Bitter Enemies

by R. A. Spratt

  Friday continued questioning Mr Searle. ‘So when you finished the job, did he offer to return the tools here to the tool store for you?’

  ‘Yes, actually, he did,’ said Mr Searle. ‘He’s a good lad. I don’t trust just anyone with my keys.’

  ‘And now we have a suspect,’ said Friday.

  ‘Not Abotomey!’ exclaimed Mr Searle. ‘I can’t believe that a boy who is that good with a lathe could do anything wicked.’

  Melanie patted Mr Searle on the shoulder kindly. ‘It’s not your fault, Mr Searle, or even Abotomey’s, it’s hormones. Teenagers are full of them. It makes them do strange things.’

  ‘But why would Abotomey frame me?’ asked Ian. ‘I don’t even know who he is.’

  ‘Let’s find out,’ said Friday.

  ‘This is it, 21B,’ said the Headmaster, consulting a dormitory list and glancing up at the right door. ‘Harrison Abotomey shares this room with Sehi Bodnoy. Let’s take a look.’

  The Headmaster inserted his master key in the lock.

  ‘Isn’t this an invasion of privacy?’ asked Ian.

  ‘No,’ said the Headmaster. ‘Students have no entitlement to privacy. When they have privacy they only use it to get up to mischief.’

  The Headmaster pushed the door, but it didn’t move. ‘Something seems to be blocking it.’ He tried shoving the door harder. It didn’t budge.

  ‘Out of the way,’ barked Colonel Hallett. ‘Allow me, I am a military man.’

  Colonel Hallett lifted his leg.

  ‘Don’t!’ cried Friday.

  But it was too late. Colonel Hallett slammed his foot into the lock. The lock didn’t give, but from the horrible snapping sound coming from his ankle, something in the Colonel’s leg did.

  ‘Aaaaghh!’ cried the Colonel.

  ‘Wainscott, run and get the nurse!’ said the Headmaster, kneeling down beside his colleague. ‘Tell her to bring ice!’

  The Colonel sobbed once, very loudly. Although it sounded more like a seal barking than a normal sob.

  ‘Are you crying?’ asked Melanie. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with that. In fact, I think it would do you good. You’ve clearly got a lot of pent-up anger.’

  ‘Wainscott!’ yelled the Headmaster. ‘Get Miss Priddock to call an ambulance.’ If his predecessor was going to start crying, the Headmaster would be much more comfortable with him doing it somewhere off the premises.

  ‘Blasted door must be nailed shut,’ complained Colonel Hallett through gritted teeth.

  ‘No,’ said Friday, oblivious to the emotional turmoil around her. She was carefully running her hand over the paintwork of the door. ‘I think it’s a much more elegant trick than that. I don’t think it’s even locked.’

  ‘What are you talking about, you stupid girl?’ snapped Colonel Hallett. ‘I just broke my leg!’

  ‘Because you kicked the wrong side,’ said Friday. ‘This door has been hung to look like the latch is on the right side, but it’s a dummy lock. The door is actually hung the other way around.’

  ‘But there is no door handle or latch on the other side,’ said the Headmaster.

  ‘It must be held shut in another way,’ said Friday. ‘Perhaps by magnets.’

  ‘This girl is clearly a blithering idiot or a deranged lunatic or both,’ said Colonel Hallett. ‘If you don’t make her shut up, I will.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Friday, still studying the door. ‘You’re not going to be doing very much for a long time. From the sound of it, that wasn’t a bone you broke, it was your Achilles tendon snapping, which is no great surprise. I doubt a man of your generation has ever done a stretching exercise in his life.’

  ‘Why of all the …’ Colonel Hallett briefly tried to struggle to his one good foot so he could take a swipe at Friday, but he was soon silenced by what she did next. Friday held out her hand and with just two fingertips gave the door a short but firm poke. It swung wide open.

  Friday looked up at the top of the door frame. ‘Just as I suspected, magnets. A very elegant illusion to deter burglars. With the added benefit of saving Harrison from having to carry a key.’

  ‘We should get magnets,’ said Melanie. ‘Keeping track of a key is hard work.’

  ‘You always have yours hung around your neck,’ said Friday.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Melanie. ‘It’s very draining having to carry it everywhere.’

  Friday peered into the room.

  ‘Aren’t you going to go in and have a look?’ asked the Headmaster.

  ‘Yes,’ said Friday. ‘I’m just weighing up the pros and cons of tripping the motion sensor that is hidden under the carpet.’ Friday lifted the corner of the carpet to show a small, flat electronic device underneath. ‘We have to interview him at some stage, so it may as well be now.’ Friday dropped the carpet and stood firmly on top of the sensor. She glanced at her watch. ‘He’s in year 8 so he should be in physics right now. The classroom is two hundred metres away. Depending on how quickly he can excuse himself from the lesson, it should take him just twenty to twenty-five seconds to … ah, here he comes now.’

  The tall boy burst into the corridor and came sprinting towards them.

  ‘Stop!’ cried Abotomey. ‘You have no right to go in my room.’

  ‘It’s too late, she already has,’ said Melanie.

  Abotomey came to a skidding halt in front of his own doorway and saw Friday standing in his room. ‘No!’ He turned as white as a sheet. ‘Not you. Get out!’ He was an awkward-looking boy. It was as if his arms and legs had grown very long and he hadn’t had time to get used to it. Even his hair was too long and dangling in his eyes.

  ‘All right,’ said Friday, stepping towards the doorway.

  ‘Since when do you do as you’re asked?’ demanded the Headmaster.

  ‘All the time,’ said Friday.

  ‘Well, I say stay in there and figure this debacle out,’ said the Headmaster.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Friday. ‘I figured out it was Harrison. I figured out how to get into his room, but it’s just an ordinary room. I can’t deduce a motive from an ordinary room.’

  ‘Where is his roommate?’ said the Headmaster. ‘He can shed some light on this.’

  ‘He doesn’t have a roommate,’ said Friday.

  ‘What?’ said the Headmaster, checking his clipboard. ‘But his name is right here on the list. Sehi Bodnoy.’

  ‘It’s an anagram,’ said Friday. ‘Sehi Bodnoy can be rearranged to spell he is nobody. It’s hardly surprising that a boy who can create such a beautifully false door, and perfectly forge a letter from the librarian, can also hack into the school’s computer system and generate a false roommate.’

  ‘But why?’ asked the Headmaster.

  Ian came jogging back, carrying a big bag of ice. ‘The ambulance is on its way.’

  Abotomey sneered at Ian. ‘Not you.’

  ‘What have you got against Ian?’ asked Melanie. ‘Why did you go to such lengths to set him up? You built an entire false office! As far as pranks go, this one seems particularly exhausting.’

  ‘I’m not admitting anything,’ said Abotomey, clenching his jaw as if determined to keep his mouth shut.

  ‘Wainscott, have you been bullying this boy?’ asked the Headmaster.

  Ian looked at Abotomey. ‘No, I don’t bully people.’

  ‘Yes, you do! You bullied me when I first started,’ Friday reminded him.

  ‘But you totally deserved it. You put my father in jail,’ said Ian. ‘So it wasn’t bullying, it was revenge. That’s much more socially acceptable.’

  ‘You’re a disgrace!’ said Abotomey. He clearly loathed Ian.

  ‘What did you do to upset this boy?’ asked the Headmaster.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve even noticed him before now,’ said Ian.

  Abotomey sneered even more. ‘Typical.’

  ‘Then why do you hate Ian?’ asked Friday. ‘Did he cut you from the school golf team? Did he beat you in an exam? Did his father ruin one of
your relatives?’

  Abotomey looked at Friday and bit his lip.

  Melanie gasped. ‘I know what it is!’

  ‘Shut up!’ yelled Abotomey.

  ‘What?’ asked Friday.

  ‘Yes, what?’ demanded the Headmaster.

  ‘Come on, Mel, spill the beans,’ said Ian.

  Melanie pressed her lips shut and shook her head. Although she did seem to be smiling a little bit.

  ‘I’ve had enough of this,’ said the Headmaster, stepping over Colonel Hallett and into Abotomey’s room. ‘This has wasted an entire morning and injured an elderly former staff member. We’re getting to the bottom of this so we can all get on with our day. I will personally search every inch of this room until I know the truth.’

  Abotomey’s face went bright red.

  The Headmaster grabbed the doorknob of the wardrobe and wrenched it open. Inside was a normal assortment of clothes. But what was on the back of the door had everyone gasping in shock. There was a large picture of Friday sitting on the front lawn with Melanie. It was a nice picture. They clearly hadn’t realised their photo was being taken because they looked candid and relaxed. Admittedly, Melanie always looked relaxed, but Friday was smiling at something, like someone had told her a private joke.

  ‘What is that?’ asked Friday.

  ‘A serial killer’s wall,’ said Ian.

  ‘I’m not a serial killer!’ protested Abotomey.

  ‘Then what?’ said Friday. ‘Is someone paying you to watch me? Perhaps the Swiss government, or Ian’s father?’

  ‘No, it’s much better than that,’ said Melanie. She couldn’t hide her grin now. ‘Abotomey is in love.’

  ‘I am not!’ said Abotomey.

  Melanie coughed as she said, ‘Big lie.’

  Friday struggled to wrap her mind around the motive. ‘So he set up Ian to …’

  ‘Get him out of the way,’ said Melanie, waggling her eyebrows meaningfully.

  ‘That’s just sad,’ said Ian.

  ‘You’re the sad one,’ yelled Abotomey. ‘You don’t know how to treat a girl like a lady.’ Abotomey lunged at Ian with a swinging punch. Ian tried to step backwards out of the way but tripped over a chair leg. Abotomey’s fist caught him on the chin. Then the back of his head hit the table ledge.

  ‘Ian!’ cried Friday, rushing forward to catch him as he slumped unconscious towards the floor.

  Friday did catch him, but she collapsed under his weight. ‘Ow!’ said Friday.

  ‘Urgh,’ groaned Ian.

  Melanie clapped her hands delightedly. ‘This is getting so romantic.’

  The Headmaster sighed. ‘Pelly, be a dear and run up to the office and tell them to send two ambulances.’

  Ian was kept in hospital overnight for observation, which is medical code for they were waiting for him to stop throwing up. For some inexplicable reason, Friday felt strangely guilty about the whole thing, so she picked half-heartedly at her dinner that night.

  ‘I know the vegetable quiche is a little bland,’ said Melanie, ‘I’m pretty sure Mrs Marigold didn’t use any salt when she cooked the vegetables, and from the cardboard taste of the base I suspect it is gluten free. But it’s not anywhere near as bad as the paleo lentils she cooked last night, so why are you feeling so down?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Friday. ‘It’s all these emotions. I find them so baffling.’

  ‘Yours or other people’s?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘In this instance, both,’ said Friday. ‘I feel bad that Ian has a head injury.’

  ‘It’s no big deal,’ said Melanie. ‘You get head injuries all the time.’

  ‘And I feel bad about Abotomey,’ said Friday.

  ‘Because he has terrible taste?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘No, because I’m supposed to be a great detective, and yet I don’t even notice when a boy forms an unhealthy obsession with me,’ said Friday.

  ‘It’s called “love”,’ said Melanie.

  ‘He’s only thirteen,’ said Friday.

  ‘That’s when the hormones are at their strongest,’ said Melanie.

  ‘So you’re saying that his behaviour is a product of a chemical imbalance in his brain?’ asked Friday hopefully.

  ‘If it helps you to understand it by thinking of it that way, yes,’ said Melanie. ‘But most people call it “love”.’

  ‘I find it disturbing,’ said Friday. ‘People’s motives are the hardest part of any crime to understand, but when it involves the endocrine system that just makes everything way too complicated.’

  ‘You can understand quantum physics but you can’t understand love?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘Show me a quantum physicist who can,’ said Friday.

  ‘So how are you going to handle it?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘What?’ said Friday. ‘Why should I have to handle it? They’re the ones with the problem.’

  ‘That’s very feminine of you to want to take a back seat,’ said Melanie. ‘I approve. I just hope Ian is back in time for the ceremony tomorrow.’

  ‘What ceremony?’ asked Friday.

  Melanie sighed happily. ‘You’re so caught up in your love triangle, you didn’t even realise that classes are cancelled tomorrow afternoon because there will be an unveiling of a statue down at the school lake.’

  ‘What lake? We just have a swamp,’ said Friday.

  ‘Yes, but the Headmaster has taken to calling it a “lake” to make it sound more posh,’ said Melanie.

  ‘And they’ve cancelled a whole afternoon of classes for that?’ said Friday.

  ‘Don’t get too excited. We don’t get to enjoy ourselves,’ said Melanie. ‘We all have to attend the ceremony. It’s the first in a series of events to mark the sesquicentenary.’

  ‘How come I didn’t know about this?’ asked Friday.

  ‘You were too busy holding Ian’s hand and waiting for the ambulance to arrive while Abotomey scowled at you both, doing his best impression of Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights,’ said Melanie. ‘They handed out notes yesterday afternoon.’

  At 2 o’clock the following afternoon, after a hearty lunch of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding (Mrs Marigold had abandoned her diet in the middle of the night when the truck from the bakery arrived with 350 apple turnovers) the entire school was feeling sleepy and content. That is the effect a large amount of carbohydrates and zero intellectual stimulation has on the teenage mind.

  It was a glorious sunny day. Warm but not hot. Perfect for standing around in the sun watching a statue be unveiled, while trying to ignore as much of the speechmaking as possible.

  Friday was really the only grumpy one there. She’d had to get up an extra hour early because Dr Wallace had wanted her to starch and iron all her clothes so she had plenty to choose from for the occasion. Pretty much all Dr Wallace’s clothes were variations on black or navy blue pants suits, so this struck Friday as being ridiculous. But at 5 o’clock in the morning she wasn’t as capable of forming rational arguments so she simply did as she was told.

  ‘Dr Wallace looks very nice,’ said Melanie.

  ‘She should do,’ said Friday grumpily. ‘There’s enough starch in her underpants to keep her upright through a tidal wave.’

  ‘Yes, but she also seems to have a twinkle in her eye today,’ said Melanie.

  ‘That woman doesn’t twinkle,’ said Friday sullenly. ‘She glowers with the intensity of a nuclear reaction on the surface of the sun.’

  All the headmasters were assembled on the school jetty, where a makeshift podium had been set up. The students were gathered in a horseshoe shape along the bank, which actually formed a nice natural amphitheatre.

  The Headmaster tapped the microphone once to test that it was working, then began the proceedings. ‘Thank you all for being here today.’

  ‘We had to be here,’ muttered Patel.

  ‘Patel!’ barked the Headmaster.

  ‘All right, all right, I’m going,’ said Patel, as he plodded off in the direction of
the detention room.

  ‘I was thanking all the former headmasters for being here today,’ said the Headmaster. ‘This is the first event to mark Sebastian Dowell’s sesquicentenary. We are going to unveil a new architectural feature that will, for generations to come, beautify the grounds.’

  ‘I thought it was in the swamp,’ said Melanie. ‘Surely there is no ground in the swamp. That’s why it’s a swamp. Because it’s swampy.’

  ‘Shhh,’ said Friday. She wanted to hear the rest of the speech.

  ‘Originally, the school council commissioned a statue,’ said the Headmaster, ‘but then it was decided that a fountain, symbolising the fountain of knowledge, would better represent the values of Highcrest Academy.’

  Everyone dutifully applauded.

  ‘If you turn your eyes to the swa … I mean, lake,’ said the Headmaster, ‘the fountain will now be unveiled.’

  Everyone turned and looked out across the swamp. About one hundred metres from the bank a large red sheet had been draped over something, presumably the fountain. Binky Pelly was standing in a motorboat next to the statue. Everyone waited.

  The Headmaster waved at Binky. Binky smiled and waved back.

  The Headmaster waved both arms in as large a motion as his reach would allow. Binky waved both arms.

  The Headmaster grabbed the microphone and yelled into it, ‘For goodness sake, boy, what are you waiting for? Unveil the fountain!’

  Binky had clearly forgotten that was what he was standing in the middle of the swamp waiting to do. He reached over the side of the boat, grabbed hold of the base of the red sheet and pulled hard. The sheet slid down, totally covering him, so he looked like a child who had dressed as a bright red ghost for Halloween. But nobody was really paying attention. They were too busy looking at the enormous statue. It was a five-metre-high statue of a student. A very good-looking boy student.

  Friday peered at the statue. Her eyesight was not great, but even she could see that it looked like someone familiar.

  ‘That statue looks like … Ian!’ said Friday.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Melanie. ‘It looks like Ian to me too, and I’m not the one who is obsessed with him.’