The other students might not have blamed me for Beaver deciding to take a flying leap off the Coronado Bridge, but for the most part they gave me a wide berth. I was actually kind of grateful for this -- I didn't have to deal with any phony sympathy from a lot of people about my rape.

I did give my one and only interview on the subject that day, though: To the Neptune High Navigator. Duncan conducted it. It was the only public statement anyone was going to get on the subject.

A reporter from the San Diego Union-Tribune approached me during lunch. I was eating with Wallace and Logan.

Weevil was true to his word. As soon as he saw the man pull out his digital tape recorder, he came over, tossed the recorder to the ground, stepped on it, and told the man "I think the lady would prefer to eat in private."

Then Weevil frog-marched the man to the edge of campus and shoved him into the parking lot, where he sprawled to the pavement.

When Weevil turned around, Clemmons was standing there. He must have been expecting the vice-principal to give him a dressing down; instead, all Clemmons did was nod, tell the reporter, "I meant what I said," and turn around and walk back into the school.

It was one of the first times I've ever seen Weevil speechless.

As I left the school grounds, there were still reporters waiting. I told them "Everything I have to say on this subject I've already said. Read about it in tomorrow's Navigator."

"Why would you talk to them and not us?" A woman with a TV crew asked.

"I like the guy who did the interview."

Logan restrained himself from saying anything, though I could see that he was just dying to give them a snarky comment or two.

After school, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up some dog food -- I was intruding on Lynn's hospitality enough as it was, I didn't want to make her have to feed Backup as well.

We also stopped off at home -- I wanted to be sure no one had broken in and tried to create their own story -- and Dad's office. So far the Fourth Estate seemed to be being pushy, not criminal. I also picked up a couple of other things.

When we got back to the Echolls estate, Meg was sitting there in Duncan's car talking to the assembled reporters. Duncan was next to her, his face severely contorted. Getting closer, we could hear why.

"And, ohmygod," Meg was saying. "It was, like, completely a shock, you know? To see all of that on the screens at the school and I was like, I can't believe this, and people were all like, well, it's true and then of course Beaver went and killed himself, which is so sad, you know? And -- Ronnie! Ronniekins! You are just not going to believe this! I can't wait to get inside and tell you!"

The gate swung open, and Logan and I followed Meg and Duncan inside.

Once we parked the cars, Duncan lost it -- he nearly fell out of the car, he was laughing so hard. When he finally got control, he said, "She did that for at least ten minutes. and I think in all that time she gave then ten words' worth of actual information."

"And it was, like, ohmygod, so much fun," she said, flipping her hair. "I mean, they were like totally buying into it, and, you know, I went on for ten minutes without actually saying a thing." Then she burst out laughing too.

Logan and I were smiling, too. I said, "Nice job, Meg. But -- Ronniekins?"

She blinked her eyes, the perfect picture of exaggerated innocence. "Do you have a problem with that, Ronniekins?"

"I guess not, Meggiepoo." We were both grinning like idiots as we said it.

Then Logan said, "Of course. you realize that you just came off like a complete airhead to probably several thousand people."

Meg put her arm around me. "Something else I've learned from Ronniekins is not to care what other people think."

"You're going to call me Ronniekins from now until the end of time, aren't you?"

Meg nodded. "Mmm-hmmm."

I turned to Logan and Duncan. "If either of you ever -- ever -- calls me Ronniekins, I will kill you."

"Should we believe her?" Duncan said to Logan.

"I would. She looks like a biter."

"So," I asked, "Did you drop by for any other reason other than to torment me and those reporters?"

"You mean there's more to life?" Logan asked.

"Yeah," Duncan said, cutting off my retort. "I'm not going to quite be able to run the interview the way we did it."

'Why?"

"Libel laws. You can say anything you want to about Cassidy Casablancas since he's dead, but mentioning Dick and Madison might get you or me or the entire school in trouble. Don't worry. Most of it's still intact."

I shrugged. "That's fine, then."

"Are you really staying here, with Logan, while your father's out of town?" Meg asked. I allowed that I was. "I'd love to be able to have some privacy like that. But my parents -- well, let's just say the Department of Homeland Security should be taking tips from them. The only reason I'm even allowed to date Duncan is because it's the mighty Kane family -- no offense, sweetie --"

"None taken," Duncan said. "My family is mighty."

Meg laughed. "And so they think it might look good on them." She stopped. "Anyway, didn't mean to bring the mood down. My parents are evil. I just have to live with that." Behind Meg's flippancy there was something more than simple complaining about harsh parents.

At some point, I'd have to ask her about it. But right now wasn't the time.

X X X X X

Lynn was on the phone when we got inside. "Really," she said. "I'll tell you what -- send over a contract and I'll have my lawyer take a look at it and we'll see what we can work out. No, I'll be doing it myself. Really. Well then, I'm sure someone else would be interested -- good. Like I said, send over the contract. Goodbye." She turned around and saw us. "Hi, kids!" she said. "I'll bet you're wondering what that was about."

"You're doing your own one-woman show on Broadway about the life of Alice Roosevelt Longworth," Logan said.

Lynn stopped. "Actualle, that's not a bad idea. Do you think people would be interested?"

"Um --"

She laughed. "I know who she is, Logan. While Mrs. Longworth was a fascinating and witty person I doubt too many people would be interested in my impressions of the life of Theodore Roosevelt's daughter." Logan's mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. "Apparently my son doesn't think that I read anything deeper than People," Lynn said. "Would anyone else like to guess?"

"You're the new spokesperson for Verizon," Duncan offered.

"No." She tapped her phone. "Not even my brand."

"You're writing a tell-all biography about your and Aaron's life together," I suggested.

Lynn looked at me with a mixed expression of admiration and mild annoyance. Then she clapped her hands and laughed. "Oh, Veronica. You really are brilliant."

"Educated guess, I swear," I said as everyone else in the room turned to look at me as well. "Well, she said she'd be doing it herself and that 'someone else would be interested' if whoever was on the other end didn't want that. I thought, 'ghostwriter.' And there's really not much else people would be interested in coming from you bookwise, Lynn -- no offense. If you wanted to write a biography of this Alice Roosevelt Longfellow --"

"Longworth," Logan and Lynn said simultaneously.

"Right. Your probably wouldn't get much of a nibble. So this made sense. One question, though."

"Yes?"

"Is it really going to be tell all? For instance, certain theories --"

"I appreciate your attempts at delicacy, Veronica, but I'm hoping by that point my theory will have more proof."

Duncan and Meg were both clearly confused. "What are you two talking about?"

I hoped Lynn Echolls would be smart enough to suggest to Duncan that her husband had killed his sister. She didn't disappoint. "Theories on how I could have missed the evidence that my husband was having so many affairs," Lynn said. "Because there really was a lot of it. And yes, Veronica; I'm not going to spare myself." After a second, she added, "I even have a title in mind."

"Really?"

"The Long Haul. That was the name of the movie that made him a star --"

"And it's certainly indicative of how it felt to put up with the man," Logan said. "An inspired choice, mother. Truly. I look forward to reading it."

Lynn smiled and said, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to take a nice swim. Enjoy yourselves, everyone."

After she left, Duncan said, "So . . ."

"I'm thinking either poker or orgy."

Meg and I looked at each other and said in unison, "Poker."

"Spoil my fantasies, Machiavelli."

"That's what girlfriends do. Of course," I said, "We fulfill others."

"Just not right at the moment," Meg said. "Okay, four-handed hold 'em, $200 per person buy-in . . "

X X X X X

Dad called later that night to check up on me and to give me an update on how things were going. "No luck so far, honey," he said. "I know he's been coming to a certain restaurant for dinner every day, but I missed him tonight. I'll see what I can do tomorrow."

"You'll get him," I said. Then I explained how my day had gone.

"Good for Weevil," he said. "And good for Lynn. Did you think to ask if she'd be putting in her ideas about Aaron Echolls the murderer?"

"She says yes -- but that she hopes she'll have more proof by the time the book's actually published. No pressure."

Dad laughed. "What fun would this be without pressure?"

Logan and I did not get to have sex; we did get to engage in some quality makeout time while Lynn spent some time in the tub, but that's about it.

I got another, decidedly less welcome phone call shortly therafter.

"Miss Mars," it said. "I have some information for you."

"Clarence," I said. "How's the wife? How's the kids? Driven anyone into an alcoholic coma recently?"

"Are you done insulting me?" he asked.

"Oh, I've just begun to insult you," I said. "But doing it now, while emotionally satisfying, won't get you off the phone any faster. What do you have?"

"A source of mine at the Balboa County District Attorney said that there had been a preliminary deal in place, that if it were ever discovered that Abel Koontz were ever found not guilty of killing Lilly Kane, that the Casablancas brothers would be cut a deal on the false imprisonment charge in exchange for their testimony demolishing Logan Echolls' alibi. With Cassidy Casablancas' recorded rape concession and later suicide, that deal is now off the table. He-said-he-said does not make for compelling testimony."

"Along those lines," I asked. "Isn't it going to be suspicious when the only tapes that disappeared -- and please do not tell me how you managed that, I suspect finding out would get me 15-life in Guantanamo -- turn out to be the ones that would confirm or deny the Casablancas' story?"

"A good question," Clarence said. "How sad that the tapes for that day, from both sides, were destroyed when the air conditioner leaked."

"Ah. Thanks for clearing that up."

"You're welcome, Miss Mars. Have a good night."

X X X X X

School the next day went a lot more smoothly, and the reporters more or less behaved themselves.

The one real surprise of the day happened when Logan and I got back to the Echolls estate.

Lynn was sitting at a table, looking through a script of some sort. She gestured for Logan and me to take a look at some duplicates.

The cover read "The Aaron Echolls story." As I read through it, I grew more and more amazed.

"I didn't realize," I said, "That your deceased husband could walk on water and heal the sick with his touch." Because apart from a couple of affairs the script made Aaron Echolls look like a saint whom the Earth was blessed to have had on it for the brief 45 years of his life. "I mean, who wrote this piece of crap?"

"That would be me," a voice said from behind me. "Hi, Veronica."

I turned around. "Hi, Trina."