* * *
Mr Luxton sat in his office with his head of the PE department, Mr Harris. For the first time in a few days, he felt good. Something had finally gone right, something to make up for all the difficult parents and teachers he’d had to deal with lately. ‘Good news, Mr Harris.’
‘What?’ asked the wild-eyed PE teacher.
‘The stolen camp fees have been returned. They turned up in the floor of the office just before lunchtime. It seems our thief may have had an attack of the scruples, brought it in here and deposited it while the office was empty.’
‘Is it all there?’
‘Every single penny. Every cheque.’
‘Well thank God for that.’
‘But you can bet your bottom dollar the matter doesn’t rest here. I still intend to track down the guilty one and we already have some suspects.’
‘What’s this crap I hear about Rex being one of the suspects?’
‘Well, he was, but the source has a reputation for being unreliable, but we still have to bear it in mind that he might be guilty.’
‘That’s a pile of bull and you know it.’
‘Come on, Mr Harris, you know he hasn’t been himself lately. Not after the attack. I have to say, I am more than a little worried about his mental state.’
Mr Harris sighed and rubbed his stubbly chin. ‘I’m worried about him too. He’s keeping bad company... the likes of Ben Tamati and other known gang members. He seems to have abandoned his good friends. He even seems to have lost interest in Vanessa Danté and I tell you any guy who wouldn’t want her around him has some really serious issues. And I know Rex and I know how crazy he is about that girl. Well he was before the attack.’
‘Yes,’ Mr Luxton said. ‘He has gotten into a lot of trouble due to his over protectiveness of Vanessa in the past. Have you tried talking to him?’
‘I have, but he doesn’t seem to be willing to open up to me anymore like he used to. That knock over the head has certainly affected more than his memory. His personality seems to have changed too.’
‘I suspect that may have more to do with the drugs he was fed.’
‘Can drugs do that? Change a person like that?’
‘Well I don’t know. Who knows what else Rex went through during his abduction?’
‘And the cops have not managed to track down Rod Williams?’
‘No. He is lying low for now.’
Mr Harris’s face darkened. ‘What I’d do to that piece of trash if I could get my hands on him.’
‘Mr Harris, you’ll stay right out of this. Leave it up to the police.’
A knock came at the door. Miss Branigan, one of the office staff brought in a pile of mail and left it on his desk. ‘Sorry it’s late today,’ she said. ‘I didn’t get a chance to go into town to collect it until lunch time.’
‘Not a problem.’
He picked up an unopened envelope from the pile of mail, took his his letter opener and inserted it under the sealed flap. ‘All we can do is hope that the doctors can find a way to return his memory back. Once that happens I’m sure everything will return to normal. Anyway, on to other matters. How’s the planning for the fifth and sixth form camp going?’ He tore across the rim of the letter as he spoke.
‘Not bad, not bad. I’m in charge of activities, and Gordon Bennett, I have some great ones lined up.’
‘Oh really?’ Mr Luxton put his partially opened letter and knife aside. ‘What have you got lined up?’
‘Exhausting cross country runs every morning, punishing obstacle courses, gruelling swims across the lake, arduous hikes through the mountains, debilitating triathlon events…the list is endless.’
‘What? Surely you’ve got some more relaxing events planned?’
‘Like what?’
‘Scavenger hunts, nature studies...’
‘Nature studies? Poofters’ activities!’
‘Nonsense! You can’t push them physically the whole time. Camps are supposed to be fun.’
‘Exercise is fun!’
‘Where’s the educational value?’
‘It’s a camp, for goodness sake! No kid wants to go to camp to learn… they can do that at school. Camps are supposed to be a break from learning.’
‘Not entirely. Besides, camps are supposed to be relaxing at times too.’
‘Rubbish! You can’t have any fun if all you’re going to do is sit around. A good camp is one where you’re on the go the whole time. No time to sit around playing backgammon and tiddlywinks.’
‘What about the girls? You can’t expect them to do all those strenuous activities. The boys may be used to your PE classes, but they certainly aren’t.’
Mr Harris grumbled something inaudible.
‘We want the kids to have fun and we want them to learn a few things in the process. That’s why we have bush walks and nature studies.’
‘Gordon Bennett. Most of the kids are soft enough as they are.’
‘Tone down the physical activity, Mr Harris. That’s an order.’
‘All right,’ grumbled Mr Harris. ‘But they’re not going to get it all easy.’
‘I didn’t think they would.’
‘But no nature studies. That’s going to the extreme a bit too much.’
‘Extremes? You’re talking to me about extremes?’ Mr Luxton couldn’t help but smile. ‘All right, no nature studies, but I want some educational stuff, a bit of orienteering, tent pitching, camp outs, you know the drill.’
‘You got it, Colonel!’
Mr Luxton smiled and picked up his piece of mail once again. This one was not stamped, but addressed to him. Mail was often left like that at the office for him, probably dropped off by a parent or a student. ‘That’s all, Mr Harris. You can go now.’ He removed the letter from the envelope and flattened it out.
Harris rose to his feet and made his way to the door.
Luxton’s eyes widened however as he read the letter before him. ‘Mr Harris!’ he said, just as the tall Englishman stepped out of his office. ‘Come and take a look at this!’
Mr Harris, with an intrigued look on his face, returned to the desk. Luxton handed him over the letter. ‘Read it.’
Harris took the letter from him and on inspection; a frown came upon his face. ‘Gordon Bennett!’
‘That’s just what I was thinking.’
‘No. Rex is not the camp fee thief. This is some kind of conspiracy. I refuse to believe it.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Luxton scratching his head. ‘But it now seems we have notes incriminating two of our students.’
‘Two?’
‘Yes. One was slid under my door this morning, so obviously one of them is lying.’
‘Why, who’s the other one that’s been fingered?’
‘Pete Cook.’
Dark Days at TAC Page 21