Previously”¦
Before Holmes could say anything, an ear piercing scream filled the dark corridor. I recognized Sammi”s hysterical voice and rushed around the corner. Ashton looked up at me with his hands covered in blood. Lying on the ground staring blankly up at the ceiling was Hamlet, who last I had seen him, was the Principal Josef LeRad.
Continued”¦
“It”s Principal LeRad,” Sammi mumbled.
I frowned. We had just seen the principal 10 minutes ago when he welcomed us to the Haunted House. He hadn”t been dressed as Hamlet at the time, just wearing a well used suit from before any of us present were born.
The crinkle in my forehead deepened.
“They”re still here,” I said, glancing around the now crowded hall.
A phone snapped shut behind me and I heard Holmes curse. He grabbed me by the elbow, pulling me away from the kids. And the body.
“P.J.,” he hissed, “I need you to be my partner on this. Harris is out of town on a call.”
I nodded. Cops don”t usually ask for a private investigator”s help on a murder case, let alone order them to help out. I always get roped into these kinds of things.
“Step one: lock down the school,” I told him. “Whoever did this is still here. I can feel it.”
Holmes stared at me a moment before calling the police station for backup forces. I turned back to Ashton and Sammi, checking that they were okay. To my surprise, Holmes” niece, who had been trailing behind us the whole time, was nowhere to be seen.
I meandered past the late principal who lay gawking up at the ceiling. I noticed the pool of blood came from under him, so he was stabbed where he died, not dragged there later. Which was also obvious because a dead man could weigh way more than imagined.
I walked a little further down the hall, looking for any possible modes of entry and exit. Most of the doors to classrooms were locked, but I tried them anyway.
Surprise! One of the doors clicked open.
I stepped inside pulling the door to the latch without actually closing it. My Glock, yes, I brought a handgun to a high school, rested in my hand, drawn but not up. A bullet was chambered, just for safety.
Rustling sounds came from the back corner. I squinted through the darkness, but couldn”t make out more than a few shapes. As I fumbled along the wall for the light switch, I heard an oddly familiar giggle. The switch was covered with something sticky that I prayed was just some chemistry experiment.
Light flooded the room, and my jaw dropped. Holmes” niece, the quiet little thing, was sitting on a desk with her skirt scrunched up at her waist. A young bloke gaped at me, his hands resting on the girl”s thighs.
Suddenly, I was laughing. The whole thing seemed even more ridiculous in light of the murder in the hallway. I felt bad for breaking up the snogging session and I turned to shut off the lights. The whole switch was covered with blood. Glancing down at my hand, blood was sticking between my fingers.
“Bloody hell,” I cursed, spinning toward the young couple. “Did you two hear anyone come through here?” The niece”s head shook, making her blonde pigtails sway from side to side.
“One of the desks was warm when we got here, though,” the guy said.
I pursed my lips, thinking.
She turned her cocker spaniel eyes to me. “Are you going to tell my uncle?”
Not a snowball”s chance in hell, girly.
“That is between the “¦ three of you,” I said. “So I”d get out of here before I call him in.”
They scurried out another door as I opened the one closest to the light switch. I saw a group of people standing where the body must have been, including a few men in blue. Someone who I can only guess was the medical examiner crouched down beside the body.
“Holmes! You need to see this.”
Holmes was there quickly enough, and I showed him the evidence I had found, glossing over the fact that I broke up a snogging couple, but informing him a desk was warm when they got there.
I was about to bounce my theory off of him when a prudish older woman stomped into the room. Her brown hair was tied into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and she glowered at us from over her hawk-like nose. With that tightwad look, she was either vice principal or the English teacher.
To be continued”¦
Claire Whitley can be reached at [email protected]