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my eyes watered from the gush of freezing air.
     
     
Moments later, Julian and I pulled up across the street from my house. White shutters gleamed against the brown shingles. The front porch with its single-story white pillars and porch swing seemed to smile. The old place had become very dear to me in the five years since my divorce from Dr. John Richard Korman. Arriving home at night, I was always happy that the Jerk, as his other ex-wife and I called him, was gone for good, and that my brand-new security system could make sure he stayed that way.
     
     
I hopped out of the van and landed in three inches of new snow. It was less than we'd received in Elk Park, which stood another five hundred feet above Aspen Meadow's eight thousand above sea level. A sudden slash of wind made me draw my coat close. A curse rose in my throat. I had unwittingly gone off wearing the stupid raccoon thing. I put my hand in the pocket and felt tissues and something flat and hard. The thought of a trip back to the school to return the coat brought a shudder.
     
     
I pressed the security buttons and came in out of the cold with Julian close behind. Arch, who of course had not gone to bed after Julian's call, clomped down the stairs in untied high top sneakers. He was wearing a gray sweatsuit and carrying a large flashlight-defense against power outages. His knotted, wood-colored hair stuck out at various angles. I was so happy to see him, I clasped him in a hug that was mostly raccoon coat. He pulled back and straightened the glasses on his small, freckled nose. Magnified brown eyes regarded Julian and me with intense Interest.
     
     
"Are you guys late! What are you doing wearing that weird thing? What's going on? All you said was that there was a problem at the headmaster's house. Does that mean we don't have school on Monday?" This prospect seemed to please him.
     
     
"No, no," I said. Weariness washed over me. We were home, finally, and all I wanted was for everyone to go to bed. I said, "Someone was hurt after the dinner."
     
     
"Who?" Arch pulled his thin shoulders up to his ears and made a face.
     
     
"Was there an accident?"
     
     
"Not quite. Keith Andrews, a senior, died." I did not say that it looked as if he'd been murdered. This was a mistake.
     
     
"Keith Andrews? The president of the French Club?" Arch looked at Julian, full of fear. "The guy you had that fight with? Man! You're kidding!"
     
     
Julian closed his eyes and shrugged. A fight had not come up in the questioning. I raised my eyebrows at Julian; his facial expression stayed flat.
     
     
I said, "I'm sorry, Arch. Tom Schulz and the police are over at the school now - "
     
     
"Tom Schulz!" cried Arch. "So they - "
     
     
"Arch, buddy," said Julian. "Chill. Nobody knows what happened. Really."
     
     
Arch's eyes traveled from Julian back to me. He said, " A lot of people at school didn't like Keith. I liked him, though. He didn't drive around in a Porche or BMW, like he was so cool. You know, the way some of the older kids do. He was nice."
     
     
Arch's words hung in the air of my front hall. How easily he had put the boy's life in past tense. Finally I said, "Well, hon, I'd rather not talk about it now, if that's okay. So... you had a problem with a broken window?"
     
     
He reached into the front pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled the rock out. So much for fingerprints. But the rock was tennis-ball-size and jagged. It probably wouldn't have held a print anyway.
     
     
"I'll bet it was some kids from my old school. Trick or treat." Arch sighed.
     
     
"When did this happen?"
     
     
"Oh, late. Right before Julian called."
     
     
I took the rock from him. Did I have any clients who were angry? None that I could think of. In any event, I was too tired to think about it. "Church tomorrow," I said I to Arch as I pocketed the stone and started toward the kitchen.
     
     
"But it's been snowing!"
     
     
"Arch, I can't take any more in one