Twelve
“There was not a murder in this
house,” Father finally said.
“I just read about it!” I cried. “In the newspaper over at the library.”
“Don’t believe everything you read
in the newspaper,” laughed Father, who wrote for a newspaper.
I just stared at him. I couldn’t believe
he was making a joke out of this.
“Okay,” he said finally, “the first
reports were that he had been murdered—”
“And then?”
“And then later the investigators
found out it was a suicide.”
“A suicide? But what about the
marks on his neck? The impressions of fingers on his throat?”
“Self-inflicted,” said Father. “He
wanted it to look like a murder. It
was, I guess, his ‘last laugh’ on the community.”
“Very funny.”
“Well, there was probably another
reason, too. In those days insurance companies didn’t pay life insurance claims
on suicides, so maybe he was just trying to make sure that his family would get
his insurance money.”
When I saw Gil in the hall at
school on Monday, I told him what Father had said.
“Well,” he said, “I guess you shouldn’t
stop doing research just because you find something interesting.” He seemed to
think for just a moment. “It was a better story when it was a murder,” he said.
“But I guess I can understand a suicide.”
“You can?”
“Sure. Can’t you?” His blue eyes
blazed.
“I’ve got some great news,” said
Mr. Gisborne in science class that afternoon.
I waited to hear some news from the
world of football—the only world Mr. Gisborne had ever really seemed very
interested in.
“About the science fair,” he continued.
There were groans and muttered
complaints from around the room.
“No,” said Mr. Gisborne, “I know
you’re going to like this.”
The class settled down just a bit.
“The Parent-Teacher Organization
has decided to offer a great incentive for you to do your best.”
We waited in doubtful silence.
“For everyone who receives a
‘Superior’ rating at the fair,” said Mr. Gisborne, “there’s going to be a
special field trip.”
“Where to? McDonald’s?” I heard a
voice shout from the back of the room.
“McDonald’s? Well, I suppose
there’s a McDonald’s there.”
“Where?” came a chorus of voices.
“At Niagara Falls.”
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