Nursery Crimes by Ayelet Waldman

our cars and set off in a convoy. It didn’t occur to us to go in one car, but then why would it? This was L.A., after all. Stacy and I each found parking right away and waited in the restaurant while Maggie circled the block, looking for a space.
    “What’s this all about, Juliet? Why did you ask her to join us?” Stacy asked me.
    “Well, she’s Zack’s old teacher.”
    “And?”
    “And she may have been the last person to see Abigail alive. I just want to find out if she knows anything that might be useful.”
    “I thought you had decided to give this up after your brawl with LeCrone. I thought we’d agreed that you were going to leave the detective work to the professionals.”
    “First of all,
we
didn’t decide anything, you did.” I paused for a moment, distracted by the thought that I’d used precisely the same line on Peter. Giving my lack of originality an inward shrug, I continued, “And second of all, it seems to me that the police have pretty much decided that this is a random hit-and-run. If that’s the case, then they’re not going to be doing much investigation. And if they aren’t, why shouldn’t I? I’m trained for it. I know what I’m doing. There’s no harm in me looking into things a bit.”
    “LeCrone might take issue with that point of view.” Sometimes Stacy can be downright snide.
    At that moment we spotted Maggie’s car pulling into a space that had opened up in front of the restaurant.
    “Just do me a favor, Juliet. Don’t be too pushy with Maggie. She’s a real sweetheart, and I’m not sure she can hold her own with you.”
    “I’m not going to be pushy. When am I ever pushy?”
    Stacy raised her eyebrows.
    “Trust me,” I said hurriedly as Maggie walked into the restaurant. “I’ll be gentle and restrained.”
    “You’d better be,” she whispered to me, waving her hand at Maggie. “Honey! We’re over here!”

    S TACY ordered her usual—diet fare. This time it was plain grilled fish and a salad with no dressing. Someday I’m going to tattoo “No butter, no oil” onto her skinny butt. Come to think of it, there’s probably not enough room. Maggie got something multigrained and sprout-filled. I got a steak sandwich and fries. I didn’t really want the fries, but someone had to fulfill our table’s daily caloric requirement.
    As we sipped our iced teas, I gently directed the conversation back to Abigail Hathaway.
    “Maggie, you mentioned that you saw Abigail right before she died?”
    So, maybe I wasn’t so gentle.
    “Yes. No. I mean, not right before. But that evening. After school,” Maggie said.
    “What time?” I asked.
    She looked at me curiously, but answered my question. “About 6:10 or so. After the last late pickup.”
    Stacy interrupted. “Maggie runs the afternoon day-careprogram. School ends at one, but some of the kids stay until six.”
    “Nine to six?” I was surprised. “That’s a really long day for a three-year-old.”
    Maggie nodded. “I think so, too. But we only have a few who stay that late. Most of them go home at three. That’s why we have two teachers in the early afternoon, and only I stay late.”
    “Abigail always stayed with you?” I asked.
    “Usually,” Maggie said. “She didn’t like to have just one teacher there, in case something happened, so she’d do administrative work until the last pickup at six. I don’t know who’s going to stay late with me from now on.” She sniffed loudly as her eyes filled with tears.
    Stacy patted her on the hand. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’m sure the new director will stay with you.”
    I hadn’t even thought of that. “Who is going to be taking over the school now?” I asked. “Does anybody know?”
    Maggie shook her head. “The board of directors will have to decide. It seems so weird. It’s Abigail’s school! It’s not like they could just hire someone new to take her place.”
    I turned to Stacy and asked, “Is Heart’s Song a nonprofit? Is it run by a