Hangman's Curse Page 13

  “Uh, couple weeks, I guess.”

  She looked at Nate. “This thing’s been buried down there at least that long.”

  Nate clicked on his flashlight and illuminated the straw as she examined it. “But what’s different about this one? Max didn’t alert at the others.”

  Sarah glanced up at Blake Hornsby, standing there healthy and normal. “And it didn’t seem to work either.” She peered at the straw through a magnifying glass as Nate kept his light on it. “Sugar crystals again. We’ll probably find Tricanol, just as before.” Her brow furrowed. “Waaaiiiit a minute.”

  She turned the straw and looked in the other end. “Ohhh wow . . .”

  “What is it?” Blake asked.

  She let Nate look down the end of the straw. He whistled in awe.

  “Bag,” she said. “BAG!”

  Nate held a plastic bag open and she dropped in the straw. Then she yanked off her surgical gloves and grabbed her cell phone. She strained to remember. “Oh, what’s his number, what’s his number?”

  Nate already had his pocket organizer in hand. “Who’re you calling?”

  “Algernon Wheeling.”

  He raised his eyebrows just a moment, then looked up the number.

  She peered at the straw through a magnifying glass as Nate kept his light on it.

  9

  algernon

  wheeling

  That afternoon, Nate and Sarah cleared a large area of the Holy Roller and set out the clothing, books, magazines, shoes, jackets, duffel bags, and anything else that once belonged to the victims. They mixed in some of their own clothes and some they’d bought at the local Goodwill, along with any books, handbags, backpacks, and personal items they could scrounge from the local grade school. Then they brought in Mr. Maxwell to play his favorite game: tracking down a scent in exchange for a biscuit.

  “Okay, boy, here you go.” Sarah opened the plastic bag and let him sniff the last straw, the ultimate straw taken from Blake Hornsby’s locker. Then she turned him loose and he bolted for all those wonderful, smelly things arranged in neat rows on the motor home floor.

  It wasn’t a very challenging game. Max found the scent on the first article he encountered, Crystal Sparks’ leather handbag. He found it on Amy Warren’s jacket, on Jim Boltz’s shirt, on Leonard Baynes’ wallet. He found it on shoelaces, handkerchiefs, notebooks, a hairbrush, a few magazines. Nate and Sarah almost thought he was bluffing them, but noted that he did not find the scent on any of the “neutral” items they’d planted among the others. Nate removed any item Max tagged, and Sarah made a note of it. Before long, Max was circling the room, his nose leading the way, but finding nothing. He began to whine.

  Nate stepped up with two biscuits. Max had more than earned them. “Good boy, Max. Good boy.”

  Max got his reward and took it outside to enjoy.

  Nate removed his disposable gloves and looked at Sarah.

  She merely shook her head, looking at the separated items on the table and then her notes. “Whatever it is, it gets around.”

  “From hand to object, from object to hand,” Nate observed. “The hairbrush, the books, the tote bags, the wallet. Everything with the scent on it was handled at one time by someone.”

  “So the scent spreads like germs. Person to person, surface to surface. And it lasts, too. Some of this stuff hasn’t been touched in over two weeks.”

  “And now the million-dollar question is, where’d the scent come from? We’ve only found it in that one soda straw. The others have a different scent altogether.”

  “And Tod Kramer’s clothing has the scent, but we never found a soda straw among his belongings or in his locker.”

  “Algernon might be able to tell us. When’s he getting here?”

  “He’s catching a red-eye flight tonight and should be here early tomorrow morning.” She heard Nate huff a sigh. “I know. We can’t wait.”

  Nate drew another deep breath. Now he was feeling like Max, tugging at a leash and unable to leap forward. “Well, okay, we’ll get all the information we can so Algernon will have something to work with.” He went to the dinette table and unrolled the old blueprints of the school. “In the meantime, I’m intrigued by the location of Amy’s and Crystal’s lockers. Did you notice this?”

  Sarah came over to look.

  “Here’s the location of Blake Hornsby’s locker on the main floor, right near the gym, just around the corner from the Forbidden Hallway. Now look at this . . .” He turned that page aside, revealing the plans for the upper floor of the school. “Here’s Amy Warren’s locker, and here’s Crystal’s. They’re within ten feet of each other, but directly above Blake Hornsby’s locker, and—”

  The door to the motor home opened, and Elijah and Elisha came in, packs on their backs, faces rosy from the walk home from school. They immediately noticed all the stuff spread out on the floor, and Elijah asked, “So, how’d it go?”

  “Pretty much as we expected,” Sarah answered.

  Elijah eyed the ultimate soda straw, now sealed again in a plastic bag on Sarah’s lab table. “Have you heard from Professor Wheeling?”

  “He’ll be here tomorrow morning,” said Nate.

  “Dad!” Elisha gasped excitedly. “I may have thought of something!” She hurried to the dinette table, where the school blueprints were already spread out. “Did you notice where Amy’s and Crystal’s lockers are? They’re right above Blake Hornsby’s!”

  Nate and Sarah were amused but pleased. “Go on,” said Nate.

  Elisha pointed to the blueprints. “Look here. There’s an old shaft running up the wall behind the lockers. Mr. Loman says it used to be a cold-air return for the furnace when the old building was still there. Check it out.” She turned back to the previous page. “See? It’s right behind Blake Hornsby’s locker on the first floor, and Amy’s and Crystal’s lockers on the second floor. It would be a perfect passageway for something to move upward from the first floor to the second.”

  Nate and Sarah exchanged a look. “Go on,” said Sarah.

  “I looked at the wall above Amy’s and Crystal’s lockers, and there’s a vent up there. It’s kind of small and tight, but a smaller person could fit through it.”

  Nate cocked a fatherly eyebrow. “And just why would a smaller person want to do that?”

  Elisha got impatient. “To check out a theory! I want to see if there’s a physical connection between Blake’s locker and the girls’ lockers upstairs.”

  “And if there is?” Sarah asked.

  Elisha was starting to sound like a salesgirl making a pitch. “Then it might bolster my theory that whatever didn’t get to Blake Hornsby went upstairs and got to the girls instead, and that’s why they got sick and he didn’t.”

  A short, silent moment passed as Nate and Sarah thought it over. Nate took a studious second look at the blueprints, his arms folded across his chest.

  Finally, he said, “Elisha, better step cautiously. We’re still not sure what we’re dealing with.”

  “I understand.” But she was still excited.

  Nate thought a moment longer. “Okay. Work with Mr. Loman on this. He’ll know the best way to get in there without running into trouble. You’ll have to wear protective clothing, and I mean head to toe, gloves, hood, the works.”

  Elisha dropped her backpack. “I can wear that toxic substance suit, that EPA thing. It’s in the rear cargo hold!” She headed for the door.

  “But first—!”

  She turned, her hand on the knob.

  “Plan this for tomorrow morning before classes—and after we’ve had a chance to discuss this with Professor Wheeling.”

  That didn’t deter her one bit. “Got it!” She was out the door.

  Sarah was concerned. “Nate, are you sure?”

  He shrugged, a twinkle in his eye. “It’s her theory, and she’s right: She’s the only one small enough. But we’ll wait and see what Algernon has to say before we carry this any further. In the meanti
me, Elijah . . .”

  “Sir?”

  “Now that Max knows—and we know—what to sniff for, I can just about predict that Professor Wheeling is going to want Max to sniff out the whole school.”

  Elijah gave a little whistle. “That’s going to be a big job. Where do we even start?”

  Nate lightly drummed his fingers on his chin. “Old Abel Frye went after the athletes first, so I’d like to start in the boys’ locker room at the gym.”

  Elijah chuckled. “There are plenty of smells in there!”

  Nate’s face crinkled up a bit—he was still thinking. “Besides, don’t the guys get assigned lockers in the gym classes?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Then Tod Kramer’s hall locker wasn’t the only locker he used.”

  That turned Sarah’s head. “Another drop point for a soda straw! We should have thought of that!”

  “I just did,” said Nate. “A little late, maybe, but . . . Elijah, tomorrow morning we’ll bring Max to school and check it out. Which means”—he smiled knowingly at his son—“I’ll get a chance to meet that good friend of yours, Mr. Marquardt.”

  Elijah made a face. “Oh, you’re gonna love him!”

  The next morning came early, too early, and all four Springfields were beginning to feel the wear and exhaustion of the last several days as they dragged themselves out of bed. Nevertheless, as soon as the kids were awake enough to know it, the adrenaline began to flow and they couldn’t wait to get out the door. Sarah had to remind them to eat their breakfast.

  “I’m going to run out of time,” said Elisha, scarfing down her oatmeal and raisins.

  “Take it easy, girl,” Sarah cautioned.

  “First things first, second things second,” Nate reminded them. “Elisha, you can’t explore that shaft until we’ve had a chance to talk to Professor Wheeling. And Elijah, you can’t bring Max into the school gym until I’ve had a chance to prepare Mr. Marquardt.”

  They settled down a little, or at least tried to. Elijah savored his Wheat Chex, Elisha finished her oatmeal at a better-mannered pace.

  Time passed. Then it passed some more. They all noticed.

  “When’s Professor Wheeling supposed to get here?” Elisha asked.

  Sarah looked unhappily at the clock. “A half-hour ago.”

  “Maybe his plane was late,” Nate suggested. “Did he have clear directions?”

  Sarah rose from the table and went to the telephone. “I’ll call the airline and see what’s up.”

  Elisha was also watching the clock. “Mr. Loman is going to be waiting for me.”

  Nate finished the last few drops from his coffee cup and set it down. “And Mr. Marquardt is going to be waiting for me. Elisha, go ahead and gather up your gear, and grab one of the radios.” Elisha leaped up from the table and Nate quickly added, “Stay in communication and don’t proceed until we give you clearance, got it?”

  “Yes, sir. Got it.”

  “Hello? Southwest?” Sarah was on the phone with the airline.

  Elisha went out the door. Nate grabbed his coat, his Stetson hat, and his tool bag. “Elijah, go ahead and bring Max to the school in . . .” He looked at his watch. “An hour.”

  Elijah looked at his own watch. “School will be starting by then.”

  Nate shrugged. “Looks like you’ll have to be absent from classes today.” He went out the door.

  Elijah had a few spoonfuls of Wheat Chex remaining and no immediate need to abandon them, so he just kept eating.

  Nate pushed his way through the big swinging door that led into the boys’ locker room, and after one breath there could be no mistaking where he was. The cool air, permanently dank from the dripping showers, carried an unforgettable mixture of scents: the concrete floor, the wooden benches, the metal lockers, the hundreds of once-sweaty tee shirts, and the rubbery-smelling gym shoes stored in the basket room.

  The place echoed. All the walls were concrete block painted a dull green. A fan was running somewhere.

  He rounded a corner and walked along the lockers until he came to the gym office, situated between the locker room and the gym. He could see a man inside, sitting at his desk and reading over some stat sheets. The man wore gray trousers and a light blue jacket, and a whistle hung by a chain around his neck. He was youthful, muscular, and striking a very confident pose. This had to be Mr. Marquardt.

  The door was open. Nate removed his hat and knocked on the doorjamb. “Hello. Mr. Marquardt?”

  Marquardt looked up from his desk and looked Nate over with a sneering, judgmental eye. “What are you supposed to be, some kind of cowboy?”

  Nate smiled. “I’m Nate Springfield. And yes, I grew up on a cattle ranch in Montana.”

  Marquardt finally smiled and ordered with a jerk of his head, “Have a seat.”

  “Thank you.” Nate sat in an available chair. “I understand Ms. Wyrthen told you I’d be coming?”

  “She told me. Said you were some kind of investigator. I thought you were a janitor.”

  “Well, I’ve swept a few floors and emptied a few trash cans in the course of things. But we’re close to wrapping up this investigation, and we need your help.”

  Marquardt rotated his chair to face Nate directly, then leaned back with an almost haughty air of confidence. “So what can I do for you?”

  Elisha arrived in the second-floor hallway and found Mr. Loman waiting with a ladder already up against the wall, the grille over the old cold-air return vent removed.

  “Well, good morning, Miss Springfield! And don’t you look ready for—well, for something, I don’t know what!”

  Elisha was wearing a bright orange coverall suit, complete with boots, gloves, and a hood she carried under her arm. On her waist was a palm-sized radio with a headset, and in a bag she carried small tools, a set of building plans, and a head-mounted flashlight, the same one she had used in the Forbidden Hallway several nights ago. “Good morning, Mr. Loman.”

  “You look like you’re ready to go to the moon.”

  “Well . . .” She began searching through her bag. “I might be ready to clean up a toxic waste area, I suppose. Oh, no!”

  “Got a problem?”

  “I forgot to bring fresh batteries for my headlamp! I can’t believe it!”

  “Well, we must have some fresh batteries around here somewhere. How about the stock room for bio-chem? I opened it up for Norman just a few minutes ago. You know Norman?”

  Elisha brightened. “Norman? Sure.”

  Professor Algernon Wheeling was late, a bit flustered, but still basically jolly when he pulled up alongside the Holy Roller in his rental car and tooted his horn.

  Sarah hopped down from the motor home and broke into a wide grin. “Well! You made it!”

  “Professor Sarah, we meet again!” Algernon climbed out of the car, his briefcase already in his hand. He was a short little man in his fifties, gray and balding, with thick glasses. His eyes seemed to look two different directions at once, but his friendly, toothy grin brought your attention back to center immediately. “We can blame a variety of people for my lateness. I can blame myself for trying to bring so much equipment on the plane. I can blame the airline for hassling me about it. I can blame air-traffic control for making us hold on the runway for so long. But—” He shrugged happily. “God bless me, I am here at last!”

  They shook hands, and then decided a hug would be even better.

  “So how are things in entomology?” she asked.

  Algernon climbed out of the car, his briefcase already in his hand. He was a short little man in his fifties, gray and balding, with thick glasses. His eyes seemed to look two different directions at once, but his friendly, toothy grin brought your attention back to center immediately.

  “Oh, just buzzing. Get it? Buzzing?” Then he became serious— sort of. “But things are buzzing here, too, I understand.”

  She nodded grimly. “Time’s at a premium. We’ve lost two kids, and now the hospital is bri
nging in specialists and the police are pulling everyone they can to put them on this case. They’re all waiting for what you might find out.”

  He rolled his eyes, impatient with himself. “So why am I standing here? Come on, Wheeling, get with the program.” He spun around and opened the rear car door. “From what you told me on the phone, I’d say yes, you’ve found a pheromone, a scent that an insect gives off—you know, squirts, smears, spits—in order to send a message to other insects.” He pulled out some heavy cloth cases, set them on the ground, and then laughed at himself. “Yeah, real good, Wheeling! Tell the lady something she doesn’t know!”

  “But have you ever encountered anything like this?” Sarah asked. “It seems to stick to everything and lasts for weeks.”

  Algernon filled his hands and arms with cases of various sizes and weights as Sarah grabbed whatever was left. “Oh, it’s not too unusual. Ants mark their trails with scent markers that can last for weeks. Dogs can smell the urine of another dog for at least that long.” He nodded toward the motor home. “Uh, so . . .”

  “Right this way,” she said. As they approached the door of the motor home, they met Elijah coming out. “Algernon, you remember my son, Elijah.”

  He stood still a moment and gawked at Elijah, his eyes seemingly looking at either side of him. “I could say, ‘My, how you’ve grown,’ but you already know that, don’t you?”

  “Hello, Professor Wheeling.”

  Sarah explained as Elijah passed by them and they went into the motor home, “We’re in a real rush this morning. Elijah has to take Mr. Maxwell to the school to do some nasal reconnaissance.”

  “Nasal reconnaissance!” Algernon got a kick out of that.

  Elijah untied Mr. Maxwell and they started walking together toward the school. Yes, that was Professor Wheeling all right.

  Using a strong flashlight, and with surgical gloves on his hands, Nate examined the seams around the floor of locker number 106 while Mr. Marquardt stood over him, half curious and half skeptical.

  “Like I said,” said Marquardt, “I get somebody to clean out these lockers every week, so I doubt you’re going to find anything.”