The One Hundredth Thing About Caroline Read Free Page A

and more of a problem.
Eliminate
the kids. You can figure out a way.
    Call me, and we'll have lunch and talk it over.
    Carl
    That was all. Caroline turned the envelope over and looked at the return address. Carl Broderick was the man's name, and he lived on East 52nd Street.
    Why would a man on East 52nd Street be telling Frederick Fiske to murder some children?

3
    Caroline dialed Stacy's number as soon as the laundry was folded and put away.
    "Guess what, Stace?" she said.
    "
You
guess what," said Stacy Baurichter. "Harrison Ledyard is having an affair."
    "How do you know?"
    "I looked through his trash. It was down in the basement of our building, because the superintendent hadn't put it outside yet. And there were cigarette butts with lipstick on them, and—"
    "Stacy. Maybe his mother came to visit. Maybe his mother smokes. Or his sister. Or his cleaning lady. You have to verify your evidence, Stacy."
    "That's not all. Wait'll you hear." Stacy paused ominously. "There was something else. A bra."
    "In his
trash?
"
    "Ripped."
    "A ripped bra?"
    "Torn in a passionate frenzy. Honest. Now don't try to make me believe
that
was his mother!"
    "No," said Caroline, "I guess not. Was it black lace?"
    "Pink. No lace, but some embroidery. Thirty-four B."
    "That's not very big," said Caroline. "I think for a passionate frenzy you really need a thirty-eight D at least."
    But Stacy assumed her investigative reporter's voice. "Research indicates that ever since Brooke Shields became so popular, small boobs are in."
    "Stacy,
in
is one thing. Passionate frenzy is something else."
    "Well. Anyway. It's the first interesting thing I've found out about Harrison Ledyard in all these months. Can you imagine? He looks so quiet and intellectual and Pulitzer Prize-winning. And now it turns out that in his spare time he's grabbing and ripping and tearing the clothes off of innocent women. I made a lot of notes. The bra's a Maidenform. And the lipstick is Misty Coral, I think. The cigarettes are Benson and Hedges menthol."
    "Stacy, for a minute I almost forgot what I wanted to tell you. It's even better than Harrison Ledyard's sex life."
    "What could be better than
that
?"
    Caroline looked around to be certain no one could overhear her. She had taken the telephone into the
bathroom, but the door wouldn't close tight over the cord. J.P. was in his bedroom, probably working on an electrical project. Her mother was washing the kitchen floor, and the radio was on in the kitchen. She eased the door closed again as far as it would go and spoke in a low voice.
    "Frederick Fiske," she whispered into the telephone.
    "The guy upstairs? He's having an affair, too?"
    "Yes. But worse than that."
    " BAURICHTER DEMANDS DETAILS ," said Stacy. When she was excited about something, she often spoke in headlines. It was part of her journalistic training.
    "He's a murderer," announced Caroline.
    "A
what
? How do you know? Did you find body parts in his trash?"
    "The murder hasn't taken place yet," Caroline explained. "But I found a letter. He's
going
to commit a murder. And guess what kind?"
    "Ax?"
    "No, it doesn't say the method. But it's going to be a
child
murder. A
children
murder, actually. The letter said, 'Eliminate the kids.'"
    "Save it for fingerprints," ordered Stacy, " PRINTS OFTEN PROVE CASE ," she added, in a headline.
    "Too late," said Caroline. "I picked it up in my bare hands already. Anyway, it doesn't matter. I know who wrote it, and I know who it was to."
    "Well, save it for evidence. And take notes. Listen: this is important, Caroline. Do friends describe him as a loner?"
    "What?"
    "In the newspapers," Stacy explained, "after they catch a psychopathic killer, it always says, 'Friends described him as a loner.' Do Frederick Fiske's friends describe him as a loner?"
    "
Stacy,
" Caroline pointed out impatiently, "I don't even know if he
has
any friends. He's always by himself."
    "That proves it, then."
    "Proves what?"
    "He's a loner," said