by Malcolm Rose
TRACES
Framed!
The First Case
By Malcolm Rose
Text copyright © Malcolm Rose 2013
First published by Kingfisher 2005
Cover design by Colin Rose
Welcome to the world of Traces. Imagine a place where technology rules, where London is a slum and the North is a cultural capital, where from the age of five The Authorities decide your future. In this fascinating parallel world, quick-thinking Luke Harding and his robot sidekick, Malc, make a top forensic team. Luke and Malc have the talent to crack any crime – and a good joke too. Aged sixteen, Luke is the youngest person ever to qualify as a Forensic Investigator. He hardly has time to celebrate before Malc, his Mobile Aid to Law and Crime, calls him to their first case. A student has been mysteriously shot dead with an arrow on the playing fields. An elusive killer is at large and all the evidence points to Luke himself…
FRAMED! was selected by the United States Board on Books for Young People (USBBY) and the Children’s Book Council as an Outstanding International Book for 2006.
Of the Traces series, Jan Mark wrote in The Times Educational Supplement, ‘This is fast-moving storytelling in the true thriller tradition, with enough subtext to leave a perceptive reader thinking.’
‘Full of twists and turns, set in a very believable Britain. The characters were imaginative and well thought out and the story was gripping.’ Jade Wilson, Judging Panel of The Lancashire Children’s Book of the Year Award.
Also available:
Traces 2: LOST BULLET
Traces 3: ROLL CALL
Traces 4: DOUBLE CHECK
Traces 5: FINAL LAP
Traces 6: BLOOD BROTHER
Traces 7: MURDER CLUB
Chapter One
The skeleton lay on the classroom floor and Luke Harding prowled around it, thinking. Then, on hands and knees, he went round again, taking a closer look. Still he didn’t touch the specimen. Without looking up, he pointed to the ribcage and said, “Malc, there’s a tiny nick on the sixth rib. Looks like a knife wound to me. Scan it, will you?”
The flattened orb moved in, hovered above the bleached bones and swept a laser over the fault. “It is consistent with a stab wound made by a narrow blade, pushed in at an approximate downward angle of forty-three degrees.”
“From the lips of the cut, I’d say it was made on living bone and not done by cunning examiners on the skeleton. What do you think?”
“I do not have the capacity to think. I conduct forensic tests and supply facts. I confirm that the wound was inflicted on live bone by a sharp instrument with a slightly jagged edge.”
Luke glanced over his shoulder at Malc. “What’s it doing here?”
“Irrational question,” the neutral male voice said.
“Well, what sort of exam is this?”
“Criminology, Year 11, Final Qualification, Advanced.”
“Right,” Luke replied with a grin. “Advanced. So what’s a simple knife wound doing in an advanced exam? I’d have spotted it with my eyes closed.”
“Illogical and unlikely.”
“Oh, loosen up, Malc.”
“This is your Final Qualification Examination. Not a time to be loose.”
“You’re seriously boring, you know. Anyway, let’s do what I’m expected to do – and fail to get an answer, no doubt. A DNA scan, please.”
Malc drifted down the entire length of the skeleton and then reported, “No traces left exposed.”
“Hairs and fibres next.”
“None detected.”
Luke already knew that there would be no obvious traces to help him determine the victim’s identity and the cause of death. Luke hadn’t made it through to the top grade to have the answer handed to him on a plate. “This is a tough exam. Are you getting nervous, Malc? I didn’t know you got nervous.”
“Illogical. I am a Mobile Aid to Law and Crime,” Malc responded. “Without a nervous system, I cannot get nervous.”
“Confirm the inscription on the back of the watch, please.”
“Capital C, dot, capital S, dot. Love, comma, capital F, dot, capital E, dot.”
“Mmm.” Luke walked slowly around the specimen again. The school instructors had a stock of skeletons somewhere. They were dragged out one at a time for practice and examinations. Clearly, this one was supposed to mimic a murder victim who had lain naked and undisturbed for five years or so. “No blood, no hair, no DNA, not even tendons or ligaments left, no traces of clothing. No flesh, so no evidence of flesh wounds. A completely clean male skeleton with no possessions except a pairing ring and a watch. The only sign of violence is a knife wound that probably missed the heart, too easy for an advanced exam. No, I’ve got to be a bit more imaginative. Give me an ultraviolet scan.”
Under Malc, the white bones began to glow.
“Ever thought of a career as a spotlight in a nightclub?” Luke asked with a wicked smile. As soon as Malc bathed the skull in crisp blue light, Luke spotted a faint glimmer from deep inside an eye socket. He cried, “Stop. Home in on the right eye area, will you? What’s that?”
“A thin slice of Fluoroperm 60, circular in shape.”
“Ah. An old contact lens, you mean. Now we’re flying. What type is it?”
“It was made to correct severe shortsightedness,” Malc answered.
“Can you measure the prescription?”
“Yes.”
Luke smiled and shook his head. “Go on, then.”
“To measure it accurately, the lens would have to be rehydrated in saline solution...”
Luke interrupted. “How long does this exam last? Just compare your best estimate with the optician’s database and tell me which men match that prescription.”
“Within experimental error, there are three hundred and fifty-seven matches. In alphabetical order, they are...”
“Stop,” Luke cried. “Perhaps I’m not quite flying yet. Filter out all those who are the wrong height. How many left?”
“Eighty-seven.”
“Taxiing onto the runway,” Luke muttered to himself. “Our man’s got perfect teeth. Take out everyone who’s known to have fillings.”
“Thirty-four remaining.”
“How many with the initials CS?”
“Three.”
“How many have a partner with initials FE?”
“Two,” Malc replied.
“Two? Not one? Are you sure?”
If a machine could wear a look of indignation, Malc would have worn it.
Luke held up both hands. “Yeah. All right. You’re sure. You would have told me if there’d been any doubt.”
Luke hesitated, wondering where he’d find the inspiration to make the final choice. He glanced back at the strong bones of the left leg and then smiled to himself. “Does your database have any personal details on these two men?”
“Confirmed, but it is not complete.”
“Okay. Tell me if one of them was... let me guess... a high-jumper.”
“Correct,” Malc replied.
“Lift off! That’s him. So, who’s our short-sighted friend?”
“Colin Stanley.”
Luke laughed. “Do I detect a hint of relief in your synthesized voice?”
“Illogical. Without a nervous system, I cannot experience emotions.”
Luke retorted, “Oh yeah? You almost sighed.”
“I must remind you that you still have to establish the cause of death – since you do not wish to consider stabbing.”
“Okay, Malc. Time for you to do a bit more work – a chemical analysis on the contact lens. You see, the examiners put it there and they think, because it’s given me the victim’s identity, I’m going to look somewhere else for the cause of death. But I don’t think I’ve sq
ueezed all the juice out of it yet.”
Malc recorded the infrared and ultraviolet signatures of the contact lens and then reported, “It has not got any juice...”
Luke interrupted. “Never mind. I just want to know if any dodgy chemicals got out of our Colin’s body in his tears. If he was poisoned, maybe there’ll be a trace in his contact lens.”
“When the lens dried out, it trapped within it a small amount of cyanide. It has a very distinctive infrared spectrum.”
“Bob’s your uncle! Evidence for soft tissue damage without even having any soft tissue.”
“Being non-human, I do not have an uncle of any name.”
“As a team player, Malc, you’re pretty cool but, on a scale of nought to ten, you score minus one for sense of humour.”
“On a scale of nought to ten, there is no minus one,” Malc retorted. “For the purposes of completing the examination, you are required to state your findings.”
“Boring.” Knowing that Malc would be relaying his performance to The Authorities, Luke took a deep breath and said, “Colin Stanley suffered a non-lethal stab wound with a narrow blade but was probably killed by cyanide poisoning.”
At once, a woman’s voice, speaking through Malc, boomed into the classroom. “Congratulations. An impressive performance with which to graduate. At sixteen, you’re the youngest person to pass all of the criminology tests and complete school. Your first assignment will be given to you soon.” The detached voice of The Authorities paused and then added, “Just for the record, tell me why you thought the victim was a high-jumper.”
Luke smiled. “The bone’s much more developed in the left leg, like it did a lot more work than the right, and there’s evidence of impact damage – especially in the knee – so it took quite a hammering as well. I thought it might be a high-jumper’s take-off leg. That’s all. Just a lucky guess.”
“More astute than lucky, Forensic Investigator Harding. You’ve got a very sharp eye. Keep your mischievous streak in check and you’ll do well.”
Chapter Two
Sunset was about an hour away. At the far end of the playing field, Crispy shuffled nervously and looked at his watch. It was nearly time. His heart raced a little faster. What he was doing was against the law but he could not help himself. It felt right even if The Authorities had declared it to be wrong.
He gasped, thinking for an instant that he’d caught sight of movement at the left-hand side of the pavilion, but there didn’t seem to be anybody there. The only motion was at the edge of the grounds where there was a line of ten monsters. The wind turbines droned as their huge blades turned slowly, providing the school’s electricity.
The firing range was deserted. At the end of the last lesson, the students would have packed up all of the equipment. An instructor would have put it away in the pavilion and the caretaker would have checked that the area had been cleared. Crispy was sure that he was alone.
But he wasn’t. By the time that Crispy noticed something hurtling towards him, it was too late. He hardly recognized the arrow before it thudded heavily into his chest. He staggered back yet kept on his feet for a moment. In that split second after the impact, he felt nothing but shock. Strangely, there was no pain. Perhaps he was beyond pain. He was standing alone on the firing range with a stick jutting out ridiculously from his chest. And he was dying.
He lifted his right hand, about to clutch the shaft, but could not manage it. His arm flopped back to his side and his eyes rolled upwards. He leaned further and further back until his body fell lifelessly to the ground.
****
Jade pointed enthusiastically to a panel that occupied a large part of the left-hand wall. “All that,” she announced, “is a flat loudspeaker. Same on the other side.” She jerked her thumb towards an identical flat panel on the right of the studio. “It’s the latest wall-of-sound technology and it’s going to flood this space with noise – totally. You won’t be able to think. You’ll just hear and feel music. Ready?” she asked with a huge grin.
Really, Luke had come to talk about exam results but Jade never got excited or depressed by passing or failing. Besides, he knew that she wouldn’t want to react to his results – or talk about her own – in Malc’s presence. “Where’s all the furniture?” he asked.
“I’ve taken it out so it doesn’t interfere with the sound.”
“What about us? Won’t we interfere with it?”
Jade laughed. “Yes, but there’s no way round that, is there? We’d get a purer sound without us but we wouldn’t be here to appreciate it. Now, are you ready?”
“What makes me think this is going to be an ordeal?” Seeing Jade’s expression of rebuke, Luke nodded. “Ready.”
Starting gently, Jade stroked her fingers across the guitar strings, forming a solitary chord.
The air around Luke’s entire body throbbed with sound. “Wow.”
Jade said, “It’s like taking a bath but using music instead of hot water. Complete immersion.”
“Gorgeous.”
“Not just gorgeous. It can be vicious. Listen.” She put down the guitar and pressed her remote control.
Jade’s computer began her program of drums, bass and sampled sound, adding layer after layer. Every sound was distinct and it bombarded the whole of their bodies. As the music built up, Luke seemed to hear it not just through his ears but through his skin. He was reminded of X-rays that pass straight through skin and flesh to hit bone. The experience was much more intimate than being in a noisy nightclub. In the school’s sound studio, Luke could have been surrounded by all of the original musicians, each playing for him alone. Soon, the added samples reached a crescendo. When Luke looked at Jade she had her eyes closed, still lapping it up when it was getting too painful for him. He touched her elbow but didn’t attempt to talk. He grimaced and put his hands over his ears.
Jade touched the remote control and the music faded. “Good, eh? Enough to wake the dead.”
“Yeah, but not the skeleton I’ve just been working on.”
Malc chipped in, “It could not awaken any dead...”
Luke sighed, walked to the door and opened it. “Wait outside, will you, Malc?” He watched his mobile computer float past and then shut the door again. Turning back to Jade, he said, “I bet you flew through your final exam.”
“I’m a fully qualified musician and audio technologist. You?”
“If anyone pinches your musical ideas, let me know. FI Harding will be after them in a flash.”
Jade beamed. “Well done. I knew you’d stroll through.”
In the centre of the room, they came together in a celebratory hug.
Jade was more than a musician. She lived, breathed and oozed music. It had never occurred to her that she might do anything else. In Year 8, when Luke had opted to devote his final three years to criminology, Jade had chosen music. Actually, there hadn’t been a real choice for her. She had done so little work on any other subject that she had only one way forward.
Jade was much shorter than Luke and she had unruly hair that changed colour at regular intervals. This week she was streaky blonde but Luke preferred it when she was redheaded. Her skin was a slightly paler shade of the normal brown colouring and she was pleasantly plump. She was also kind and dedicated. To Luke, Jade was definitely more than a musician. She was the only girl he had ever fancied.
Even while they celebrated together, Luke was saddened. Graduation – the end of school – meant that he wouldn’t automatically see Jade every day. Their different professions would soon separate them because they would both leave Birmingham. Most crime was committed in the South of England while all of the best cultural centres for music were north of the capital. Worse still, it pained Luke enormously to know that, when The Time for pairing came, they would not be classed as suitable for each other. He dreaded The Time that threatened to part them for ever and he believed that Jade felt the same way.
Jade disengaged from him. “I still don’t know how you
can mess around with dead bodies and crime scenes. Yuck. Where’s the warmth in that? At least music’s alive.”
Reluctantly, Luke let go of her arm. “So’s a body and a crime scene,” he replied. “Sort of, anyway. They’re buzzing with clues. What’s better, not everyone can see them. I’ve got a knack for uncovering other people’s secrets and finding out exactly what happened.”
“I remember that archery competition you won a year back. You beat everyone and shredded the centre of the target. You had a great eye for any sort of shooting. You should have been in sport.”
Luke knew what she was getting at, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything about their coming separation. “Yeah, but there’s no real future in being able to shoot straight, is there? It’s fancy, but pretty useless. It’s better to be the one who mops up after somebody else has done the shooting.”
Jade groaned and refused to drop the subject. “But if you were a sportsman, you’d be able to live in the North. With me.” She paused before adding, “Even better, I wish you’d gone into the arts. I don’t need to tell you why. Now, you’re going to have to go... you know.”
The South had a terrible reputation, of course. Everyone said the people were rough and the buildings were all slums but Luke didn’t really believe in those generalizations. Down south, he wouldn’t have the comforts that he enjoyed in Birmingham but it couldn’t be that bleak. Just because London and Bristol were decaying ports and Cambridge was full of prisons, it wasn’t fair to tar the whole of the South with the same brush. He knew it wouldn’t have the sophistication and beauty of Manchester, Leeds or the Peaks and it wouldn’t have the amenities of Birmingham or Sheffield but he refused to believe that the South was a dump occupied solely by savages. The real problem – the tragedy – was that it wouldn’t be occupied by Jade. He said, “I’m not one of those who says you shouldn’t venture south of Birmingham.”
“I know,” Jade muttered sadly. “Even so...” She shook her head.
