The Class Menagerie

enough not to bother,“ Shelley said.
    “Probably.“
    Gordon got up and started stacking plates to take to the kitchen. “And which of the Ewe Lambs did the other jokes?“ Mel asked. He still looked skeptical.
    “Gordon, don’t take those dishes just yet,“ Jane said. “Come back. You’ll find this interesting.“
    “You think so?“ he asked with a smile.
    Jane spoke to Shelley. “Who in your high school class was a practical joker?“
    “Why—nobody that I know of.“
    “You’re sure? What about Gloria Kevitch?“
    “Gloria who? Oh, yes. I do remember. She was always in trouble over something. How do you know her name?“
    Edgar mumbled an exclamation and looked at Gordon. So did Mel.
    “Is this another Ewe Lamb we’re talking about?“ Mel asked.
    “No, she wasn’t a Ewe Lamb,“ Shelley said.
    “She’s the girl the high school yearbook was dedicated to,“ Jane explained. “Mimi said Gloria Kevitch had applied to be a Ewe Lamb but was turned down. Later on, she died in a car accident. Maybe a suicide, maybe an accident.“
    “Jane, you’ve lost your mind,“ Shelley said. “What on earth could all this possibly have to do with what happened here? Unless you’re suggesting that poor little Gloria has come back to haunt the Ewe Lambs. I don’t believe you’ll ever convince me of that!“ she added with a laugh.
    “Oh, but she did haunt you. Didn’t she, Gordon?“
    He was sitting next to Edgar now, drawing patterns on the tablecloth with his fork. He finally looked up at Jane. “You’re kind of spooky yourself,“ he said. “How did you know?“
    “I brought in your mail and sorted it into piles.“
    Gordon nodded. “And something came to me as Kevitch. I see.“
    “ Kevitch? “ Shelley exclaimed.
    “I presume you only use Kane as your professional name,“ Jane said.
    “Yes, I never legally changed it. But I’ve been using Kane ever since my first art showing. Gloria was so hurt by being rejected by the Ewe Lambs. I don’t mean that she killed herself over it, but it was one of many contributing factors. And she did love practical jokes.“ He smiled. “When Edgar told me who this group was, well—it just seemed like poetic justice.“
    “I get it! That’s why the jokes weren’t very good ones,“ Shelley said. “Sorry, Gordon, but they weren’t, you know. Because they were being done by somebody who didn’t really have a feel for the art form. You didn’t go to school with us, did you?“
    “Same school, about six years earlier.“
    “Gordon!“ Edgar exclaimed. “ How could you! “
    “I didn’t hurt anybody or damage anything. And it was fun!“
    “I meant, how could you not tell me?“ Edgar clearly had his feelings hurt.
    “Because you’d have told me to be sensible and stop horsing around.“
    “No, I wouldn’t—“
    Mel caught Jane’s eye and gestured toward the door.
    The argument was still raging and Shelley had jumped into it with both feet when Mel took Jane’s hand and led her past the children and out onto the patio. They sat down on a wooden bench that encircled an old oak tree.
    “My mother would call you one smart cookie,“ Mel said.
    “Would she? What would you call me?“
    He leaned back against the tree. “An idiot maybe. An interfering busybody with no more sense of self-preservation than a lemming.“ Without looking at her, he took her hand and kneaded it between his. “Jane, you know I’ve seen a lot of awful things. But I swear, I’ve never seen anything that scared me as much as when I came in the kitchen last night and saw you sitting there covered with blood.“
    “I’m sorry. I really am.“
    “—and that’s why I’m taking back my invitation to go to Wisconsin.“
    “Oh.... I see....“
    “No, you don’t. I meant the weekend for my sake. Sexy fun and games with a little fishing and ‘guy’ stuff thrown in for good measure. I was being a selfish bastard.“
    Jane didn’t know what to say, and, for once in her life, had the wits to keep quiet.
    “So I want to start over. I’d like to take you someplace you’d like to go. New York, maybe? Take in some shows? See the Statue of Liberty? Window-shop?“
    Jane was relieved and flattered, but still faced the same problems as she had with the original invitation. “Mel, I’d like to, but I’m afraid.“
    He looked at her sharply. “Afraid of me?“
    “Afraid of disappointing you. Yes, that’s one of the things I’m afraid of.“
    “Jane, you