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The mention of Lincoln High sent a ripple between Ella and Ripley, silent but perceptible. Ella held his gaze, probing deeper. ‘It's part of our investigation. We're looking into a series of crimes, and the victims all went to Lincoln High.’ Ella left the comment open-ended.
David's fingers stopped tapping the pen, and he let out a slow breath. ‘I know of them. Demi, Mark, Miles. I’ve heard their names.’
‘How so?’ Ripley asked. Ella kept a close watch on every visible inch, from his pale forehead to his feet pointing out from beneath his desk. There was a flicker of recognition at the mention of the victims’ names but no signs of suppressed rage.
‘I work at a newspaper,’ David said. ‘Our journalists are going crazy for the story.’
Ella nodded, absorbing the information while gauging his demeanor. ‘Did you have any personal interactions with them, back in high school or recently?’
David shifted uncomfortably in his seat before smoothing out the word search in front of him. 'No. I only remember Demi Hart, and she was in the grade below me. I don't remember the others.'
Ripley stepped closer. ‘Mr. Hargreaves, can you account for your whereabouts on the nights of the murders?’
David's face clouded with a mixture of incredulity and concern. ‘Me? You think I'm involved? Because I went to the same school as the victims?’
Ella maintained her composed demeanor, but David’s outburst at her accusation gnawed at her core. It was the reaction of a man airing on the side of innocence.
‘It's routine to ask these questions, Mr. Hargreaves. We need to verify the whereabouts of everyone connected to the victims or the crime scenes.’
‘I’m not connected to anything or anyone,’ he spat. The chair cracked under his weight. ‘I was here, in this office, working late. I often work late hours. It's quiet, and I find it easier to focus.’
Ella thought about it, then spotted a hole in his alibi. ‘Even on weekends?’ she asked.
‘Yes, even on weekends. The Insider has puzzles every day.’
‘And you were alone here, all three nights?’ Ella said. She didn’t mention the fourth victim for fear of the information reaching the journalists in the building.
‘Yes,’ David replied, his stare drifting momentarily to the dusty window before returning to the agents. ‘I know it doesn't sound ideal, but that's the truth. I'm often here alone at night. The cameras will catch me coming and going.’
Ella observed the room once more, taking in the stacks of puzzle books and the disarray of papers on the desk. ‘This obsession with puzzles, it's more than just a job for you, isn't it?’ she asked, her tone more curious than accusatory
‘Yes,’ David said with a note of pride. ‘Puzzles have always been a part of who I am, but why do you keep mentioning my games? What do they have to do with anything?’
Ripley interjected, ‘Did you ever use any of your puzzles to communicate with anyone, Mr. Hargreaves? Maybe in a way that only they would understand?’
David's expression turned quizzical. ‘No, nothing like that. My puzzles are for the newspaper, for entertainment.’
Ella reached into her pocket and pulled out photocopies of the riddles left at the crime scenes. She unfolded them and placed them on David's cluttered desk. ‘What about these, Mr. Hargreaves? Recognize them?’
David pulled them closer, speed-reading each one in seconds. Ella looked for any sign of recognition but saw only newfound joy, like a child being handed a shiny toy.
‘These are substitute ciphers, also known as Caeser ciphers. The answers are seven, thirteen and eighteen. You just adjust each letter by the corresponding number. I can translate them right now if…’
Ella scooped them back up before David had a chance to memorize any of the details. ‘We’ve already decoded them,’ Ella said.
‘I’m not surprised. They’re puzzles for children. You don’t see them anymore because they’re so easy to crack. I’d never design something like this.’
David's casual dismissal of the puzzles stung Ella right in the heart. It wasn't just the ease with which he solved them, but the nonchalance in his tone, as if to suggest that her efforts in decoding them were elementary.
‘Do you know anyone who might? Any other puzzle enthusiasts? Perhaps anyone you went to school with?’
‘No self-respecting game maker would craft a Caeser cipher these days. They’re a relic of simpler times. I haven’t actually seen one since I was a kid. And no, I don’t remember anyone from school as curious about puzzles as me.’
Ella peered over at Ripley as she felt their interview coming to a close. All signs pointed to David Hargreaves being a guiltless man. He had none of the telltale signs of a psychopath, and his lack of recognition at neither the victims’ names nor the puzzles spoke to his innocence. She folded the photocopies and slid them back into her pocket, fully aware she’d be leaving his office with more questions than answers.
‘Thank you, David,’ Ripley said. ‘We’ll be checking the camera footage to ascertain your alibi.’
David nodded, the tension in his shoulders relaxing slightly. ‘Of course. Whatever helps. I hope you find who you're looking for.’
