Lock & Mori

by Heather W. Petty

  “Never mind that, we’re here.” I walked forward until I was standing in front of Patel’s tree. I could even make out a stain in the dark soil and tree roots at its base. I resisted the urge to reach up and run my fingers along the gouge that the short sword had made when it had pierced through him. But it was obvious we’d been right. He’d definitely been stabbed at throat height first.

  “Here is where you bring me? To a tree?”

  “For starters,” I said, stepping around to the far side and searching the bark for the etching that was mentioned in the police file. It really was clear as day when I found it—a four-leaf clover. This hadn’t been a random meeting place. Patel had met my father here on purpose. The clover was a marker, but I didn’t know for what. I didn’t know why.

  “You do understand what ditching school is for, don’t you, Mori?”

  I was about to answer when I heard her cry out softly. I turned just in time to catch her hands with mine and keep her from falling.

  “Are you all right?”

  Sadie started laughing. “Nice catch.” Her foot was stuck in a square hole in the ground. “Should’ve been looking where I was going.”

  It hadn’t been there before, or at least hadn’t been noted on the crime-scene report. And perhaps it wouldn’t have been. Though it definitely had proximity to where the man died and was almost a perfect square. It was pretty obvious that a person had dug something up. As I looked from the dug-up space to the clover etching, an idea sparked.

  “What is it?” Sadie asked.

  I apparently wasn’t being very subtle in my expressions. “I was just thinking how odd it was that there would be a dug-up spot like this in the middle of the trees.” It was partially true, though I was careful to be stealthier as I backed up to the tree and paced off the distance between the etching and the spot. Six paces. Six feet exactly. I had no idea what that meant, but I knew for certain I had to get a look around the newest crime scene. Somehow, and without Sadie or whoever else was around figuring out why.

  “Come on,” I said, walking quickly away from the trees.

  Sadie started laughing, but she followed me anyway. “What are you up to, Mori? Is this some kind of strange treasure hunt?”

  I grinned at her over my shoulder. “Maybe.”

  “What’s the prize for winning? And I do mean besides the pleasure of a walk through the park with little ol’ you.”

  “Do they make such a lavish prize?”

  We both laughed and she skipped to catch me up, looping her arm through mine. The plan had been to make straight for the fountain from the site, but when we got about halfway there, a big loop of yellow tape appeared just off the main path. Too close to the main path, actually. There weren’t even any trees to shelter the crime from prying eyes. What was it Sherlock had said?

  It appears our killer is losing more of his control.

  I suddenly wondered how well my father had hidden his crimes; if DI Mallory’s sudden interest in spending nights out with Dad at the pub had anything to do with his interest in the investigation; if, perhaps, he would eventually be able to put this thing together on his own. My dad could rot in a prison cell for the rest of his life for all I cared, but I wasn’t ready for the fallout. I wasn’t ready for my and my brothers’ lives to change forever.

  If my dad was going to be caught, it would be on my terms—when I had a plan in place to protect the boys and me from what came next. And that day was not today.

  She narrowed her eyes. “What in the world are you doing?”

  I composed my expression into my best smile. “How would you like to help me find my next clue?”

  “For the treasure hunt?”

  “Sure. But it’s inside that circle there.”

  “That crime-scene circle?”

  “Technically, yes. But it’s got to be an old one or there’d be more people, right?” It was a blatant lie, which made me the worst friend in history. But I needed her to believe me, just for a little while.

  Sadie’s forehead crinkled when she raised her brows. “This sounds deliciously delinquent of you.” She gave me a devious smile. “I’m in.”

  Relief and guilt flooded me equally as I turned away from her. The taped-off area was guarded rather loosely by two uniformed bobbies and a plain-clothed, youngish man, who couldn’t possibly be more than a detective constable. They were chatting with their backs to us, but one of the uniforms turned before we got too close.

  “What happened here?” Sadie asked.

  “Some small, boring thing, I’m sure,” I answered.

  “Yes, because they always bring out the yellow tape for the small, boring crimes.”

  “All you need to do is distract the police so I can look around.”

  “And when do I get to find out what exactly it is you’re looking for?”

  “One day. Two days tops.”

  Sadie pointed a finger at me. “Twenty-four hours, or I’m out.”

  I grinned. “Fine.”

  “Fine,” she echoed, and pranced off toward the officers, leaving me to my task.

  I took in the whole scene at once, which was pretty much just a grassy area that looked like it hadn’t been mowed in a while. I couldn’t see too much of where the body had been, other than what looked like a stain but could have been anything from where I stood.

  I heard Sadie distracting them brilliantly. “Now what is that funny word y’all use for your policemen?”

  As quickly as I could, I sidestepped until I was parallel with what must have been Dad’s escape path. The grass was longer on this side and seemed to have been disturbed in only one section—by only one set of feet. I slipped my arm just under the tape, took one last look around, and ducked inside the circle, staying low and following his path back closer to the scene. I knelt down at the edge of the tallest of the grass and took in what I could.

  The stain was large and circular and surrounded by grass. Nothing more. It was clear where the police had trodden the rest to bits. But there wasn’t a marker in sight—nothing to connect this area to Mom’s coin, like the scene I’d just left, like the planter. Nothing to etch a clover into, no dug-up earth like at the Patel scene.

  I backed up and ran in a crouch back outside the tape. I barely had time to right myself and pull my hair down over my still-swollen cheek before Sadie warned me someone was coming my way.

  “Detective?” Sadie called. “Where are you going?”

  The plain-clothed cop offered me a rather sheepish grin and half jogged his way over to where I stood, trampling my father’s path to nothing before he reached me. “Detective Constable, actually,” he confided to me. “Not that I’ll be correcting that Yank.”

  “Oh, well.” I tried to act embarrassed, but I literally cooed, I was trying so hard to cover my groan at yet another incompetence. I should’ve been pleased. He was exactly the type of copper I needed. “I’m sure it’s just that you have such an air of authority about you.”

  The officer preened predictably and said, “How can I help you, miss?”

  “Well.” I pointed inside the tape. “Can you tell me what all this is about?”

  It took my constable about half a second to decide I was trustworthy before he stepped closer to me and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial level, “Murder, miss. Pretty bloody, actually. Looks like a chap was minding his business along the path in the park and got gutted for his troubles.”

  I made what I hoped was an appropriate expression. “Sounds gruesome.” I tilted my head down to make sure my cheek was hidden in my hair. I was pretty sure Sadie had only seen through my makeup because she knew my face so well, but I was equally sure that a look of pity from this constable would send me back into a rage.

  “Yes, well, it comes with the job for me. What brings you to a crime scene at the park this morning? You’re a bit late to s
ee anything that matters. The detectives have mostly been through here already.”

  “I always check out crime scenes,” I lied, realizing only after he gave me his first suspicious glance that I’d said the exact wrong thing. I could no longer pretend to be the casual observer I’d wanted him to believe I was.

  “Interested in crime, are ya?”

  “My dad’s police,” I said quickly to cover, then internally released the most heinous string of profanity I was capable of forming.

  “Oh, really? Tell us who.”

  I said the name through clenched teeth. “DS Moriarty.”

  His expression lit up in recognition and my heart sank. “You’re Jimmy’s daughter, then? Junior, they call you.”

  I forced a smile. “The same.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be at your studies?”

  “Free period.”

  He seemed to take the lie in stride. “Strange, your dad not being assigned this case. He usually works with Mallory on all his cases.”

  I should have just nodded. Or shrugged. Or have done anything but speak, as it turned out. Instead, I said, “That’s my fault. I was sick yesterday, and he spent the whole day taking care of me.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized I’d never be able to take them back. I’d just made myself Dad’s alibi for the time of the crime. I briefly wondered how soon I’d regret that.

  “You’ve got yourself a good one there.” His smile was true, but mine was not. He didn’t seem to notice either way. “Well, best get back to school before your free period’s over, yes?”

  I nodded. “Yes, sir, detective.”

  He preened a bit again and watched as I made my way back to the path and down toward the park’s entrance. We were only barely out of sight when Sadie caught up to me. “Mission accomplished?”

  “It might have gone too well,” I lied.

  After barely a minute of silence, Sadie began her prattling on about what class she was missing (composition) and why she wasn’t worried about missing it (she’d turned in her essay early), as I led her down a path that veered toward the fountain planter. I hadn’t noticed that I’d been walking Mum’s coin along the outside of my fingers until a boy walking his dog said, “Cool trick,” as he passed me by.

  I grinned and pocketed the coin and wondered how long I had until Sadie asked about it. But she didn’t. She just kept on about how Dickens’s characters were “forced to swim for their lives in the deep dark swamp of his bloviating prose,” while my mind carefully traced all the contingencies of what I’d done. How, if the DC mentioned he’d seen me, as he was sure to do, my dad might react to me being in the park at a crime scene in the middle of the day. What Mallory might think. It was stupid to tell the DC my real name and sloppy to be caught hanging around the scene. I couldn’t afford to be either.

  I almost walked past the fountain planter, once we reached it, but at the last minute pulled Sadie to a stop at the side with the elaborate tree plate attached.

  Sadie immediately saw what I had, just days before. “What a weird little planter this is. It doesn’t even match. Is this part of your hunt?”

  I stepped back out of Sadie’s periphery and pulled out Mum’s coin. Holding it up to the fountain made it obvious that someone had used the coin to craft the plaque. The tree on the plaque and on the coin were almost an exact match. That had to mean something. I slid the coin through my fingers, on purpose this time, and tried to figure out what. “This might be the biggest clue yet.”

  Sadie wandered to the other side and said, “Huh. Reminds me of a clock tower in Rome.”

  “You finally made it to Italy,” I mumbled.

  “Georgia,” she corrected. “Rome, Georgia. There’s this big clock tower there that started its life as a water tower. The clock was only added a year after its construction, but it kind of sits on top in this odd way that lets you know it wasn’t part of the original. Kind of like these plaques, yes?”

  “Yes,” I said, catching the glint of the tumbling coin in my periphery.

  “Don’t lose it,” my mom had warned one day when I showed her my trick.

  “Is it worth money?” I’d asked.

  She’d smiled. “This coin is worth more than money. It’s a token. It means you belong.”

  “To what?”

  “To me, and to where I belong.”

  That had sounded like a riddle to me, so I narrowed my eyes. “Where do you belong?”

  I remembered that she looked around our house then. If I’d been older, maybe I’d have known what her look meant, because she didn’t answer, except to say, “When you’re where you belong, it’s like magic. That and a turn of luck, and you’ll find your way through anything at all.”

  “It’s like magic,” I whispered. My fingers drifted over the plaque, tracing the branches up to the top. It looked even more out of place in the rare bright sun. I splayed my hand across the design, so that each of my fingers slid along a branch, and for no real reason, I pushed against it.

  The top half of the plaque tilted forward. I thought at first it was a trick of my mind, or I’d imagined it, because when I pulled my hand back, and pushed at the top, it didn’t budge. But with my whole hand on the tree, I was able to tip the plate forward until it clicked. After the click, when I removed my hand, the plate stayed tilted, but I could hear the soft clicks of a timer, as it ever so slowly righted itself.

  “What’s that noise?” Sadie said, coming around full circle to where I stood.

  “It’s like magic,” I said splaying my fingers to tip the plate again.

  “Oh!” Sadie’s wide eyes were the brightest amber. “What do you think it does?”

  I shrugged. “You try it, and I’ll run around to the other plaque. See if it moves or something.”

  At the four-leaf-clover plate, I tried to tip it as well, but it didn’t budge. And then the clicking timer stopped and I scowled.

  “Anything?” Sadie called.

  I looked around to make sure we weren’t being watched. “Try again,” I called. Then whispered, “When you’re where you belong,” as Sadie tipped the tree plaque, “it’s like magic.” I grasped the four-leaf-clover plate. “That, and a turn of luck.”

  I twisted to the left. Sure enough, it rotated and slid back, revealing a small compartment beneath. I held my breath as I leaned down to look and found a bunch of papers inside. I glanced around again, my breathing coming faster. I pulled the papers free, and the plaque slid closed, leaving me holding a picture and two envelopes. I heard some footsteps behind me, and turned my back to the planter right as the globular woman who carried all her bags through the park strolled by. She stared hard at the ground, not even acknowledging my presence, but her steps were slow, and I didn’t want to look at what I’d taken from the compartment until I was alone. So, I stuffed everything into my bag and called, “Nothing!” to Sadie.

  She ran around and pulled and pushed at the four-leaf-­clover plaque, but it didn’t budge for her. She scowled. “It should spin in circles at least. I mean, if it’s not gonna reveal buried treasure or some kind of Victorian animatronic wonder.”

  “Fresh out of automatons, London is.”

  Sadie shook her head. “Now what foreign atrocity will I tell my mama about on our Sunday call?”

  “I heard something about a swamp of prose today.”

  She smiled. “A deep dark swamp. And here I thought you never did listen to me.”

  I tried to act shocked and hurt, but Sadie glanced at her watch and gasped for real. “Late!” she cried, and then ran a few steps backward on the path before stopping to ask, “You coming?”

  I looked back at the planter, searching for an excuse. “You go first. I have one more thing to check out.”

  Sadie grinned. “Delinquent.”

  I returned her smile. “Teacher’s pet.”

&
nbsp; She winked and took off running for the bus stop, calling back. “Twenty-four hours, Moriarty, and I’ll be coming for some answers about all this.”

  I waited a good two minutes after she was out of sight before daring to pull the papers from my bag. I sat on the next bench I saw and spread them across the weathered wooden slats. The picture was of some old church. On the back was written an address in Sussex, Piddinghoe Village, which sounded like someplace no one ever goes. Down at the bottom in microprint were the two words that I’d practically been hit over the head with lately, “Sorte Juntos.”

  “Scorpio” was scrawled across the first envelope, and inside was what had to be a fake ID. My mother’s younger, smiling face was glued to it, but her name was Ginny Wilkes, and it showed her wrong birthday—a birthday, I noted, that would make her a Scorpio. The second envelope was filled with cash. I didn’t pull it out to count it properly, but I thumbed through more than £200 before closing it up again.

  It didn’t take me long to work out what I’d found. It was her getaway. Everything but the picture fit. My mother had stowed away cash and a new identity in case she ever needed to escape. Which led me to wonder, from what did she need to escape?

  Chapter 16

  I wandered around the park so long, I didn’t make it back to school until everyone was going to their final afternoon class. I started for the library, determined to do a quick search for “Sorte Juntos,” but the warning bell let me know I was too late. I rushed into drama just as the final bell rang and sank into one of the theater seats toward the back. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as the cast filed onto the stage.

  Before I could open them again, Lock’s voice intruded from the darkness behind me. “You didn’t go to class, Miss Moriarty.” He jumped over the back of the row of seats and plopped into the one next to me. “You’ve been skiving off, and now you’re caught.”

  I tried my best to smile at him. “By you?”

  “Yes, by me.”

  “And how do you know this, Mr. Holmes?” I leaned close. “Where’s your proof?”