“I think she just went down the hall,” I said. I paused, then added, “With a police officer.”
“Oh, that was fast,” she said, glancing toward the hallway. “Alright, very good. I'm sure she'll be back momentarily. Anyway, if I can help you at all or if you have questions, please don't hesitate to come and find me. My office is just down the hall. Again, thank you and we're so glad to have you.”
She was gone before I could tell her thank you.
I sat there for a minute, wondering if I should try to find the mailboxes on my own or if I should wait for Ellen to return. She already seemed to be overwhelmed that morning and I didn't want to burden her by asking a million questions and waiting for her to direct me all the time. I was arranging the piles in alphabetical order, though, when she returned to the conference room.
“I'm so sorry,” she said. Her face was flushed and the smile she'd struggled to maintain all morning didn't materialize. “I didn't mean to leave you on your own like that.”
“That's alright,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” she said. Then she sighed. “Well, no, not really.”
I waited for her to respond.
She glanced over her shoulder. “We have a small problem.” She held up a hand when she saw my eyes widen in alarm. “No one's in danger or anything like that. It's not that kind of problem. The kids are fine. It's just that, well, we've lost some things.”
“Lost?”
“Well, actually they appear to have been stolen,” she said. She took a deep breath, then swallowed. “All of our computers were stolen this weekend.”
I covered my hand with my mouth. “Oh my gosh. That's terrible.”
Ellen nodded. “Yes, it is. We're still trying to figure it out. That's why the lab isn't open this morning. Because the computers literally aren't there.”
“Oh, wow,” I said. “That...isn't good.”
“No, it's not,” Ellen said. “And I think, if you don't mind, I'm going to have you switch tasks.” She glanced at the table. “My goodness, you worked quickly.”
“They still need to go in the mailboxes,” I told her.
“Yes, certainly,” she said, nodding distractedly. “Perhaps we can get to that later. Right now, though, I'm wondering if I could have you do something else.”
“Sure, whatever you need.”
“Oh, Daisy,” she said, shaking her head. “You may regret saying that by the end of the week.”
I was used to regretting things. “How can I help?”
“Would you mind heading down to the computer lab?” she asked. “We need to do a full inventory of everything that's missing and Mr. Riggler could probably use the help compiling a list of what's been stolen.”
“Sure,” I said. I turned to leave, then remembered something. “Oh, by the way, Mrs. Bingledorf came looking for you.”
“Yes, I know,” she said, smiling at me. “She was the one who suggested you might be able to help with the inventory.” She paused. “So if you might check with her first and then head down to the room to meet Mr. Riggler? She can tell you exactly what she'd like you to do.”
“No problem,” I said. “Just point me to her office.”
Maybe I would get to do some fun stuff after all.
FIVE
“We do appreciate your assistance,” Mrs. Bingledorf said, now sitting behind her desk. “And, of course, your discretion.”
She'd offered me the seat on the other side of the desk. Her office was twice as large as the conference room, the walls adorned with her certificates of achievement and merits given to her by the town of Moose River. Her walnut desktop was immaculate, one small stack of papers neatly laid next to the laptop computer, which was next to her phone, which was next to an old-fashioned desk light. If there had ever been a speck of dust on anything, it had been properly eradicated – and probably warned never to return again.
“I've printed out a blank spread sheet for you,” she said, sliding a piece of paper across the desk to me. “I'm not sure if Mr. Riggler will have one, so I thought I'd prepare one just in case.”
“Okay,” I said, taking it. “Thanks.”
“Mr. Riggler should have a good handle on what's missing,” she said. She folded her hands together and set them on the desk. “If you would just be kind enough to record everything, then we'll be able to hand over a proper inventory list to the authorities so that we'll know exactly what was taken.”
“I assume you need it for the insurance company, too,” I said, scanning the columns she'd set it up in the worksheet.
“Pardon me?”
I looked at her. “For the insurance company. Won't they need an inventory report, too, so they can assess what you're owed under your policy?”
“Right,” she said, a frown marring her perfectly made-up face. “The insurance company. Yes, you're absolutely right. We'll make sure we make a duplicate so that we can get that sent to our agent immediately.”
I shrugged. “I'd just think that there's a better chance that you'll see an insurance check before you see the computers.”
“Right.” She nodded solemnly. “Unfortunately, that's probably true. But we'll hope the Moose River authorities can locate the computers soon.”
“Are there surveillance cameras?” I asked. “For your security system?”
“Funny you should ask,” she said. She unfolded her hands and lay them flat on the desk top. “I just sent an email to our security people asking the same thing.” She winked at me. “Great minds think alike, I suppose.”
“Uh, yes, I suppose so,” I said.
“Tell me again your son's name?” she asked.
“Daughter,” I corrected. “And it's Emily. She's a tenth grader.”
“Ah, yes, I believe I know who she is,” she said, though I wasn't quite sure why when she couldn't even get the gender correct. “A lovely girl, one of our best.
It was an odd statement; did they rank the kids from best to worst? What sort of assessment did they use?
“And she enjoys attending Prism?” Mrs. Bingledorf asked.
“Yes,” I told her. “She was homeschooled through eighth grade and chose to come here last year. She likes it very much.”
“Excellent,” Bingledorf said, nodding. “That's our goal – for the students to want to come here each day and expand their horizons.”
It sounded like something you'd put on an advertising brochure, but I understood the sentiment. And it made me think of the advertising already out there for Prism, the thing they prided themselves on: technology.
“Can I ask a question?”
The
“With all of the computers being gone, what will the plan be for the kids in the technology classes?” I asked. “Given that it's a core requirement here, I know every single student has a technology class each of their four years, so that means every student is supposed to be in the lab at some point each day. What are you going to do?”
Her hands came back together on the desk top, lacing in to a tight knot. “That's an excellent question. It's one I intend to take up with the board this very afternoon so that we can come up with a plan of action. The inconvenience that this is going to cause for students is inexcusable and we'll need to do something in order to continue their technology education without a gap that could set them back. Teachers will be inconvenienced, as well, and that also isn't something we can tolerate. So, yes. We will be coming up with a plan of attack and I'm hoping that plan will be in place just as soon as possible.”
That sounded more like a politician's answer than a plan, but to be fair, I knew that she hadn't had a lot of time to think about what they were going to do when they'd just learned that morning that the computers had been stolen. It was probably going to take a lot of schedule juggling and manipulation to come up with an interim plan.
“So then,” she said, giving me the same million watt smile I'd seen earlier. “Is there anything else I can help you with right this second?”
I stood, taking my cue. “I don't believe so. I'll go find Mr. Riggler and get to work on this so I can get it back to you.”
“Excellent,” she said, nodding. “I'm sure Ellen can give you directions to the lab if you need them.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“You're welcome,” she said, still smiling. “And thank you again for your assistance. And, once again, for your discretion.”
She sure seemed focused on my discretion.
SIX
I was vaguely familiar with the school's layout, having been there for open houses and some after school programs, but I didn't know it backwards and forwards. I reached the end of the hall and turned right toward the gym, hoping my memory would serve me correctly. A classroom on the left had its door closed and there was a small sign mounted on the wall. Computer Lab.
I knocked.
A muffled voice said, “Come in,” and I pushed the door open.
I'd remember seeing the lab during Emily's first open house, not wanting to be impressed as I walked through the door to the state-of-the-art computer lab. But my jaw had dropped as I took in the vast numbers of computers and printers spread out in the room. Will had quickly counted the computers on each desk and table, announcing that there were forty seven of them, plus five laptops. Emily, who had gone on to her history classroom, had frowned at him when he repeated the information to her, telling him there was no way there were that many. She'd come home the next day after school, forced to admit he'd been right.