Private Killer

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Over there!” Frank pointed dead ahead. A plume of thick, dark smoke was rising up in the distance, right above the soccer field. This wasn’t some pretty chimney smoke, or even a party bonfire. This was oily black smoke in a place where nothing was supposed to be burning. That bad feeling I’d had just a moment before came back . . . with friends.

  We took off at a run—or at least tried to. Killer pulled forward violently.

  Frank was a few steps ahead of me when we finally crested the last hill before the soccer field. Someone had set one of the goal posts on fire. The paint and the chemically treated wood were responsible for the dark, dirty looking smoke.

  Then I looked more closely. There was a body tied to the post!

  FRANK

  4

  Where There’s Smoke . . .

  Someone was tied to that goal post! And from here, it didn’t look like they were moving. I started to run down to the field, and sped up when I realized Joe and Killer had surged past me.

  Joe was barely keeping up with Killer. I grabbed Killer’s leash from Joe.

  “Grab a fire extinguisher from one of the athletics buildings,” I yelled to Joe over my shoulder.

  I pulled out my cell phone and quickly dialed 911.

  “This is an emergency on the grounds of the Willis Firth Academy. I need an ambulance and a fire truck at the soccer field immediately.” I hung up as soon as the operator confirmed they were on their way. I was almost at the goal post now. I could just make out the person beneath the spreading flames and giant smoke clouds. I hoped I wasn’t too late already.

  I yanked off my coat and began to beat at the flames. I pulled my sweater up over my face to block out the worst of the smoke, but it was still like sucking on a car exhaust pipe.

  I didn’t put out the fire, but my swinging coat fanned enough of the smoke away that I could see the person tied to the post. Or rather I could see that it wasn’t a person!

  It was a scarecrow of some kind, or a crude mannequin. It looked like it had been made out of a couple of pieces of old two-by-fours nailed together. No wonder it was burning so well.

  Even though it had been mostly destroyed by the fire already, it wasn’t hard to make out who it was supposed to be. If the half-melted black wig on its head wasn’t enough of a clue, someone had dressed it in a long black skirt and other women’s clothes. I wouldn’t be surprised if those were some of the stolen items Destiny had been complaining about earlier. Of course, they’d capped it all off with a sign that read RIP: DESTINY DARITY, just in case we hadn’t gotten the hint already.

  I heard footsteps running behind me. I turned and saw Joe barreling down the hill with a fire extinguisher in his arms. In the distance I could already hear the sirens of the town’s ambulance coming this way. By the time Joe got to the goal post, though, the fire had already started to die down.

  “What the?” he said, as he got close enough to see that the “person” was really just a simple stick figure.

  I pointed to the sign at the top of the post.

  “Looks like Destiny has made someone really angry.”

  I nodded. That was the understatement of the year. “Maybe you should go get Killer out of here. Who knows what he’ll get up to by himself. And besides, I don’t think people should see us together at the scene of something like this. Ellery already knew about ATAC. Who knows what he’s hinted at to other people.”

  Joe nodded. “Yeah, the less we’re seen together the better, I think.”

  He took off at a run. I still had a minute or two before the emergency workers showed up, so I tried to do a quick survey of the area. I had no doubt that pretty much all of the evidence would have been destroyed by the fire, but maybe our arsonist was careless.

  The field was pretty torn up by constant practicing—the soccer team had been gearing up for the big game against the Blair School for a month now. They were out here nearly every day, and sometimes twice a day. There would be no footprints to be found.

  Wait, I thought. The big game everyone’s talking about—that’s against the Blair School. And Dr. Darity said that was Destiny’s old school. Interesting.

  It wasn’t a lead yet, but I filed the information away for later. I’d have to find out more about the whole thing. Anything that could shed some light on why someone might want to threaten Destiny.

  I was scanning the ground as I thought about all of this, when I noticed a scrap of paper tumbling in the wind. It was probably nothing, but I chased after it anyway. Emergency vehicles were pulling up around me, and I grabbed it right as the first of the firemen leaped out.

  “Hey!” he yelled. “What’s going on here? Did you call 911?”

  I had just enough time to see that it was a hand-drawn map of Firth Academy before I shoved it in my pocket and turned to face the fireman.

  “So this some kind of prank?” he said. “Some kind of . . . frat thing?”

  His uniform said Officer Emmett, and Officer Emmett did not seem to be amused. He was a big guy—probably 6’3”—and staring up at his face it was easy to remember the awe with which I’d viewed firemen as a kid. He could probably have bench-pressed me. And right now it looked like he wanted to.

  “No sir,” I said. “When I called, I really did think there was a person tied to the post. I was far away, and—well, before it burned, it looked a lot more like a person than this.”

  He looked down at me and sighed. “What were you doing here, anyway?”

  “I was just hoping to get a chance to talk to someone on the soccer team about getting involved. There’s a big game coming up, and I’m a new student so . . .” I trailed off, trying my best to look like a shy but generally good kid. Thankfully it was a disguise I wore a lot, and I was pretty good at it.

  “Kids!” Officer Emmett muttered.

  By this point, quite a crowd had shown up. Fire trucks and ambulances were a rare sight on the Firth campus—although they’d unfortunately become more common recently. Students had gathered within minutes, and were busy popping cell phone pictures of the still smoking figure. By afternoon, I had no doubt they’d be all over Face-book. I saw Zeke, my roommate at Firth Academy, in the crowd. He was talking with a long-haired blond student who looked to be about sixteen going on twenty-five. He had some pretty serious stubble. He was one of those tall, classically good-looking guys whose mouth seemed to be twisted in a permanent sneer.

  “Yeah,” said the blond guy. “Let’s see how hot she thinks she is now. She deserves this.” He pushed his way to the front of the crowd to snap a few more photos. Then he laughed and gave Zeke a high five.

  Poor Destiny, I thought. I wondered why that guy had such a grudge against her. I made a mental note to find out more about him. I wondered what Dr. Darity was going to do when he heard about this. This was just what he needed—another big mess on the Firth campus.

  As if my thoughts had summoned him, Dr. Darity came walking over. He was moving quickly but stiffly. From the angry expression on his face, it was clear he’d been briefed on what was happening.

  Dr. Darity walked right over to Officer Emmett.

  “Please take that down,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Well,” said Officer Emmett, “according to procedure we should have it checked for fingerprints first.”

  “I’m fairly certain that no fingerprints could have survived that blaze, Officer. And this is just a prank gotten out of hand. Now, as headmaster of the academy, I would consider it a personal favor if that could be removed. Now.”

  Dr. Darity was using that overly polite tone that adults sometimes had when what they really wanted to do was scream at each other. It had the intended effect. Officer Emmett yelled at a few of the other firemen, and within a few minutes, they had the figure and the sign down on the ground. This side of the goal was pretty destroyed. They’d have to replace it before any more games could be played here.

  Dr. Darity turned to the assembled students and staff. He took a deep breath an
d ran a hand through his disheveled hair. The crowd quieted, eager to hear what he had to say. He opened his mouth, but someone beat him to it.

  “Well!” said a quiet voice from the crowd.

  Dr. Darity closed his mouth, surprised. The students parted, and a familiar figure slowly made his way to the front of the crowd. Clad in his usual three-piece tweed suit, leaning heavily on his cane, Dr. Montgomery looked exactly like you’d expect the headmaster of a private school to look. Which made sense, because he’d been head honcho at Firth until just recently.

  When he reached the burned remains, he raised a handkerchief to his nose and sniffed loudly, as though he smelled something distasteful.

  “Well,” he said again. “Well, well, well. All I can say is this is certainly another first in Firth history.” He said it with a smile on his lips, but it never reached his eyes.

  Dr. Darity didn’t seem to know what to say. They were standing shoulder-to-shoulder now. Dr. Montgomery turned to face the crowd.

  “Given the events of the past few days, I’m sure Dr. Darity would agree with me that it is a good time to continue the discussion about admissions that was begun earlier this semester.”

  Dr. Darity tried to interrupt him. “I don’t—”

  “Have time to hold such a discussion? I understand. The role of headmaster is a demanding one, for certain. Which is why I would be glad to host this discussion at my house, next week. We must all do our part to make sure that Firth continues its legacy as a first-class institution.”

  What is he talking about? I thought. I looked at Dr. Darity’s face. If he’d been upset before, now he looked like he could kill someone. This was not a topic that made him happy. Whatever this meeting was, it might be a good idea to check it out.

  Dr. Darity opened his mouth to say something, but Dr. Montgomery beat him to it again. “What are you all doing standing around here, anyway? Doesn’t this school still believe in homework?” He laughed, a cold, dry laugh like wind blowing through a pile of leaves. Then he clapped his hands together loudly. “Dismissed,” he said.

  Everyone began to wander away in groups of two and three. Dr. Montgomery’s housekeeper, Mrs. Wilson, walked over to give him her arm. The two of them headed off without a look back. It seemed like I was the only one to see Dr. Darity, standing forgotten by the remains of the goal, his hands clenched in angry fists.

  JOE

  5

  Stakeout

  This mission is really keeping me in shape! I thought, as Killer and I ran back up the hill I’d just run down, holding the fire extinguisher like a giant baby in my arms. A giant baby made out of lead. Between walking Killer three times a day, and all the other running we’d been doing, I was going to be ready for a marathon by the time this was all over. Although today Killer’s three walks had turned into one all-day long walk.

  Thankfully, I kept myself in pretty good shape anyway. Which was probably why Destiny had such a crush on me. The girls all go for the MoJoe. Who could blame her, really?

  Although it looked like someone blamed her for something. You’d have to be pretty angry to go to all the trouble of stealing her clothes and making such a crazy mannequin. Was it just because she was a girl at an all-boys’ school? Or was it something more? Maybe someone wanted to sabotage the soccer team before the upcoming big game? Or was someone trying to get back at Dr. Darity? There were just too many possibilities and not enough information.

  When we finally made it back up to the athletic building, Killer barked at me twice, his ears laid back flat against his head.

  “Easy boy,” I said, tying him to the tree by the gate. He whined as I slipped past him to return the fire extinguisher. I washed my hands and face quickly in the boys’ bathroom to get rid of any lingering smell.

  When I returned, I could see the crowds of people beginning to gather by the emergency vehicles on the soccer field. The plume of smoke had died down to just a trickle leaking up into the sky. I untied Killer. We headed in the opposite direction, and he seemed more than happy to get away from the fire.

  A thought occurred to me. It looked like everyone was rushing to see what was going on down at the soccer field. Maybe now would be a good time to head back and check out that hut in the woods. If everyone was distracted, no one would notice me sneaking out there. And we needed more information about that place. It was the only link we had with whoever had gone all crazy on the boys’ locker room.

  Besides, I had to make sure Killer got a good walk, right?

  It took about fifteen minutes to get out there, going at a good jog. I took the long way around, through the woods at the edges of Firth Academy, just to make sure no one saw me. Not too long ago Frank and I had run into Charles Westerley, a teacher at Firth, and Killer’s old handler, respectively. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that their presence at the same place at the same time wasn’t a coincidence—they’d been romantically involved and were meeting in the woods in secret. But aside from them, no one seemed to use the paths in the woods much.

  Well, them and whoever decided to redecorate the boys’ locker room in serial killer chic.

  I got lost once or twice on the way—it had been dark last time I was out here, and pretty chaotic—but finally I found the path that I was certain led to that small cabin in the woods. It was all still fresh in my mind: the fight between Ellery and his father, the buckets of blood, the sound of vomiting. Even though it was still daylight out, the woods were dark and still. It made it all the creepier. The only sounds were my quiet footsteps and Killer’s heavy, wet breathing.

  Finally I caught a glimpse of something up ahead other than trees, trees, and more trees. There was the small clearing I remembered, the broken-down raw wood walls, the one window (painted black, of course). And something I’d forgotten: Mr. Marks’s bodyguard.

  He was standing there in exactly the same suit (and position!) he’d been in when we left last night. It looked like he hadn’t moved a muscle. And boy did he have a lot of muscles. It was like they’d planted an oak tree in front of the door.

  I pulled Killer back into the trees a little farther, before the guard could spot us. Mr. Marks had known that we were ATAC agents. It was possible that if I identified myself to the guard, he’d let me into the cabin.

  But then again—I still wasn’t sure that I trusted Mr. Marks. After all, his son Ellery had turned out to be a psychopath, and he’d tried to help cover it up. And he was a member of this Brothers of Erebus group, whoever they were. While it could just be a harmless part of the fraternity, in my experience, secret societies tend to be full of . . . less than upstanding citizens.

  And though I didn’t know whether the bodyguard would let me in, I was certain that whatever he did, he would report right back to Mr. Marks.

  I was still figuring out what to do when I heard the sound of someone approaching through the woods.

  “Sit,” I whispered to Killer. Killer’s police training must have included how to behave on a stakeout, because he was as silent as a statue. We both tried to hide as well as we could behind one of the big elm trees. Killer was so still he could have been a rock in the shape of a German shepherd.

  Whoever was approaching had reached the edge of the clearing now. I peeked out from behind the tree and saw Spencer Thane—the president of Gamma Theta Theta! Before this I thought he seemed like a pretty decent guy. He’d been out here with us last night when we’d found Ellery. In fact, GTT and Spencer seemed to be at the middle of everything that had been going on recently. And hadn’t Destiny said that it was GTT pledges who’d been stealing her clothes? Interesting . . .

  As I watched, Spencer walked right up to the door of the cabin. The guard gave him the smallest of nods and stepped aside. Spencer walked into the cabin quickly and pulled the door shut behind him. The guard resumed his place in front of the door. Within five seconds it was over, and the little clearing was quiet again.

  If I hadn’t been here at just the right moment, I’d hav
e missed everything, I thought. Seems like I wasn’t the only one who realized that the fire provided the perfect distraction if you didn’t want to be seen sneaking around in the woods. I wondered what he was up to—and where he was headed after this.

  I put my back to the tree and settled into a comfortable position. Killer stayed frozen where he was. Now all I had to do was wait.

  And wait.

  And wait.

  What is he doing in there? I thought. It had been nearly an hour since I’d seen Spencer go inside the cabin. It was only one room! There wasn’t even electricity, and with that window blacked out, there couldn’t have been any light in there. Somehow, I doubted it was his private study room.

  Could he be destroying some sort of evidence? I debated rushing the guard, but there was no way I could get past him, and by this point, Spencer would have had the time to destroy whatever he wanted. My only chance to figure this all out was to follow him after he left.

  So I waited some more. Now the sun began to set. The woods, already dark and creepy, became darker and creepier. And then even darker and creepier. And still Spencer stayed in the cabin!

  It hadn’t been a cold day (for fall), but when you sit in one spot without moving, you get pretty frozen pretty fast. And if it got any darker out, I didn’t know if I’d be able to find my way back home, let alone follow Spencer.

  Just when I finally decided that he must have moved in to the cabin for good, the door cracked open. In the last bit of daylight, Spencer emerged. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like he was covered in dirt. Had he been rolling around on the ground in there?

  Spencer took off at a fast walk through the woods. Killer’s ears perked up, and he followed Spencer with his eyes, never moving the rest of his body an inch. Who’s a good dog! I thought.

  Three Mississippi . . . Two Mississippi . . . One Mississippi, I counted silently to myself. Finally I quietly started to follow Spencer. He was about thirty feet ahead of me in the woods. This was obviously not the first time that he’d walked through these woods at night. He glided carefully from tree to tree, somehow seeming to avoid the million branches that tore at my face and the rocks that threatened to slip out from underneath me.