The Book of Firsts

Sixteen

I’d been at the art facility peaceably working on my model for at least an hour before Sean and Natascha came excitedly in to tell the club members that the police were at the school.

"Lots of them," Sean said, eyes wide. "They’re searching for something around the administration building."

Anika, Carr, Lania and I all paused in the middle of our projects, and glanced at each other.

"Searching for something big, like a person, or small, like marijuana?" Carr asked, after a moment.

"That’s a very specific example, Carr," Sean said, distracted into teasing. "Guilty conscience?"

"A working memory," Carr replied. "Did you miss the reason for the no illegal activities on school grounds lectures we suffered through two years ago?"

"That was because of marijuana?

"They’re apparently looking under bushes and sifting through the rubbish bins, so not a person," Natascha said, her eyes on her phone. She was a bubbly, freckle-spattered girl whose voice had a tendency to squeak when she was excited. "Best guess so far is a gun."

"No ambulances?" Carr asked, apparently giving up on further work. He started to clean his brushes.

"Not so far."

Wondering if Kyou had remembered the motion sensor, I decided that my best option was to continue to build layers of topography for my architectural model. The rest of the Art Club spent their time viewing the forums and making wild guesses—at least until a teacher walked in with a uniformed police officer and a person who looked to belong to a forensics unit.

"Carlisle, does the art department have any larger brushes in stock? Not artist’s brushes, but the kind used for house painting?"

After a moment of complete blankness, Carr nodded. "We use them when prepping canvasses or doing theatre backdrops," he said. "There’s a box in the store room, and several below the workbench where we build stretchers."

"Can you show us, please?" the police officer said.

This was far too distracting, so I asked Lania to help me put my model back on top of the cupboard, and then we joined the small cluster of fellow club members in the far corner of the main room.

"Why paintbrushes?" Lania said, with complete confusion. "This doesn’t make any sense."

"Particularly scurrilous graffiti?" I suggested.

"What graffiti could possibly get this level of police response?" Sean was wavering between excitement and concern as he posted on the forums. "What is going on with this school this year?"

"You mean it’s not usually like this?" I asked.

Carr came back then, his expression very neutral. "They’re fingerprinting the store room," he told us. "But we don’t have to stay."

The initial response was outright incredulity, then Sean said: "Let’s go early to the Tokk."

The original plan for that Friday had been bowling, but it ended up with a horde of Corascur students—far more than the usual gathering—clustered in the sprawling mall/entertainment complex’s central atrium, speculating wildly while heating up the forums and chat network. We hadn’t even arrived before a photograph of Kyou leaving the school in a police car was circulated. From then on, the debate fell to whether he’d been arrested, or been the victim of another attack.

There wasn’t a lot I felt inclined to add to this, though I had to admit to appreciating an opportunity to listen to a rehash of the extended background of the Three Kings. Former girlfriends, likely enemies, and information about the Laurent-Beaulieu clan, and their shared great-grandfather, Arinn Laurent-Beaulieu. Kyou and Bran were descended from Arinn Laurent-Beaulieu’s twin daughters, while Rin was direct line from the oldest of three sons, and considered highly advantaged in a battle for favour between the descendants of the Great Man. Then the discussion wandered into whether Rin, Bran and Kyou were now secretly attacking each other in order to become heir apparent.

Deciding I’d had enough of gossip, I looked up bus timetables, waved to Lania and headed out, only to find Carr matching my steps.

"Need a lift?"

"If you’re heading in the same direction," I said, for I’d been feeling guilty about cadging rides repeatedly.

"I just want an excuse to not listen to this anymore."

I hesitated, then nodded, and followed him into the parking garage. Carr’s station wagon had a familiar scent of oil paint, and was thankfully quiet after the endless chatter of the Tokley Centre. I stayed silent as we drove, and I put aside gossip in favour of enjoying the approach to the Sunseeker Bridge during early dusk, and the glimpses of the nearly-complete HSR bridge.

"I hope that didn’t upset you," Carr said, as we started along the more boring drive down the main road to my apartment, which featured an endless strip of commercial buildings with no interesting highlights.

"Not really," I admitted. "None of the theories sound real to me. Competing for inheritance. Hidden sabotage. Given we’re dealing with real people, it’s probably something more sordid, not to mention not at all enjoyable for the people involved."

"The idea that Rin, Kyou and Bran are attacking each other is complete rubbish," Carr said calmly. "I don’t know what’s going on, but that will be the furthest thing from the truth."

"That just means there’s a complete unknown, but none of the suggestions sound at all credible. Would you drop a ton of props on someone just because they turned you down?"

"I’d hope not. Though it should be pointed out that I’m a suspect."

I glanced at him, but saw only a faint smile. "You are?"

"Didn’t you notice all the sideways looks I was getting this afternoon? Kyou and I have had a strained relationship for years. And I have access to paintbrushes, which is apparently quite a suspicious thing."

"Why do you and Kyou have bad blood?"

"Rivals. Always going after the same artistic prizes. Sometimes I win, sometimes he does."

"Is that a reason for a strained relationship?"

"Probably not. We used to be, well, friendly acquaintances, if not really friends. But he has such talent, and he treats it so lightly. His future plans are all about chasing money, instead of…of living up to himself. Besides, he loves to taunt me, and has a talent for getting under my skin."

"Thinking someone isn’t living up to themselves hardly seems a motive to me. You’re not also part of this Laurent clan, are you?"

He laughed. "No. Fortunately, since there genuinely is a battle for inheritance in that family. But I am wondering if I’m facing some awkward conversations in future."

Simple rivalry mightn’t be a motive, but I guess prize money could mean a great deal to Carr. I didn’t know what kind of background he had.

"You have an alibi, don’t you?" I said, hiding sudden doubt. "You were at the art department all afternoon. When did you arrive?"

"Halfway through lunch. But if it was another booby trap, alibis won’t count."

I relaxed. Unlike Carr, I knew he’d just completely eliminated himself from the group of suspects. I also thought his hands were larger than the one I saw.

My phone made a mrrping noise, another cat sound tied to the Cheshire app. I logged in and saw a message had arrived. Just three letters.

LSD.