Framed!

by Malcolm Rose

  “No one.”

  “This was five thirty?”

  Ms Thacket answered, “Thereabouts.”

  “Crispin was a clever student, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “But hopeless at sport?”

  “Totally.”

  That meant Instructor Thacket didn’t like him. She’d probably tortured him with exercise. “Did you happen to go in the weapons storeroom today?”

  “No.”

  “You teach archery, don’t you?”

  Ms Thacket looked at him severely but didn’t reply.

  Nodding towards Malc, Luke said, “I’m recording this interview. I need a clear answer.”

  Reluctantly, she muttered, “You know I do.”

  “Has anyone asked for extra coaching recently?”

  “Not that I know about.”

  Luke asked, “Is my score still the school record?”

  “Yes.” Her sharp tone made it clear that she wished someone else held the top slot.

  “Have you got anything to do with storing the bows and arrows?”

  “Of course. After each lesson.”

  “Are any bows missing?” Luke enquired.

  “Children will be children.”

  “What do you mean?”

  The instructor’s hair was the same colour as Luke’s – jet-black – but it was much shorter. Running her hand through it, she said, “There’s always one or two missing. They turn up sooner or later – after some harmless prank.”

  “Mmm. Not all pranks are harmless, it seems.”

  Ms Thacket merely stared angrily at him.

  He walked away from her for a few paces, but then stopped. Turning back, he shrugged his shoulders and said, “It doesn’t really matter. Just a thought. Do you staff ever have archery competitions?”

  “Too busy.”

  Smiling, Luke added, “I bet none of them would beat you.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” she replied, not falling for Luke’s flattery.

  “What would you say?”

  “I told you. We never have time for competitions.”

  As soon as Luke left Instructor Thacket’s quarters, he said to Malc, “Does your database on archery include the school staff?”

  “Negative.”

  “So, any of them could be a better shot than me.”

  “That is a possibility.”

  “On top of that,” Luke added, “anyone could’ve had intensive training since their marks were last entered into the records.”

  “That is speculation,” Malc replied. He paused and then added, “I have to prompt you to act on significant new information from Instructor Thacket.”

  “That bows go missing,” said Luke.

  “As you already have a prime suspect...”

  Luke stopped walking and interrupted. “You want me to search my own rooms in case I’m hiding an archery bow!”

  “Correct. That is the logical course of action.”

  “It might be logical to you but it’s stupid. Don’t insult my intelligence, Malc. If I’d killed Crispy, I wouldn’t hide the bow in the place you know inside out. Sometimes, I wish you did think and not just deduce the logical course of action.”

  “I log your objection.”

  “Later tonight, I’m going to see Jade. If you want to waste your time and batteries, you can turn my place upside down while I’m out.”

  “That is an unnecessary, unhelpful and impossible method of conducting a search.”

  ****

  The whole school seemed downcast. The news of Crispin Addley’s fate had silenced even the noisy areas like games rooms. All of the evening’s activities had been cancelled and The Authorities had called for quiet contemplation.

  Crispy’s stunned classmates couldn’t think of a single reason why anyone would want to kill Crispy. He didn’t have a single enemy. Some of them even doubted that he could have been the intended victim. His best mate, a boy called Shane who had exactly the same skinny build and hairstyle as Crispin, was standing in the Biology Labs. He was dressed entirely in blue denim. A member of the after-school animal club, Shane was gazing in awe at the reptile house where a large snake was slowly devouring a whole squirrel.

  “That’s gross,” said Luke, as the squirrel became an ugly bulge in the rattlesnake’s body and its bushy tail poked out from the self-satisfied snake’s mouth.

  “Is it?” Shane replied. “I think it’s really sleek.” He seemed to be spellbound by the squirrel’s death.

  Luke hoped that the boy’s detached mood was merely his way of mourning for his lost friend. “I know this isn’t a good time...” he began.

  Shane turned on him, venting his anger. “You’re a pain. Do you know that? Always have been. If our marks drop a bit, the instructors throw you at us every time. ‘Luke Harding’s marks didn’t slip. Diamond performance.’ Only Crispy had a chance of living up to it. And look what’s happened to him.”

  Luke guessed that Shane’s grief made him hit out at an easy target. He doubted that Shane was really thinking about results when his friend had just been killed. Even so, Luke was dismayed to learn that his results were paraded in front of the younger students to make them work harder. Defending himself, he said, “That’s not my fault. You should blame the instructors, not me.” He noticed that it was only his grades that were used as a benchmark. He had probably not been held up as a model pupil because he’d been neither hardworking nor well-behaved. He knew that the school had always regarded him as a rebel. A very bright rebel. “Anyway, I need to ask you about Crispy.”

  Shane looked at Luke as if he were the sly and treacherous snake.

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “After school.”

  “What time would that be?”

  “About four o’clock, I guess,” said Shane.

  “What were you doing?”

  Shane shrugged. “Nothing. Hanging out.”

  “Where?”

  “Nowhere near the field. Outside the greenhouse. We’d just come off duty there.”

  Luke smiled, trying to be friendly. “The greenhouse. One of my favourite places. I used to nick the pomegranates. I still would, but I’d be reported.” He jerked his head towards his Mobile Aid to Law and Crime. “Where did Crispy say he was going when he left you?”

  Shane turned back to the rattlesnake. Behind the glass, the last visible trace of the squirrel’s tail had gone and the contented snake was settling down to begin the lengthy process of digesting the large lump. At the end of its curled body, its ribbed rattle stood upright ominously.

  An attractive Year-11 biology student called Georgia Bowie walked across the room and smiled at the newly qualified investigator. Luke nodded, waited for the door to close behind her, and then repeated his question. Again, Shane did not answer. “Come on,” Luke said. “It’s very important. You can’t get him into any trouble now.”

  “He didn’t say.”

  Luke shook his head. “I’d rather you didn’t answer than lie. Lies mislead. No answer means I just have to look somewhere else.”

  “Okay. Do that then.”

  “Obviously you don’t want me to find out what happened to your best mate.”

  Refusing to rise to the bait, Shane kept his eyes on the rattlesnake.

  Before he left, Luke decided to try a guess. He wondered if Shane was being cagey because Crispy had gone to the far end of the field to meet a girl. A year ago, Luke had done exactly the same with Jade. Remembering the hairs found on Crispy’s clothing, Luke said, “Was he meeting the nice-looking one with black hair, about so long?” He held his hands thirty centimetres apart and watched Shane’s reaction to his bluff.

  Shane’s only reply was a deep blush.

  Chapter Six

  Back in his room, Luke sat in the pyramid of light from his desk lamp. He was going through the contents of Crispin’s pockets and his clothes, one by one, finding nothing helpful. On his computer, he examined the data that
Malc had collected from the fifty-six items near the crime scene. None of them leapt out at him as significant to the case, but one really surprised him. “What’s this doing here?” he said, pointing at the image on the screen. Malc had photographed a small lizard on the yellowed grass. It was off-white in colour with grey bands and a soft pink on its head and legs.

  “It is probably looking for spiders, flies and other insects.”

  “But is it supposed to be here? Is this its natural habitat?”

  “Negative. It is a lizard of the family Gekkonidae, very common in warmer climates, and usually nocturnal.”

  “So, it’s an escaped pet. And it’s confused.”

  “That is the likely explanation.”

  Luke hesitated and then said, “Malc? Have you ever heard me say ‘negative’?”

  “Negative.”

  “That’s because it sounds stupid, like a robot. It’s too big a word for a simple idea. When you feel the urge to say ‘negative’, just say ‘no’. No’s fine. Short and to the point. Okay?”

  “I have logged your request.”

  Luke’s smile disappeared when he turned his attention to the arrow in a clear plastic sleeve. He was puzzled why a piece of sports equipment had been used as a murder weapon, but it wasn’t just that. Something about the arrow still bothered him. He wished he could work out why he felt uneasy about it.

  Luke said, “Until I identify who did it, I’ll give him – or her – a codename. Demon Archer feels right to me.” He paused before announcing to Malc, “Tomorrow morning, we search Crispy’s quarters – just in case it tells me anything.” Luke was convinced that Shane was protecting a girl so he added, “And I’ll speak to Crispy’s girlfriend.”

  Malc was perched on the edge of the desk, recharging himself. “Even if such a person exists, you do not know who she is.”

  “I will in the morning. If she’s innocent, she’ll be devastated. She won’t turn up for lessons or, if she does, she’ll be upset, to say the least.”

  “Speculation.”

  “Want to bet on it?”

  “I do not bet...”

  “Just put an order out to all instructors. They’ll have a good few students needing counselling, no doubt, but tell them to inform you if they’ve got an absent or particularly stressed girl with shoulder-length black hair. Of course, if she killed him, it won’t work because she’ll be doing her best to act normally. But, judging by Shane’s red face, those hairs are probably hers so I’ll get her through her DNA sooner or later, even if I have to take samples from every black-haired girl in the school.” Luke stood up. “Right now,” he announced, “I need to see Jade. You carry on recharging, then feel free to search the place as much as you like. I’d really appreciate it if you can find all my missing socks while you’re at it, and match them up with the odd ones.”

  “That is outside my area of duty.”

  “Joke, Malc. See you later.”

  ****

  The students and staff of Birmingham School were lucky. They had good equipment and their living quarters were great. A lot of schools in the north were not as smart and those in the south were slums in comparison. Jade’s rooms were almost identical to Luke’s. They both had standard Year-11 apartments. The living room wall opposite her door had burst into life, transformed into a large telescreen. Jade was watching a music video on it. It looked like the opening to a parallel world, as if she could walk through the wall into video sequence.

  When Luke came in, she turned the volume down and said, “Hiya.” She seemed happy to see him but there was anxiety in her eyes.

  Wearily, Luke plonked himself down in a chair.

  “Rough day?” she asked.

  “Exam on Tuesday morning, qualified by lunchtime, investigating a murder into Tuesday night. Yeah. Rough.”

  “I caught the story on telescreen. Poor Crispin Addley, shot with an arrow. Horrible. Have you got a suspect?”

  Luke smiled wryly. “Good news and bad. I’ve got a strong suspect, according to Malc. The bad news is... it’s me.”

  “You? What?”

  “Don’t ask. It’s a long story. And I’m pretty sure I didn’t do it.” He sat upright and said, “I can speak to you, tell you things I couldn’t tell Malc. Like, admit a real case is tough. With a classroom exercise, Malc’s got the right databases and all the information to solve the case is at the scene somewhere. Guaranteed. When it’s for real, you don’t get everything you need. Nothing like. The picture’s not complete. I know you’ll only tell me I made the wrong choice of career...”

  Jade interrupted, “Too right.”

  “But you still give me sympathy – of a sort. You know, it’d be a lot easier if we had spy cameras on every corner. Especially one covering the firing range.”

  “You’ve got to be joking! We’re already monitored. Every time you use your identity card, it gets recorded on some computer somewhere. That’s bad enough. Besides, what about you and me getting caught on camera?”

  “Yeah, I know. I agree. But it doesn’t make my job any easier.”

  Years ago, The Authorities had ruled out closed-circuit cameras because of the intrusion on people’s privacy.

  “Luke?”

  “Yes?”

  “I need to talk to you as well.”

  “Oh?” He could tell by her expression and her eyes that it was something serious.

  “Ms Kee saw me this afternoon.”

  Luke groaned at the name of the Deputy Head and Chair of the Pairing Committee.

  Jade hesitated, not wanting to say what she had to say.

  “And?” Luke prompted. He knew – and dreaded – what was about to happen. As a musician, Jade would be paired with an artist to produce artistically talented offspring. Sporty types were paired with each other to provide children of enviable physique. An investigator would be paired with the scientific sort. That meant he would never be with Jade; not properly and fully.

  “I’m sixteen. Only four years away from The Time. She said she wants me to get friendly with Vince.”

  “Vince?” Luke exclaimed. “Vince Wainwright, the architect?”

  Jade nodded.

  Luke swore under his breath and then lapsed into silence.

  “We can’t rock the boat, Luke. You’re part of the law now. You can’t break it. The Authorities would come down on you like a ton of bricks.”

  Irritated, Luke got up and paced the living room like a lion caged in an animal sanctuary, but still said nothing.

  “They’d ruin my career in music as well,” Jade added. “I couldn’t stand that.”

  “I know.” Luke swallowed and held back his emotions. Forensic Investigators didn’t cry. They just got angry. “But Vince! You deserve better than him.”

  “I know who I deserve, Luke.” She sniffed back a tear and squeezed his hand. “But Vince knows Ms Kee ever so well. He’s her pet student. If he wants to be paired with me, it’ll happen.”

  Luke shook his head defiantly.

  “There’s something else,” Jade said quietly, struggling to put it into words. “She spoke to Georgia about you.”

  It made sense. Earlier in the day, Georgia Bowie had qualified in biology with the highest set of marks in Year 11. The Pairing Committee always matched people by subject, intelligence and age.

  Furiously, Luke made for the door.

  Jade called after him, “Don’t do anything stupid, Luke.”

  ****

  “Come on!” Luke shouted into his own quarters. “I’ve got a case to solve.”

  At once, Malc glided into the corridor.

  “How many bows did you find?” Luke snapped.

  “I have not conducted a search,” Malc replied.

  “Why not?”

  “You would not hide an archery bow where I would find it.”

  “Right. I’m going to talk to everyone with access to the weapons storeroom. Bromley first. It’s getting late. Let’s hope he’s asleep.”

  “But if he is
asleep...”

  “I have the pleasure of waking him up.”

  Mr Bromley wasn’t in bed but he was relaxing in front of his own telescreen. Surrounded by lit candles, the sports instructor was watching the big news item of the day: the murder of Crispin Addley.

  Luke wasn’t in the mood to hold back. He went straight to the heart of his inquiry with a lie. “Someone told me you were a top archer.”

  Bromley puffed out his chest. “Well, I don’t like to boast but...”

  Egging him on, Luke asked, “Would you fancy your chances against me?”

  “If you’d have stuck with sports, maybe not, but you’ll be rusty by now. Yeah, I’d take you on. No problem. I’m a very good shot.”

  The flickering yellow flames were releasing trails of fine soot particles into the air.

  “Where were you between four and five o’clock this afternoon?”

  “What? You can’t seriously...”

  “I need an answer.”

  Taken aback, Mr Bromley spluttered, “I’ve got no reason to do anything to Crispin Addley. It’s ridiculous.”

  “Where were you?”

  “You’re coming on far too strong for a lad who’s only qualified today.”

  Normally, Luke never betrayed his feelings during an interview. He would ask a trivial question and a vital one in the same tone and he never reacted emotionally to an answer. Keeping somewhere between friendly and deadpan, he hoped each witness or suspect would talk naturally, without fretting about the significance of his questions or their own replies. This time, though, he was losing patience. He turned to Malc. “Have I asked any inappropriate questions or followed an illegal line of inquiry during this interview?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’d better remind Mr Bromley of his obligations as an instructor...”

  Mr Bromley butted in. “All right, all right. I’m just pointing out that you could be polite about it.” He looked at the time showing in the bottom right-hand corner of his telescreen. “And it’s getting late.”

  Luke used his considerable height to loom over Bromley. He repeated, “Where were you?”

  “After lessons, I went straight to the gym,” the instructor answered.

  “Who saw you there?”