Framed!

by Malcolm Rose

  “Did anyone else touch it after you and me?” asked Luke.

  “No.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In the rack in my workshop. I’ll come and show you right now if you like. Anything to help out.”

  “It’s all right. You look busy here.” He extracted his identity card and waved it towards her. “I can get in. You don’t mind me poking around, do you?” His tone suggested that he’d regard a refusal as suspicious.

  Ella hesitated for a fraction of a second but she shrugged and said, “Help yourself.”

  ****

  Heading across the courtyard towards the workshop with Luke, Malc said, “I did not detect cat hairs on Ella Fitch.”

  Luke was not very interested. He was following a different lead now. “I didn’t think you would.”

  Inside Ella’s working area, there was a large cupboard. When Luke folded back its doors, he revealed a store for equipment that was waiting for repair or maintenance. In the rack, there were two javelins. He could not remember which one he had sabotaged at the sports day just over a year ago. Even so, the javelins brought memories flooding back to him. The school had required every student to perform in at least one event of the games and Luke had chosen the archery competition.

  “Malc, scan both javelins for my prints.”

  “They appear on the left-hand javelin only.”

  Luke nodded, walked up to the one on the right and grasped it tightly for a second. Letting go, he said, “Not now. Compare my prints on both.”

  “The new fingerprints are considerably stronger and clearer than the old.”

  “Surprise, surprise.”

  “It is not surprising because, as you know, the fatty substances that make up fingerprints evaporate slowly.”

  “But I’ve proved the point. My prints have hung around on this javelin for a year. How does their intensity compare with the ones on Crispy’s arrow?”

  “The amount of sebum is similar.”

  “Bob’s your uncle!” Luke exclaimed. “The prints on the arrow are something like a year old, definitely more than a couple of days.”

  “Your analysis is not precise, so your deduction is doubtful. To make a valid comparison, the javelin and arrow would have to have been stored under identical conditions.”

  “I know. But answer this, Malc. With this evidence from the javelins, are my prints on the arrow more likely to be days old or months old?”

  “They would appear to be months old.”

  Luke could not keep a triumphant grin from his face. “Thank you. Make sure that’s in case notes.”

  “Logged.”

  “Right. I want to see Rick Glenfield again.” He made for the door of Ella’s workshop.

  “Rick Glenfield has finished his duties for the day and has just left the school premises.”

  Malc’s announcement brought Luke to a halt. “By cab?”

  “Confirmed.”

  Eagerly, Luke turned towards his mobile. “You’re a nifty bit of kit, Malc. Where did he ask to be taken to?”

  “A sports club in central Birmingham.”

  “Now why would he do that? He’s got good sports stuff here. Perhaps he’s been having archery lessons he didn’t want the school to know about.”

  “Speculation.”

  “Yeah,” Luke agreed. “But not for long. Tell me as soon as he gets back on site. I mean, immediately.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “While we’re waiting,” Luke said to his mobile, “log on to the school computer again. I want to check the timing of something about four years ago. I hacked into the exam scores while Mr Glenfield was still an IT instructor. How long after that was he demoted to caretaker?”

  It took Malc a few minutes to set up the link and locate the relevant files. “It was at the end of the same month.”

  Luke nodded. “Interesting. So my messing around was the final straw that got him demoted.”

  “That seems likely.”

  “You can’t blame him for bearing me a grudge.”

  “I do not have the capacity to blame...”

  “Yeah, but blame’s big in Rick Glenfield’s thinking,” Luke said, talking to himself really. “If he reckons he gets blamed all the time – especially when something’s not his fault – maybe he thinks he might as well commit the crimes. If he’s going to take the rap for murder, he might as well do the killing.”

  “Spec...”

  “I know,” Luke said. “Speculation’s the fun part that comes before a theory and proof. But think about it. He’s got a motive for destroying me, he’s got access to rattler venom and plenty of tools, and now he’s off at a sports club where he could’ve polished up on his archery. On top of that, I reckon he had the chance to do all three killings. At least, he hasn’t got alibis worth taking seriously. He’s one of the few people who could stroll around the school in a nylon overall without looking shifty. That way, he could’ve protected his clothes from Vince’s blood and hosed it down in Vince’s shower afterwards. Then, just to make sure, he could’ve ripped it and binned it. And I still think he might’ve seen Crispy and Olivia together on the playing field, so he knew about them. Then, he’s got all the computing skills to send Crispy a telescreen message that looked like it’d come from Olivia.”

  “Much of your reasoning is unproven.”

  “Yeah,” Luke replied. “But he beats me to number one on the list.”

  Malc hesitated and then admitted, “Given recent findings, that is probably true.”

  “But, if he is Demon Archer, I still don’t know why he’d use such a weird mixture of weapons.”

  ****

  A small crowd had gathered under floodlights to watch a game of baseball. If the murders hadn’t happened, the contest would have drawn many more spectators. The sounds of their half-hearted cheers and groans, and the clunk of bat on ball, floated across the playing fields. Having been told by Malc that Rick Glenfield had just used his identity card to re-enter the premises, Luke was strolling between the school gates and the main buildings, pretending that he needed some fresh air. Looking up, he noticed Rick Glenfield as if by coincidence and muttered, “Evening.”

  “Hello.” Rick walked past him at pace.

  “Oh,” Luke called after him, trying to catch him off-guard. “Sorry, but I was going to ask you something else. What was it?”

  With a sigh, Rick halted and turned towards him.

  Acting, Luke lowered his head as if deep in thought and caught sight of Rick’s holdall. “Looks like a sports bag,” he commented. “Do you go to an outside club?”

  Rick looked at him suspiciously but answered, “Yes.” With the eerie glow of floodlights behind him, his face was shadowy and sinister.

  “What for? The school’s stuff is pretty good, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but I don’t like to use it. It’s what I said about mixing with staff. It’s not easy. I’m a fish out of water, remember. Besides, when I turn up at the gym here, they ask me to fix something rather than join in.”

  Luke nodded sympathetically. “Yes, I see the problem. No wonder you go somewhere else. Is it a good place?”

  “It’s all right.”

  “I might fancy going myself,” Luke said. “You know, to keep out of Ms Thacket’s way. Has it got a swimming pool?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Track?”

  “Yes.” Rick was getting uncomfortable, shuffling from foot to foot.

  A cheer came from the pitch as one of the batters made a home run.

  “Archery?” Luke continued. “You know it used to be one of my things.”

  “Yes. They’ve got a practice range.”

  “Do you use it?” Luke glanced at his mobile as a way of reminding Glenfield that Malc could log on to the sports centre and find out.

  “Sometimes.” Trying to change the subject, Rick said, “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

  “Oh, I know. Last sports day. You know, when I won the archery. D
id you see anyone walk off with an arrow? Maybe a bow as well.”

  “That was a year ago.”

  “But did you see anyone?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  “Okay. Here’s an easier one. Not so long ago. This Tuesday, did Ms Kee bring those students to detention in the old kitchen herself?”

  “No.”

  “But she must have known you were going to be there.”

  “Yes. We’d talked about it earlier in the day.”

  “Ah. Where did you talk?” Luke asked.

  “Outside her office.”

  “Not in the place you’re decorating?”

  “No.”

  “Did you knock into her at all?”

  Rick looked puzzled. “I don’t think so.” Then his expression changed and he added, “Thinking about it, she might have brushed against me when she came out. Is that what you mean? I’m pretty sure that happened.”

  Luke showed no reaction but he did not trust Glenfield’s response. If the caretaker was guilty, he might have realized from Luke’s line of enquiry that he’d left some particles on Ms Kee’s clothing on Wednesday morning when he’d jabbed her with venom. Now, he could be trying to provide an innocent explanation. “Did you ever see Crispin Addley on our firing range – out of hours, I mean?”

  “I told you I didn’t really know him,” Rick replied.

  “Let me put it this way. Did you ever see a young couple meeting there?”

  “I see a lot round the school – some things I’m not supposed to see, I guess – but no, not that.”

  Luke decided to apply more pressure. “I’ve been speaking to Olivia.”

  “Olivia?”

  Luke’s prime suspect did not fall into the trap of knowing who she was. “The girl involved. She thought someone like you might have seen her with Crispin.”

  Rick shook his shaggy head. “Wasn’t me.”

  “Just one more thing, then,” Luke said. “Are you missing any tools at the moment?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Sure?”

  “Are you after something in particular?”

  “No. It doesn’t matter.” Turning away, Luke added, “Goodnight. And thanks.”

  On the pitch, the surly fielder standing at the third base of the diamond, Ed Hoffman, for once took his eye off the ball and watched Luke as he headed indoors.

  ****

  Luke was stargazing sleepily from his bed. And thinking. “You know, there’s no way of connecting Crispy with cat smuggling. I don’t think that’s got anything to do with it. It’s about me, not endangered animals. Though, I guess, if someone’s trying to have me put away or executed, that makes me endangered as well. Anyway, the cat’s a red herring.”

  “Illogical and ridiculous.”

  Fighting against the weight of his eyelids to keep his eyes open, Luke said, “Is it? Why?”

  Of course, Luke’s joke was lost on Malc. “Because a cat lives in air and a herring in water. Besides, a herring is not...”

  Luke interrupted. “Add to your programming, Malc. A red herring’s a clue that leads us up the garden path.”

  “I cannot accept such a loose definition. You must be specific about which garden path.”

  Luke chuckled quietly. “Now, what made me think you’d say that? Add to your programming. Up the garden path means following a false lead.”

  “Entered.”

  “I’ve hardly stopped since Tuesday. I’m tired.” Luke yawned and whispered, “Turn up the stars, Malc. I want it to look like a really clear night tonight. I want to drift off with them shining bright like diamonds.”

  As soon as he’d said it, Luke’s spine tingled and he gasped. “That’s it,” he muttered to himself.

  “Explain,” Malc said.

  Luke hesitated, savouring the moment. “No. I’ll tell you in the morning. I’m going to sleep on it.”

  Under the false stars projected onto his bedroom ceiling, Luke slipped easily into a deep sleep with a wide smile on his face. At last, he understood the connection between the murder weapons.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Luke never ran out of pomegranates. He never ran out of any food. Sensors in his smart kitchen kept track of his stocks and automatically sent out an order for more before he ran out of anything. The replacements were delivered by cab.

  This morning, celebrating last night’s success with the biggest pomegranate in his fruit bowl, Luke kept Malc waiting. His fingers dripping with blood-red juice, he said, “Do I detect impatience, Malc?”

  The machine denied it. “I am not programmed to be either patient or impatient. However, I am aware of deadlines and sometimes remind you of them. You have a day and a half before your handling of the case is reviewed by The Authorities.”

  “Plenty of time, now I know what’s going on.”

  “Explain.”

  Luke wiped his chin with a tissue that had already turned pink and soggy. “Yes, I will. After this. And a shower. I’m going to need one, it’s so juicy.”

  ****

  Refreshed and looking forward to the day, Luke perched on the edge of his desk and picked up the arrow again. “The bit that does the damage, Malc. The point. What shape is it?”

  “It is a parallelogram.”

  “Otherwise known as what?”

  Malc answered, “A diamond.”

  Luke nodded. “Now Ms Kee. What killed her?”

  “The venom of a rattlesnake.”

  “What snake precisely?”

  “Crotalus adamanteus.”

  “And what’s adamanteus in English? Put another way, what’s the snake’s common name?”

  “It is the eastern diamondback rattlesnake. Adamanteus means like a diamond in hardness and lustre.”

  Luke nodded and smiled. “Are you getting the picture?”

  “Confirmed. The cutting edge of a glass cutter is composed of very small diamonds.”

  “Exactly. Put this in notes, Malc. Crispin Addley, Ms Kee and Vince Wainwright were all killed by diamonds of one sort or another. That’s the connection. I know the staff call me Diamond so it’s obvious Demon Archer’s obsessed with framing me, presumably trying to wreck my career – and my life. So, let’s narrow the suspects down, eh? As far as I know, Mr Cadman, Ella Fitch and Mr Bromley don’t have anything against me, but some do bear me a grudge. Demon Archer knows my nickname. That’ll include Rick Glenfield and Ms Thacket because they’re staff. I’m not so sure about students like Ed Hoffman and Shane.” Luke paused for a few seconds, thinking, before he said, “Malc, search case notes for what Shane said to me on Tuesday. I want the bit that went, ‘You’re a pain,’ or something like that.”

  Without any emotion, Malc recited, “You’re a pain. Do you know that? Always have been. If our marks drop a bit, the instructors throw you at us every time. ‘Luke Harding’s marks didn’t slip. Diamond performance.’ Only Crispy had a chance of living up to it. And look what’s happened to him.” The sentences sounded dead without the passion that Shane put into them, as if they didn’t mean anything.

  Luke was nodding. One of the sentences meant a lot to him. “Diamond performance, eh?”

  “Correct.”

  “So,” Luke said, “it got to some students as well. Shane knows it. I don’t know if Hoffman does.”

  “That may be irrelevant,” Malc said.

  “Irrelevant? Don’t be daft. Why?”

  “I have to point out that you could have committed all three killings with diamonds to live up to your nickname and reputation.”

  “What? You’ve got to be joking! That’s what Demon Archer wants you to think. But I didn’t even know they called me Diamond till Wednesday.” He shook his head, dismissing Malc’s theory. “With every new bit of evidence that comes in, I get less and less convinced that I did it. Even your electrons should see that. I bet Demon Archer didn’t reckon on me being the FI in charge. He’d expect another investigator to be brought in, discover what the staff call
me, see the diamond connection, and arrest me. Well, tough, because it hasn’t worked out like that.”

  Malc had not yet come to the end of his objections. “It is not certain that someone who hates you enough to carry out such a bizarre plot actually exists. It is more likely that any such person would simply murder you instead.”

  “Oh no, you’re wrong. You’ve got to understand human nature. Killing me wouldn’t do the job. No fun at all. Demon Archer wants to see me stripped of everything. If he – or she – did me in, everyone would feel sympathy for me. I’m supposed to go out in a blaze of disgrace, not drowning in sympathy. And Demon Archer probably wants to beat on my home ground – using crime.” Not allowing Malc time to reply, he got up and said, “Come on. I hope your batteries are up to speed. We’ve got a lot of work to do on nicknames and rattlers. You see, there are only two ways of getting rattlesnake venom. Milking a snake or getting someone else to milk it for you. So, the question is, why would anyone agree to supply somebody with a lethal venom? I’ve got an idea about that. It’s back to the conservation park.”

  ****

  Only one of the two snake handlers at the animal sanctuary was available for interview. Luke was taken to a conference room to meet a keeper called Tim Izzard. The thirty-year-old man was sitting stiffly, unnaturally, as if he were petrified to face a forensic investigator. He was trying too hard to keep calm – and keep his nerve – under difficult circumstances.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Luke began cheerfully. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions. Like, do you know Mr Cadman from the school?”

  “Not well,” Tim answered, “but he’s been here a few times. He helps us out with some of the animals.”

  “Like eastern diamondback rattlesnakes?”

  “Now you mention it, yes.”

  “Have you ever milked one for its venom?”

  “Yes. Once. Ages ago – when Mr Cadman trained me. In case I ever had to do it again.”

  “And have you?”

  “No,” Tim replied.

  “What about the other handler?” Luke asked.

  Tim stiffened even more. For a moment, all he could do was utter her name. “Arlene.”

  Luke was puzzled by the man’s reaction. “Yes, Arlene Dickinson.”