teachers do. Sometimes teachers forget that life is not a classroom.

“Dunk him,” Myron said.

“With pleasure.”

Gary probably had two inches on Win. He leaned up on his toes and gave Win his most withering glare.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Gary said.

“Mistake number one.”

Win moved with a speed that videocameras would not catch. He took hold of Gary’s hand, twisted it, and pulled down. Hapkido move. Gary dropped to the tile floor. Win pressed his knee against the point of Gary’s elbow. Gently. Not too much pain. Just enough to let him know who was in control.

“Damn,” Win said.

“What?”

“All the toilets are clean. I hate when that happens.”

“Anything to add before the dunk?” Myron asked.

Gary’s face was white. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone,” he managed.

“You’ll tell us the truth?”

“Yes. But you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. Not the principal, no one.”

“Okay.” Myron nodded to Win. Win let go. Gary took back his hand and caressed it as though it were an abused puppy.

“Kathy and I had an affair,” he said.

“When?”

“Her senior year. It lasted a few months, that’s all. I haven’t seen her since, I swear.”

“And that’s everything?”

He nodded. “I don’t know anything else. Somebody else put that picture in the ad.”

“If you’re lying, Gary—”

“I’m not. Hand to God.”

“Okay,” Myron said. “You can go.”

Gary rushed out. He had not even paused to check his hair in the mirror.

“Scum,” Myron said. “The man is pure unadulterated scum. Seduces his students, operates a dial-a-porn line.”

“But a snappy dresser,” Win said. “So what next?”

“We finish the investigation. Then we go to the school board. We tell them all about Mr. Grady’s extracurricular activities.”

“Didn’t you just promise him you weren’t going to tell?”

Myron shrugged. “I lied.”

Chapter 16

In something of a trance, Jessica thanked Myron and hung up the phone. She half-stumbled into the kitchen and sat down. Her mother and her younger brother Edward looked up.

“Honey,” Carol Culver began, “are you okay?”

“Fine,” she managed.

“Who was on the phone?”

“Myron.”

Silence.

“We were talking about Kathy,” she continued.

“What about her?” Edward asked.

Her brother had always been Edward, not Ed or Eddie or Ted. He was only a year out of college and already he owned a successful computer business, IMCS (Interactive Management Computer Systems), which developed software systems for several prestigious corporations. Edward wore only jeans, even in the office, and obnoxious T-shirts, the kind with chintzy iron-on decals that say stuff like “Keep on Truckin’.” He didn’t own a tie. He had a wide, almost-feminine face with delicate porcelain features. Women would kill for his eyelashes. Only the buzz-cut hair—and the pithy phrase on his T-shirt—hinted at what Edward was proud to be: COMPUTER WEENIES HAVE THE BEST HARDWARE.

Jessica took a deep breath. She could not be concerned with delicacies or feelings anymore. She opened her purse and pulled out a copy of Nips. “This magazine hit the stands a few days ago,” she said.

She tossed it on the table, cover up. A cross between puzzlement and disgust blanketed her mother’s face.

Edward remained stoic. “What the hell is this?” he asked.

Jessica flipped to the page in the back. “There,” she said simply, pointing to the picture of Kathy in the bottom row.

It took a few moments for them to comprehend what they were seeing, as though the information had been waylaid somewhere between the eye and brain. Then Carol Culver let out a groan. Her hand flew to her mouth, smothering a scream. Edward’s eyes narrowed into thin slits.

Jessica did not give her time to recover. “There’s more,” she said.

Her mother looked up at her with hollow, haunted eyes. There was no life behind them anymore, as though a final cold gust had put out a flickering flame.

“A handwriting expert checked the envelope it came in. The writing matches Kathy’s.”

Edward inhaled sharply. Carol’s legs finally gave out, folding at the knees. She landed hard in her chair and crossed herself. Tears came to her eyes.

“She’s alive?” Carol managed.

“I don’t know.”

“But there’s a chance?” Edward followed up.

Jessica nodded. “There’s always been a chance.”

Stunned silence.

“But I need some information,” Jessica continued. “I need to know what happened to Kathy. What made her change.”