Framed!

by Malcolm Rose

  “We’re not going to solve this here and now, are we?”

  “I suppose not.” Jade hesitated for a few seconds and then tried to perk up. “Hey. Let me show you my new project. It’s the opposite of wall-of-sound. You could call it personal music. You know, if you get a bunch of people in a dark room, it’s easy to light up just one with a torch and leave the rest in the dark. Well, I can do the same with sound.”

  “You what?”

  “Until now, sounds from a speaker have always spread out so everyone around can hear, but I can fire a thin beam of sound at someone like a spotlight. If you step outside the beam, you can’t hear a thing. Genius. I’m pumping people their own private music. In a room or a plane or whatever, I can deliver different sounds to different people. I’ll just set it up so you can...”

  The door burst open under Malc’s electronic control and the mobile computer zoomed in. Talking to Luke, Malc announced, “Your first assignment has been transmitted to me.”

  “What? Already?” Luke had imagined that he’d get at least a few days’ break after graduating.

  “Confirmed,” Malc replied. “The assignment takes immediate effect.”

  Luke glanced at Jade and then asked, “Where is it?”

  “In school.”

  “Here?” Luke and Jade both exclaimed at the same time.

  “You are required on the sports ground without delay.”

  “This isn’t another exercise, is it?”

  “Negative,” Malc answered.

  “What’s happened?”

  “I have been informed that Instructor Thacket has found a human body.”

  When Luke turned towards Jade, she nodded to indicate that she understood he had to dash. Luke took off down the corridor with Malc hovering at his shoulder.

  Chapter Three

  It seemed to Luke a ridiculous, medieval way to die. The boy was lying at the far end of the firing range, an arrow protruding almost vertically from his chest. He looked like a forgotten extra left behind after a film crew had finished recreating some historic battle at the location.

  In his course, Luke had been told how he would react when he came face-to-face with his first real murder. His instructors had not exaggerated the impulse to freeze completely or to run away. They’d mentioned the overwhelming feeling of disgust, an outbreak of nerves and a need to be sick, but not the dreadful hammering in his chest. He tried to put aside his emotional shock and concentrate on his training but it wasn’t easy. This was real flesh and blood, real life and real death. It was very different from an artificial school project where no one got hurt, where there would be one clear answer, where clues were guaranteed and the worst result of a mistake was a low mark. Here, the worst result of a wrong deduction was an innocent person given the death penalty and the murderer getting away with it.

  This time, there was no need for smart technology and smart thinking to establish the victim’s identity. Luke knew the boy. He was – or had been – a quiet Year-10 student who was said to be following in Luke’s footsteps. There were even rumours that Crispin Addley, or Crispy as he was usually known, was performing better than Luke had done a year ago. Luke took no interest in that type of competition but he had heard that Crispy regarded him as a rival.

  It was a typical October day. Warm sunshine took the edge off the cool wind. Even so, Luke shuddered. He thought of that collection of 206 bones in his final exam. When nothing was left of Crispy but a skeleton, there would probably be nicks in two of his ribs where the sharp metallic arrowhead scraped its way between his bones and into his vulnerable heart.

  Luke looked up at Malc and announced, “For the record, the victim is Crispin Addley, killed apparently by a single arrow to the heart.” Luke touched Crispy’s arms, neck and face lightly with the back of his hand. “He’s warm and limp. His earlobes are nearly blue.” Putting on medical gloves, Luke squeezed the ear between forefinger and thumb and watched it go pale as the pooled blood moved away through capillaries that had not yet been shut down by death. “The colour’s not fixed yet. He’s been dead less than four hours. Any rigor mortis, Malc?”

  “I detect the first signs of stiffening in the face. At this temperature, it suggests death one to three hours ago.”

  “Let’s get more accurate, if we can,” Luke said. “Don’t lecture me about how difficult it is. I know. Just take his temperature, estimate his weight and calculate the time of death.”

  “In this posture, with that amount of clothing, under the prevailing weather conditions, assuming normal body temperature when shot, the time of death is ninety minutes ago, plus or minus thirty minutes.”

  “Measure potassium released into the vitreous humour of his eye and try another calculation.”

  “Same result. Time since death is one to two hours.”

  “Okay. Log that time, Malc. Roughly between four and five o’clock.” Luke paused. There were so many things to check out. School exercises were fairly clean and contained, but an actual crime scene was far messier, with so many factors to consider. Luke was scared in case he missed something. “Is there anything on the arrow shaft?”

  “Confirmed.”

  “What?”

  “Two partial fingerprints,” Malc reported. “Both are weak.”

  “Are they in your databank?”

  “Processing.” Four seconds later, Malc came up with an answer. “Negative.”

  “Pity. I bet you’d have had them if this was a school test.”

  “Irrelevant.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Luke let out a long breath. “There’s quite a lot of blood on him but none round about, and the grass hasn’t been disturbed or flattened. He was murdered on the spot, not somewhere else and dragged here. And no one’s interfered with his body. So, how about this? You should be able to work out where the arrow came from using the depth of the wound, the angle of entry and how he fell. And don’t say yes or no. Just do it and go to the most likely spot.”

  Malc completed the calculation quickly and flew to the left-hand side of the pavilion.

  When the mobile returned, Luke remarked, “That’s a long way away – and a difficult shot. Do we know anyone at school that good at archery?”

  “Only one student in my database has the required skill.”

  “Don’t tell me!” Luke cried. He could guess that the records showed that he himself topped the list for accurate shooting. “Scan the whole field for any objects and impressions, concentrating on the position to the left of the pavilion, will you? Video everything.”

  Malc said, “That will take five minutes and twenty-eight seconds.”

  Trying to recapture his natural manner, Luke replied, “Spoil yourself. Do a really good job and make it a round six minutes.”

  “The extra seconds will not affect the quality of the data.”

  Luke smiled for the first time. “Just do it and log everything for me to look at later.” He knew that the cracked ground was too hard to hold shoeprints but he was determined to be thorough. Besides, even if the autumn rains had come and provided a soft surface that could retain impressions, the field would have been a mosaic of the soles of everyone in the school.

  Turning back to the victim, Luke’s smile disappeared. Weren’t the dead supposed to be at peace? Weren’t their faces supposed to reflect a final, inner calm? Crispy was not at rest. He looked shocked and cheated.

  As a forensic investigator, Luke had many powers. He could demand fingerprints and blood samples from suspects and witnesses. He could confiscate personal effects if he believed that they would serve as evidence. He could interview anyone and his Mobile Aid to Law and Crime would record everything – or almost everything – for use in any later trial. Malc was programmed to accept all information gained by lawful methods and to reject facts that Luke obtained by untrustworthy, inappropriate or illegal means. There was one power that Investigator Harding did not have. He could not revive the dead. Right now, he would have exchanged his every achievement for
that one gift. It would have been so much more useful to Crispy than the skill of investigating suspicious deaths.

  The firing range was an out-of-the-way corner of the playing fields. Looking towards the main school buildings, the land rose gradually and then fell away again. The classrooms and accommodation blocks were hidden behind the mound. The firing range was always lively during sports lessons, but no one went there afterwards. Not officially anyway. It was creepy and quiet except for the constant hum of the wind turbines. Beyond Crispy, the giants would have had the perfect view of the events on the field a couple of hours ago but they remained aloof from human squabbles.

  While Malc completed the environmental scan, Luke made a mental list of things to do. He needed to talk to Crispy’s friends, his enemies and his instructors, especially Ms Thacket, who had discovered but not approached his body.

  Luke wished that the murderer had been much closer to the victim. If there had been a struggle, the killer would have had scratches or bruises – evidence that would have lasted for days. Under the fingernails of the victim, there would have been blood and fragments of skin from the killer. Trapped between the desperate, grasping fingers, there would be shreds of the attacker’s clothing or hair. In this case, Luke had been denied all of that priceless information.

  Malc returned and reported that there were fifty-six artefacts within the parameters Luke had set. “None of them,” Malc added, “can be linked to the crime for certain.”

  “Thanks. We’ll go through them later. Just in case, scan his body for foreign matter or anything suspicious.”

  Completing the task in less than a minute, Malc said, “All matter logged. You should note four human hairs that do not belong to the victim. Black, not dyed, all roughly thirty centimetres in length.”

  “Okay. Do DNA profiles on the roots later and store the information. Anything on his shoes to tell me where he was before he came here?”

  “Negative.”

  “I want to take a look in the weapons storeroom before anyone disturbs the bows.”

  “Are you authorizing removal of the body?” asked Malc.

  “Yes. Have it taken away to pathology. I can’t do any more without protective clothing or I’ll contaminate the body. I want all his clothes, the contents of his pockets, the arrow and any other bits and pieces in my quarters later today. And there’s something else.” He swallowed uncomfortably. “Crispy always took lunch in the school canteen. I saw him. So, we know exactly what he ate and when. Get the pathologist to look at the extent of its digestion. It’s not reliable, I know, but it might help us pin down when he was shot.”

  “Transmitting message to pathology technicians.” Then Malc followed Luke obediently back across the playing field towards the room in the pavilion where the firearms and other weapons were stored.

  Chapter Four

  The bunker had a high-security door and access was restricted. Now that Luke had graduated in criminology, though, he had a right of entry but his updated identity card had not yet been delivered. He pointed to the combination lock and said, “Open it, Malc.”

  The airborne robot beamed the correct code into the mechanism and the door clicked open. As soon as Luke walked in, the light came on automatically in the windowless bunker. The shotguns, pistols and ammunition were kept in sealed cabinets, protected by another code, but the bows were stored in open racks and the arrows were bunched in two large quivers. Without touching anything, Luke strolled along the row of bows. There were about thirty of them and there was nothing obvious to distinguish one from another.

  Talking to himself, Luke asked, “Why a bow and arrow?” Answering himself, he muttered, “Because it’s a silent weapon? Or because the killer’s plain weird?” To Malc, he said, “Give me a list of everyone who’s cleared to enter this room.”

  “Two sports instructors: Ms Thacket and Mr Bromley. A technician called Ella Fitch and the caretaker, Rick Glenfield. Forensic Investigator Luke Harding and all of the school management team.”

  Putting his gloves back on, Luke extracted two handfuls of arrows and spaced them out on a table. “Take a look at the bows, Malc. And these arrows. Have any got fingerprints that match the ones on Crispy’s arrow?”

  “They all have many fingerprints. Laser enhancement is necessary.”

  Luke closed his eyes and, to make sure, put his palms over them. “Ready.”

  The door shut and Malc turned off the light before flooding the racks and table with intense laser light. “Finished,” Malc reported as he switched the normal light back on. “Processing.”

  “Everyone in school has probably handled the bows and arrows at some point,” said Luke. “That’s why they’re plastered with prints.”

  After a few minutes, Malc came to a conclusion. “There are some possible matches but there are not enough points of similarity to be certain. In addition, they are obscured by overlapping patterns.”

  “How about a bit more enhancement with your amazing fluorescent dye?”

  “The analysis is too complex to yield valid results.”

  “Pity. Forget prints, then.”

  “I do not delete anything. The fingerprint evidence is stored in my archive but it does not pass the strict conditions to be entered into case notes. However, my programming requires me to instruct you to take a set of fingerprints from an obvious suspect.”

  Luke held up his hands in a kind of surrender. “Yeah, I know. You want mine. I’m on the hit list because I’ve got the necessary shooting skills and access to this storeroom.”

  “School records indicate that Crispin Addley might have eclipsed your achievements. I suggest you consider that as a possible motive.”

  Luke smiled wryly. “Thanks for telling me my motives. I thought I was the one who did the thinking. But I never felt threatened by him.”

  The invisible beam swept over both of Luke’s hands in an instant. Malc said, “I am programmed to assume that suspects may not tell the truth.”

  “Don’t you feel embarrassed about this?” Luke asked.

  “I do not have the capacity for embarrassment. My first allegiance is to the law. My second is to you.”

  “Where was I one or two hours ago, Malc? Weren’t you with me? You always are. You’re my alibi.”

  “Not quite. Seventy minutes ago, there was a period of fourteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds when...”

  “Yeah, all right. A boy needs his privacy sometimes, you know.”

  “Your fingerprints are identical to those on the arrow.”

  “What?” Luke exclaimed.

  “Your fingerprints are identical...”

  “Yes, I heard. This is crazy! Absolutely bizarre. Am I the prime suspect in my first murder case?”

  “Confirmed.”

  “Next, you’ll be saying I’ve got to arrest myself!”

  “That is premature. At this stage, you are far from proving your guilt.”

  Luke shook his head in exasperation. “Get your electronic pulses round this, Malc. Did I get you to open the weapons bunker door an hour or so ago?”

  “Negative, but, as an investigator, you have the authority to access the code through other terminals, like the school computer.”

  “Interrogate the computer. Have I requested the code?”

  “Negative. However, you have an excellent record in information technology. It is possible that you have deleted all trace of your access. There was an incident of hacking in Year 7...”

  “Oh, come on. There’s a world of difference between this and fixing Jade’s science scores so she passed something other than music. This is murder!”

  “Your abilities are a matter of record,” Malc replied. “I cannot delete that.”

  Luke’s mobile was invaluable, an amazing machine and almost a friend, but Malc was also as unforgiving as a brick wall. As a piece of fancy technology rather than flesh and blood, Malc believed only in facts and logic. Trust was not a part of the computer’s programming.

  “
What do you want me to say?” Luke snapped. “It’s a fair cop, Guv?”

  “Is that a confession?”

  Luke shook his head impatiently, reminding himself that the result of a mistake could be an innocent person given the death penalty. He had no intention of being that person. “Come on. I have to talk to some people. I want to turn the tables on all those instructors who used to fire lots of horrible questions at me.”

  Chapter Five

  Instructor Thacket was too lean to be considered attractive but her skin was typically brown and beautiful. Over the years, endless running had shaped her body and her muscles bulged like a man’s. She ran kilometres before breakfast, she ran between lessons, she ran for the county. She pounded every path through and around the school. She taught general sport but she specialized in running. She also specialized in being vindictive. In her lessons, she was always friendly with anyone who was keen on sport but unduly harsh with students who preferred to concentrate on academic work. For them, she turned every sports lesson into physical punishment.

  Now, Luke relished an opportunity to give her a hard time. Besides, his training told him to be wary of people who claim they’ve stumbled across a suspicious death. Some criminals tried to deflect suspicion from themselves by reporting their own crimes. Luke asked, “How did you come across Crispin?”

  Ms Thacket did not waste words. “I was on a run.”

  “Did you recognize him?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you didn’t go up close?”

  “No,” she replied abruptly.

  “Why not? Didn’t you think he might need help?”

  “It was pretty obvious he was dead and I’m not supposed to disturb a crime scene, am I?” Her stern expression seemed to be fixed on her face. It would break into a smile only when she was back among her favourite students.

  Luke knew that she loved the athletic pupils, disliked the weak, and reserved special venom for students like him. Luke was brilliant at sport but he’d chosen to snub it. He went on, “Did you see anyone else in the area?”