It looked like I would have to wait my turn to talk to her because she was already speaking with someone else.

A Moose River police officer.

FOUR

“Every single one?” the officer asked.

He was a short, thick guy with bushy eyebrows, someone I'd never seen before. Considering my past run-ins with the Moose River police department, I was slightly surprised there was an officer on the force I didn't recognize.

Ellen nodded. “Our maintenance man came in this morning and noticed it first. He called our pr incipal esident . She came in, verified his story, then called several of our office staff members, including myself. She asked me to call you so that we could file a report.”

The officer made a few more notes on the notepad he was holding, nodding his head. “Alright. May I take a look at the room?”

“Of course,” Ellen said. She glanced in my direction and her cheeks immediately colored. “Daisy, I'll be back in just a minute, okay?”

“Sure,” I said, already wondering what the police officer was doing at Prism and what the maintenance man had noticed.

I walked back into the conference room and sat back down in my chair. I was scrolling through my phone when I heard footsteps in the door way and looked up.

“Oh,” a woman in a yellow business suit said. Giant seashell-shaped earring dangled from her ears and her face was covered with a thick coat of makeup. “I'm sorry. I was looking for Ellen.” She extended her hand. “I'm Evelyn Bingledorf, the pr incipal esident here at Prism.”

I knew who she was. I'd met her once before, during an open house last year. She'd been friendly, outgoing and boastful of the school. She was very charismatic, but I wasn't sold that she knew a ton about education. Nonetheless, the school was thriving and she'd proven to be a very visible figure in Moose River.

“Daisy Savage,” I said, shaking her perfectly manicured hand. “I'm volunteering this week.”

“Ah, yes,” she said, bestowing a million watt smile on me. “Ellen mentioned she'd have some help this week. If I recall correctly, you have a son in twelfth grade?”

“Uh, no. A daughter in tenth.”

“Ah, yes, yes, that's right,” she said, undeterred by the mistake. “So many children here, so hard to keep all of their names and faces separate, much less their parents. Well, let me be the first to thank you for donating your time to Prism this week. It is so very much appreciated.”

I just nodded. I was beginning to wonder, based on the two enthusiastic thank yous I'd received regarding my volunteer service, if my family was the only one who took the school's “requirement” seriously.

Mrs. Bingeldorf fingered one of her earrings. “Would you by chance know where Ellen is?” she asked.

“I think she just went down the hall,” I said. I paused, then added, “With a police officer.”

“Oh, that was fast,” she said, glancing toward the hallway. “Alright, very good. I'm sure she'll be back momentarily. Anyway, if I can help you at all or if you have questions, please don't hesitate to come and find me. My office is just down the hall. Again, thank you and we're so glad to have you.”

She was gone before I could tell her thank you.

I sat there for a minute, wondering if I should try to find the mailboxes on my own or if I should wait for Ellen to return. She already seemed to be overwhelmed that morning and I didn't want to burden her by asking a million questions and waiting for her to direct me all the time. I was arranging the piles in alphabetical order, though, when she returned to the conference room.

“I'm so sorry,” she said. Her face was flushed and the smile she'd struggled to maintain all morning didn't materialize. “I didn't mean to leave you on your own like that.”

“That's alright,” I said. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” she said. Then she sighed. “Well, no, not really.”

I waited for her to respond.

She glanced over her shoulder. “We have a small problem.” She held up a hand when she saw my eyes widen in alarm. “No one's in danger or anything like that. It's not that kind of problem. The kids are fine. It's just that, well, we've lost some things.”

“Lost?”

“Well, actually they appear to have been stolen,” she said. She took a deep breath, then swallowed. “All of our computers were stolen this weekend.”

I covered my hand with my mouth. “Oh my gosh. That's terrible.”

Ellen nodded. “Yes, it is. We're still trying to figure it out. That's why the lab isn't open this morning. Because the computers literally aren't there.”

“Oh, wow,” I said. “That...isn't good.”

“No, it's not,” Ellen said. “And I think, if you don't mind, I'm going to have you switch tasks.” She glanced at the table. “My goodness, you worked quickly.”

“They still need to go in the mailboxes,” I told her.

“Yes, certainly,” she said, nodding distractedly. “Perhaps we can get to that later. Right now, though, I'm wondering if I could have you do something else.”

“Sure, whatever you need.”

“Oh, Daisy,” she said, shaking her head. “You may regret saying that by the end of the week.”

I was used to regretting things. “How can I help?”

“Would you mind heading down to the computer lab?” she asked. “We need to do a full inventory of everything that's missing and Mr. Riggler could probably use the help compiling a list of what's been stolen.”

“Sure,” I said. I turned to leave, then remembered something. “Oh, by the way, Mrs. Bingledorf came looking for you.”

“Yes, I know,” she said, smiling at me. “She was the one who suggested you might be able to help with the inventory.” She paused. “So if you might check with her first and then head down to the room to meet Mr. Riggler? She can tell you exactly what she'd like you to do.”

“No problem,” I said. “Just point me to her office.”

Maybe I would get to do some fun stuff after all.

FIVE

“We do appreciate your assistance,” Mrs. Bingledorf said, now sitting behind her desk. “And, of course, your discretion.”

She'd offered me the seat on the other side of the desk. Her office was twice as large as the conference room, the walls adorned with her certificates of achievement and merits given to her by the town of Moose River. Her walnut desktop was immaculate, one small stack of papers neatly laid next to the laptop computer, which was next to her phone, which was next to an old-fashioned desk light. If there had ever been a speck of dust on anything, it had been properly eradicated – and probably warned never to return again.

“I've printed out a blank spread sheet for you,” she said, sliding a piece of paper across the desk to me. “I'm not sure if Mr. Riggler will have one, so I thought I'd prepare one just in case.”

“Okay,” I said, taking it. “Thanks.”

“Mr. Riggler should have a good handle on what's missing,” she said. She folded her hands together and set them on the desk. “If you would just be kind enough to record everything, then we'll be able to hand over a proper inventory list to the authorities so that we'll know exactly what was taken.”

“I assume you need it for the insurance company, too,” I said, scanning the columns she'd set it up in the worksheet.

“Pardon me?”

I looked at her. “For the insurance company. Won't they need an inventory report, too, so they can assess what you're owed under your policy?”

“Right,” she said, a frown marring her perfectly made-up face. “The insurance company. Yes, you're absolutely right. We'll make sure we make a duplicate so that we can get that sent to our agent immediately.”

I shrugged. “I'd just think that there's a better chance that you'll see an insurance check before you see the computers.”

“Right.” She nodded solemnly. “Unfortunately, that's probably true. But we'll hope the Moose River authorities can locate the computers soon.”