Are You Nuts?: A Tom & Scott Mystery (Tom & Scott Mysteries) by Zubro Mark Richard

Author:Zubro, Mark Richard [Zubro, Mark Richard]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 1999-06-11T16:00:00+00:00

I had brought a change of clothes with me so I wouldn’t have to work at school in my suit. I changed in the empty locker room, carefully hung my suit on the hanger Scott had stuck in my gym bag, and walked to my room. I found my door still securely locked. Georgette came down as I was opening it.

“How is Meg?” she asked.

“Having a tough time,” I replied.

“Poor woman. I’m going to call her later.”

“Good idea. She’s going to need all the friends she can get.”

“Any luck so far?” Georgette asked.

“Nothing substantial. I’m going to keep asking around.”

Georgette left. I sat at my desk. As I thought about my last statement, I began sorting out which teachers’ editions of textbooks I would need the first week. The kind of idiot work that allows time for rumination. I certainly wanted Meg to be innocent, and I’d done a considerable amount of running around and investing time in proving just that in the last day and a half. And she’d flat out told me to stop. As is so typical, I figured the fault had to be in me. I didn’t need a round of self-doubt.

Or putting the blame on Meg. More satisfying and even less productive. Had someone else come and talked to her? Could two nights and a day in jail change someone so quickly? Obviously it had Meg. I know it’s hard to accept when someone rejects you, but this was all out of proportion. Or maybe she was guilty.

Then I noticed something was wrong in my room. I stood very still. Something had been moved or changed. A lot of crap was all over every surface. Getting a classroom pulled together requires a lot of unloading boxes of new materials and supplies and unpacking cabinets crammed with paraphernalia. In the process, junk gets scattered hither and yon, but once again, I had the odd feeling that something was wrong. My skin tingled, and my paranoia level skyrocketed.

I walked around the room carefully. As far as I could tell, the papers were where I had left them, and the boxes and trash were undisturbed. The packing material was still in little heaps on the floor, unmolested by a passing custodian.

Then I realized the computer was on. The screen had faded to black, but the little green light that indicated “on” was still lit. I thought I had turned it off. In fact, I was sure I had turned it off. Little niggling doubts surfaced. I guessed I could forget something like that. But I distinctly remembered doing so.

I flipped the switch for the monitor. The screen filled with gibberish. I tried the commands I knew to get to a different screen. Nothing worked. I didn’t want to just turn it off. I didn’t know what that would do. I knew enough that you aren’t supposed to turn off computers without exiting all functions. I’d been warned that if I did so, I could harm the computer or

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