Page 5 of M for Murder

‘If you people don’t believe me, go down there and check it out.’ The man stared first at Vic and then at Rebecca, his eyes full of fear, his skin pale and sickly. ‘Like it or not, you people have got a real problem on your hands. There’s a dead body floating around in the sewer and I don’t think it got there by accident.’

2

T he hole was dark and bottomless. A stale smell rose through the air and, deep below, the sound of rushing water could be heard. Not that it could really be called water. It was more a kind of acidic, gungy substance, splashing against the walls, waiting to devour.

They didn’t want to go down there. None of them did. But someone had to.

As the fat, greasy, pizza-covered fingers delved deep into the cardboard carton, the fries tried to back away, burrowing deep into the box. Two weren’t quick enough to make an escape and, kicking and struggling to free themselves, they were carried through the air, their silent screams going unheard, towards the gaping black hole and the yellow crooked teeth that would crush them to pulp and then spit them down into the filthy sewer of his stomach.

Chad Mitchell finished reading and took a bow.

Many of the students in the room started clapping. A few of the guys whooped and several of them giggled. Justine Orton watched impassively from her desk at the front of the room, her head turned just enough to ensure she did not miss anything. She stole a quick glance at Mr Parker. He was leaning against the front of his desk, arms folded, eyes watching and the faintest hint of a smile upon his lips.

She wondered what was going on in his mind. Was he annoyed with Chad for trying to make a mockery of his class? Or did he, like the students, find the essay amusing? It was so difficult to tell what he was thinking. The mask of calm composure he wore never slipped and his black eyes seldom gave anything away. He just sat there, week after week, watching intently, his smouldering dark looks oozing sex appeal from every pore, like some Greek god.

Like Adonis. That was it. He was just like Adonis. Her Adonis. Justine watched as he nodded for Chad to sit down.

‘Very interesting, Mr Mitchell. And the title of your work?’

A wide grin spread across Chad’s face. ‘It’s called “Stu Hutchinson eats lunch”.’

More clapping and laughter from the students. Stu Hutchinson, a fat kid with a low IQ, sat at a desk on the other side of the room. He stood up, his face bright red, and pointed a chubby finger at Chad. ‘You’re dead, Mitchell. I’m gonna kick your ass.’

Chad didn’t bat an eyelid, even though at six foot four and over three hundred pounds, Stu dwarfed him. ‘It was a joke, man. Laugh.’

‘Me laugh? We’ll see who’s laughing when I kick–’

‘Sit down, Mr Hutchinson.’

All eyes turned to the front of the class.

Stu looked at Mr Parker, a little uncertain of whether or not he should obey. Justine guessed he probably didn’t want to look an idiot in front of the others. Mr Parker wasn’t angry. He didn’t get angry. He had this way of making people realise he was in charge. Even though his voice was calm, when he spoke it had authority.

Stu, deciding that he didn’t want to cause a scene, sat down. In the opposite corner of the room, Chad grinned triumphantly. He was the class clown and part of the college in-crowd: a raucous, egotistical group of students who drew great delight from tormenting others. There were twelve of them, seven guys and five girls. All of the guys liked to talk hard and act with their fists, usually together and usually on less confident, defenceless students. The girls were all catty and had a reputation as an easy lay.

Justine did not belong to the crowd and didn’t want to be part of it. She considered herself too mature to get involved with such petty individuals and had no desire to be known as just another notch on Chad Mitchell’s bedpost.

A little annoyed that Mr Parker seemed to be letting Chad off scot-free, she was pleased by his next comment.

‘Perhaps, Mr Mitchell, you would now like to give us an insight into how you eat lunch,’ he suggested, his black eyes fixed intently on Chad’s face.

Justine smiled; she had a feeling that this could prove interesting.

After fetching the squad car, Vic radioed for backup.

It took less than four minutes for a second car to arrive and, after handing over custody of the kid, he instructed the officers to get the sewage worker back to the precinct and take a full statement. The guy was still in shock and they hadn’t been able to get information that made any sense out of him, other than he had been separated from his co-workers and allegedly stumbled across a dead body.

Vic joined Angell by the manhole and shone his flashlight down into the darkness.

‘See anything?’ Angell asked.

‘Are you kidding? It’s blacker than soot down there.’ He screwed up his nose. ‘Stinks pretty bad too.’

‘Great.’

Vic clicked off his light and grinned. ‘Well, ladies first.’

Angell raised her eyebrows in surprise, looked as though she was about to say something, then evidently changing her mind, pulled out her own flashlight. As he watched her climb onto the ladder and disappear into the manhole, Vic’s grin spread. He had a feeling that he was going to like his new partner. Several of the guys in the department had complained when they’d thought they might be saddled with the hick in a dress. Vic, though, hadn’t minded. He had seen Rebecca Angell when she’d first arrived at the precinct and his mind had immediately gone into overdrive as he imagined what he’d like to do with her.