Confessions: The Private School Murders by James Patterson Page A

Boris Friedman, wearing tuxedo pantsand a Grateful Dead T-shirt. And the long-divorced multimillionaire Ms. Ernest Foxwell, draped in a sheer yellow nightgown covered with a short mink coat and wearing ostrich-feather mules. Definitely gape-worthy.
    Ms. Foxwell did not look amused. Neither did the opera singer Glorianne Pulaski, who was in aqua chenille and hair curlers, standing in her doorway, crying into her bedazzled iPhone.
    Frightened and discommoded rich people can be pretty hilarious, I have to admit. In fact, Hugo cracked up at the sight of Mrs. Pulaski, but no one seemed to notice us. Not that I could blame them. There were venomous
snakes
loose in the building.
    Jacob had said to be back in five minutes. As inclined as I was to follow his rules before, I was even more inclined now that I’d seen his gun—not to mention what he could do with it. So I just wanted to hand off the snake corpse to the proper official, ask several pointed questions about where they were in their investigations, and then get the hell home.
    Finally, a man caught a glimpse of me and Hugo and did a double take. Baseball cap. Green jumpsuit. Badge. Snake-catching hook in hand.
    “Please step out of the elevator car,” he said. “We’re shutting down the system.”
    “Oh my God. Snakes on an elevator,” Hugo said in awe.
    “Officer Blum from Pest Control said to find someone to give this to,” I said, holding out the garbage bag. I swear it rustled. It moved.
    “You’re Tandy?” the man in a jumpsuit said. “I’m Officer Frank. Let’s see what you’ve got there.” He peeked inside the bag. “Whoa. Who shot this?”
    “Our guardian,” I replied. “He’s got a license to carry weapons, of course. So what’s going on?”
    The guy eyed me shrewdly. “Why don’t you tell me where you found this snake?”
    Oh, so he was going to answer questions with questions, was he? I cleared my throat and put my game face on.
    “My brother found it in a file cabinet in an interior room,” I said, adopting a businesslike tone. “I believe he disturbed it.”
    Officer Frank’s eyes flicked to Hugo. “You’re lucky to be alive, kid.”
    Hugo was too busy staring at Mrs. Pulaski’s hammertoes in her sequined slippers to reply.
    “As to what’s going on, we’ve found three poisonous snakes, counting yours, and no reason to believe we’ve got them all.”
    “May I see the other two?” I asked.
    “Why?” Officer Frank asked curiously.
    “Know thy enemy,” I replied simply.
    He frowned as if impressed with my logic. “I’ve got pictures of one of them,” he said, pulling an iPhone out of his pocket. “Here you go.”
    The first snake was yellow, with scales standing up around its face. A beautiful eyelash palm pit viper.
    “So many dark, warm places in this castle you live in,” Officer Frank mused. “We’re going down to the basement next and will set up some funnel traps. Uh, thanks for the snake, Tandy. And you, young man,” he said to Hugo, “don’t put your hands into dark places. That goes for your feet, too. Check your shoes before you put them on. Okay?”
    “I’m never taking these off,” Hugo said, gesturing at his feet.
    It was clear that Pest Control had
zero
control over this snake infestation. There were ninety-three units in the Dakota, an idiosyncratic building with secret rooms, back staircases, tunnels, and mouse holes that were unchanged since the 1880s.
    If snakes could hide inside our shoes, there were about ten million lovely little places for them to take up residence inside the walls.
    Had someone decided to sic a pack of murderous snakes on the eccentric denizens at the Dakota? Or hadour cobra been placed in 9G on purpose, with the other snakes merely a diversion?
    Maybe I’m paranoid, my friend, but still, as you well know, my family has enemies. I couldn’t dismiss the possibility that a deadly poisonous snake might have been planted in my office on purpose. That someone was out to