Roll Call

by Malcolm Rose

  After listening to one of her latest pieces, Luke said quietly, “You know, somewhere in England right now, someone’s killing their partner out of jealousy, their boss in a rage over some gripe, or their neighbour because of greed and envy. Something ordinary like that. I could go in, ask a few questions, take a few samples, and charge a well-known enemy of the victim with murder. All done in a matter of minutes. But I don’t get those sorts of cases.”

  Jade laughed. “Would you be satisfied if you did?”

  “Well...”

  “People tell me I make challenging music. You’ve just listened to a case in point...”

  “It was brilliant.”

  “I don’t do easy pieces. It’s the challenge that makes it fun.”

  Luke smiled wryly. “Yeah, but murdering people because they’re called Emily Wonder! That’s... beyond crazy.”

  Malc interrupted, saying, “Instructor Clint Garrett is trying to contact you urgently.”

  Surprised, Luke hesitated for a split second. “Sorry, Jade. Put him on the telescreen, Malc.”

  The instructor’s familiar face appeared, larger than life-size on the wall.

  “Yes?” Luke said. “Is it something about Emily Wonder?”

  Mr Garrett shook his head. “It’s another student. Year 7. Name of Tina Stone.”

  “Yes? What about her?”

  “Well, I’ve just seen the news and it reminded me. She wrote me an essay about a perfect murder weapon. You’ll be interested because it was an icicle.”

  Luke was horrified. “What?”

  “Yes. I’m telling you she put in this idea about using an icicle...”

  “No,” Luke cried. “You said you’d seen it on the news. I haven’t released that information!”

  “Well, it’s just been broadcast nationally a few minutes ago,” Clint replied. “Three Emily Wonders dead, one killed by an icicle.”

  Speaking to himself, Luke muttered, “How did they...?” Looking at the instructor’s image again and trying to keep his temper, he said, “Can you download this girl’s essay to my mobile?”

  “Of course. Anything to help an FI.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you – and Tina Stone – as soon as I can.”

  Once Malc had shut down the link, Luke said, “Find that news bulletin, Malc, and replay it.”

  Taking the place of Instructor Garrett on the telescreen, the newscaster announced, “It’s been revealed that three people with the name of Emily Wonder have been murdered in recent months. Our correspondent has discovered that the deaths, currently under investigation, happened in Dundee, York and Woburn. Extraordinarily, at least one of the women was stabbed to death with an icicle. It is not known if the deaths relate to the opera celebrity with the same name, at present on tour in Lancashire. The singer’s spokeswoman declined to comment.

  “Scientists monitoring the volcanic island of La Palma in the Canaries are growing increasingly concerned that a huge section of rock on its western side is on the brink of collapse...”

  Luke put up his hand and snapped, “That’s enough.”

  Jade looked at him and said, “I think I know what happened.”

  “Oh?”

  “Remember that toddler when we were skating? You nearly chopped him in half, just before you crashed into the icicle. His mother or father probably heard what we said to each other and leaked it to the news.”

  “Malc?”

  “What is your query?”

  “You were there. Were they within hearing?”

  “Assuming that they have normal human hearing, the father was probably within range, but the mother was not.”

  “Did I mention the Emily Wonder case?”

  Malc hesitated while he located the right sound file in his memory. “Confirmed. In response to the comment that only a warped mind would regard an icicle as a dagger, you said, ‘Like the sort of mind that goes around killing people called Emily Wonder?’”

  Luke swore.

  “What’s up?” asked Jade.

  “I wanted to keep it quiet. We were the only ones who knew she was stabbed with an icicle so, if a suspect let it slip that he knew as well, that’d make him the killer because Q’s the only other person who’d know. But now the whole world’s in on it. It’s a useless piece of evidence.” He sighed and cursed again.

  “There is an alternative explanation,” Malc said.

  “Yeah, I know,” Luke replied. He looked at Jade and added, “It’d fit your idea about the motive.”

  “Oh?”

  “If Q wants to terrify anyone called Emily Wonder, it makes sense to advertise his handiwork. Maybe Q told the news.”

  “Why don’t you ask them?”

  “Waste of time. He’ll have done it anonymously. Besides, news people never reveal their sources.”

  Looking on the bright side, Jade said, “At least you’ve got another lead.”

  “Mmm. Tina Stone. I’d rather have some decent forensic evidence.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Barbara Backley’s living room was like a desert. The furniture, heating and lighting were designed for the benefit of her collection of cacti, more than the comfort of a human being. “There’s fifty-four of them,” she told him. “One for each year of my life. Every birthday, my partner treats me to a new one.” Near the bedroom door, a large spiky plant, taller than Luke, was reaching for the ceiling. Some were much smaller, but still adopted monstrous shapes. One looked like a mound of hairy green warts. A two-dimensional prickly pear seemed to be topped by rabbit’s ears. The fluorescent lightning made the spines of another glow bright red.

  “If you live to a hundred, you’ll need a bigger apartment.”

  Ms Backley did not react. She stared at him severely, waiting.

  Luke shivered and said, “I thought cacti liked it hot and sticky.”

  “In summer, yes, but not this time of year. Dry and cold is best.”

  Remembering that EW1 had tiny puncture wounds and inflammation on her left arm from a brush with a cactus, Luke headed towards the only one that he knew. In the pot, Barbara had placed a tag that read, Opuntia vulgaris. “This is a prickly pear, isn’t it?”

  Barbara did not appear unsettled. “Yes.”

  “Can I touch it?”

  “Only if you want some needles in your hand and little rash for a while.”

  Luke withdrew his fingers. “What’s so good about cacti? What’s the appeal?”

  Barbara was clearly surprised that he should ask. “Just look. They’re amazing. Tortured shapes. And I think it’s something to do with them surviving in extremes. I like the way they cope with water shortage and ferocious heat. Like me coping under stress.”

  Luke thought it was more likely that they reflected her prickly character. “Have you come across situs inversus totalis?”

  She frowned. “It means totally the wrong way round, but I don’t know what it is. It’s not a cactus, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Luke walked over to the wall-hanging behind the largest cactus and said, “This is nice.”

  “Yes,” Barbara replied warily.

  “Clever design.” Luke bent down and examined the small label in the lower right-hand corner. Tartan Textiles, Dundee. He looked up again and said, “You’re a big fan of Emily Wonder, as well as cacti and textiles.”

  “I know what this is about,” Barbara muttered. “Are you really old enough to take charge of a murder case?”

  Again and again, Luke faced this question about his age. He realized how maddening it must be for everyone called Emily Wonder always to be asked if they were the opera star. Luckily, Luke had a mobile to answer the tiresome question. “Respond, Malc.”

  “Forensic Investigator Harding graduated from Birmingham School last year with an unprecedented set of marks. At sixteen years of age, he is exceptionally qualified. This is his third investigation of multiple murder. His success rate is one hundred per cent.”

  Not allowing the concert ma
nager to reply, Luke said, “So, you watched the news yesterday. You heard about the Emily Wonder investigation. Is that what you’re saying?”

  She nodded. “Emily – the artist – can’t be in any danger. She brings so much joy to everyone, no one would want to harm her.” She radiated confidence and certainty.

  “You regard her as unique.”

  “She is unique.”

  “Did you go up to see her perform in York?” Luke asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Dundee?”

  “That was a while ago.”

  “Last July,” Luke told her. “You seem to follow her around a lot. How about Woburn?”

  “Has she been to Woburn? I don’t think I have. It’s... a long way away.”

  “Nowhere near as far as Dundee.”

  “You know what I mean, Investigator Harding.” Barbara turned up her nose. “It’s a different culture down there. Not nice. Anyway, I don’t like the tone of your questions.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not a performer. I don’t have to please my audience. Now, I’d like to take a look in your kitchen and wardrobe.”

  “What?” she exclaimed.

  “Am I within the law to ask you to scan Ms Backley’s clothes and everything in the kitchen, Malc?”

  “Confirmed.”

  Making her annoyance plain, Ms Backley stabbed a finger towards two of the internal doors. “Kitchen. Dressing room.”

  Luke already had a connection between the concert manager and the first victim: the wall-hanging designed in Dundee. Cacti linked her to the retired gardener, EW3. And she had admitted that she’d been to Dundee and York. He was hoping to find EW2’s contact lens or see something in the kitchen that tied Ms Backley to the food technologist but it was a long shot and he soon gave up. Barbara’s strongest involvement was with the opera singer and that Emily Wonder was not a victim. Not yet.

  “That’s all for now,” Luke said, emerging from the kitchen with Malc behind him.

  “Good,” Barbara replied with a sneer.

  “But, before I go, do you happen to know anything about Emily’s minder, Freya?”

  Barbara shook her head. “Not really. All I know is, Freya Lamacq lives for Emily. She’s totally dedicated.”

  ****

  In a way, Barbara Backley was right. Luke did feel too young. He wouldn’t admit it but he wished that someone else, someone older and more experienced, was in charge of this thorny case. Inside, a part of him felt that he should still be at school, like many kids of his age, listening to instructors and competing on a sports field. But he had already graduated. The rest of his learning would be conducted in the adult world. He was desperate to complete the case, determined to prove his flair for solving crime, yet he also wanted to be at Jade’s side without a care in the world while she gigged in Sheffield nightclubs.

  Outside Barbara Backley’s quarters, Luke threw up his arms. “I’m torn,” he said. “I need to be in Edinburgh, talking to Tina Stone and Clint Garrett, I wouldn’t mind having a chat with Freya Lamacq, and I want to be in London, checking out the missing Greenwich girl.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Has she turned up yet, the one in London?”

  “No,” Malc answered.

  “Right, then. That’s where I’m headed. As far as I know, Tina Stone’s not going anywhere and she isn’t in danger. Freya’s on tour with Emily, no doubt. Both can wait. A missing Emily Wonder can’t. She could be in trouble.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As Luke neared the southern coast, the temperature increased noticeably. The wind became warmer and less severe, but there were still snowdrifts. The glassy plates of ice over ponds were too fragile to support the weight of skaters but ducks skidded clumsily over them, searching out patches of liquid water.

  An ugly reception committee formed as soon as Luke got out of the cab at Greenwich, south of the Thames. Immediately, Malc took up a position in front of him and fired a warning blast at the ground in front of the hostile bandits. The laser beam melted the thin layer of snow instantly, revealing sickly weeds, and burnt them to a crisp. Slowly, the five bandits backed off, grumbling and arguing among themselves. When they were some distance away, they turned and ran.

  Watching them retreat, Luke shook his head and sighed. It hadn’t taken long for Sheffield to become a distant dream. “Thanks, Malc. Guide me to Greenwich School.”

  In the shabby staff room, the Principal looked bemused. “Emily Wonder? Now there’s a name from the past.”

  Luke was surprised. “When did she go missing?”

  The head of the school let out a long breath as she thought about it. “A year ago? Something like that.”

  Luke had assumed that it was a recent disappearance. “Was she in trouble? Was there a reason for her to take off?”

  “She was... a rascal. Bright girl, but quite a handful. If there was trouble, she’d be in the thick of it but, you know, she never caused it as far as I could tell. More likely she was trying to sort it out. I think she meant well. As rascals go, I liked her. I was sad when she went.”

  “Have there been any sightings, do you know?”

  “No, but...”

  “What?”

  “If you want to trace her, you should try the old warehouse, past the concrete works. You know where the cabs go into Blackwall Tunnel?”

  Luke glanced at Malc and said, “My mobile’s got a detailed map.”

  “You can’t go any further without falling in the Thames. It’s not frozen so you can’t walk across it. Anyway, there’s a big round empty warehouse,” the Principal said.

  “Why there?”

  She shrugged. “Just a hunch. A few kids hang out down there, they say. I don’t know. It wouldn’t be... clever for me to go. Just watch your step if you check it out.”

  “Okay,” Luke replied. “Thanks.”

  ****

  It was hopeless. The gang of children saw him coming and the floating mobile near his shoulder told them that he was a forensic investigator. By the time that Luke stepped cautiously into the wrecked warehouse, the young people had scattered. There was no one inside. He was saddened by the thought that he might never again rush onto a makeshift pitch and call out, “Over here!” He might never get on the end of a cross and head the perfect goal. His role of FI might always come between him and rogue games.

  The empty shelter was filthy and roomy, larger than a baseball ground or football pitch. If Luke had stood at one end and shouted, he was not certain that someone at the other would have heard him.

  Luke stood in the middle of the building, drips of water falling steadily from the damaged roof, and said to Malc, “You know what I need to do?”

  “No.”

  “See if you can find an electronic address for Owen Goode, the lad I met in the Lost Bullet case. I need to recruit him.”

  “You do not have the power to recruit a forensic investigator.”

  Luke laughed. “I’m not thinking of a formal arrangement, Malc. Just get me Owen.”

  “Searching.”

  ****

  The white boy surveyed the area carefully, anticipating danger as always. Ready to sprint in the opposite direction if he spotted anything shifty, he lingered in the shadows of North Greenwich cab station for a while. An enormous digger was shovelling stone in the aggregates factory. Next to it, Blackwall Detergents had been shut down for years. He watched Luke Harding and his Mobile Aid to Law and Crime for a few minutes before deciding that they were on the level. He broke cover and, scanning from side to side for signs of trouble, walked over to them outside the old warehouse. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you again.”

  The forensic investigator smiled genuinely and said, “How are you doing, Owen?”

  “All right.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

  “Got your own place?”

  Owen nodded.

  “And a job?”

  “Er... sort of.”

  Luke laughed gently. “I’d better n
ot delve any deeper.”

  Owen coughed and then sniffed. “Likely you want to use me as bait again. What are you fishing for this time?”

  “Nothing dangerous. No bait needed. I’m just trying to find an eleven-year-old girl called Emily Wonder. She’s gone missing, maybe in hiding.”

  Owen was puzzled. “Don’t know her. What can I do about it?”

  “I... er... I have a certain effect on groups of kids.”

  Owen smiled. “Yeah. Like, they run away. You want me to be the investigator because they don’t run from me.”

  “Do you know they meet here?” He nodded towards the large dome.

  “Yeah. The place is so big, last time I sorted a football match here, it became twenty-a-side or something.”

  “So,” Luke said, “you could ask around for information on Emily Wonder.”

  “What’s she like, this kid?”

  “A bit like you, I think. She’s got a reputation for being a rascal, but a lovable one.”

  “Huh.” Owen pretended to be hard-nosed but he didn’t like the thought of a young girl missing in London. He’d been in the situation himself and he cared for the troublemakers and downtrodden. They were his friends. If he could make this Emily’s life safer, he’d do it. “What do I get out of it?”

  “A warm glow?” Luke suggested.

  “And?”

  “I’ll tell The Authorities how helpful you’ve been. Again. Last time you got an identity card – a passport to a home and goods. This time...” He shrugged.

  “Just make sure it doesn’t get around that I’m helping an FI. Wouldn’t do me any good in places like this.”

  “You’d be good in a job working with homeless kids, wouldn’t you? You’re a natural with them. I’ve seen that.”