"Principal Borgia, we've got to stop meeting like this," the Chief of Police quipped. The ambulance had already gone, taking Sforza with it. The students had been moved to another room, providing the police plenty of space to work.

"You're a laugh a minute." Cesare gestured to the chair and the lock. "First I thought the chair was just crappy, but the lock's weird. Try it."

The Chief of Police tried the lock. "It's wonky."

"Yeah. Locks don't just go wonky. And chairs don't normally fall apart."

He tried the lock again. "It feels like the gears are grinding against something. Hey, New Guy." One of his recruits ran over. "Check the lock."

The flashlight and lock-picking equipment and after a few moments of fiddling around, New Guy extracted a small, thin piece of metal. "It's part of a paperclip, Sir."

"Bag it as evidence. And catalogue every piece of that chair." He turned to look at Cesare. "Somebody picked the lock."

"You think whoever did that messed with his chair too?"

"Probably. Do you know if Mr. Sforza had any enemies? Anybody who didn't like him?"

"Um," Cesare licked his lips, "yeah."


"The whole school. He's not a popular guy."

The Chief of Police sighed. "I hate cases that involve asshole victims."

"Do you think they'll figure out it was us?" Francesca whispered.

"They will if you keep whispering about it," Lucrezia hissed. "Seriously, there's nothing tying us to the scene, we all have alibis, and everything will be fine." She was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince them.

"Unless they look at the security videos," Paulo said.

They all paused. "Okay," Lucrezia said. "New plan. We need to think of someone of dubious morality to steal the security camera videos for us."

The bell rang.

"Meet at lunch with ideas?"

"Lunch it is," Francesca said. Paulo nodded.

The whistle blew. Its shrill cry filled the gym and making everyone wince. "Everybody outside! Three laps around the tracks! Move! Move! Move!" Coach Bonadeo blew his whistle again. When he heard someone clear their throat, he growled under his breath. "What?"

"I believe you mean, 'What can I do to help you, Principal Borgia?'" Cesare said coolly.

Coach Bonadeo turned around. "From a whore house to the Principal's office is quite a journey. I'm impressed."

"Excuse me?" As nasty and vicious as the faculty could be, Cesare was not used to them randomly insulting him. "I came down here to ask if you saw or heard anything last Friday."

"I heard nothing last Friday. But on Saturday my wife went to work. Can you tell me why a guidance counselor was needed at the school on a Saturday? I can only think of one reason." It was pretty obvious from his glare that the one reason was Cesare.

"We have an issue with a student…"

"Which student? What's the issue?"

Cesare sighed. "I can't tell you. Student information is private."

"How convenient."

"Care to explain the whore house comment?"

"I would have thought it was obvious. Both your parents stray from the marriage bed, you lead my wife from her marriage bed, and do I really need to mention your redheaded whore?"

Cesare gritted his teeth, tried very hard to remain calm and rational, and behave in a manner befitting a high school principal. "I will forget your words…"

"You will forget nothing," Coach Bonadeo hissed. "But I will have satisfaction."

"I look forward to it." Cesare turned on his heel and stormed out of the gym.

Author's notes: It's been a while since I watched the episode where Bonadeo and Cesare declare their intention to kill each other. I'll have to wing it, sorry.

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