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“What about Williams?”

Now Rayleen rolled her eyes. “If you’re not totally stupid, you know why.”

“So I’d think he killed Mr. Foster? But—”

“That’s so lame-o.”

Rayleen got up to go to the little pay AutoChef, digging credits from the pocket of her pink jeans. She plugged them in and ordered herself a lemon fizzy.

“Why’s it lame-o?”

Rayleen got a straw from the counter, and her lips curved around it as she sucked up the drink. “You were supposed to think Principal Mosebly killed them both. Because of having sex. That’s disgusting, too, and she should pay for it. Anyway, she’s too strict, and I was getting tired of it.”

“I looked at her,” Eve agreed, and spoke conversationally. “I thought, initially, that Williams did Foster to cover the fact that he was a pervert, then Mosebly killed Williams because he tried to blackmail her. But the timing kept hanging me up, and every time I ran it through, it pulled out to the same killer for both. I couldn’t pin Foster on Mosebly. Didn’t fit.”

“You could if you wanted. He had the dumb cup in his ugly old briefcase in the class all the time, so she could’ve. Now, I guess you won’t ever arrest anyone.”

“It’s looking that way.” Eve picked up the dreadful coffee again. Just a couple of girls, she thought, having a drink and talking shop. “Where’d you get the drug you used on Williams? It was damn good thinking to get him in the pool. We nearly missed the drug since you used such a small amount. Timing worked against you that time.”

“Stupid Mr. Williams. The stuff is supposed to be absorbed and be pretty much undetectable after a couple hours. I got it from the old, ugly people’s home where I have to go volunteer and pretend not to want to puke. I sing for them, and dance and read and listen to their booor-ing stories. And I can go anywhere I want because everyone knows me. They keep it locked up, but it’s easy to distract the nurse or the orderly for a few minutes.”

She studied Eve’s weapon. “Did you ever kill anyone with that?”

“Yes.”

“How did it feel?”

“Powerful.”

“Uh-huh. But it doesn’t last very long. It’s like eating ice cream, and then the bowl’s empty.” Rayleen set the fizzy aside, did a series of pirouettes. “You can tell everybody in the whole galaxy what I said to you, and not one single person will believe you.”

“That’s pretty much it. Who’d believe me if I said you’d killed two people, and tried—maybe succeeded—in killing a third. And her own mother. At ten years old.”

Rayleen executed a graceful plié. “That’s not all.” She sang it.

“What else?”

“Maybe I’ll tell, maybe I won’t. People would lock you up in a looney box if you said I did it.”

“You don’t want to tell, fine. It’s getting late anyway, and it’s my day off.” Eve got to her feet. “I’ve spent enough of my time on all this.”

On tiptoe, arms curved overhead, Rayleen danced a circle around Eve. “You’ll never, never, never guess.”

“I’m too old for games, kid. And as things stand, the sooner I forget about you, the better it is for me.”

With a little thump, Rayleen dropped down to the flats of her feet. “You don’t just walk away from me! I’m not finished. I’m the one who beat you. I won! You’re being a poor sport.”

“Sue me.” Eve reached for the door.

“I killed the first time when I was only seven.”

Eve stopped, turned, leaned back on the door. “Bullshit.”

“If you curse at me, I won’t tell you how I killed my baby brother.”

“He fell down the steps. I read the investigator reports, the notes. All the files.”

“They were stupid, too.”

“You expect me to believe you pulled that off, and nobody knows?”

“I can do anything I want. I got him up early, early. I had to put my hand over his mouth when he giggled. But he listened to me, he always listened to me. He loved me.”

“I bet he did,” Eve said, and almost lost her ability to sound mildly interested.

“And he was quiet, just like I told him to be. I said we were going to go down and see the toys, and maybe even Santa. He believed in Santa. He was a joke. It was