by Malcolm Rose
Olivia let out a long sigh. “I think he would’ve told me,” she insisted.
“One final thing,” said Luke. “When you were with Crispy, were you ever spotted by the caretaker? You know, Rick Glenfield.”
Olivia shrugged. “Not as far as I know.”
“How about Mr Cadman? Did he know about the two of you?”
“Mr Cadman? I don’t see how he would.”
“Did Crispy get on all right with him?”
Surprised, Olivia looked at Luke full in the face. “He was Crispy’s favourite.”
****
It was after lunch when Luke caught up with Ed Hoffman in the gym. Ed’s sporting pedigree was flawless. Descended from generations of elite athletes, he had wide shoulders, a short muscular neck, bulging arms and powerfully built legs. The swagger of his brawny body also spilled over into his manner. He was a vindictive and arrogant bully.
“You and me,” Luke began, “have a history. I have to say that for the record.” He glanced towards Malc.
Ed stood with a basketball wedged between his hand and thigh. “What do you want?”
“I’m told you were caught bullying on Tuesday morning and got detention for it in the afternoon. Punishing you was one of the last things Ms Kee did.”
Ed shrugged. “I wasn’t the only one.”
“No,” Luke admitted. “I’ve got a list, but you’re the one I’m interested in. It wasn’t the first time she’d had a go at you.”
Ed was shorter than Luke but much more beefy. He let out a grunt. “She caught you as much as me.”
“True.” Everyone was taught from an early age to trust mobile aids to law and crime because they always spoke the truth, so Luke turned to Malc and asked, “Am I on your list of suspects for the murder of Ms Kee?”
“Confirmed.”
Ed laughed. It was a deep rumbling sound, filled with malice. “You’re investigating yourself! Can’t wait for you to charge yourself with murder.” He bounced the basketball twice and then threw it half the length of the court. It dropped through the hoop and net without even striking the backboard.
“Good shot.”
Not responding to the compliment, Ed repeated, “What do you want, Harding?”
Ignoring his question, Luke said, “You were always good at games. Any games. Even computer games.”
“So what?”
“I seem to remember you were into computers back then.”
“Huh. I prefer this.” Ed nodded at the court.
“I really wanted to ask what you did in that detention.”
“Sanded down table tops.”
“To take off peeling paint?”
“Yeah.”
“What colour was it?”
“White,” Ed answered. “So what?”
“Did Ms Kee send you down to the room or take you herself?”
“Does it matter?”
Luke said, “Yes. Answer the question, please.”
“She told us to report to the old kitchen. Said the caretaker would be there.”
“Did you see Ms Kee yesterday, first thing?”
“No. I was with my mates.”
Luke smiled. He didn’t doubt for a moment that Ed could find any number of students who’d back up every word he said. If they didn’t do it willingly, Ed would provide a powerful incentive, no doubt. Luke watched him carefully as he asked, “Ever heard of Crotalus adamanteus?”
“What? When they taught you criminology,” he said in his gruff voice, “did they make you speak funny as well?”
“What did you do straight after that detention on Tuesday?”
“What do you think? I went across the field and shot Crispin Addley.”
Turning to Malc, Luke said, “For the record, that’s not a confession. It’s an attempt to provoke me. And a way of telling me not to be ridiculous.” Facing Ed again, he asked, “What did you do really?”
“I was with my mates.”
“Them again,” Luke muttered. “How about last night?”
“Same thing. Same mates.”
“I’ve seen your archery scores on your computer record. They’re... okay, but they stop about a year ago.”
“Because I stopped doing it. Obviously.”
“Why?”
“Better things to do with my time. Like basketball, weightlifting and baseball.”
Luke decided to introduce a fantasy to see Ed’s reaction. Hoping that Malc would not correct him, he said, “But I’ve spoken to people who’ve seen you on the firing range.”
“Did you test their eyesight?” Ed retorted.
“Have you been practising?”
Ed shrugged again. “Not really. Maybe two or three times in the last year. Not enough to be the best and, if I’m not the best, I’m not interested.”
“Do you like cats?”
Revelling in his crazy tough-guy image, Ed replied, “They’re great with chips and carrots.”
Luke had to smile but the forensic investigator within him had to keep it official. “Are you saying you haven’t come into contact with any cats?” Nodding towards Malc, Luke added, “Remember, I will check.”
“Oh, I’m scared.” Ed paused and then said, “No, I haven’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“How about snakes, then? They’re more your sort of thing.”
“Yeah. I like the way they move and eat things whole – like cats.”
“Do you keep any snakes?” Luke asked.
“No. Look, I don’t know about these stupid questions. If I’d murdered someone, you’d know about it. I’d batter them to death with a baseball bat. Or spear them with a javelin. No messing.”
Luke was getting nowhere. He was establishing only that he would never be a friend of Ed Hoffman. He would always regard Hoffman as a nasty spiteful character, best avoided. But that wasn’t enough to make him a significant suspect. “That’s it,” Luke said. “For now anyway.”
Ed walked over to the stand where the barbells were stored. Before he chose the weight he wanted to lift, he dunked his hands in chalk to improve his grip. When he clapped his hands gently to remove the surplus, he created a miniature white cloud. “You know, Harding,” he said, “I agree with you about one thing. You and me sure do have a history. One day, I’ll bury a javelin in your chest.” He looked deadly serious for a moment but then a broad grin spread across his face. An unpleasant grin.
Luke walked away. He couldn’t say sorry to Ed for the incident with the javelin because he wasn’t.
In the changing rooms, Malc scanned inside Ed’s locker. There were no traces of cat hairs, paint, sawdust or wax on his newly laundered clothes but two willowherb seeds were clinging to his shoes.
Chapter Eighteen
After school had finished for the day, Luke went back to the kitchen that was being redecorated. In the deserted room, he dragged the tip of his forefinger across a windowsill and examined the grey stain. “Sawdust. When Ed Hoffman left here, he’d have been covered in it.” He told Malc to do a complete scan of the room and, as he expected, his mobile found several white paint flakes and a faint layer of sawdust.
Luke kicked at the bare concrete floor with his shoe. “You said magnesite was made into non-slip concrete floors for kitchens. Is that what this is?”
“No. It is standard concrete.”
“Oh.” Malc’s answer was not what Luke had expected. “Never mind,” he said, “I want you to analyse those table tops now and tell me how they’ve been treated.”
“They have been coated with wax polish.”
This time Luke was not surprised. “Is it the same wax you found on Ms Kee?”
“Comparison is not possible because the sample on her clothing was too small.”
“You must have got some sort of infrared signature from it.”
“Yes, but it was a very weak signal. In addition, all waxes have very similar infrared spectra. They are not distinctive.”
“Pity.” Luke paused for a moment
and then said, “By the way, you must have scanned Olivia and her room for cat hairs. Any joy?”
“I do not experience joy and I did not detect any feline matter.”
Malc was not just a mobile aid to law and crime. He was also a sophisticated communications device. The voice that began to boom out of him wasn’t his normal way of talking. Luke recognized the unmistakable bossy tone even before the speaker introduced himself as a spokesman for The Authorities.
“We are concerned, FI Harding. This case has become more complex than we anticipated for your first assignment. There is also the unfortunate difficulty that you have become a strong suspect.”
Perturbed by the sudden intrusion, Luke swallowed. “Are you worried I might not solve it before another death?” That was exactly what was worrying him.
“We are confident in your prospects as a forensic investigator but we were hoping for more progress.”
“Some things are falling into place now. I’m getting there.”
The spokesman hesitated before replying, “We can relieve you of the responsibility without a blemish on your profile. It is not your fault that it has become complicated. There is no disgrace in requesting a simpler case at this stage. We can hand it over to a more experienced investigator.”
Luke felt like a pupil who’d turned in a poor set of marks. But he was also very determined. “I’m not asking for something easier. I’m not stuck and I’ve got some good leads. I will solve it.” For Luke, failing was unthinkable.
There was another delay. “You have two more days. Then we will assess your progress. If, in the meantime, you want to be transferred to a different case, simply request it through your mobile. You may keep your accommodation in school until you solve the case or you are relieved of it. For now, continue, FI Harding.”
****
There was only one person to go and see when he felt depressed. He always found Jade’s enthusiasm infectious.
“Hiya,” she said. “Listen. I know you haven’t got time but you have just got to hear this.”
“Hear what?”
“Stay right where you are, Investigator Harding. Don’t move!”
Luke stood there, watching her direct some sort of probe towards him, like the barrel of a gun.
“Okay,” Jade said. “I’m going to turn it on. You’ll hear some music.”
Luke braced himself but this time it wasn’t an ordeal. It was merely a repeating riff played on an acoustic guitar. “Yes. It’s nice but... so what?”
“Take one step to the left.”
As he moved, the music faded to nothing. He looked up at Jade in surprise. “It’s gone.”
Jade was beaming with pleasure at his astonishment. “Go back to where you were.”
“It’s back again!”
“I know,” Jade replied. “Now take a step to the right.”
The same thing happened again. The guitar chords were suddenly out of his earshot. “That’s amazing,” said Luke.
Jade nodded. “It’s a thin beam of music. Right now it’s going past your shoulder. I’m going to call it spotlight sound because I can direct it like a spotlight. Brilliant. Lots of people have tried to get to grips with something like this but I’m the only one who’s actually done it.”
Silent, Luke shivered.
“What’s wrong?” Jade asked him.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” A grin began to grow slowly around his lips. “Say that again.”
“What?”
“What you just said.”
While Jade thought about it, Malc interrupted. “I have her words in my memory...”
Luke put up his hand. “No. I want to hear Jade.”
“Er... Lots of people have tried to get to grips with spotlight sound but I’m the only one who’s done it.”
Luke nodded as the full-blown grin finally arrived on his face. Forgetting that Malc was still in record mode, he went up to Jade and kissed her on the mouth. “You’re a genius.”
Jade smiled. “I know.”
Luke clutched her arm briefly and said, “Thanks. I’ve got to go.”
As Luke walked away, Jade called after him, “Hey, what did you come for?”
Over his shoulder, he answered, “Inspiration.”
Chapter Nineteen
Malc said, “Your behaviour is beyond normal parameters. Explain.”
Dashing towards his quarters, Luke laughed. “Don’t panic. Let’s get back first, then I’ll tell you.”
Inside his apartment, Luke sat at his desk, closed his eyes for a few seconds and then sighed with pleasure. He took the arrow that killed Crispin Addley, holding it by its transparent protective sleeve, and said to Malc, “Something’s been bugging me about these prints. Now I know what it is, courtesy of Jade. ‘Lots of people have tried to get to grips with something like this but I’m the only one who’s done it,’ she said.”
“Explain.”
“How many prints are there on the shaft?”
“Two,” Malc answered. “Both are yours. A thumb and forefinger.”
“Don’t you see? All the other arrows in the weapons store were plastered with fingerprints. Lots of people got to grips with them but apparently I’m the only one who’s touched this one. To quote you, Malc, that’s illogical. It must have been used by lots of people, especially students. So why only one person’s prints?”
“What is your conclusion?”
“It’s all been planned very carefully. Someone wiped the arrow clean, made sure I used it for target practice – or maybe in that competition – and then stored it, ready for murdering Crispy. Demon Archer only had to use gloves to make it look like I killed him. I’ve been set up!”
“Unproven, but it is a possibility.”
“A strong possibility. You said the prints were weak. That’s because they’re not fresh. They’ve been there for ages!”
“Speculation.”
Ignoring him, Luke said, “This changes everything, especially the motive. Who’d want to nobble me? Shane maybe. Remember? He bore me a grudge. Ed Hoffman – definitely in the frame now. Ms Thacket, because I abandoned sport. And perhaps Rick Glenfield. He got into big trouble because of me. I might’ve upset others. I don’t know.”
“You must not discount the other active leads at this stage.”
“I’m not. I’m just following the most likely one. Get your logic circuits flying, Malc. I’ve been working on motives for killing Crispy, Ms Kee and Vince. But that’s not the point. The victims could’ve been chosen just to make me look guilty. It might have been nothing to do with them. It was their bad luck to have a gripe with me, that’s all. No wonder I’ve been struggling over a motive for Crispy’s murder. Maybe there wasn’t one. Not really.”
“That is not the only theory,” Malc commented dryly and accurately.
Luke put down the arrow and felt yet another tingle in his spine. “Malc, there’s something else. What’s a fingerprint?”
“It is a unique pattern...”
“No, I mean, what is it chemically? What’s the pattern made of?”
“It is a greasy secretion from skin called sebum, with salt, amino acids, urea...”
“Exactly. The fatty stuff from an adult lasts for months, if not years, yes?”
“Correct.”
“But a child hardly makes a mark. Its fingerprints disappear in hours.”
“Confirmed. A child’s sebaceous glands produce very little sebum.”
“So, what about mine? What about a sixteen-year-old boy, Malc?”
“After puberty, a fingerprint persists almost as much as an adult’s.”
“That’s what I thought. My fingerprints could have got on the arrow weeks, maybe months, ago.”
“That is a possibility.”
“We can check,” Luke said.
“How?”
Luke stood up. “It’s time to see Ella Fitch again.”
****
They found the technician on the balcony of The Great Hal
l. She was rigging up the lighting in the huge room ready for Ms Kee’s memorial service on Saturday. The event was going to be a celebration of the Deputy Head’s life and The Authorities had decided that everyone in the school would be present. Ella was making sure that the spotlights would pick out the Head, a dignitary from The Authorities, and one of Ms Kee’s colleagues who would come to the front of the stage to say a few words about her.
Ella didn’t need a question to set her off. As soon as she saw Luke, she said, “Ah, the diamond investigator. Have I heard it right? You’ve sealed Vince Wainwright’s room. Does that mean there’s been another murder?”
“Vince’s room is a restricted crime scene,” Luke replied. “But that’s all I’m saying at the moment.” To distract her from Vince, Luke nodded towards the hall, spread out below them, and said, “I didn’t know you’d be asked to set this up.”
“It’s not just me. Your – how shall I put it? – your friend’s going to sort out the music for the occasion.”
“Jade.”
With something like a smirk on her face, Ella said, “Yes.”
Luke was realizing that Ella soaked up information and rumour like a sponge. She knew about the cat smuggling, she knew the best archers, she knew – probably before Jade herself – that Jade would be enlisted to provide appropriate music for the memorial, and she knew that he had an unwise relationship with Jade. Moving her on to a less awkward topic again, he said, “I meant to ask you. Are you missing any tools?”
“Tools?”
“Yes. Any sort of tools.”
“I don’t think so. No. Not that I’ve noticed, anyway. What have you got in mind?”
Luke would not give even the slightest hint that he was interested in a glass cutter. The cause of Ms Kee’s murder had got out, but he would keep secret the way that Vince had died. Then, if a suspect knew about the glass cutter, Luke had positive proof of guilt. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s not important. The other thing I wanted to say was about that javelin.”
“So, you are investigating horrible Hoffman. Fruity.”
“I just wanted to see it, that’s all. You said you’d kept it.”
“That’s right.”
