8

“Did they look in the ditch?” Ismelda Durant asked, thinking she was contributing something useful to the investigation that was bustling around her. The young sow’s suggestion made all of the adults cringe. “They always find missing kids in the ditch!” She said, not knowing where the ditch was, but she figured it must be nice if kids wanted to go there. 

It was the next morning and a little later in the day than where Mycah and I had just been. We were in the same hallway, outside the same classroom. Only this time, things were vastly different. The chaos of the previous morning was replaced with even more chaos of a different sort. Yesterday this area was full of students. Now it was filled with police officers.

Beatrice Beagle wanted to snap Ismelda's little neck. Not with the squees here. She thought. No, not ever! She reprimanded herself. She was a little on edge this morning, and Ismelda was only making a horrible situation that much worse. The authorities - also known as squees because of their squealing tires, and noisy sirens - had shown up twenty minutes ago and began searching the school for Yanna Alix. 

When Yanna hadn't shown up for class, Beatrice had texted her mother to make sure everything was alright. Her mother had called back – immediately - and shortly thereafter the freak out had begun. Yanna had left home right on time. She should have arrived at the school right on time. And Beatrice should have had the common sense not to discuss her unusual tardiness - on speaker phone - in front of her entire class.

Everything went so well yesterday, with Roana’s visit! She recalled. This whole debacle seemed like some sort of twisted karma. The Universe simply hates it when I win! Beatrice told herself, forgetting momentarily that it was Yanna who might be truly suffering.

Ismelda - bless her little heart - had immediately begun offering ideas as to where Yanna might be. None of them were helpful. “The Ditch Witch probably has her!” She said, though she didn't know who the Ditch Witch was. Roh had suggested that. The adults all knew about the myth of the bean-stealing crone that some parents told their kids about - to keep them in line. Some of the adults within earshot had used the story on their own kids. None of them took the time to explain the myth to Ismelda.

“She's probably baking cookies at the Ditch Witch's house!” Ismelda said, embellishing Roh’s idea. “If there’s one thing Yanna loves, it’s baking cookies!” She declared, as if she knew Yanna better than anyone.

The squee nearest to Ismelda fought back a smirk. “That little sow was a riot!” He would tell his partner later. But right now, he had to take this seriously. His boss was nearby.

“I'm sure she'll turn up!” The Boss had told Miss Beagle three times already. His officers were questioning the kids one at a time, but so far no one had seen anything. His pocket buzzed. He reached in and pulled out his phone, noting the name and time that were displayed on the screen. 9:10am. “Ya Chief!” He'd been expecting this call. The chief must have made himself a cup of coffee before dialing up his lead investigator. 

“I've got fifteen squees cruising every side street and alleyway in a ten-block area. Thirty peddies canvassing the neighborhood and searching the nearby woods.” He told his boss. Peddies were the beat cops. They got their nickname from the fact that they traveled “pedestrian” style, on their feet. 

“And I got a dozen mannies helping the peddies with the door-to-door stuff.” Mannies are bicycle cops, so named for the manual nature of their vehicles. 

“No, I haven't brought them in, yet.” He said, turning slightly away from Beatrice. The Chief had asked about cadaver dogs. Lead Investigator Wollick didn’t want to mention them by name  in front of the missing kid's teacher. “I've got them standing by. If nothing shakes loose in the next hour, I'll put 'em to work.”

The Chief was pleased with what had been done so far. He wasn't one to micro-manage his people. Lead Investigator Wollick liked that about his boss. Wollick stuffed the phone back in his pocket. Mrs. Beagle had taken the opportunity to have a chat with Ismelda.

“This is very serious, lil Jenny!” She warned, kneeling so she could look Ismelda in the eye. Both of her hands held Ismelda's shoulders square with her own. “Yanna could be hurt, or even...” She didn't say it. Wollick's return from his phone call brought her to her senses. “What else can we do for you, Investigator?” She asked, letting go of Ismelda's shoulders and standing up, as Roh explained to the little sow what “or even” meant. 

“Jireh got in a fight with Yanna!” Ismelda said, much too loud. All eyes turned to look at her.

“Who's Jireh?” Lead Investigator Wollick asked. Beatrice squeezed between the lead Squee and the brat.

“Jireh is one of my students. You've already questioned him.” Wollick's eyes told Beatrice that they hadn't questioned him with the knowledge that he had a fight with the missing girl.

“I'll want to talk to him, myself.” He said. Beatrice argued with herself for a moment over her role as protector of her students, before accepting what had to be done. She led him to her classroom. Neither of them noticed the dire look on Ismelda's face, or even that she was following them. 

“YOU KILLED YANNA!” Ismelda screamed, pushing past the two adults and through the door. Her tiny finger pointed right at Jireh.

“ISMELDA!” Beatrice's admonition didn't even phase the piglet this time.

“THERE HE IS, THAT'S JIREH! ARREST HIM!” Ismelda's finger stabbed the air, accentuating her accusation. The other children froze in their desks, looking to the adults for clues as to what they should do. Jireh stood up confidently, as if he had nothing to hide. The one person that Jireh Jor was certain had nothing to do with Yanna’s disappearance, was himself. He was as anxious to get to the bottom of this mystery as Lead Investigator Wollick was.

“What do you need to know?” He said, coolly.

“Come with me!” The Squee ordered, then led the way out the door and through the maze of corridors to the Teacher’s Lounge. “Have a seat!” He said, motioning to the wide couch that sat under some high windows. Jireh did as he was told, sitting straight-backed on the couch. He didn’t want to look too relaxed, and anyway, he wasn’t a sloucher. Two other officers had followed them in, one took out a notepad and readied his pen.

“You had an argument with Yanna Alix, is that right?” Wollick asked, as the notetaker began writing.

“We’ve had several…” Jireh said, realizing the mistake he had made by neglecting to mention it before. He was determined not to make that mistake again. “mostly over her diet. She was a vegan. And, at times, she wasn’t very nice to Keeli. It was just stupid kid stuff.”

“When did this happen - the last argument you had?”

“Yesterday morning before class. In the hallway outside Miss Beagle’s room. I bumped into her by accident. I was angry about something and not paying attention. I should have just apologized.” He said. His thoughts told me that he was hiding something. I’m not going to tell them that my temper occasionally gets the best of me. He thought. It might lead them to think it got the better of me with Yanna, and that would only waste their time.

“What were you angry about?” Wollick asked, not noticing Jireh’s omission.

“My friend Wolo…he was punished by his father…rather harshly.”

“Punished for what?”

“For listening to me.” Jireh said, taking all the blame on his own shoulders. At Wollick’s prompting, he went on to explain the events that had led to Wolo’s broken leg and his “talk” with Mr. Hide. We could all see the hatred growing in Jireh’s eyes as he recalled the numerous times Wolo had suffered at his father’s hands and decried his own inability to stop the abuse. That hatred was nourished by the look in the Lead Investigator’s eyes that said there was nothing he could do about it, either.

Wollick turned to his fellow squees and shook his head slightly, indicating his belief that this was a dead-end. The argument was, as Jireh said, just kid stuff.

“Why didn’t you mention the argument this morning when I interviewed you?” The non-note-taking squee asked, pushing past Wollick’s belief.

“I really didn’t think it was important, and I didn’t want to waste your time. You have to find her and find her quick. Am I right?”

“Yes, that’s…”

“Well, she’s not anywhere I know of. Have you looked at Ro’I?” Jireh said, getting Wollick’s attention.

“Ro’I?” He asked, turning on his contemporary.

“Yeah, Tom. The kid told us Ro’I was ogling some of the girls when he was here yesterday.” The squee said, motioning to Jireh.

“Roana Ignah? Ro’I? He was here yesterday?”

“Yeah.” The squee, the notetaker, and Jireh all said at once.

“Why am I just hearing about this?”

“You think he’s a suspect?”

“Everyone’s a suspect until I tell you otherwise!” Wollick pulled out his phone and hit a speed-dial number. “Jeffie? Tom. Grab Lorrie and track down Roana Ignah toot-sweet!” He ordered the recipient of the call. “Yes, Ro’I. He was here yesterday and might know something about what happened.” He explained. “Everyone’s a suspect until I say otherwise, Jeffie!” He repeated, as if Jeffie, too, had questioned the great author’s status in the investigation. He pocketed his phone and turned back to Jireh. “Tell me what you saw yesterday.” He invited in his best “good cop” voice.