Free 10 Tahoe Trap by Todd Borg Page A

I’m looking for the principal’s office,” I said. “Is this the right place?”
    A woman looked up from a desk. “Oh, hi. Yes, this is the principal’s office. And the administration office. And the teachers’ break room. And the PTA meeting room second Wednesdays of every month. Let’s see, have I forgot anything?”
    I pointed toward the counter at one side of the room where the coffee maker and microwave sat next to a mid-sized fridge. “Kitchen,” I said.
    “Yes! Of course. The most important activity that happens in this room.”
    The woman swiveled her chair and called toward the corner opposite the kitchen. “Pam! You have visitor,” she said in a sing-song voice.
    Through an open door into another office sat a woman at a desk, talking on the phone handset, which was wedged between her shoulder and head while she typed at a computer. Even at a distance I could see that she was better dressed than the others. She wore a navy pantsuit, and her black hair had been permed or otherwise treated so that not a single hair could be a renegade and get out of line. The woman looked ready to perform in a documentary about super-competent women.
    The woman who called out turned back toward me.
    “Pam is on the phone. She’ll be with you in a...” she stopped as she stared past me. I turned to see Paco looking into the doorway behind me. The woman put a formal, almost stern look on her face.
    “Mrs. Sagan, our principal, will be with you shortly. I’ll tell her that you are here. Your name?”
    “Owen McKenna. I’m here about Paco Ipar.”
    She nodded. “Yes, I see that. If you will just wait in the entry a moment.”
    I went back out to the lobby. Paco had moved over near a bulletin board that was plastered with pictures of smiling kids and adjacent printed pages that extolled their achievements. Some even had newspaper articles. I didn’t look closely, but I didn’t see any pictures of Paco in the display.
    The woman in the navy pantsuit came out of the office, saw Paco and made a tight grin. “Hello, Mr. Ipar. We missed you yesterday. And you weren’t here for roll call this morning, either.” Despite smiling as she spoke, she had an edge in her voice.
    Paco looked at the floor as she spoke. He didn’t answer.
    I reached out my hand. “Hi, I’m Owen McKenna, a private detective from Tahoe.”
    Her eyes widened. She glanced at Paco, then back to me.
    She shook. “I’m Pam Sagan, detective. I hope that Paco hasn’t gotten into more trouble.” She looked again at Paco.
    “May I speak to you alone?” I asked.
    “Well, I suppose Paco can wait in the lobby while I talk to you. Paco, will you be good if we leave you alone for a few minutes?”
    He made the smallest of nods.
    I followed the woman through the group office into her small office at the rear corner. As she stepped behind her desk, I shut the door behind us.
    She jerked her head at the sound of the door clicking closed, then sat down slowly, her hands tense on the arms of her chair. Her eyes flicked from me to the door as if she worried about the safety of being alone in a room with me and was judging her possible escape path. Of the two green metal chairs in front of the desk, I took the one that was farthest from the door and farthest from her, hoping it would help her relax.
    Sagan was a trim woman who radiated grooming perfection. Her lipstick and mascara weren’t directly observable but detectable through inference from her distinctive eyes and mouth. She had a gold brooch shaped like a miniature fountain pen on her lapel. It was angled exactly parallel to the cut of her jacket collar. She took a deep breath through her nose and shut her eyes for a second as she let her air out in a long exhalation.
    I knew that whatever relaxation she’d achieved, I was about to destroy it.
    “Mrs. Sagan, Paco’s foster mother Cassie brought him to Tahoe early yesterday morning. He witnessed a shooting and was later trapped in the back of the