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used by my clients to enhance . . . well. Recreational sex. All those involved are consenting adults. I can supply their names, if necessary.”
    “Skip that for now,” I said. “What happened to the girl?”
    “Her date, Derek Patel, brought her to the house party. The elder Champlins were away for the weekend, and such parties aren’t uncommon. Their daughter, Sara, was present, as well as a number of exchange students, all of whom are of age—”
    “What exchange students?” Harvey Bemis asked.
    “Jocks, Harvey,” I explained. “They attend Vale Junior College on sports scholarships.”
    “They keep the school competitive and give Mark a new audience for his highlight reel every year,” Todd added. “Cut to the chase, Jason. Who doped the punch?”
    “Joey Champlin,” Avery said simply.
    The room went dead still. No one spoke for a moment.
    “The . . . handicapped kid?” I said at last.
    “I’m afraid so. Last evening Joey was watching TV with the exchange students when his older sister ordered him to bed. The boy took offense. He has a history of difficulty with impulse control. He broke into the playroom, grabbed a fistful of pills, and dropped them in the punch as a prank.”
    “Sweet Jesus,” Todd said, looking away.
    “The boy had no idea what the pills were, or what the consequences might be,” Avery continued. “Joey confessed to his sister this morning. He’s very sorry, but . . .” He opened his hands expansively. “I doubt the boy’s capable of comprehending the damage he’s done.”
    “How old is this boy?” Harvey asked.
    “Sixteen,” Avery said. “His IQ is in the mid-sixties, which places him in legal limbo between juvenile court and adult incapacity. I doubt he can be tried.”
    “He can’t just walk either,” Todd said grimly. “What are you offering, Jason?”
    “There’s a bit more to it,” Avery said. “Vale Junior College is being vetted at the state level to become a fully accredited four-year institution. I don’t have to tell you what a blessing this would be for the North Shore. Kids who lack the resources to pursue a higher education downstate could live at home, attend school here.” He glanced pointedly at me.
    “That’s good news,” I conceded. “How is it relevant?”
    “Mark Champlin is heavily involved in those negotiations. A scandal at this time could derail the process, perhaps permanently.”
    “The snow angel isn’t a scandal,” I said. “She’s a homicide victim.”
    “Snow angel?” Bemis echoed, frowning.
    “Julie Novak,” I said. “When we found her in the snow, that’s how she appeared.”
    “By whatever name, her death was inadvertent,” Avery said. “A regrettable accident.”
    “Or negligent homicide,” Bemis countered. “A mentally challenged kid made an awful mistake. Fine. He can plead to it, the judge will place him in a state institution for evaluation—”
    “And any hope for his future will disappear,” Avery shot back.
    “Joey Champlin’s record will clear at twenty-one,” I pointed out. “Julie Novak isn’t going to
see
twenty-one.”
    “The point is moot,” Avery said. “The Champlins are unwilling to ruin the boy’s life for what was, in every sense, a juvenile mistake.”
    “We
might
be open to a compromise,” Bemis said, glancing at Todd. “If one of the parents pleads to negligence—”
    “To be held up to public ridicule and shame?” Avery asked.
    “
Somebody
damn well should be ashamed!” I snapped.
    “Dylan’s right, counselor,” Todd said. “My office can’t just write this off. Especially since Mark and I are friends. You have to give me something, Jason.”
    “I’ve been authorized to offer a hundred thousand dollars,” Avery said.
    No one spoke for a moment.
    “A hundred for what?” I asked.
    “Joey’s a mentally challenged minor, with emotional problems,” Avery said quickly. “No good purpose will be served by trying him. The Champlins offer fair