friends that way."
"Playing cards?"
"That's right. And in the afternoons, some of us would stop by the Roanoke and play a few games of pool."
"Including Darwin Ridley and yourself?" Peters asked.
Andi nodded. "Yes."
"Did you know anything about his personal life?" Peters continued.
"Some, but not very much."
"Have you ever met his wife, Joanna?"
"No. I never even saw her. She didn't come to school, and she never showed up at any of the faculty functions, at least not any of the ones I went to."
"And she never came to the Roanoke?"
"No."
"Did you know she's pregnant?"
Andi looked at Peters. She seemed a little surprised. "Is she? I didn't know. That's too bad," she said.
Peters nodded in agreement. "Yes, it is. Did Darwin ever indicate to you that his marriage was in trouble?"
Andi Wynn sipped her coffee and considered the question before she answered. "I remember him mentioning that they were going for marriage counseling. That was some time back. A year ago, maybe a year and a half. He never said anything more about it. Whatever the problem was, they must have straightened it out."
I was growing restless, sitting on the sidelines. "Tell us about your cheerleading squad," I said.
"The cheerleaders? What about them?"
"Give us an idea of who they are, what they're like."
"They're mostly juniors and seniors…" she began. Then she stopped and looked at Peters. "You talked to most of them yesterday. What more do you need to know?"
"Most?" Peters focused in on the important issue. "I only met most of them? Where were the others?"
"Two were missing. One was home sick. She has mono. The other quit, transferred to a different school."
Peters had gotten out his notebook and flipped through several pages. "What are their names?" he asked, his pen poised above the paper.
"Those who weren't there yesterday?" Peters nodded in reply. "Amy Kendrick and Bambi Barker."
"Bambi? As in Walt Disney?"
"That's right."
"Which one has mono?" Peters asked.
"Amy."
"So Bambi transferred to another school," I said. "Recently?"
"Monday of this week."
"What is she, a junior?"
Andi Wynn shook her head. "A senior."
"And she's transferring this late in her last year? What's her problem? Flunking out? Having trouble with grades?"
"No, nothing like that. Her father just up and shipped her off to a private school in Portland, a boarding school."
"Which one?" Peters asked, still holding his pen.
Andi frowned. "St. Agnes of the Hills. I think that's the name of it."
Peters wrote it down. "Do you have any idea why she was sent away?" he asked.
"Not really. Her father's Tex Barker, though."
Peters dropped his pen on the table. The name meant nothing to me, but I saw the spark of recognition flash in Peters' eyes. "Wheeler-Dealer Barker?"
"That's the one."
I was tired of sitting on my hands. "Who the hell is Wheeler-Dealer Barker?"
"Beau here doesn't watch TV, Andi," Peters explained with a smile. Andi Wynn smiled back.
"Okay, you two. Stop making fun of me. Who's this Barker character?"
"He runs Tex Barker Ford in Bellevue," Peters told me. "His commercials are reputed to be some of the worst in the country."
"That bad?"
Peters and Andi nodded in unison. "Somebody gives out awards for the worst television commercials. It's like Mr. Blackwell's worstdressed list. Barker won one last year, hands down."
"What else do you know about him?" I asked. Because of Peters' voracious reading, he always seemed to know something about practically everything. Wheeler-Dealer Barker was no exception.
"He came up here from Texas four, maybe five, years ago and bought up a failing Ford dealership on auto row in Bellevue. Within months, he had moved it from the bottom of the heap to one of the top dealerships."
"So the commercials haven't hurt him."
"Are you kidding? He's like that character with his dog Spot, one of those guys people love to hate, but they do business with him right and left. I understand he's made offers on two more
"Playing cards?"
"That's right. And in the afternoons, some of us would stop by the Roanoke and play a few games of pool."
"Including Darwin Ridley and yourself?" Peters asked.
Andi nodded. "Yes."
"Did you know anything about his personal life?" Peters continued.
"Some, but not very much."
"Have you ever met his wife, Joanna?"
"No. I never even saw her. She didn't come to school, and she never showed up at any of the faculty functions, at least not any of the ones I went to."
"And she never came to the Roanoke?"
"No."
"Did you know she's pregnant?"
Andi looked at Peters. She seemed a little surprised. "Is she? I didn't know. That's too bad," she said.
Peters nodded in agreement. "Yes, it is. Did Darwin ever indicate to you that his marriage was in trouble?"
Andi Wynn sipped her coffee and considered the question before she answered. "I remember him mentioning that they were going for marriage counseling. That was some time back. A year ago, maybe a year and a half. He never said anything more about it. Whatever the problem was, they must have straightened it out."
I was growing restless, sitting on the sidelines. "Tell us about your cheerleading squad," I said.
"The cheerleaders? What about them?"
"Give us an idea of who they are, what they're like."
"They're mostly juniors and seniors…" she began. Then she stopped and looked at Peters. "You talked to most of them yesterday. What more do you need to know?"
"Most?" Peters focused in on the important issue. "I only met most of them? Where were the others?"
"Two were missing. One was home sick. She has mono. The other quit, transferred to a different school."
Peters had gotten out his notebook and flipped through several pages. "What are their names?" he asked, his pen poised above the paper.
"Those who weren't there yesterday?" Peters nodded in reply. "Amy Kendrick and Bambi Barker."
"Bambi? As in Walt Disney?"
"That's right."
"Which one has mono?" Peters asked.
"Amy."
"So Bambi transferred to another school," I said. "Recently?"
"Monday of this week."
"What is she, a junior?"
Andi Wynn shook her head. "A senior."
"And she's transferring this late in her last year? What's her problem? Flunking out? Having trouble with grades?"
"No, nothing like that. Her father just up and shipped her off to a private school in Portland, a boarding school."
"Which one?" Peters asked, still holding his pen.
Andi frowned. "St. Agnes of the Hills. I think that's the name of it."
Peters wrote it down. "Do you have any idea why she was sent away?" he asked.
"Not really. Her father's Tex Barker, though."
Peters dropped his pen on the table. The name meant nothing to me, but I saw the spark of recognition flash in Peters' eyes. "Wheeler-Dealer Barker?"
"That's the one."
I was tired of sitting on my hands. "Who the hell is Wheeler-Dealer Barker?"
"Beau here doesn't watch TV, Andi," Peters explained with a smile. Andi Wynn smiled back.
"Okay, you two. Stop making fun of me. Who's this Barker character?"
"He runs Tex Barker Ford in Bellevue," Peters told me. "His commercials are reputed to be some of the worst in the country."
"That bad?"
Peters and Andi nodded in unison. "Somebody gives out awards for the worst television commercials. It's like Mr. Blackwell's worstdressed list. Barker won one last year, hands down."
"What else do you know about him?" I asked. Because of Peters' voracious reading, he always seemed to know something about practically everything. Wheeler-Dealer Barker was no exception.
"He came up here from Texas four, maybe five, years ago and bought up a failing Ford dealership on auto row in Bellevue. Within months, he had moved it from the bottom of the heap to one of the top dealerships."
"So the commercials haven't hurt him."
"Are you kidding? He's like that character with his dog Spot, one of those guys people love to hate, but they do business with him right and left. I understand he's made offers on two more
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