Enemy Match Chapter 9

Enemy Match 

Chapter 9

Aaargh! I cried out. Marcus turned and ran off. Blood poured from my already sore nose. I was almost sure my nose was broken at this point!

I tried to run after him but the pain was too much. He soon disappeared from view. We’ll catch him later, I muttered as I turned around and headed back to Detmar’s apartment building.

Manheim was waiting in the lobby for me. She saw my nose—and the blood, and came out to meet me. Oh, Justin, she said soothingly. What happened?

Bricker slugged me, I said as blood continued to pour from my nose. Manheim went inside and returned a minute later with some paper towel which I held up to my face.

Thanks, I spluttered and she nodded. I’ll put out a warrant for Mr. Bricker. This was an assault.

She made the call then turned back to me. Detmar isn’t here—at least he’s not answering his buzzer. I was about to call the superintendent to let me in and try his apartment door. Are you OK? You want to go to a clinic to get that looked at.

No, I muttered. I’ll be OK, once this stops bleeding.

Canning pulled up a few minutes later in his own cruiser, and came into the building. He was shocked when he saw my bloody nose. He looked at Manheim. Did this guy get out of hand and you had to slug him? Canning asked.

Manheim just tsked and rolled her eyes.

Marcus Bricker did this a few minutes, just out front, I said, moving the paper towel away from my face. The bleeding had stopped but the blood was crusted on my nose and lips.

Yeah, I got the call, Canning said. Look, I’m sorry Justin, he remarked. This isn’t funny. I’ll go after Bricker. Are you going to see Detmar now, he added.

He’s not home, Manheim reported. At least he’s not answering. I was just about to call the super to let us in and try Detmar’s door.

Good, Canning said. I’ll be back soon.

He left the building and headed back to his cruiser. I followed Manheim into the building as she was successful in getting the superintendent, a Mrs. Bridge, to open the door.

 She met us in the hallway, an older woman with frizzy white hair and thick glasses perched precariously on the end of her nose.

Oh, Officer, she said in a high whiny voice. I don’t think Mr. Detmar is here.

Did you see him leave? Manheim asked.

He didn’t return last night—at all.

Do you know a Marcus Bricker? I asked and she looked at me and my bloodied nose and blinked through her thick specs.

No, she said. He doesn’t live in the building. I know all my tenants. Mr. Detmar is a teacher over at the high school.

Yes, we know, I said ruefully. He’s my gym coach.

She blinked at me again but didn’t say anything further. I followed Manheim down the corridor to apartment 108 where she proceeded to knock. Mrs. Bridge followed us as she didn’t want to miss anything exciting happening with one of her tenants.

Manheim listened at the door but it was quiet. If he’s in there, he’s not making any noise.

I told you he didn’t come back last night, Mrs. Bridge said with a sniff and pushed her glasses farther up her nose.

Very well, Mrs. Bridge, Manheim replied. Will you give us a call if Mr. Detmar returns. I’m sure  you’ll know when that is, she added with a sigh.

Mrs. Bridge nodded then shuffled back down the hall to her own apartment.

OK, we’ll look for Mr. Detmar. Let’s see if Paul got a hold of Mr. Bricker first.

I followed Officer Manheim back to the street. She got into the cruiser and radioed back to headquarters and learned that Bricker had been located and was being brought to the station at that moment.

I’m sure you want to make an assault charge? Manheim remarked as she started up the engine and I nodded. I headed to my SUV and followed her downtown to police headquarters.

I waited in the waiting area out front until they were ready for me. It was quiet as it was Sunday morning barely past 9 am. My mind was spinning with the developments—Jake’s car stolen and Detmar missing. He could have a good explanation for his whereabouts but I still thought he was involved in this mystery somehow.

And why did Marcus slug me? Man, my nose really hurt. It was burning now and the blood was dried and crusted. A little was splattered on my t-shirt. I shook my head in frustration.

Justin, come on back, Manheim called a few minutes later.

I followed her back to the conference room where Bricker was seated at a table with Canning seated across from him.

Bricker has some interesting information, Canning said as I entered the room and glared at Marcus, who averted his eyes. I plopped down next to him and tapped him on the shoulder. Hey Marcus, I said. Why’d you hit me, dude?

Marcus didn’t turn to look at me but remained silent

Not now, Justin, Canning said. He turned to Marcus. Tell us what you told me earlier.

Marcus shook his head. A moment later he did something that totally shocked me. He started sobbing.

It was Detmar, he said with a racking sob. He did it! He told me, I swear.

Do what, son? Canning said.

The poison, he blurted. I’m sorry.

Detmar poisoned Courtney Clubine’s water bottle? I asked incredulously. But why?

Marcus didn’t respond.

I turned to Canning. You have proof of this?

No, Canning said with a sigh. But if he says Detmar did it—then I have to investigate it further. I’m holding him here for the assault, though.

Marcus sobbed again—it was pitiful watching star basketball player crying like a baby. Pathetic was a better word. Look, I’m not callous or anything but this guy was lying.

Detmar didn’t really do it, did he?

Marcus turned to me and winced when he saw my nose. Yeah, he did—it, he sobbed. He hates Daryl Peters, and so do I,  I told you that already. In the parking lot of the hospital. He’s the star player and I’m nothing. I wanted him out of the picture. I was going in to the hospital to hurt him again. But I chickened out when I saw you and your friends.

I figured something like that was going down, I muttered.  I turned back to Canning. I do believe that Marcus hates Daryl Peters and wanted him out of the picture, but someone hacked my Facebook account to issue the challenge to make Peters look like a fool. And someone stole Jake Prestwick’s car and nearly killed my buddy Raj. I don’t think Marcus or Detmar did those things. Or poison the water bottle. I turned back to Marcus. For what it’s worth, I think you’re lying.

Marcus didn’t respond.

We’ll have to keep him here anyway, Canning said. Until we can sort this out. We have to find Detmar and if he didn’t do it, any idea who did?

I just shook my head in frustration. An idea—but no proof.

Do you want to press charges for the assault? Canning asked. I took one look at Marcus sitting there staring off into space—looking pathetic.

No, I said finally. He’s in enough trouble. I tapped him on the shoulder but he didn’t look at me. Dude, I said. Just tell the truth about this stuff. Don’t cover for anyone, it’s not worth it. And—don’t hit me again or I’ll hit back—harder. Got it?

Marcus nodded but continued to stare ahead, blinking tears from his eyes.

I followed Canning out into the corridor and back to his small office at the end of the hall. It was a small room with a metal desk, a small filing cabinet and no windows.

So what’s your theory? Canning asked, sitting down again.

I just shook my head. I think Detmar might be involved, but I have no proof or no reason for why he would poison Peters. I don’t see a motive. But someone hacked into my Facebook account and messed it up and changed my password. They posted a bunch of tasteless pictures from the match with Daryl Peters.

Why would someone do that? Canning asked.

I don’t know, I said with a sigh. Someone wanted me to make Peters look like a fool. Which I did—but I also got the basketball team gunning for me and my friends. Someone framed Jake for hitting Raj off his bike last night. If you guys had arrested him then the team would have gone ballistic.

Jake looked like he was over it, Canning said. You were with him this morning.

Yeah, he came by my house and we had a “discussion”.

How did that go? Canning asked with a grin.

I think we’re on the same page now, I said. He claims he’s innocent and I believe him. Someone stole his car from the school—the auto shop that Detmar has access to. Detmar was also at the match and could have taken the pictures—he wasn’t in any of them.  Not sure if he’s good at computer hacking.

Well, I might be able to help you on that score. Detmar is not a computer whiz but Carlton DeVries the shop teacher, has a degree in computer science and he worked a number of jobs—including a computer company, before getting the position at PSC. We’re looking into it right now. In fact I was on my way to his house to see how the investigation is going. Why don’t you go home and rest—put something on your nose and I’ll let you know how we make out at DeVries place.

Could DeVries be behind this mess? But why? I don’t know him only to see him at school. But as you saw this morning at school, he doesn’t like me very much.

Canning nodded, but didn’t say anything further.

I thanked him and headed back out to the main reception area then out to my SUV. My nose was starting to really hurt, so I headed home. Mom was in the kitchen making breakfast and Raj was there as well as my younger sister, Kimmy.

Whoa! She blurted when she saw my face. What happened?

I plopped down at the table and poured a glass of orange juice. I had an altercation with Marcus Bricker, I remarked.

Oh, Justin, this has to stop, Mom said, coming to put her arm around me.

I’m fine, I blurted then sniffled. I drank my orange juice then reached for a slice of toast and slathered on peanut butter and honey. Mmmm—mm.

Are you—OK?, Raj said a moment later.

I’m fine, I said brightly. I get beat up twice in a week, by two different people, I get blamed for poisoning my enemy and his whole team now hates me and my best friend almost gets killed in a hit and run. Why wouldn’t I be fine? I’ve never been better. Why do you ask?

Raj remained silent—even Kimmy didn’t have a smart ass comeback. Look guys, I’m sorry. I’m just really tired. And my nose hurts—bad. I’m going back to bed—once I drive Raj home.

I can hang out here, Justin, he said. I don’t mind. You go have a rest and you can take me home later.

I nodded. Thanks, buddy, I said and he grinned.

I headed up to my bedroom and my head just hit the pillow when my cell phone rang. It was unknown caller but I answered it.

A rough voice was on the other end of the line.

“listen up, Macdonald”, the unfamiliar (male) voice rasped, “don’t stick your now broken nose into Prestwick and Peter’s business and don’t try to find me ‘cause if you do try, then next time your or one of your friends will be seriously hurt. Mistry got off lucky this time, but not next time. Got it?”

Who is this? I said, instantly alert now.

But whoever it was hung up.