Read Calamity Jayne Goes to College for Free Online Page B

half-glasses. You know, the ones that can't decide if they want to be glasses or a lorgnette when they grow up. He has a habit
     of peering over the top of them that really gets on my nerves. Probably because he's usually chewing a piece of my hide when
     he's doing it.
    "So, how's school going?" he asked. "What can I expect to see when I get a peek at your final grades?"
    "Whiteout?" I suggested.
    "That bad?" he asked. I shrugged.
    "It's hard keeping all the balls in the air, Stan," I complained. "Real hard."
    "Try doin' it when you're fifty, overweight, with a bum knee and two kids in college."
    I shook my head. "No, thanks. I think I'll stick with my two hairy hounds," I told him. "I can't even afford obedience school
     for then. Anything you want me to jump on before I head home to work on my big journalism final?" I asked. "I've already thought
     of a title," I added. " 'Crime by the Books: Campus Crime Wave Linked to Professor's Lecture Series.' Whaddaya think? Pretty
     catchy, huh?"
    "Sure. If the story pans out," Stan said, sticking an unlit cigar in his mouth. I've never seen Stan light up. He basically
     chews the thing to death. Not a pretty sight.
    "What do you mean?"
    "Just that. In this business you never know when a story will take off like a red-hot rocket on the Fourth of July or fizzle
     like a defective sparkler," he said.
    "Hey. Haven't I always delivered?" I asked, not particularly thrilled with the references to fire and fizzle considering I
     might be tracking a freelance criminal.
    "Yeah," Stan said. "COD."
    I shook my head. "COD?"
    "Corpse on delivery," he told me and chuckled. Frankly, I saw little humor in it.
    "Hardy-har-har," I said. "But you'll be singing a different tune when I come home with a big fat A on my final and another
     story of crime and punishment to grace the pages of your newspaper."
    Stan grunted. "In the meantime, Ms. Pulitzer, run over to the courthouse and pick up the arrest reports from the sheriffs
     office and Clerk of Court filings, would you?" he ordered.
    "Sure, boss. Anything you say."
    I stood in the doorway of Stan's office and looked across the room at my tiny little table, sad, straight-back chair and ancient
     computer, then shut my eyes and rubbed both temples, emitting a low hum.
    "Uh, was there something else, Turner?" Stan asked.
    "It's a technique I saw on one of those late night motivational shows. 'If you visualize it, you can realize it,' they say.
     So I'm visualizing my new office furniture and laptop computer," I told him. "High-back leather chair. Nice, big oak desk.
     Top-of-the-line laptop notebook with mobile technology." I shut my eyes again, "Just about there. Yes. Yes. I can see it!"
    "Can you also see me docking your pay for wasting my time?" Stan asked. " 'Cause I seem to recall giving you a job to do."
    Phhft! My office furniture fantasy disappeared faster than M&M's from Stan's candy dish when he's not around. (Hello. It's
     chocolate!)
    I grabbed my backpack and hauled my cookies down the block and across the street to the Knox County Courthouse. A three-story
     baby-poo shade of brick, the courthouse got a face-lift several years ago that had included new windows and a roof. The century-old
     jail was still down in the bowels of the square structure. When I was a child it gave me the willies to walk by those bottom
     windows and see the bars on them. All right, so maybe they still do give me cause for pause at the ripe old age of practically
     twenty-four--my birthday being a week off. April I. Yes, as in April Fools' Day. No smart-mouthed remarks, people. Like most
     blonde jokes, I've heard 'em all.
    I entered the courthouse and headed first upstairs to the Clerk of Court's office, putting off the visit to the sheriffs for
     as long as I could. I have a complicated relationship with the current sheriff. I came to know him pretty well last summer
     when I was trying to convince local law enforcement there was murder afoot in our little