Half Moon Investigations - Eoin Colfer [69]
‘Just one question,’ said Dominique soothingly, a professional. ‘Then we’re out of your hair. We’re just trying to tie a few cases together; we won’t even need your testimony if it comes to that.’
‘One question?’
‘Ten seconds of your time, then you know you’ve done your civic duty.’
‘OK, detective.’ Her voice was small, like a mouse. Being a victim could change people forever.
‘My question is this, Martina. When you lived here, in Lock, did you have any contact with pupils from St Jerome’s national school?’
Silence for a moment. Then, ‘I gave after-school tuition in mathematics. Preparing students for their entrance exams. One of my girls was from Jerome’s. Julie Kennedy. Her parents were very strict. They promised to ground her indefinitely unless her grades picked up. I hope she got a new tutor. Is that all you need?’
‘Yes, thank you, Martina. You’ve been a great help.’
Martina hung up first and the tone droned over the speaker for several seconds before Dominique remembered to do likewise.
‘That’s it,’ I whispered. ‘No question. St Jerome’s is the link.’
Red stepped close to the whiteboard until his shadow blotted out the projected names. ‘OK. But the link to what?’
I didn’t know yet. ‘I need more detailed information on our new list.’
Dominique Kehoe checked her files. ‘If you don’t have more details, and I don’t have them, then who on earth does?’
I had a sudden vision of knitted cardigans and grinning dogs.
‘There is one person,’ I said, and my voice may have trembled slightly.
LARRY AND ADAM
I was one of the Sharkey family now, and it was more than skin deep. The Sharkey gene ran through my system like a virus. It bullied my other genes and sent them packing to the darkest corners of my personality. I found myself walking hard and talking tough. It felt good to be the outsider. My previous existence seemed monochrome; now I was living life to the full, appreciating every moment outside the police station.
Red had loaded himself up with gear: bolt cutters, a length of rope, mini tool kit, torch and two single-egg frying pans.
‘Frying pans?’
Red grinned, offering me the choice of a pair of tights or a tin of boot polish. ‘Trade secrets, Fletcher. Watch and learn.’
I took the polish, smearing the thick gunk across my cheeks, feeling it sink into my pores. It would take months to scrape off, and underneath it would be fake tan. I offered the tin to Red.
‘In your dreams, Fletcher,’ he chuckled, rolling his trusty balaclava over his face.
St Jerome’s seemed different at night. When darkness fell, the school was stripped of its daytime identity and became just another town building. Without murals and hopscotch grids and exuberant children swinging from its gates, the school could just as easily been an office block, or a prison.
We were huddled behind the security fence, Red and I, building up to the big break-in.
Red hefted the frying pans.
‘I’m trying to get away from this kind of life, Half Moon,’ he said, looking like a black fish inside his balaclava.
‘I know, Red, but we have to do this. Our giant is still out there.’
‘It’s very early for breaking and entering. Papa says don’t go in until the nightclubs are closed. You never know who’ll be walking home.’
‘We can’t wait. Someone could get hurt.’
Red sighed. ‘I’m not used to worrying about people outside the family.’
He passed the frying pans through the fence, then clambered over.
‘Tell me what the pans are for,’ I said through the bars, hoping this was not a view I would soon be getting accustomed to.
Red grinned, and his teeth shone from the blackness.
‘You just come in when you hear my whistle.’ Then he closed his mouth and disappeared.
I felt suddenly alone, mainly because I was suddenly alone. But it was more than that. I was about to cross the line between bold and bad. If I actually participated in a break-in, my face would become another mugshot destined for a police file. There was nothing I could do about it now. I had to get into