“I’m sure there’s some of that,” Decker said. “But I’m also sure that most of the parents are very sincere in wanting the best for their kids.”

“Whether the kids want it or not,” Wanda said.

Oliver said, “Getting back to the shorthand, I was thinking that PS could stand for ‘psycho.’”

“Shrinks don’t use the term ‘psycho,’ Scott,” Marge answered. “You know, Maryam mentioned Dee Baldwin acting as kind of a guidance counselor…getting kids into the right colleges. I’m thinking that maybe the shorthand stands for names of colleges. Since S is the most frequent, and we’re talking about smart, rich kids, it could be Stanford.”

“What’s PS?” Oliver said. “Pseudo-Stanford. And notice I knew ‘pseudo’ started with a P.”

“Very good, Oliver,” Marge said.

“Maybe University of Pennsylvania,” Webster said. “That’s an Ivy. PS equals Pennsylvania.”

“What’s E then?” Wanda asked. “What’s M?”

“E could be Emory in Atlanta,” Webster said. “That’s also top-ranked. Maybe M is for U of Michigan in Ann Arbor. That’s considered a public Ivy.”

“How do you know that?” Oliver sneered.

“I got into Michigan.”

“Bully for you.”

“No need to get nasty.”

“If the abbreviations are top universities, where is the H for Harvard, or the P for Princeton, or the Y for Yale?” Decker asked. “And what is I? Or L? Or S2?”

“Stanford waiting list?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Decker rubbed his forehead. “Any other ideas?”

His question was met with silence broken by the ring of his telephone. The tension in Rina’s tone was audible. So was her voice. Everyone could hear it.

“The murders are all over the news,” she said. “Yonkie’s beside himself. In case you forgot, he knew Ernesto Golding—”

“Hold on, Rina.” Decker covered the receiver and looked at his staff. They were on their feet before he even spoke. “Give me five minutes.”

They all nodded and were out the door. Rina said, “Are you in the middle of a meeting?”

“I was.”

“About Ernesto Golding’s murder?”

“Yes.”

“Did Jacob tell you where he knew Ernesto from? He’s being vague with me.”

Decker didn’t answer right away.

Rina broke in. “You’ve got to tell me, Peter.”

“Rina, he spoke to me in confidence—”

“Peter, I’m his mother!” Rina shouted. “Oh, just forget it! I know anyway. From the drug parties, right?”

Decker was momentarily stunned. He couldn’t speak.

“I’m religious, Peter, but I’m not blind,” Rina stated. “More important, I have a nose. His clothes used to reek of pot. Combine that with his formerly poor grades, and the fact that he was a gross underachiever, it doesn’t take Sam Spade to figure it out.”

“So why didn’t you ever say anything about it to me?”

“Stop throwing the blame back in my corner—”