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I go to the window, checking the area for any signs of breaking and entering. No broken windows, no errant footprints. “Whoever took it must have had access to the school. Has anyone been in since break started?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Chrisley says. “I think security passes through once or twice and there’s probably a maintenance crew that works on any projects they can’t do while the kids are here…”
“So it’s likely someone stole it before the school was locked up for break,” I say.
Chrisley shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, it’s possible.”
I scan the science lab. All these tables forallthese students. Might be like finding a needle in a haystack. “Who would have been interested in a plastic skeleton?”
“Not plastic,” Constance corrects.
“What?” I ask.
Chrisley takes a step toward us. “The skeletons used in the science department are antiques and were purchased at the turn of the century when real skeletons were used for educational purposes.”
I rub my jaw. “A real skeleton, huh?”
Constance looks at me. I swear she’s about to smirk. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
I smile. “Might be.”
“Um, whatareyou thinking?” Mr. Chrisley asks.
“Well, you’ve probably heard about the skeleton found on the Wilhelm property,” I say.
“Been all over the news,” the science teacher says. His eyes bug out suddenly. “You don’t think?—”
Constance interjects, “I very much think it’s possible that the skeleton might mostly be Rodney. Maybe the thief couldn’t carry everything—stowed the extras under your desk and then…”
“Used bones from the museum to make up for the difference,” I offer.
Constance smiles. “Precisely.”
“Double the crime scene, double the fun.”
She rolls her eyes, but the smile remains.
“Would there be anything that makes Rodney unique, Mr. Chrisley?” I ask.
The teacher nods. “There are a few cosmetic flaws that I would be able to identify. Plus I have pictures from over the years. Your team could compare them.”
“I like the way you think,” I say, a far cry from the jealous guy I was a few minutes ago. “You’ve gotta have some cameras in here, right?”
Chrisley nods vehemently. “In the hallway, not the classroom. I can take you to the security room and you can take a look through the footage, if you like.”
“Yes, I’d very much like,” I reply.
Chrisley takes us to the security office where it seems no one is manning the desk.
“I think Harold’s next shift is Monday,” Chrisley says with a hapless laugh.
I move to sit in Harold’s chair. Constance does the same. We both hesitate, looking at each other nervously.
“You can—” I say, gesturing to the chair.
“No, you do it. I won’t know the first thing about it,” Constance argues.
“Seriously, I insist.” I’m clinging to my last gasp of gentlemanly conduct. Just because she told me we can’t doesn’t mean I don’t stillwant. And I’m committed to giving her every possible reason to cross the line again.
