by Malcolm Rose
Still wearing his blue denim jacket, Shane did not answer.
“Earlier,” Luke continued in a quiet voice, “I saw a girl who’s really down over Crispy. You don’t seem to be in the same ballpark.” He took a big bite out of his sandwich.
Immediately, Shane lost his temper. “That’s a rotten thing to say. It’s awful about Crispy. I know it is. But he’s gone. There’s nothing I can do about that. Nothing anyone can do.”
“You could help me find out what happened.”
“What do you want to know now?”
“You’re a member of the after-school animal club. You like rattlesnakes.”
“So?”
“Do you know anything about their poison?”
Shane answered, “It kills people.”
“Have you ever handled it?”
“The poison? Not likely.”
Luke smiled and said to Malc, “That means no. It’s not a statistical statement of the odds.” Leaning towards Shane again, Luke asked, “Do you know what the staff call me?”
“A right pain, I should think.”
“Apart from that.”
Shane shrugged. “No idea.”
“Are you sure?”
Shane looked fed up. “Certain.”
Wondering why Shane was denying it, Luke said, “How about Diamond?”
“In your dreams. I’ve heard them talk about Luke Harding’s diamond performance but that’s different from being a good student. Look,” he said, shuffling in his seat, “people like me have got to slave away for hours to get half way to your marks. You just messed around but got the grades anyway. It’s not fair. You were always in trouble with the instructors and The Authorities while the rest of us were cramming and still not coming up to scratch.”
“I know I’m lucky,” Luke replied. “But you sound really jealous.”
Shane let out a grunt. “I wouldn’t be in your shoes if you don’t crack these murders soon. I’m not jealous of that.”
Luke took a drink. He wasn’t sure if Shane was so bent on revenge that he’d sacrifice Crispy – his best friend – to do it. Did Shane dislike him enough for that? “If you’re in the animal club, you must know the animal sanctuary.”
“Yes.” Shane made his answer sound like a question.
“Do you know Tim Izzard and Arlene Dickinson, a couple of keepers?”
Shane shook his head. “I suppose I might recognize them if I saw them, but I don’t know any of them by name.”
“I want you to think really carefully. What did you do on Tuesday after Crispy went off to the playing field?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, did you follow him?”
“No!”
“What did you do, then?”
“I was working. On-line library work, if you must know.”
Luke pointed at Shane’s jacket and said, “There were blue denim fibres on Ms Kee’s clothing. How do you explain that?”
Shane blushed but, after a few seconds, replied, “Why don’t you ask everyone here, right now, to put their hands up if they’re wearing denim?”
Unusually, Malc butted in. “I recommend you terminate this interview, FI Harding. You will want to review two new pieces of evidence as a matter of urgency.”
Luke turned to Shane and said, “That’s it for now. Got to dash.” He left the remains of his lunch uneaten on the table.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The first finding was an archery bow that had been discovered in the school skip. Hurriedly pulling disposable gloves over his hands, Luke said with a big smile, “Let’s not get excited...”
“I do not...”
“Well, I do. But not yet.” Luke extracted the bow from the evidence bag and held it up by the string. “Over to you, Malc. I want the finest scan you’ve got. I want fingerprints and anything else. In fact, everything else.”
When Malc had completed his examination, he reported, “The bow has been polished recently. It has no fingerprints whatsoever. I have identified twenty-four microscopic particles adhering to it but none appears to relate to the case. I suggest the bow was clean when it was placed in the skip with the rest of the rubbish. The traces that I have detected are almost certainly contamination by school waste.”
Luke sighed and put the bow back in the bag. “Demon Archer knows how to shoot straight and how to wind up a forensic investigator.”
The second new piece of evidence to be found in the skip was smaller but even more significant to the case. It was a fragment of light green cotton, about the same size as Luke’s palm. It was charred around its edge because someone had attempted to destroy the garment by burning it. The ploy had nearly worked. In a pile of ash, it was the only material to survive the fire. And it had two small red stains.
Again, Luke’s heart drummed faster and louder. “Let’s take it a step at a time. Just confirm these stains are blood, not pomegranate juice, Malc. Then do a full comparison with Vince’s.” He laid out the cloth on a clean piece of polythene on his desk.
While Malc hovered above the cotton fragment, examining both stains, Luke sat back and chewed a fingernail. His mobile was a state-of-the-art analytical instrument, capable of completing many tests amazingly quickly but, at times like this, never quickly enough.
Malc did not have to struggle to locate the stains this time. “Positive reaction to the oxidation of luminol, confirming the presence of haemoglobin. It is blood.” There was another delay before Malc’s next announcement. “Fluorescent antibody analysis confirms that it is human blood.”
Luke waited in silence for the results of the protein electrophoresis and DNA fingerprinting. The only sounds he could hear were Malc’s gentle whirring and his own heart thudding even more rapidly.
“It has the same blood group as Vince Wainwright.”
Luke nodded. One test – the most important one – to go. And it would be the longest wait. The minutes seemed to stretch into hours.
“The DNA profile is identical to the blood in Vince Wainwright’s bathroom.”
“Bob’s your uncle!” Luke cried. “It’s what Demon Archer was wearing on Wednesday night. A lucky break, at last.”
“Incorrect,” Malc replied. “You underestimate yourself. You requested a search of the waste. Luck did not play a part.”
“No, I mean, lucky that a bit of it survived.” With tweezers, he turned it over to find that his luck was holding. Part of a label was intact. ‘Men’s Fas-’. At once, Luke said, “Malc. Get on to Men’s Fashion Incorporated right now and send them details of this cloth. It looks like it’s from the neck of a shirt. I want anything on its distribution and sales. And I want it pronto. I wish I could read its size but...” He shrugged. “Still, I’ve already taken a big step forward. You know what I mean, don’t you?”
“It is the first evidence that Demon Archer is a man.”
“Exactly. I’ve never seen Ms Thacket in a man’s shirt. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen her in anything but sports gear. Anyway, she’s out of the picture.” Luke nodded towards the inside surface of the cloth. “Microscopic scan, Malc. Find me some skin or a hair from Demon Archer and I’ll have him through his DNA.”
Twenty seconds later, Luke’s run of good fortune came to an end. “The only particles on this side are carbon.”
Luke let out the breath he’d been holding. “You mean soot. The fire charred any trace of the man wearing it.”
“Correct.”
Luke shook his head. “Pity.” Carefully, he put the material back into its evidence bag. Trying not to be too disappointed, he said, “Ms Thacket nearly saw him on Wednesday morning. Now I’ve got part of something he was wearing when he killed Vince.” He brought his forefinger and thumb together again. “This time, I was that close. I’m homing in, Malc.” Switching back to the routine investigation, Luke added, “For now, though, there’s something left over from my chat with Shane. Link to the on-line library and check his usage on Tuesday after school.”
“Okay. Can you monitor his activity in between?”
“No.”
“So, his computer might not have been doing anything. He could’ve logged on, gone out, and come back later to log off, thinking he’d got himself an alibi.”
“I cannot discount that possibility.”
“Okay. But right now I want to concentrate on a more likely suspect. What I need is a clean piece of paper, a comb and Rick Glenfield.”
****
“Sit down,” Luke said to the startled caretaker, waving him towards the chair on the other side of the desk.
Rick looked nervous and uncomfortable in Luke’s quarters. Eyeing the clean white paper that covered the table top, Rick asked, “What’s it about this time?”
“I see you’ve got your new overall,” Luke remarked.
“What do you want from me?”
“Do you think I lost you your job?”
“No. Well, partly, yes,” he replied. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t broken into the exam system. I would’ve hung on longer, that’s for sure.”
“I’m sorry about that – really sorry – and I’m sorry I’ve got to get you to do something for me now but...” He shrugged. “Do you have a comb?”
Bewildered, Rick answered, “A comb? Yes.”
“Right. I want you to bend your head over the table and comb your hair – and beard – very thoroughly so anything that comes out goes onto the paper.”
“You what?”
Luke said, “Sorry but you don’t have a choice.”
“You can’t...”
“Malc. Am I within my rights to ask for this?”
“You are following legal procedure.”
The ginger teddy bear looked devastated, as if his dignity was taking yet another pounding. Even so, he got his comb out of his trouser pocket and mechanically began to run it through his mass of hair.
“More on the right, please,” Luke said, feeling pity for the caretaker. “And the beard.”
Rick’s face was bright red. He glanced at Luke in disgust but carried on with the humiliating exercise.
Eventually, Luke said, “That’s fine. Thanks. And sorry again to put you through that but it’s necessary, believe me. Now,” he added, “we move away and let Malc do his job.”
The mobile did not take long to scan the table top. “Nine hairs, three small pieces of vegetable matter, many fragments of dead skin, three particles of soot and one of ash.”
“Ash and soot,” Luke repeated. “How do you explain that?”
Rick shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“In that case, I’ve got to ask you to surrender your identity card to the school secretary. He will downgrade it so it can’t be used outside the school. I’m confining you to the premises.”
“But...” Rick’s objection died on his lips. He mumbled to himself, “That’s right. Blame me. Again.”
“That’s all for now,” Luke said. “You can go.”
“Not far, I can’t.”
Before the downcast caretaker could reach the door, Luke called after him, “By the way. Your sports centre. Does it do weightlifting?”
Rick sighed. “Yes.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. A bit.”
“That’s good. Thanks.”
As soon as Rick Glenfield left, Luke said to Malc, “I’ll bag up this stuff from Rick’s hair but then we’re off to the gym. My brain needs a workout. Those specks of soot got me thinking about all the other trace evidence. The one I’ve been neglecting is the magnesium carbonate – magnesite – on Ms Kee. You said it’s used to make non-slip concrete flooring. I bet it’s not just floors.”
****
Mr Bromley was overseeing the last lesson of the week in the gym. In the main arena, a game of basketball was underway. To the left, there was a small cluster of students around the bars and weights. Two were queuing to use the chalk that would provide them with extra grip. Every time someone dipped hands into the tub, a small white cloud bloomed.
“Go over, Malc, and test the chalk. To a scientist, chalk’s calcium carbonate but I bet that’s not.”
Being a metal machine, Malc could not smile. Having a neutral synthetic voice, he could not sound satisfied. But, before he gave his verdict, Luke could tell from his mobile’s manner that he had returned with an interesting result.
“The weightlifting chalk is finely ground magnesite.”
Luke grinned and nodded. “Magnesium carbonate for non-slip floors and non-slip hands. And it’s so fine it’ll get everywhere. Even after washing hands I bet some’s left under the fingernails.” He paused before adding, “Ms Kee was no bodybuilder so she picked the magnesium carbonate up from someone who is. If it was under Demon Archer’s nails when he bumped into her and jabbed her, a bit could’ve got on her clothes. Which leaves us with two suspects way out in front.”
“Explain.”
“Glenfield and Hoffman. I’m not counting Shane. Have you got a record of him weightlifting?”
“No.”
“No. He’s not exactly bulging with muscles. It’s down to Rick Glenfield or Ed Hoffman.” Luke paused for thought and then said, “I reckon both have been sharpening up their archery skills on the quiet. And what does Hoffman’s file say about his computer skills?”
“Until he opted for sport, he showed some promise.”
“So, he could play tricks with a telescreen message to Crispy?”
“Not known, but it is a possibility.”
Malc fell silent for a moment and then he said, “I have just received a message. Men’s Fashion Inc to Investigator L Harding. The green cotton is from a man’s shirt. It is made in all sizes from junior to extra-large. It has been sold nationwide, including Birmingham, for the last ten months and continues to be a midrange market leader. When it first came out, market research suggested it was fashionable among middle-aged women but that trend has now lapsed. End of message.”
“Mmm. That doesn’t exactly narrow it down, does it?”
“It does the opposite. I suggest you make Ms Thacket a major suspect again.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
When Luke asked Ed Hoffman to press down on the skin of his fingertips to reveal what was lurking behind his fingernails, the student’s expression was murderous. “You want me to do what?” There was spite and resentment in his wild eyes.
“Hold up your hands so my mobile can scan what’s under your fingernails,” Luke replied.
“You’re pushing your luck, Harding.” Reluctantly, Ed did as he was told.
Almost immediately, Malc reported, “There are several deposits of fine magnesium carbonate.”
“What’s that mean?” Ed snapped.
“Not a lot,” Luke answered. “It means you’re a weightlifter, that’s all.”
“Well, congratulations on your amazing detective work! You’ve made a real breakthrough.”
“There are also four specks of carbon on the shoes,” Malc added after completing a body scan.
“Soot, eh. That’s more unusual for a weightlifter,” said Luke. “How come?”
“Don’t get excited. That’s easy as well. I burnt some toast this morning. I scraped the black stuff off. I guess some fell on my shoes. It doesn’t mean I’m into arson if that’s what you’re getting at.”
To Luke, Ed’s answer seemed unforced. It was either true or well prepared. “You’ve never handled cats. I know because you told me.”
“That’s right.”
“But do you know who was handling them?”
“No.”
“Have you been over to the conservation park?”
“What for? Why should I?”
“No idea,” Luke replied with a shrug. “But have you?”
“No.”
Just before Luke walked away, he said, “Oh, you know that last detention you did for Ms Kee? Well,
I just want to get it clear in my mind. You sanded a white table top down to the wood and then polished it with wax. Right?”
“More great detective work.”
“Is that right? You used wax polish?”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you,” Luke said.
****
It was Friday evening and, in his quarters, Luke was feeling downbeat. This morning, he’d been confident that he would have solved it by now. But he hadn’t. Not really. Thinking through all of the evidence, he still had three clear suspects. Rick Glenfield came closest to filling Demon Archer’s shoes, but the battered caretaker was not Luke’s first choice. Life had been cruel to Glenfield and it showed no sign of letting up. If Luke had tried to explain his reasoning to Malc, though, his mobile would have ripped his argument to pieces. Rick’s bad luck and Luke’s gut feelings meant nothing to the law.
In his mind, Luke replayed his final qualification exam. There’d been a point near the end of the test when he thought he’d cracked the problem but actually he’d got more than one solution. Then, evidence of high-jumping had come to his rescue. This time, when it was a real case, weightlifters’ chalk had not turned into a trump card. Ms Thacket, Ed Hoffman and Rick Glenfield all used it. Even the cotton from the burnt shirt had let him down. What he needed – and what would persuade Malc – was a syringe with Demon Archer’s fingerprints on the barrel and Ms Kee’s blood on the needle. But it hadn’t turned up.
Tomorrow, The Authorities would assess Luke’s progress and, almost certainly, strip him of the case.
Interrupting Luke’s gloomy thoughts, Malc said, “I have received a computer message from Rick Glenfield. He claims that he collected rubbish from the various bins around the school yesterday and dumped it into the skip, ready for collection. He is wondering if that is the origin of the ash and soot in his hair.”
Luke smiled wryly because he knew that the statement wasn’t reliable. It would not help Rick’s cause. “How long did it take him to come up with that explanation?”
Unable to recognize that Luke did not expect an answer, Malc replied, “Five hours and seven minutes.”
