Jim looked at her seriously. “Let me just put it this way, Sharon. You’re in danger, all of you, if I say one single word.”
“But he drew that eye on the chalkboard, didn’t he? You weren’t standing anywhere near it.”
“Sharon, let’s forget about it, okay? You know what they mean when they say that even walls have ears.”
“That’s an evil eye,” said Sharon. “And Vodun, he’s the head spirit of voodoo. That means ‘Vodun Lives’. You only see that eye when Vodun’s watching you, to make sure you don’t take his name in vain, or do nothing to displease him.”
“Sharon, thanks for the books … but I’m not going to say any more.”
But Sharon was persistent. She picked up Voodoo Ritual, licked her finger, and quickly leafed through it. “You’re talking about seeing a person when nobody else can, aren’t you? Like you can really see this dude, can’t you, when the rest of us can’t? But there’s a way that you can show him up, so that everybody else can see him, too.”
“Oh, yes?” Jim was growing impatient. He would rather have studied Sharon’s books at leisure; and besides, he needed to get out into the yard and see if he could persuade Ricky Herman to breathe in some of the memory powder. It wouldn’t work, he was sure of it. He wasn’t aware of remembering anything that had never actually happened to him. But it was what Umber Jones wanted him to do, and he would do it.
“Here, look,” said Sharon. “Death dust.”
“Death dust?” asked Jim, abstractedly. He was still looking out of the window, spooked by every shadow. Was that the oak trees dipping in the breeze, or was it a man in an Elmer Gantry hat, walking across the grass?
“Sure, look. ‘Spirits can only be seen by houngans and people with special gifts. Otherwise they are invisible. But spirit-hunters used to take bags of death dust with them when they went to exorcise huts and houses. They would toss the dust around the room, and if there was a spirit present, the dust would cling to them, making them momentarily visible.’”
Jim said, “Let me take a look at that.” He flicked back and read the two preceding pages while Sharon watched him, fiddling with her beads.
“‘A houngan has many ways of disabling or killing his opponents. If they use The Smoke to leave their physical bodies and to visit his dwelling-house, he can cast a spell on their body while they are away, when the body will be unconscious and defenceless. There are many spells he can cast. He can put the body into a deep sleep which may last for days or even years. He may cause it to choke; or to suffer a stroke. He may paralyse it, or set fire to it. One of the most gruesome spells is Se Manger, when the victim literally devours himself.
“ ‘If the physical body is killed, the spirit will be forced to wander for ever in the Half-World. The physical body itself will decompose very quickly into death dust. Death dust is still remembered in the Christian funeral ritual ‘ashes to ashes, dust to dust.’”
“Does that help?” asked Sharon.
Jim closed the book and nodded. “It makes sense out of something that didn’t make sense. I’m very glad you brought it in.”
“It’s my ancestry,” said Sharon, with pride.
Jim went out into the yard and wandered around, talking to some of the students. He was conscious that – whatever they were talking about – they always changed the subject as soon as he approached, but then he always used to do the same thing when he was a student. The age gap between seventeen-year-olds and thirty-four-year-olds is about 4 million light-years. Jim was patient with them, though. He knew a secret which they didn’t know: in another seventeen years, they would be thirty-four, too.
He was just about to stroll across to the bench where Ricky was telling a group of girls about the night he had raced his Camaro at 95 mph along Mulholland Drive when John Ng approached him.
“Mr Rook … something weird happened in class this morning.”
He was obviously embarrassed, but Jim shrugged and said, “Sure. What was it?”
“That time you were talking strangely.”
“Yes, what about it?”
John took a silver neck-chain out of his T-shirt. On the end of it dangled a dull black stone. “Look,” he said.
Jim held it in the palm of his hand. “Great. Nice-looking stone. Now, John, if you’ll excuse me—”
But John clutched his sleeve to stop him. “This is not a stone, Mr Rook. This is a crystal. It comes from a dzong, a sacred Buddhist temple. It is supposed to protect me from evil.”
“And?”
“It’s supposed to be clear, and sparkling. It only turns dark when something is troubling me. It has never turned as dark as this before.”
“So what does it mean, when it goes as dark as this?”
“It means that a very great evil has come close to me. It happened at the same time that you were talking strangely.”
Jim hesitated, but he knew that he couldn’t lie. John was clinging on to his sleeve so tightly and there was such a worried look on his face that he would have to tell him the truth – or part of the truth, at least.
“Somebody was there, in the classroom,” John insisted.
“Well …”
“Mr Rook, we have spirit-walkers in my religion, too. Monks who can leave their bodies and visit the sick and the dying.”
Jim glanced around to make sure that the man in black was nowhere in sight. “Yes,” he said, “I did see somebody. The same man I saw when Elvin was murdered. I could see him, but none of the rest of you could. I could hear him, too, and talk to him.”
“He is very evil,” said John, emphatically.
“Well, that’s why I don’t want to tell you too much about him. The less you know, the safer you’ll be.”
“Who is he?” John asked him.
“I think it’s better if I don’t tell you. Not just yet.”
“But what does he want? Why has he come here to West Grove College?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that, either. But I’m doing everything I can to get rid of him.”
John took his hand away, and then said, with great simplicity, “You’re frightened, aren’t you?”
Jim nodded. “Yes, I’m frightened. Not for myself. But I don’t want this character hurting my class.”
John said, “With respect, Mr Rook, if we are in any kind of danger, wouldn’t it be better if we knew about it, all of us? On your own, you may find it a hard fight to get rid of this spirit. Together, we would be strong. My father says that evil loves the darkness; but shrivels up when you shine a light on it.”
“Your father’s a thoughtful man.”
John went off to join his friends, leaving Jim standing alone, thinking. Maybe he was right, and the Smoke spirit of Umber Jones should be dragged out into the open. But then he thought of Elvin, bleeding from scores of stab-wounds; and Mrs Vaizey, disappearing into her own mouth; and he knew that if any one of his students was killed or injured, he would never able to forgive himself.
Half-way across the wide, parched lawn that ran all along the east side of the college buildings, he saw Ricky sitting crosslegged, talking and laughing with Muffy and Rita and Seymour Williams, a spotty, friendly boy with heavy-rimmed Clark Kent glasses. Jim felt in his pocket for the bag of memory powder and loosened the ties around it. Then he approached the group at what he hoped was a casual stroll, even though he was so tense that his teeth were clenched.
Ricky looked up and shielded his eyes against the sun. “Hi, Mr Rook. What’s happening?”
“I, er, found something in the boys’ locker-room.”
Ricky immediately blushed scarlet with guilt.
“No, no,” said Jim. “It isn’t anything that belongs to you.” He took the bag of memory powder out of his pocket and held it up. “It’s some kind of powder. I didn’t want to turn it in to Mr Wallechinsky, though, until I knew what it was. No point in making a fuss if it’s harmless.”
Ricky said, “Let’s take a look at that, Mr Rook. I’m the class
expert on suspicious substances.” He winked at Seymour and Seymour gave a goofy laugh. Jim had a strong suspicion that Ricky and Seymour and some of the other boys had occasionally smoked grass in the boys’ washrooms, but he had never been able to catch them at it. He handed him the bag and watched as Ricky opened it and peered inside.
“Doesn’t look like nothing that I ever saw before,” he remarked.
“Anything,” Jim corrected him.
Ricky wet the tip of his little finger and dipped it into the powder and tasted it. He wrinkled his nose up and said, “Urgh. Doesn’t taste like nothing I ever saw before, neither. Tastes like – herbs, and leaves, and kind of …” He paused, his eyes suddenly unfocused. “Kind of – yesterday.”
“It tastes like yesterday?” scoffed Seymour. “What does yesterday taste like? Your old gym socks?”
“Sniff it,” Jim coaxed him. He had never felt so guilty and irresponsible in the whole of his teaching career, but he didn’t dare to think of the alternative.
Ricky took a pinch of the powder and snorted it up his nose, in the same way that Jim had. Immediately he let out an explosive sneeze and then another. “Jesus Christ!” he swore. “What the hell is this stuff?”
“Maybe it’s the same stuff that Tee Jay was smoking,” said Jim, hunkering down close beside him. Ricky stared at him with watering eyes. “You know … when you saw him behind the science block, the time that Elvin was killed. That’s where he went, didn’t he, at five after eleven? So he couldn’t have gone to the boiler-house.”
“Unh?” said Ricky and then promptly fell backward on to the grass, knocking his head.
“Hey, is he all right?” said Jane, leaning over him.
“Ricky?” said Seymour, crawling over toward him on all fours and staring into his face. “Ricky, can you hear me, man?”
Jim picked up the memory powder and pocketed it. “It’s all right … he’s hyperventilated, that’s all.” He knelt next to him and gently patted his cheek. “Ricky … come on, Ricky, you’re fine. Come on, Ricky, wake up now.” Thinking: my God, I hope I haven’t done him any harm …
Ricky said something blurry and then he opened his eyes. He looked at the four faces peering down at him and said, “What?”
“You fainted,” said Jim. “You must have breathed in too deeply.”
Ricky sat up, smearing his nose with the back of his hand. “Jesus, that stuff smarts, Mr Rook. I don’t know what it is but it sure ain’t coke.”
“I’m sorry,” said Jim. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
Ricky sneezed again. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “My sinus hasn’t been this clear all summer.”
“I think I’ll just drop the bag in the trash and forget all about it,” Jim told him. “Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s the kind of stuff that anybody would voluntarily put up their nose.”
He was about to leave when Seymour said, “Hey, Mr Rook … what was that about Tee Jay? You know, smoking behind the science block.”
“What about it?”
Seymour blinked. Jim could almost hear the cogs whirring inside his brain. “Well … if he was smoking behind the science block, then he couldn’t have killed Elvin, could he? He couldn’t have been in two places at the same time.”
“The trouble was, nobody actually saw him,” said Jim. “He said that he was smoking behind the science block but the police couldn’t find any witnesses.”
Ricky said, “Wait a minute. I saw him.”
“You’re putting me on,” said Jim. “Why didn’t you tell Lieutenant Harris?”
“I don’t know. I just – I don’t know. I just didn’t.”
“You definitely saw Tee Jay smoking behind the science block between five after and a quarter after?”
“Sure. I’d swear to it. He left the other guys, then he went behind the science block and lit up. I could see him all the time. I guess I didn’t say anything because I thought he was going to get into trouble for smoking.”
“Ricky,” said Jim, taking hold of his shoulders. “Tee Jay is facing a charge of murder one. That’s a whole lot more serious than smoking.”
Ricky pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. “I don’t know why I didn’t say anything before. It’s like it must have slipped my mind or something.”
“Well, now that it’s unslipped your mind, maybe we’d better talk to Lieutenant Harris and see what we can do to get Tee Jay free.”
“Sure. Sure thing.” Ricky kept shaking his head, like a confused dog. Seymour and Muffy and Jane looked at each other in bewilderment. It seemed so unlikely that Ricky had taken two days to remember that he had seen Tee Jay smoking at the time of the murder. On the other hand, if he could get Tee Jay released, what did it matter?
Jim said, “Come with me. Let’s go tell Dr Ehrlichman. Then we can call the police.”
They walked across the grass together. Ricky said, “This is incredible, isn’t it? I mean, because of me, Tee Jay’s going to go free.”
“Lieutenant Harris will give you a pretty thorough grilling. Be prepared for that.”
“I’ll tell you something, Mr Rook. He can grill me till I’m well done. I saw Tee Jay smoking. I swear it. I saw him with my own eyes.”
They had almost reached the main administration block when Susan Randall came out of the main entrance, talking to George Babouris, the physics teacher. She was wearing a blue checkered blouse with the collar turned up, like Doris Day, and a short navy-blue skirt. Jim slowed down as he approached her and a wide smile came across his face. He was beginning to think that she must have been avoiding him this morning, for some reason. Maybe she was teasing him. After all, hadn’t she kissed him and told him how attractive she had always found him – how masterful?
He walked straight up the steps, put his arm around her waist, and kissed her on the lips. “Hi, sweetheart. I’ve got some good news.”
Susan smacked at his arm and took two steps back. “Jim!” she protested. George Babouris, big-bellied and black-bearded, stared at both of them in total astonishment.
Jim raised both of his hands in mock-surrender. “What’s wrong?” he asked her. “I just came to tell you that—”
“You kissed me, that’s what’s wrong. You kissed me right on the mouth.”
Jim was bewildered. Yesterday she had been so passionate, and now she was treating him as if he were some kind of sex molester. “Listen,” he said, “you don’t have to blow so goddamned hot and cold.”
“What are you talking about? When have I ever been hot?”
“You didn’t exactly behave like the Snow Queen yesterday afternoon.”
“I said I was interested in seeing your maps, that’s all. That’s hardly a proposition.”
Jim turned to George and gave him one of those oh-ho-ho man-to-man looks. “She’s only interested in seeing my maps!” he grinned.
This time, Susan slapped his face, so hard that it stung.
“What the hell was that for?” he protested.
“What the hell do you think it was for? Do you want me to report you to Dr Ehrlichman for sexual harassment?”
“Now, wait a minute,” said Jim. “Yesterday afternoon it was ‘Jim, I fell in love with you the second I saw you.’ Now it’s assault and battery. What’s going on?”
Susan stared at him in disbelief. “Are you some kind of psychopath, or what?”
Jim looked around. George Babouris was giving him a very odd, old-fashioned kind of look; and even Ricky was keeping his distance. He began to get the feeling that something was very badly wrong and that he was seriously out of kilter with everybody else. He said, “Okay … maybe there’s been a misunderstanding,” and he backed away. “Come on, Ricky, we’ve got something more important to worry about.”
Chapter Eight
Tee Jay was released at ten o’clock that evening, after Lieutenant Harris had interviewed Ricky for over four hours. Ricky offered to take a polygraph test but Lieutenant Harris knew that he couldn�
�t take Tee Jay in front of a jury with no murder weapon, no fingerprints or footprints, and an independent witness whose testimony seemed to be so sincere.
Jim waited at police headquarters all that time, sustained by three cups of wishy-washy coffee and three sugared doughnuts. Tee Jay’s mother hadn’t been able to come, although Jim had phoned her and told her to expect some good news. Tee Jay’s brother hadn’t wanted to come and so far there was no sign of Uncle Umber.
Lieutenant Harris came out into the reception area in his shirtsleeves, dabbing at his forehead with a balled-up handkerchief. Tee Jay came up close behind, accompanied by his attorney and two uniformed officers. He stared at Jim as if he didn’t recognise him.
“Okay,” said Lieutenant Harris. “He’s free to go. I just wish his friend had come up with this information the first time I asked him. The first twenty-four hours of any investigation are always the most important. Now he’s put us back forty-eight.”
“Come on, Lieutenant. At least you haven’t charged an innocent man.”
Lieutenant Harris pressed his handkerchief against the back of his neck and looked at Jim as if innocence had about as much to do with criminal justice as the price of fish.
Tee Jay’s attorney came up to Jim and shook his hand. He was a barrel-chested Afro-American with immaculately-topiarised hair and a silk necktie with hot-air balloons on it. “Assume you’re Tee Jay’s teacher?” he asked. “You did a great job, bringing Ricky in. Tee Jay would’ve been real hard to defend, otherwise.” He paused, and then he put his arm around Jim’s shoulders and said confidentially, “Be a good idea to keep an eye on Tee Jay, though. That boy has some attitude problem. Keeps banging on about African culture and the power of the spirits and all kinds of stuff like that. Told me I was selling out, working for white men. And this is not your average Black Power thing, either. He was chanting and singing. Practically drove everybody nuts.”
“Thanks,” said Jim. “I think I have a handle on this thing.”
Rook & Tooth and Claw Page 11