Scat by Carl Hiaasen Read Free Book Online Page B

it.
    The facts strongly suggested that Mrs. Starch was alive and had safely exited the wilderness. How else would Libby's lost medicine have been delivered to her front porch?
    What nagged at Dr. Dressier was this: Nobody had seen or spoken to the biology teacher.
    She hadn't shown up for classes that morning, which, given the circumstances, was excusable-yet she hadn't even called to say she'd be absent. That was a violation of the Truman faculty attendance policy, and nobody was a bigger stickler for school rules than Mrs. Starch.
    In eighteen years she'd missed only one day of teaching, when she accidentally rolled her car while swerving to avoid a rabbit on the way to school. She'd borrowed the ambulance driver's radio to call in sick, and the next day she had returned to Truman with a plaster cast on one arm, a patch over one eye, and two metal pins in her collarbone.
    After Libby left his office, Dr. Dressier immediately tried calling Mrs. Starch's cell phone . . . and calling and calling and calling. Then he phoned her house-no answer there, either. It was baffling.
    Dr. Dressier reluctantly agreed that the sheriff's deputies should go ahead and interview the students. Technically, at least, Bunny Starch was still a missing person.
    * * *
    After speaking with Libby, Nick and Marta expected Mrs. Starch to be waiting with a pencil twirling in biology class. They were surprised to see Miss Moffitt sitting at Mrs. Starch's desk, and even more surprised when a sheriff's deputy poked his head in the doorway and asked for Duane Scrod Jr.
    Miss Moffitt said, "Duane's absent today."
    "All right." The deputy scanned his clipboard. "How about Graham Carson?"
    Graham eagerly raised his hand, and the deputy motioned for him to come along. Graham was beaming self-importantly as he marched from the room.
    "I don't get it," Marta murmured to Nick. "What's with the cops? Don't they know the old bird is okay?"
    Nick was mystified as well. If Mrs. Starch was safe, why were the deputies hanging around and asking questions?
    Another uniformed officer entered the classroom and called Marta's name. Her eyes widened and she looked fretfully at Nick.
    He said, "No big deal. Just tell 'em what you know."
    After a few minutes Marta returned and, looking annoyed, plopped down at her desk. "I told him Mrs. Starch was all right, but he just kept on asking me more stuff."
    "Like what?" Nick said.
    "No talking, please!" It was Miss Moffitt. Sternly she pointed at the blackboard, upon which she had chalked the words "Reread Chapter 8."
    Libby Marshall was called out next, and Nick assumed that she'd be the final interview. Once Libby told them that Mrs. Starch had delivered the asthma inhaler last night, the deputies would realize there was nothing to investigate.
    But Libby came back to class red-faced and fuming. Nick wondered what in the world was going on.
    One by one, the remainder of Mrs. Starch's biology students were summoned. Sometimes the interviews were short, and sometimes they lasted awhile. There were so many interruptions from kids coming and going that it was difficult to concentrate on the Calvin cycle, or any other topic in the biology book.
    Nick was the last to be called. He was led to an empty classroom by the same female deputy to whom he'd spoken near the Truman statue. The deputy told Nick to sit down (which he did) and relax (which was impossible).
    "Let's go over what happened on the field trip yesterday," she said. Balanced on her lap was a clipboard holding a blank report form, upon which she'd printed Nick's full name. "When Mrs. Starch turned back to look for the young lady's asthma inhaler, you're sure she was alone?"
    "Yes, I saw her walking down the boardwalk all by herself," Nick said.
    The deputy scribbled on the paper.
    Nick quickly added, "She must be all right, because she brought back Libby's asthma inhaler last night. Did you know about that?"
    The deputy nodded and kept writing.
    "Then I don't get the point of