Ron Wilson was bringing the basketball up the court near the end of the gym class when he heard a scream that made the hair on his arms stand straight up. He stopped dribbling and looked for Coach Taylor, but couldn’t see him.

The scream had apparently come from the girls’ locker room, which had an entrance on the other half of the gymnasium, separated from the boys’ side by a movable wall. However, the door in the wall was open today because the small boys’ and girls’ classes were combined and playing basketball together.

            Miss Madison, the girls’ gym teacher, was off working on the float for the Homecoming football game, as were most of the students in the class. The remaining students who were playing in the game had heard the scream, but they appeared to be frozen. Somebody had to do something.

            Ron dropped the ball and ran through the doorway to the other side of the gymnasium. He had a fleeting thought that he could get into trouble for going into the girls’ locker room, but the intensity of the scream overrode it. He hit the swinging door hard, pushing it open ahead of him. Once inside he hesitated, seeing rows of lockers but no people. He took a few steps forward until he was even with the gym teacher’s office. Through the glass that enclosed it he could see Lisa bent over something on the floor.

            Ron opened the door to the office and stepped inside. Lisa was on her knees. Beneath her, lying face down on the hard floor was another girl. Her back was bloody and so were Lisa’s hands. A knife lay on the floor nearby.

            Lisa looked up at Ron, choking back sobs as she spoke. “She’s dead.”

***

(About an hour earlier)

            Ron grabbed a loose basketball as he went into the gymnasium from the boys’ locker room. He put up a long shot that clanked off the rim, but he immediately started feeling more relaxed. Basketball was his thing, and the daily gym periods helped take his mind off the stress of being the new kid in town. What could be worse than transferring to a strange school just a few weeks into your senior year?

            As the girls who were joining them came through the doorway in the wall one of the boys near Ron snickered and muttered, “Here come the bloomer girls. Are they going to challenge us to a game? At least we’ll be able to tell the teams apart, wearing those repellent rags from the 1800s.”

It was the 1950s, not the 1800s, but Ron had to agree that the gym clothes the girls wore were hideous. The blue suits bulged out, apparently in an attempt to partially hide the girls’ legs and other feminine features, but what they succeeded in doing was to make a beautiful girl look like a witch. He’d always wanted to ask some girl what she thought about them, but he’d never found the right occasion.

Coach Taylor, a short but muscular man clad in a T-shirt and sweatpants, entered the gymnasium and blew his whistle. The small group of boys and as many girls gathered in front of him.

He glanced around and said, “I’m not going to bother taking role. You know if you’re here or not. We’re going to play basketball. Jefferson and Wilson, choose up sides. Wilson, you go first.”

Ron wasn’t surprised that the coach had called his name. He had already talked to the coach about going out for basketball, and told him his previous school had won a league championship. In addition, except for Bill Jefferson who’d been a star for last year’s team, the other boys were a ragtag bunch. As Ron and Bill walked out in front of the group and looked over the prospects, Ron could picture what was going to happen. The boys, as hopeless as they were, would be picked first and the girls last. When Ron was young and small he’d often been picked last too, and he knew the feeling of not being wanted.

Ron saw one girl he recognized, because she was in his math class. Lisa something or other. She was the tallest (and prettiest) girl in the group, and he remembered hearing that she played for the girls’ basketball team. He wanted to get to know her. Suddenly he knew what to do.

Ron gave the coach a timeout sign and asked him to let them have a minute. Then he went over to Bill, who was one of the few people he’d gotten to know, largely because they shared the gym class and an interest in basketball. Keeping his voice low, Ron told Bill what was on his mind.

“Tell you what. I’ll take the girls and you can have the boys.”

Bill’s raised eyebrows showed his surprise. “You sure about that?”

“Why not? It’s just for fun. No trophies to be won.”

Bill smiled and gestured for Ron to go ahead. Ron turned and faced the others.

“Okay, boys go with Bill. Girls with me.”

The girls clustered around Ron with puzzled looks on their faces. Ron knew he had to make this work.

“Okay, we’re going to have a fun time. We’ll play zone defense.” He glanced at Lisa. “Lisa, right? Lisa and I will play underneath the basket. The rest of you protect a spot on the floor. On offense Lisa and I will bring the ball up. The rest of you spread out and look for passes. Everybody gets to handle the ball. Everybody gets to shoot.”

The start was a bit rocky, but once Bill realized what Ron was doing he stopped trying to be a one-man team and started spreading the ball around to his players, just like Ron and Lisa were doing. They didn’t keep score, but everybody got to handle the ball and shoot. Some of the players other than Bill, Ron, and Lisa even scored. A good time was had by all.

With a few minutes to go before the warning bell to take showers and get dressed, Lisa and Ron were bringing the ball up the court, passing it back and forth like teammates who’d played a hundred games together, when Lisa mumbled something about needing to go to the restroom and took off through the doorway to the gymnasium divider. A few minutes later Ron heard the scream.

***

The name of the dead girl was Dawn Kennedy. Ron gathered that from a hasty conversation between Lisa and Coach Taylor, who arrived a minute after Ron did, red-faced and out of breath. He did the things he’d been trained to do such as check for a pulse, but it was no use. Ron had already done that with the same result.

The warning bell rang for the end of gym class. The coach told Ron to guard the door to the gymnasium and not let the girls from their basketball game in to shower and change while he called the police. Ron was in a state of shock and didn’t think about the weirdness of a boy blocking the entrance to the girls’ locker room. He told one of the girls to fetch Miss Madison and another one to take over as door guard without saying what had happened.

He went back inside with the vague idea of helping Lisa who was in a worse state of shock than he was. She was sitting on the floor a few feet from the body with her head on her knees. He realized for the first time that she was wearing only a bra and panties and that a cast of thousands was about to descend on them.

He ran past the rows of lockers until he saw one that was open. It must be Lisa’s. Her gym suit was sitting on the bench in front of the locker. He grabbed it and raced back to the office.

***

Ron sipped water from a paper cup and attempted to steady his nerves while he waited for Detective Monroe to finish a phone call from the office in the boys’ locker room. Monroe had appropriated this space to talk to witnesses, away from the confusion of the crime scene. He’d already spoken to Lisa a long time, making Ron wait. He finished his call and turned the swivel chair to face Ron across the table. His brush-cut hair and broad shoulders made Ron think of somebody in the military. However, when he spoke he attempted to use a soothing tone.

“Ronald Wilson, right? Tell me in your own words where you were and what happened.”

Ron spoke haltingly. He told about playing basketball and hearing the scream.

The detective’s tone became sharper. “Back up. Wasn’t Lisa Hoover playing too?”

“Yes. She said she had to go to the bathroom. She went into the locker room.”

“How long after that did you hear the scream?”

Ron tried to picture what had happened after Lisa left. “A few minutes. Three or four minutes, maybe.”

Detective Monroe jotted notes. “Three or four minutes. Too long for Lisa to just walk in and find Dawn dead. Who screamed?”

What kind of a question was that? “I-I think it was Lisa.”

“You think? But you don’t know. It could have been Dawn, right?”

Ron tried to say something but Detective Monroe interrupted him.

“You don’t know who screamed, do you?”

“No, sir.”

“Was Lisa holding the knife when you went into the office?”

“No. It was on the floor. She pulled it out in case Dawn was still alive.”

“Did you see her do that?”

“No, sir.”

“Did she tell you she thought Dawn might be alive?”

“No. But—”

“Did Lisa have blood on her?

“Yes, on her hands. She was trying to stop the bleeding.”

“All right, what happened next?”
“Coach Taylor came in and checked Dawn’s pulse. Then he called you.”

“How well do you know Lisa and Dawn?”

“I didn’t know Dawn. I just transferred here two weeks ago. Lisa’s in my math class, but I didn’t really meet her until today when we were playing basketball.”

When Detective Monroe was finished questioning him, Ron had the sickening feeling that he might have helped implicate Lisa as the murderer.

***

School was cancelled for the rest of the day. Ron went home and moped, unable to do anything useful, such as homework. The next day was Wednesday, and school was back in session. His gym class was first period, but he was dreading it. It was the same group of boys as yesterday because the others were still working on the float. The administration and student leaders had decided to go ahead with Homecoming weekend and make it a tribute to Dawn.

Coach Taylor met the boys when they went into the locker room. “Don’t change into your gym clothes. We’re going to have a talk session instead. The girls are going to join us.”

They went into the gymnasium where a section of collapsible bleachers had been pulled out from the wall so they could sit. The same girls came through the doorway of the barrier between the boys’ and girls’ side wearing their school clothes, consisting of sweaters or blouses and long skirts. Lisa wasn’t with them. The girls looked a lot cuter to Ron than they had yesterday in their gym clothes, although he wished their skirts were shorter.

It was obvious that the coach wasn’t trained to be the leader of a group discussing grief. He tried to get a conversation started a couple of times, but met with little response. When he was called away to take a phone call or something there was an almost audible sigh of relief.

One of the girls immediately turned to Ron. “That was a really nice thing you did, yesterday, the way you chose up the teams so that nobody felt left out. Us girls are all in love with you.”

The other girls tittered and Ron felt his face growing red. He wasn’t used to this kind of frankness from a girl.

Another girl said, “We saw the way you and Lisa jived together. It’s too bad that got interrupted.”

“Do you think Lisa did it?”

This question, from one of the boys, produced a dead silence. Ron felt everyone’s eyes on him. He hadn’t been able to formulate an answer in his own mind. Had Lisa killed Dawn? What should he say? After too long a hesitation he started to speak slowly.

“No, I don’t. I mean, why would she kill Dawn?”

Girl one answered. “Dawn was on the basketball team. She was a junior this year, and she was threatening to eclipse Lisa as the star of the team.”

Others chimed in.

“That’s not a motive for murder, especially when you’re sure to get caught.”

“How did Lisa know Dawn would be in the office at that moment?”

“I heard that Miss Madison asked Dawn to go and get some ribbon or something for the float, but of course Lisa didn’t know that.”

“Why would Lisa have a knife in her locker?”

Ron’s thoughts began to come together. “Lisa couldn’t have done it, because she wasn’t wearing…” He felt embarrassed again.

“Her gym suit? She wasn’t wearing her gym suit?”

Ron nodded.

A girl said, “I wouldn’t kill anybody while wearing that ghastly thing either.”

“What was she wearing?”

He got it out. “Her underwear. She was preparing to take a shower and get dressed. The period was almost over. She wasn’t preparing to kill somebody.”

***

Lisa wasn’t in math class either. Ron was worried about her. He knew that one of the girls in the class was good friends with Lisa. He’d seen them walking together in the halls. After the class was over he caught her just after she went out the door.

“Uh, hi.”

“Hi.”

She stopped and looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

“I’m Ron. I was wondering how Lisa is doing.”

“I’m Alice. Not good. You were the first one to get to her, right?”

“Yes.”

“You have to help her. The police are threatening to charge her with murder. They’ve questioned her several times, trying to get her to confess.” The girl’s voice rose in volume. “She didn’t do it.”

“I know she didn’t do it. Have they arrested her?”

“Not yet. She’s home. She’s a nervous wreck. She couldn’t face coming to school.”

“Can you give me her phone number?”

***

When Ron got home from school he ate several of his mom’s chocolate chip cookies and drank a glass of milk to fortify himself, and then he called Lisa’s number. It rang for a long time. He was about to hang up when the phone was answered. A soft voice said hello.

“Hello, Lisa? This is Ron…Wilson.”

He heard a barely audible “Yes?”

He was suddenly tongue-tied, not like him. “I…we…listen, I’d like to get together with you. I think there’s something we can do…something we can do together to make this go away.”

He gave himself an F for smoothness.

When she didn’t speak he said, “Can I come over to your place?”

Alice had given him her address. Lisa’s reply was almost inaudible. He took it as a yes.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

***

Ron parked his mom’s car on the street in front of the two-story house with red bricks on the bottom, white clapboards on the top. The front lawn was neatly mowed and had a young maple tree in the middle of it. As he walked up the concrete driveway he saw that the front window curtains were closed. He took a deep breath before he rang the doorbell. He heard the chime inside.

Nothing happened for a long time. Finally, he heard the click of a lock and the door opened a crack. When Lisa saw him she opened the door wider and pushed open the screen door. Ron opened it the rest of the way and entered the house. Lisa led the way into the adjacent living room and then turned to face him.

“Thanks for coming.”

Emboldened by that statement, Ron said, “I know you didn’t do it.”

She wasn’t wearing makeup and her face was blotchy. She had on an old sweater, too big for her, and jeans. She pointed to the couch, and he sat on it.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“I just had something at home. I’m fine.”

Lisa sat beside him and said, “That detective…Monroe, told me he knew I killed Dawn.”

“He’s blowing smoke. I know you didn’t. Can you tell me what happened before I got there?”

Lisa paused, apparently collecting her thoughts. Then she started to speak.

“I rushed into the locker room and all the way to the end where the restroom is. I barely made it. I didn’t see or hear anything when I passed the office. When I was through I realized that the class was almost over and there was no reason for me to go back into the gymnasium. So I opened my locker and was going to take a shower when I heard the scream.”

“Did you tell that to the detective?”

“Yeah, about a dozen times, but he didn’t want to hear it.” Her voice was getting stronger. “I ran to Miss Madison’s office and saw the door to the hallway closing, but I didn’t see anybody. Then I went into the office and saw Dawn lying on the floor.” Lisa couldn’t continue for a few seconds. “Blood was oozing out of her back. I’ve heard that people stop bleeding when they die so I thought she might still be alive. I pulled the knife out. I put my hands over the wound to try to stop the bleeding. That’s when you came in.”

Ron knew Dawn must have died about that time. There wasn’t anything they could have done to save her.

“I know you didn’t kill Dawn because of what you were wearing.”

Lisa looked surprised.

Ron had to overcome his embarrassment about talking to girls regarding intimate things. “I mean, you wouldn’t have taken off your gym suit if you were going to kill somebody.”

“But I was wearing it…”

“After I retrieved it from your locker.” And gave her a towel to wipe the blood off her hands.

Lisa’s eyes bugged out. “Oh. I didn’t remember that.” She suddenly looked shy and lowered her head, but almost immediately recovered her aplomb. “Did you tell Detective Monroe?”

“No, I forgot. He rattled me. But I’m going to. So who could have gotten into the locker room?”

“Anybody. The hallway door is always unlocked. It could have been a student, teacher, or somebody who came in from outside without being noticed. Especially during Homecoming week, people are all over the place.”

That gave Ron an idea. “People will be working on the float for another hour or two, including Miss Madison. If the murderer was an outsider, maybe he was looking for something to steal. Let’s go to the school and ask Miss Madison if anything is missing from her office. If so, that should exonerate you.”

“I-I can’t face them. Everybody thinks I’m a murderer.”

“That’s not true . I talked to a bunch of people, and they’re all on your side.”

Ron convinced himself that he hadn’t exaggerated much.

***

Lisa was leery about getting out of the car, but there were so many people around, working on something connected with Homecoming that Ron was able to convince her there was safety in numbers. The float was on the baseball field. They walked toward it with Lisa sticking close to Ron’s side. He felt protective of her. Miss Madison was wearing old clothes and painting a mouth on the face of a dummy football player. When she saw Lisa she looked surprised.

“Lisa. I heard you weren’t in school today. How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“Poor Dawn.” Miss Madison looked directly at Lisa. “Well, I guess that eliminates your competition for most valuable player on the basketball team.”

Ron was shocked. What an unfeeling remark. Did Miss Madison think that Lisa had killed Dawn? He decided to get right to the point.

“Do you know whether anything was taken from your office?”

Miss Madison looked at Ron for the first time. “You’re Ron, aren’t you?”

“Ron Wilson, yes ma’am. I just started here.”

“I read about you in the paper this morning. You were the first person on the scene.”

Correction. Lisa was the first person on the scene, but Ron didn’t say that.

Miss Madison turned to Lisa. “Looks like you’ve found your Sir Galahad. I haven’t been in my office since Monday.”

Ron wondered if he should contradict that statement, but then he remembered that the girl he had sent to fetch Miss Madison after the murder hadn’t been able to find her. She could be telling the truth.

Miss Madison said, “The only thing worth taking is a tennis trophy I won when I was in college. I’m told it’s a collector’s item.”

“I remember that trophy.” Lisa said. “It’s beautiful. I-I can’t remember if it was there when I found…” Lisa couldn’t finish the sentence.

Ron said, “Lisa and I will go and make sure it’s there.”

“Thank you. That would be very good of you.”

Lisa grabbed Ron’s hand, just as if they were going steady, and headed for the school entrance. Ron was surprised but didn’t object. Lisa didn’t speak again until they got inside the school.

“That bitch. She thinks I did it. I hope her damn trophy is gone.”

Ron was surprised at her language. They entered the girls’ locker room from the hall and went immediately to the office. The door was barricaded. It was still a crime scene. They looked through the window. Lisa pointed to a shelf high up on the wall. It was empty.

“She kept it there. It’s gone. That must be what the murderer was after. I didn’t notice that yesterday. Let’s go tell her.”

“Wait.” This time it was Ron who grabbed Lisa’s hand. “There’s something fishy about this.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I’m not sure. Something is nagging at me. How big is the trophy?”

“Big. Several feet high. It’s gotta be heavy. It would probably take two hands for someone to lift it.”

Ron raised his hand. At six feet plus he wouldn’t be able to reach the shelf. Unless the killer was seven feet tall he would have had the same problem. Ron looked around the office. A swivel chair on rollers was pushed under a table.

“Was that chair under the table when you found Dawn?” He answered his own question. “Of course it was. Otherwise, there wouldn’t have been room for Dawn on the floor. The office is too small.”

 Ron thought for another few seconds. “So are we to believe that the murderer rolled the chair from there under the shelf, climbed on it while being very careful that it wouldn’t swivel or roll out from under him, lifted the heavy trophy with two hands, and climbed down without falling or dropping the trophy? And then took the time to set the trophy down and roll the chair back under the table? And give Dawn a chance to catch him there?”

“What’s the alternative?”

Ron’s mind was going a hundred miles an hour. “What kind of car does Miss Madison drive?”

“I saw her in it the other day. It’s a brand new two-tone Ford with wings.”

“Let’s go find it.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Shhh.” Ron put his finger to his lips. “You ask too many questions.”

He took Lisa’s hand and led the way out of the office. She didn’t resist. Her hand felt good in his. They found the car in the parking lot. It was red and white, and, as Lisa had said, it had wings. A 1959 Ford Fairlane 500. Ron looked through the windows. He didn’t see anything in the front or back seats. He walked around to the rear of the car.

“What are you going to do?” Lisa asked again. She sounded apprehensive.

“Keep an eye out for anybody coming. It’s a good thing my father is a locksmith.” Ron pulled a jackknife-like instrument out of his pocket, but instead of blades it had lock picks. “You never know when you’ll have to pick a lock.”

“Ron.”

Ron ignored Lisa. Fortunately, most cars had easy locks to pick. Ron had practiced on his parents’ cars, and sometimes took them for a spin when he didn’t have the keys. He also knew how to efficiently hotwire a car. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He had the trunk open in less than a minute. Lisa, standing right beside him, gasped.

“That’s Miss Madison’s trophy.”

Ron quickly closed the trunk as he saw a couple of students heading into the parking lot, and led Lisa away from the car. They stopped at his car.

He said, “Do you think Miss Madison killed Dawn?”

Lisa hesitated before she spoke. “Miss Madison is the girls’ basketball coach. Dawn didn’t like her. Despite what she said, Dawn and I were good friends. She told me one time that she knew something about Miss Madison, but she wouldn’t tell me what. She said it was real bad. Maybe Miss Madison found out.”

“I heard that Miss Madison asked Dawn to go to her office and get something for the float. She could have followed her. She must have taken the trophy out early yesterday morning before school started.”

“It’s possible.  We wouldn’t have been able to see if the trophy was there when we just passed by the office during gym class. It’s too high up. There’s a janitor’s closet down the hall from the locker room. I’m sure it has a stepladder. That would have been a lot easier than trying to use the chair.”

“We can’t just say we know where the trophy is, because that would be admitting breaking and entering.”

Lisa smiled. “It’s my turn. I saw Dr. Clinton, the principal, when we went into the school. He likes me. I think I can get him to force Miss Madison to open the trunk. We’ll tell him somebody saw her put the trophy in it. He told me once how good I looked in my tight pink sweater. Last year when I needed a favor from him I wore it and he was putty in my hands.”

Ron glanced at the oversized sweater Lisa was still wearing. “Uh…”

Lisa saw his look and laughed for the first time today. “Hopefully, he’s got a good memory.”

***

A week later, Ron was waiting for Lisa outside of the girls’ locker room to walk her to math class. A girl came through the doorway. It was the girl who had told Ron that the female members of his basketball team were in love with him. He smiled at her and she smiled back and came over to him.

“Congratulations, Mr. Ron. Rumor has it that you and Lisa were instrumental in getting Miss Madison arrested for murder. I like her substitute better, anyway, and I hope she gets hired as a permanent replacement.”

“Thank you. I don’t think any of us wanted Lisa convicted of murder.”

“Certainly not. Especially not you. You did a good thing. But you’re new here and you need people to show you the ropes. I know Lisa has you locked up, but I’d still like to be your friend, and I can be very useful because I know where the bodies are buried, if you’ll excuse the expression. In return, you can do things for me on occasion. Here’s one tidbit she probably hasn’t told you. Sometimes we take pictures in the girls’ locker room. They come in handy. Lisa told me you saw her in her underwear with her hands covered with blood. That’s not a good memory. I’ve got a better one for you.”

She pulled something out of a pocket of her notebook and handed it to Ron. He took it and had to force himself to act cool and keep his hands from shaking. It was a photo of Lisa in a white bra and panties, standing beside her locker.

Ron spoke casually. “Can I have it?”

“It’s yours. But you owe me. And I’ll be sure to collect. By the way, my name is Pearl Adams.”

She winked at him as she walked away. Ron shoved the photo into his notebook just as Lisa walked out of the locker room.

END