Enemy Match Chapter 6

Enemy Match 

Chapter 6

He might have been coming to see Daryl, or someone else and forgot something in his car, Van said.

I looked at Van. Do you really believe that?

Van just shrugged and looked away.

Come on, let’s go talk to Marcus. It’s high time I got acquainted with him.

Van and Raj followed me out into the bright sunshine. I noticed Marcus heading to a pick up truck at the back of the lot. I broke into a run to catch up with him.

He was tall and slim and had a blond brush cut. He was just getting into his pick up truck as I approached. He glared at me then broke into a grin as I went up to him.

Hey Marcus, I said. How’s it going? Here to see Daryl? You are Marcus Bricker, right?

Y-yeah, Justin, He stammered. Hey Van. Raj. How’s it going, he asked when they arrived.

Good, Marcus, Van said and Raj nodded.

I—ah—forgot I had—an appointment in a few minutes—Coach Detmar wants to see me—ah—about something. Say, everyone’s still talking about you trouncing Daryl yesterday, he went on. They’re also saying you poisoned his water. Not cool, Justin.

I didn’t poison his water, but someone did.

Oh? He asked, eyes widening.

Yeah, Daryl’s going to be OK, but he’s on a ventilator.

Marcus gulped. Really? That’s—not good.

No. Did you have something to do with it? I asked, trying to catch him off guard.

His face went pale. N-no of course not, Macdonald. Now leave me alone, I have to get to the school. Detmar’s waiting.

He went to pull the truck door but I held onto it.

Let go of the door, Macdonald, Marcus said, wrenching it from my grasp. It slammed shut with a bang. He started up the engine with a roar.

You’re acting awful suspicious, I blurted. Maybe I’ll go to the police, I said through the open truck window. I’ve already been accused I got nothing to lose—or to hide.

Marcus just stared ahead going even paler. He turned off the ignition and just sat in his truck, staring ahead.

You know something, don’t you?

He just shook his head. No, he said finally. Just leave me alone. I have to go. He started the truck up again and put it into reverse and pulled out of the spot.

He then stopped and pulled back into the spot and turned off the engine. He looked at me. You don’t understand, he said barely above a whisper. You don’t know what it’s like.

What “what” is like? I asked.

Being in that jerk’s shadow. No matter how hard I try he’s always better than me. I should be team captain and Coach Detmar had picked me until Peters went to him and changed his mind.

What are you confessing to? I asked. Did you put pesticide in Daryl’s water?

What?—no, he said, looking at me and shaking his head in confusion. What are you talking about?—someone put pesticide in his water? Whoa. I thought it was just a poison of some kind. Some kind of harmless stuff.

That’s what they’re saying, I said, glancing at Van and Raj. Why did you come to the hospital just now? I asked, turning back to Marcus.

I was going to have it out with Peters. I didn’t know he was unconscious, Marcus remarked. I was going to tell him I’m off the team. I can’t play on the team with him anymore. I don’t like him and don’t respect him any longer. He’s just a bully.

I looked at Van, then back at Marcus. Yeah, tell me about it. Finally someone sees him for who he really is.

Marcus just nodded. He doesn’t like you—at all, he added with a grin. In fact he hates you. He tells us guys to stay clear of you—like you’re some kind of fungus.

I’ve been called worse, I quipped.

Marcus was silent for a moment. I don’t know anything about pesticides in water, he said finally. I don’t like the guy either—any more but I wouldn’t go that far. Whoever did that is seriously messed up.

I exchanged glances with Van and Raj and nodded.

Do you really have an appointment with Detmar? I asked as he started up the truck again.

No, Marcus said sheepishly. But I do have to go.

OK. See you around then, I remarked.

Sure, he replied, then pulled out of the spot and drove off.

You don’t believe him, do you? Van asked.

No, not really. He was coming here to do more than talk to Peters, when he saw us he chickened out. But I don’t think he poisoned the water, though. He seemed surprised it was a pesticide used. I don’t know. It’s all messed up.

We headed to the mall for a little pre movie snack then went to the movie at 4. I actually enjoyed it despite everything that was going on.

Afterwards we headed to Billy Burger. We’re going to have to buy shares in this business, I quipped as we went in the entrance. We’re here enough. If any of us move out of town, Billy might be forced to declare bankruptcy.

Uh-oh, Van muttered as we went inside. Jake Prestwick was at a table in the back with a few guys from the basketball team. Marcus was with them.

We ordered and sat on the opposite side of the restaurant. Unfortunately it wasn’t going to be an uneventful visit. Jake approached our table just as we sat down.

Macdonald, what are you doing out of jail? Canning let you off, did he? Told you your old man got some pull with the local police.

He let me off because I’m not guilty, I said evenly.

Yeah, well, me and the guys don’t think so. We think you had something to do with it. I’d watch my back if I were you. Take that as a warning, he muttered then moved off.

Sheesh, you can’t go anywhere without those guys showing up and getting in your face, Van said, taking a bite of his Ginormous Bacon Cheeseburger.

Yeah, it seems worse than ever—the harassment, I said. Almost like—I don’t know I’m talking stupid.

Won’t be the first time, Van muttered, not missing a beat.

I turned to Raj. Why do I take abuse from this guy, hunh? I said pointing to Van.

I do not know, Justin, Raj said, wiping ketchup off his moustache. Because you like to suffer?

I do a lot of that, I mumbled.

But you do have a point, Van said, slopping Billy sauce again, but this time it landed on a napkin that he had wisely tucked into his t-shirt collar. Now that you’ve beaten Peters, his whole crew has stepped up the harassment. It is worse. You can’t go anywhere without one of these guys accusing you of harming their fearless leader. That Prestwick is going to lose his cool—well he already has, at school.

Almost like it was orchestrated. I wonder if that’s what this is all about.

What do you mean, Justin?, Raj asked.

I—don’t know, Van said, shaking his head. It’s a bit of a stretch. You think someone is putting fuel on this feud you’ve had with Peters for, what—years now?

If someone had something to gain by it, then yes, I do.

But who would have something to gain, Van replied.

It was my turn to shake my head. I don’t know—that’s the problem.

Under the withering glare of Jake Prestwick and his teammates, we left the restaurant around 8 pm. My face was starting to hurt so I decided to call it a night.

Thanks, guys, I said. You cheered me up as usual. I can always count on you.

You’re welcome, Van said and Raj nodded. Now get some rest and we’ll talk tomorrow.

I drove Van home, then Raj, then headed home myself. The lights were on in Matt’s apartment over the garage, but I was beat so I didn’t stop by his place. It had been a long couple of days and I was still in pain.

I headed up to my room and booted up my laptop to check my emails and Facebook. I was still deliberating whether to delete my account. Someone had hacked it and who knew what else they would post on there.

I didn’t have long to find out. My cell phone rang just as I was trying to log in with my password. It was Raj.

Did you see your Facebook status, he said as soon as I answered.

No, why? I was just about to check it.

Take a look, he said.

I tried my password three times but it didn’t work. I can’t log in, I muttered. I was able to a few hours ago. Now, someone’s changed the password. What’s on there, I said, not wanting to hear any more bad news.

Its not good, he said. You basically called the whole basketball team a bunch of losers and you without their leader—Daryl, that they wouldn’t win any games. You sounded very—how is it pronounced—arrogant. That is not like you, Justin, he added.

Great, I muttered.

There’s also a photo of you being congratulated at the school gym and a photo of Daryl on the ground, unconscious.

Whoa! That’s crazy. Those guys are going to be really pissed at me now. Especially Jake Prestwick. OK, can I come over to your place?

I could come over there, Justin, Raj suggested. I will bring my laptop then you can check out your page. I know you are not feeling the best, so this will save you a trip.

You’re my favourite friend, you know that, right?

Raj just laughed. I will be there in about half an hour.

You sure, it’s pretty late, I said checking my watch. It was almost 11 pm. But it was Saturday which meant no school tomorrow.

That is no problem, Justin, Raj said. I am not tired and I want to get a good workout on my bike that I just bought.

You bought a new bike?

Yes, he said. I will show it to you when I get there. It is really a nice bike. Very expensive too, he added. I had to save for months to get it.

That sounds great, buddy, see you in a bit. I hung up and tried to log in again but no avail. Someone had hacked into my account, posted pictures to taunt the rest of the basketball team. And changed my password. Someone who knew about computer hacking.

Whoever had taken the pictures had been there at the gym for the match. I pulled piece of paper from my desk drawer and started to make a list of everyone I could remember who was there on Friday night. Some of the people in the stands I didn’t know, but I knew most of the people.

I crossed out Van, Melissa and Reed as they didn’t take any pictures and they wouldn’t take one of Daryl on the ground.

Marcus Bricker was there as were a bunch of Jake Prestwick’s other teammates. I think his sister Jori was there as well.

So why taunt the team? I had supposedly taunted Daryl Peters into a match, then won the unwinnable match. But someone had put pesticide in the water bottle. That was just mean. Really mean. Well, actually it was pretty sick—and dangerous.

Now the basketball team and Jake Prestwick in particular would be gunning for me. Losing his cool—again.

But again—why? Who could possibly benefit from the team hating me? They already did hate me—because of Daryl’s influence. Or was it not me at all, but just someone getting the team to fall apart?

It was all confusing. Hopefully when Raj showed me the pictures, I would get a clue as to who had taken them.

A half hour had passed and Raj still hadn’t arrived. It usually took him 20 minutes by bike. Maybe he stopped by a store to get something on the way. 40 minutes and still no sign of him. It was nearly midnight. I went downstairs and out onto the front lawn. I peered up the street and saw someone walking along the sidewalk, pushing a bike. Was that Raj?

Sure enough, a few minutes later the figure came into view. It was Raj and he was limping. I walked down to meet him.

What happened? I said, noticing his left knee was bleeding.

He looked at me with a pained expression. Someone hit me while I was riding the bike, he muttered between gritted teeth.

Oh, no! I blurted. Are you OK? Did you see who it was?

No—I mean Yes, I’m OK, now, he said. They didn’t stop but I know who it was who hit me. It was your friend, Jake Prestwick.

Enemy Match Chapter 5

Enemy Match

Chapter 5

The ride to Police Headquarters was a short distance but the trip seemed to take forever. Once inside I followed Paul back to one of the interrogation rooms.

Seated inside were Courtney Clubine and Jake Prestwick and they didn’t look happy. They really didn’t look happy when I walked into the room.

Jake just glared at me and Courtney sneered. At least I was getting some kind of reaction out of them.

Canning left the room and said he would be back in a few minutes.

You spiked my water bottle? Courtney said, turning to me. What kind of an idiot are you, Macdonald. Thanks to you the police come by my house and bring me in for questioning.

Yeah, Jake said. You’re in a lot of trouble now. How’s your old man going to handle this. He turned to Courtney. His old man will get him off somehow—the Macdonalds fall into a mud puddle and come out clean.

That’s not true, I blurted. You know that isn’t true. My dad will be furious—but I’m not guilty of anything.

Sure, Jake said, turning away.

Is that what you think? I asked glancing between Courtney and Jake. You think because of who my dad is, that I get away with stuff?

The whole school thinks so, Courtney muttered.

I doubt that, I retorted. But you guys all think that.

Jake nodded.

Because Daryl told you. Daryl never liked me since day one of high school when I didn’t put up with any of his crap. I was just standing up to him—a bully. That’s all he is.

Jake just bit his lower lip but didn’t respond.

You guys gotta get a mind of your own. You can’t take everything that jerk says, he’s got it in for me and will say anything to get back at me. He’s turned you all against me and my friends when he’s the real villain. You just can’t see it.

He’s not a jerk, Jake spat. You’re the jerk, Macdonald.

OK, Gentlemen,  Miss Clubine. Canning said coming back into the room. Enough banter. Now Justin, you phoned me last night about a certain water bottle—.

You called it in? Courtney said. Should have known. I thought it was your girlfriend.

Yes, I said to Canning, ignoring Courtney. I remembered seeing it at the match and Daryl was fine—ahem, relatively speaking, until he was drinking from it then he seemed to get sick.

Well, he did get very sick. There was a trace of a poison in Ms. Clubine’s water bottle. She claims she knows nothing about it.

That’s right. Why would I put poison in my water bottle. I love Daryl, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.

I rolled my eyes. OK, I said. I believe you.

What!? She blurted.

You’re not smart enough to know about what poison would be the most effective. So I don’t think you poisoned the bottle. I mean it would be pretty dumb to tamper with your own bottle—or very smart—which you aren’t.

She tsked loudly and looked away. She knew I was right, but also couldn’t figure out if I just insulted her or not. She and Daryl belonged with each other, that was for sure.

I turned to Paul. Why do you think I’m involved. I don’t know much about poisons. Well not a lot. We had a module on it in Science class a few weeks ago.

Canning pulled a paper from a file folder and passed it to me. On it was a chemistry test from a few weeks ago. It was on poisons. It was my chemistry test.

How did you get this? I said, looking up at Paul.

We went to Mr. Murphy and asked for it. We got a tip that your class just finished a module on poisons and that you aced the test. That one listed next to last. Malathion—a pesticide.

Yes, I said, getting a lump in my throat.

There were mild traces of this pesticide in Mr. Peter’s lungs. It wasn’t enough to cause any serious long term effects, but he will be on a ventilator for a few days.

I put the test down on the desk and looked at Paul. You—think I did this? How—?

Well, no, Justin, he said with a sigh. Of course not, but the signs all point to you or someone you know. Only you and one other person in your class got that question about Malathion correct. But I honestly don’t think you did it because I know you—.

See! Jake blurted. He’s guilty but you don’t suspect him. It’s not fair. And you wonder why we don’t like you, Macdonald.

I glared at Jake. I didn’t do it, but someone is doing a nice job of framing me for it, I remarked. Anyone in that class could have known about the pesticide from the module. And besides, what would I possibly have to gain by hurting Peters. I might think he’s a first class jerk, but I wouldn’t intentionally harm him. Not like this anyway. I’m not cruel.

Courtney just rolled her eyes.

But, I might give him what you gave me, I added, gingerly touching my nose. But that’s about the extent. You guys want to know something. I could care less about trying to hurt Daryl. I wouldn’t waste my time on him.

Courtney and Jake looked at me a little surprised.  

Look, I’m sorry he’s in the hospital but you have to believe me it wasn’t me who put the poison in Courtney’s water bottle. I don’t know who did, but I’m going to find out.

We need to talk to you, Justin, Canning said. Alone. You two can go now I’ve called your parents and they are on their way, he said, looking at Jake and Courtney.

They got up silently and left the room without looking at me.

I turned to Paul. I’m glad you don’t think I had anything to do with this.

Well, I didn’t say that, Canning remarked. I know you, Justin and I’ve known your family for years—your dad and I are friends, but I can’t ignore the evidence. If you tell me you’re not responsible, I believe you, Justin, but only because of who you are. But you have to see my side. I don’t have any other suspects at this point. The police will continue to investigate of course, but I’m sure you’re already hard at work trying to find the culprits?

Yes, I said. You know me.

I do, Canning said, softening a bit. But please don’t get into any more fights—and stay clear of Daryl and his group.

Don’t worry, I will, I said. And I’ll get to the bottom of this.

The filing didn’t get done, but Dad understood. I spoke with him briefly after returning to the lab. He left with Matt around noon and I headed home, leaving Toby working in the lab. It mystified me as to what their case was and why it was so secret, but they would tell me about when they could.

I got home to find Van’s beater of a car parked out front and Van and Raj sitting on patio chairs in the back yard.

So someone sprung you from the pen, Van muttered.

Yeah, something like that, I said. What are you goofballs doing here. Sure you want to be around me today? After the way I talked to you last night.

Well, I didn’t want to come, but Raj talked me into it, Van said with a straight face.

Raj turned to Van as if to say something but Van held up his hand. Don’t say it, he added, glaring at Raj.

I just shook my head. Very well, you boneheads, what’s up?

We came to cheer you up, Justin, Raj said. You need cheering up!

You’re right about that. But until I find out who’s making my life a misery, then I won’t be in a good mood. I explained to Raj and Van about the water bottle and the pesticide that was found.

Whoa! Van muttered. That’s serious.

You’re not kidding, buddy, I said. Someone’s trying to get on my bad side. And someone else must hate Daryl Peters as much as me. Problem is I have no idea who—or why.

That Prestwick is some piece of work, Van remarked. He’s only been in town a few months and already he’s Daryl Peter’s lap dog. Co-captain of the basketball team already when Marcus Bricker was gunning for the position.

Who? I asked. I don’t know Marcus. Was he was at the match the other night? If he was, he’s probably one of the ones who wanted to punch me out.

Yeah, he was there but you wouldn’t know him, would you, Van said. He’s a—.

Jock, yeah, I know, I said ruefully. You know, Van, we are all humans. We all breathe the same air. We can interact once in a while—jocks and non jocks.

Yeah but—

Never mind, Van, I’m only kidding. Come on, what was your plan to cheer me up. Weekend trip to Vegas?

That’s a little over our budget, Van remarked. How about the movies? There’s the new Tomb Thief movie out.

Sure, I said. But first I want to visit the hospital. See how Daryl is doing. I don’t like him—sure, but I wouldn’t harm him. I want to see if he’s OK.

Are you sure that’s a good idea? Van said cautiously.

Not really, but I have to make a show of concern—it might help my case with Peter’s gang.

Van and Raj exchanged glances. OK, but the movie starts at 4 so we have about an hour—then we’ll take you to Billy Burger—our treat.

Sounds good, guys, I said. Come on we’ll take my SUV.

Twenty minutes later we were at Port Salser Hospital, located down by the lake. It was a new facility and was a two storey structure with a lot of windows.

I parked and we headed to the entrance.

Uh-oh, I muttered as we reached the front doors. Daryl Peter’s father, Howard was coming out. He was even more unpleasant than his son and I wasn’t ready for an altercation with him. He was tall and had blond hair like his son and looked like he had been an athlete in his  younger days—but he had let himself get out of shape over the intervening years.

You, he roared coming at me. What are you doing here? He spat reaching me and putting out his hand in a fist. Was he going to hit me?

Whoa! Mr. Peters, I said. Hold on.

What are you doing here, he growled again.

This is a hospital, a public place. I’m visiting someone.

You stay away from my son. You almost killed him. The police were stupid to let you off. I’m going there now to complain. This is an outrage!

Wait, I said, putting up my hands. I didn’t harm your son. Sure I don’t like him but I wouldn’t poison him, I swear. But I will find out who is responsible.

Why would you do that?, he said, taken aback.

Because contrary to popular opinion, I’m not a total creep. This was a nasty thing to do to him—even I will admit that. In fact, whoever did I should be arrested.

Why are you here, then? He asked.

I just wanted to see if Daryl was OK.

Leave him alone, you’ve done enough, Howard growled and pushed past me to go to his car.

Well, that went well, I muttered as I walked into the hospital, Van and Raj following me inside.

I inquired at the front desk and we learned that Daryl was on the third floor but wasn’t receiving visitors as he was still unconscious.

We can’t give out patient information without the family’s consent, the nurse on duty reported. And Howard Peters  does not want to give out any information about his son.

That’s fine, I said then turned to Van and Raj.

Happy now?, Van said. Come on, let’s go. This place gives me the creeps.

I turned around and we headed to the exit. Someone  vaguely familiar was coming into the hospital. Someone from school. The person glanced up and when they saw us, turned back around and headed out of the building.

Who was that? I asked.

That looked like Marcus Bricker, Van said. He’s one of Jake Prestwick’s and Daryl’s friends. The guy we were just talking about back at your place.

When he saw me—us, he changed his mind about coming in here. I wonder why?

Enemy Match Chapter 4

Enemy Match

Chapter 4

Who would go to all that trouble? Van asked. I mean why would someone want him to fail. A jealous teammate—someone on his team who wants his spot as captain of the team.

There are other ways of doing that, I remarked. I don’t know maybe, but I really have no idea.

It must be someone who knows your total dislike of the dude, Van said taking a bite of his Ginormous Bacon Cheeseburger and slopping some Billy Sauce (ketchup + secret ingredient) on his shirt. Ah, nuts, he muttered.

Yeah, I said as I pondered the day’s events. Anyone at Port Salser Collegiate knows I don’t like him. Someone wanted Peters to look like a fool—hey I’m president of that club, I added, but I didn’t issue the challenge and I didn’t poison the water—that must be what made him sick. He was fine—well that’s a relative term—before the match. It was only after drinking Courtney’s water that he got sick.

Could it be Courtney? Raj asked. They are boyfriend and girlfriend, are they not? Maybe he broke up with her and she’s getting revenge.

They seemed awful chummy at the match and she was giving him her water. Honestly I don’t think she’s capable of doing something like this. Someone hacked into my Facebook account—which reminds me I have to check it and see if there are any more nasty surprises on there—and I don’t mean pix of our last camping trip, I added with a laugh.

I pulled out my phone and accessed the app. The usual stuff was there along with the challenge to Peters. There was the post that all my friends would see then there was the direct message to Peters account. I wasn’t a friend of Peters but it looked like we had a mutual friend.

Which one of you guys is friends with Peters, I said looking up from my phone.

Everyone shrugged.

It says I have one mutual friend, I muttered. I clicked on the button and revealed that Jake Prestwick was a mutual friend.

But Jake Prestwick wasn’t my friend either.

Well, he was now.

Guys, I said. Whoever hacked into my account made me friends with Jake Prestwick.

You’re kidding, Van remarked. Prestwick accepted your friend request?

I glared at Van. Why is that such a surprise? I muttered.

Didn’t mean anything by it, Van said with a sheepish grin. It’s just that Prestwick’s a jock and you—well you’re not. Didn’t think he even knew you existed—until today.

Thanks Van, I retorted. You know what? You’re no longer president of my fan club. That’s it—I’m finding someone else.

You have a fan club?, Raj said, taking a sip of his shake. Cool.

Yeah, I said ruefully. And it’s losing members by the minute.

Melissa spoke up at that moment. You had a bad day—but we are still your friends—always will be.

I know and I’m sorry guys, I don’t mean to be a jerk.

That’s OK, buddy, Raj said with a grin and I nodded at him.

I turned to Van. I’m sorry I snapped at you, dude. You can still be the president of my fan club again if you want.

Van shook his head and proceeded to finish his burger.

Listen, it’s been a bad day—well except when I beat Peters at basketball—but my nose is really sore and I’m really tired. I’m going to leave. You guys stay if you want. Again I’m sorry if I was rude to you guys. You guys are the best, you know that right?

They all nodded as I got up and left the table. Melissa came up behind me as I went out the door. Can you give me a ride home?

I smiled at her. Of course, I said. But wouldn’t you rather hang out with the gang. They’d be a lot more fun than me.

She just shook her head. No I’d rather be with you. After all, you’re the guy who trounced Daryl Peters at basketball. I’m just trying to bask in your glory just a bit.

A half hour later, after dropping Melissa off at her home I arrived back at my house on Ravine Rd. It was a two story nondescript home with a circular driveway out front and a small garage off to the side that housed a small apartment over the main garage.

The lights were on in the apartment so I knew Matt would be home.

Matt Logan was a young guy, about 30,  who worked as an operative for dad and was going for his PI license. We had met a while back when I solved a mystery for him while Van and I were camping at Catfish Lake. He had been living in California, but had recently moved back to Port Salser after his wife had been killed in a car accident. He had no job when he arrived, but Dad gave him a part time job at his crime lab, and Matt moved quickly up the ranks to operative.

I headed towards the house as it was getting late, but I saw Matt leaving his apartment and headed over to talk to him.

Justin? He asked when he saw me. How’re you doing, buddy?

Good, Matt, where are you off to? He was dressed in dress pants and dress shirt and tie. His short red hair was combed neatly and he had shaved, his after shave wafting in the air.

Got a meeting downtown with your Dad, he said

This time of night?

We’re meeting a client who just flew in from Vancouver. Real  urgent business. Listen, I can’t talk now, but we’ll talk tomorrow?

Sure, I said, then headed into the house.

My mom was seated at the dining room table,  working on her laptop. My younger sister Kimmy, who was 12, had already gone to bed.

Oh, Mom said when she saw my swollen nose. What happened?

I told her about the showdown with Daryl Peters and how he was now in the hospital. I also mentioned my theory and that I had spoken to Paul Canning already.

That’s good. I think the police should be involved. But that wasn’t right what Jake Prestwick did to you.

I did provoke him—just a little, I remarked. But he’s been suspended from school for 2 days. At least Principal Anderson sided with me.

I’m a little concerned about someone hacking into your account, though, Justin. Maybe you should go off Facebook for a while.

Yeah, I thought about that, but if someone wants to stir up trouble there are other ways to go about it and that’s what worries me. I have no idea who did this—or why.

The next day was Saturday—the day I worked in the lab for Dad. Recently Dad had set up a crime lab in downtown Port Salser. Dad had an office there—as did Matt Logan now. As well, Dad employed 2 grad students who helped him sift through evidence that he had collected from his cases. The police also used the lab from time to time when theirs was inadequate for the task.

It also sported a very powerful computer—we nicknamed it Bessie, I mean this thing was state of the art, with access to databases from many police forces around Canada and the world.

One of the grad students, Toby Gellart was in the main lab when I arrived at 9. Dad had some paperwork he needed me to file and to log into Bessie.

Toby was from Trinidad and was tall and slim and liked to go for the outrageous colours of clothing. Today was no exception. His hair was braided in small braids all over his head  with coloured beads at the tips. He had a bright orange oversized t-shirt and orange basketball shorts and neon white high top sneakers. A diamond stud earring gleamed from each earlobe as well.

Hey, Justin, my man, he said in his Caribbean lilt as I entered the lab. He pulled off goggles, took off his rubber gloves and shook my hand.

Toby, how’s it going?

I’m good. But you don’t look so good, he tsked as he surveyed my face. My nose had shrunk overnight but now my face had a yellow greenish tinge to it. What happened, my man?

I related again about the basketball game and the subsequent fight with Jake Prestwick. Toby looked impressed.

What are you working on for Dad? I asked surveying the lab table.

Big secret, Toby said, eyes wide. He put his finger to his lips as well. Very deep secret. Matthew is in his office working on something. He’s waiting for my results, so I can’t talk long, sorry, my man.

No worries, Toby. I’ll see you around.

Toby nodded and put back on his gloves and goggles and got back to work. I headed to Matt’s office to see if I could help him with anything. Filing was a pretty boring job but dad said “you have to start with the grunt work and work your way up the ladder”.

Yeah, OK. I thought as I knocked on Matt’s open door.

He was on the phone and waved me in when he saw me. He hung up a moment later.

What’s up, buddy, he said as I sat down in front of his small desk. Papers littered the top and there was a small box on the corner of the desk, the top flaps were open. I tried peeking inside, but Matt moved to close the top flap.

I’m here to do some filing and logging some stuff on Bessie for Dad and wondered it you needed any help with your case?

Matt smiled. Filing’s boring and you’re hoping I’ll let slip some information about the case your Dad and I are working on? You’d like to help, wouldn’t you?

Yeah, you know me too well, I muttered. Well, OK, filing it is.

Sorry, Justin, he said with a grin. Not this time—but once I’m able to say anything you’ll be the first to know.

I got up dejectedly and headed out into the hallway. Toby’s been sworn to secrecy as well, Matt called out.

Yeah, I know, I muttered. Already tried that.

My “office” was at the back of the lab next to the small kitchenette. It was barely big enough for a desk and a chair and a small filing cabinet that held mostly empty file folders. I had tried to keep notes about some of my cases but with schoolwork I didn’t have time. Oh well, there was always next week.

I booted up my laptop and checked a few things—namely my Facebook account. It looked normal until I went into my photos.

Wait! What was that? I said, sitting up in my chair. One of the pictures was a pink water bottle!

That was the water bottle Courtney Clubine had at the school gym. The one she was giving Daryl to drink from.

Why would it be in my list of pictures? Whoever hacked into my account must have logged that photo.

But why? To freak me out? It was working.

A commotion in the corridor caught my attention. A moment later Paul Canning was standing at my door.

Officer Canning? I said. What’s up?

He looked grim as he walked in and stood in front of my desk. Bad news I’m afraid, he said. We need you to come downtown to Police Headquarters.

You found some information on the pink water bottle? I asked getting up from my chair.

Yes, Canning said.

What is it? Can’t you tell me here?

No, he said. We found some evidence that we need to discuss downtown.

I laughed nervously. You’re freaking me out Paul. What’s going on.

The evidence links someone to poisoning Daryl Peters.

Who is it?

I’m afraid it’s you.