“Wow!” Nancy said softly. “That’s pretty impressive.”
After getting his doctorate, Friedbinder had become dean of students at a small private school. While there he had increased both the percentage of graduates going on to four-year colleges and the number of acceptances at highly prestigious colleges.
No wonder Lane and the other trustees decided to offer Friedbinder the job of headmaster at Brewster. Many people thought the best indication of a school’s success was the list of colleges its graduates attended. A private school that wasn’t seen as successful would stop attracting students and eventually go broke. So Friedbinder’s obvious skill in that area must have been an important plus, at least in the eyes of the board.
Nancy noticed the title of Friedbinder’s Ph.D. dissertation: “The Development of Creative Problem-Solving Skills.” The press release said he’d gotten it published. The dissertation sounded as if it might help Nancy in her work, so she decided to ask him about borrowing a copy.
Nancy saw Friedbinder at eight-thirty on Monday morning in the school hallway. His manner was brusque and businesslike. “I need to speak to you privately, Ms. Stevens. Right away,” he said.
As she followed him into his office, Nancy wondered why she had become Ms. Stevens, instead of Nancy. She soon found out.
“When I came in this morning,” said the headmaster, rustling through the papers on his desk, “I found this note in my mailbox.” He held it up.
“What does it say?” asked Nancy.
“I’ll read it to you, word for word,” Friedbinder replied. He took a pair of glasses from his coat pocket, adjusted them on his nose, and read:
“Good grades are big business at Brewster. And the people raking in the dough let a computer do their dirty work. Want your grade changed? Talk to Victor Paredes and Nancy Stevens.”
Chapter Nine
The first thing Nancy noted was the use of her alias: Nancy Stevens. Whoever wrote the note probably wasn’t the same person who had sent her the threatening message on Friday.
The next thing that struck her was that the note concerned grade changing. Its author knew about the scam.
“That’s very interesting,” Nancy said, taking a seat. “Do you mind if I have a look at it?”
Walter Friedbinder passed it to her. The accusing message was printed in blue felt-tip ink on ordinary lined loose-leaf paper. The large block letters indicated to Nancy that the writer had apparently tried to disguise his or her handwriting. Nancy noticed one peculiarity, though. The small letter k had a closed loop for the upper arm, so that it looked like a small capital R with a line sticking up from it. Nancy was sure she would recognize it if she came across it again.
“Well?” Friedbinder said. “I thought you were going to solve this case! Now you’re being accused of the crime. What’s going on?”
Nancy looked up. “Hmm? Oh—I have a pretty good idea who wrote this and why. The interesting part is that Victor and I are accused of grade changing, and not of, say, writing graffiti in the halls or selling test answers.”
“What do you mean?” asked the headmaster.
“This person knows about the grade-changing scam,” she explained. “Maybe he or she has been approached by the culprit.”
“What about Victor Paredes?”
“I’m watching him,” said Nancy. “But I don’t have enough evidence to accuse him. I don’t think the person who wrote this does, either. This is the work of a jealous girlfriend.”
Friedbinder seemed to accept this, and his manner relaxed somewhat.
The nine o’clock bell sounded in the corridor outside. Nancy stood up. “I have a student in a few minutes,” she said. “Will you excuse me?”
“Of course,” Friedbinder replied. “And please forgive me. This whole business has made me tense.”
She was in the doorway when she remembered to ask him for a copy of his published dissertation.
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I have only one copy of it, and it must be in one of the cartons of books I haven’t unpacked yet. In any case, it’s pretty dry stuff.”
As she walked upstairs to the learning lab, Nancy had a lot to think about. Why had he been so worried about the letter? The idea of her being involved was ridiculous—he had to know that. He was probably so worried about the effects of a scandal that he wasn’t thinking clearly.