Spring-Heeled Jack (7 page)

Atticus looked a bit
bewildered.

“
Let me prove it,” she said.
“Give me a page and paragraph. I can recite it perfectly. I
promise.”

He opened the book: page 64. Then he
picked a paragraph: third from the bottom. Atticus gave Camila the
info just like she asked.

She shut her eyes. It was silent for a
while, maybe twenty seconds or even a minute, but then Camila said,
“I could hear their feet rattling up our old stairs, so that the
house must have shook with it. Promptly afterwards, fresh sounds of
astonishment arose.”

Camila opened her eyes. “Want me to do
it again?”

Atticus looked down at the book and
read the passage. Sure enough, she had recited it word for word.
That’s not possible, he thought. Nobody is that good are
they?

Brock snagged the book from his
friend’s hands and read the paragraph.

“
How did you do that,” he
asked. “You couldn’t have studied that one line in hopes that
someone would pick it, would you?”

Camila giggled and said, “I told you.
I remember everything.”

“
That’s intimidating,” said
Atticus.

“
Well, everything I see,”
Camila said. She pulled out a notepad from her bag. “I can’t
remember everything I hear, so I’ll jot down whatever I need into
this notebook. Then I have something visual to help me.”

“
Well there you have it,”
Brock said. “An incredible memory. You can apply that into a lot of
jobs!”

“
Like what?”

Brock and Atticus looked at one
another and started throwing out careers that they thought Camila
would like:

“
Actor?”

“
Pharmacist?”

“
Lawyer?”

“
Historian?”

“
Cardsharp?”

“
Teacher?”

Camila laughed at all the suggestions.
It was sweet of them trying to help her. “Thank you boys, I think I
get the idea.”

“
Oh, a librarian!” Atticus
shouted. “You like books and reading, and librarians need good
memorization skills. You need to know which books are in and which
ones are checked out. You need to know where they are located, and
for students, you need to know what books could help them with
their school work.”

Camila smiled. “That’s not a bad idea.
Thank you, Atticus. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Atticus smiled back.

“
Now,” Camila said turning
to Brock, “what about you?”

“
Me? That’s easy,” he said.
“I’m going to be a psychologist. I want to help people whose
injuries are in their mind, not on their body.”

“
That’s very noble,” Camila
said. “Not what I expected at all.”

“
Really? What did you
expect?”

“
Circus clown,” Atticus
chimed in. “Maybe an attractive table leg.”

Camila began giggling uncontrollably
and nearly spit out her drink. Atticus couldn’t help but feel a
little proud of himself. He usually didn’t say things that made
people laugh. That was always Brock’s thing.

Brock glanced at Atticus and smiled.
“Y’know, I was really thinking about that that table leg position,
but I don’t get along with my coworkers. They’re a bit too stiff
for me.”

Camila continued to laugh. Her eyes
were tearing up and her face was turning a bright red.

“
But, I’m boring,” Brock
said. “Atticus is the really exciting one. He’s helping Detective
McCloud solve the murder of Mike Nelson.”

Atticus glared at him and whacked his
arm. Brock was laughing, but Atticus was not amused.

Camila’s giggling fit came to a stop
when she heard that. She wiped her eyes and all of her attention
turned to Atticus. “Really? But the police say Mike just committed
suicide.”

Atticus shook his head and said, “The
police are wrong. Both I and the detective know it.”

“
And you’re actually working
with him,” she asked.

Atticus nodded. “Yeah, I guess
so.”

“
That’s
incredible!”

Atticus smiled and felt blood rush to
his cheeks. However, talking about Mike suddenly got Atticus’ head
racing a million miles an hour. Thoughts and clues began rushing to
his head. He got to thinking about Mike’s last words: the ghost
haunting him. He thought about Professor Varnum vanishing from
class and the Nelson’s reaction to their son’s death. Somethings
would piece together, while others were still looming overhead. He
had to think of everything and how it all tied together. Like a
good puzzle, everything mattered. He just had to get the whole
story and to do that he had to start from the beginning.

Atticus shot up to his feet and said,
“Have them cancel my order. I need to go.”

He picked up his school bag and began
to head out, but Brock jumped up and cut him off. “Hey, what’s
going on.”

“
I’m looking at this all
wrong,” Atticus whispered.

Brock sighed and pulled him aside.
“What are you talking about?”

“
The puzzle pieces are
aligning in my head,” he said. “I’ve been too on edge. Now that I’m
more relaxed, it’s like all the fog in my head is gone.”

“
That’s great,” Brock said,
“but why not just do all this later?”

Atticus shook his head. “I’m sorry,
but I can’t lose this vibe. Detective’s instinct,
y’know.”

Atticus ran back to Camila. “I’m so
sorry, but I’m gonna have to-”

Camila raised her hand and shushed
him. She gave him a gentle smile and said, “It’s okay. You go do
what you need to.”

“
Thank you so much.” Atticus
smiled. “Why don’t we reschedule?”

“
That’d be wonderful. Why
don’t we talk about it after class tomorrow?”

Atticus nodded, a smile pasted to his
face, and then bolted out of the soda shoppe. He needed to head
back to Fortuna Prep as soon as possible. He knew it was rude, but
he didn’t think much of it. Besides, Brock understood the issue,
and Camila seemed okay. He had important questions that needed
answering, like how Varnum is connected to the Nelsons and why they
wanted their son murdered.

It was a pretty radical thought
Atticus had: The Nelsons hiring someone to murder their son and pin
it up as a suicide. It seemed crazy and horribly inhumane, but
Atticus couldn’t shake the feeling. Mike’s parents were going
through some tough times and maybe some tragic publicity was all
the needed to get themselves back on the map. But, then there was
Professor Varnum. How was he involved? Did he know the Nelsons? Was
he their inside source of information? He was new to the school, so
maybe the Nelsons snuck him in to keep an eye on their son. It
wasn’t a coincidence that he left class mere moments before Mike’s
body was found.

But he needed details. If Atticus
really wanted to be a detective, he would need to get evidence, and
that would mean doing some heavy duty investigating. Step one to
investigation: gathering information. How did one get information
on a school campus? Talking to other students. Sadly, talking with
other students was not a skill Atticus was particularly good
at.

Atticus urgently trudged his way to
the dorms. The first person he needed to talk with was Mike’s
roommate: Justin. Justin was a nice guy, but he was a bit too nice
for Atticus’ taste. He was the captain of the tennis club and a
member of the student council. He was preppy, popular, athletic,
and smart. All in all, he was a perfect student. However, all of
that being said, his and Atticus’ personalities clashed in all the
wrong ways. Atticus liked his alone time; Justin needed to be
around others and up in their business. Atticus liked to be quiet;
Justin loved to be loud and boisterous. But, the one thing the two
had in common was their love of gossip: Atticus loved listening and
Justin loved spreading.

It was around 6:30 when Atticus made
it to the dorms. Justin would’ve just finished up at tennis for the
day and he’d soon be going out with friends for the remainder of
the evening. Atticus had to catch him in that small window or else
he wouldn’t get a chance the rest of the night.

Atticus knocked on the door and it
took all of his will power not to do it to the tune of “Shave and a
Haircut.”

It took a minute, but Justin
eventually opened the door. “Whoa, Atticus. What’s up?”

Justin had slick and well-groomed
light brown hair and a strong slender face. He was handsome;
exactly what you’d expect from a popular preppy kid.

“
Hey Justin, I need to ask
you a few questions about Mike.”

“
Yeah,” he sighed,
“Mike.”

Justin and Mike weren’t close like
Atticus and Brock. The two just happened to get paired together,
but they were still friends. Mike was like Atticus when it came to
Justin: he was just too loud. But, the two still enjoyed the
other’s company every now and again.

“
Did you notice him acting
strange these past few days,” Atticus asked.

Mike shrugged. “I didn’t see him
outside the room too much, but it didn’t really seem out of the
ordinary.”

“
How about the day he
died?”

“
I mean; he was skipping
class but he just said he wasn’t feeling well.” Justin shrugged
again and said, “I stopped by for lunch to pick up my books for the
afternoon and he was gone. I assumed he made his way to class after
all. He did have that big history exam. I thought he went to
that.”

Atticus nodded. “Alright, one last
thing: Mike left behind what we assume to be a suicide note, but it
was ripped up when it was found. Do you have any ideas what was up
with that?”

Justin shook his head and said, “I’m
sorry, but I have no idea.”

Atticus sighed. “Okay, thank you for
your time.”

“
No problem.”

Atticus began to make his way down the
hall when Justin hollered, “Hey, I know it’s hard, but I think Mike
was just tired of everything. He couldn’t take the pressure
anymore.”

That wasn’t true. Atticus knew Mike
too well to think that this was self-inflicted. There had to have
been an outside force at work.

Atticus went through the rest of the
building, knocking on doors and asking more and more about Mike.
Sadly, most of the other students gave him answers similar to
Justin’s. Some of them claimed to know more, but their words were
just gossip and rumors that didn’t contribute much.

Okay, so he was a little closer, but
he still had to try and piece in Professor Varnum and Mike’s
parents. The police were already on the scene finishing up when he
arrived. He wasn’t sure how long the police had been at work, but
he guessed around twenty minutes. It would take the police around
ten minutes to respond to the call, so Atticus estimated the body
was found nearly half an hour or so before he stumbled across
it.

If that was the case, Atticus
concluded that the body was found mere minutes after he finished
his exam. If what Brock said was correct and the professor left
class a few minutes after Atticus was excused, he might not have
been the one to kill Mike, but he could’ve planted the body and
alerted the police.

Too many variables, Atticus thought.
Too many complications.

Atticus needed more pieces to the
puzzle, but he needed to find the right people who could give him
those pieces. Justin was an okay start, but he needed people who
could scrape up dirt on Varnum. He felt bad suspecting his
professor so much, but he couldn’t shake the feeling the man gave
him. He was shady, reclusive, and it always felt like he was hiding
something. He was the number one suspect.

Atticus made his way to the courtyard
and lied down on the campus fountain like he did after class. He
stared at the setting sun; its orange glow brightened the sky and
filled him with a sense of warmth. Now that it was starting to get
cold at night, the last little bit of sunlight was much
appreciated. It wasn’t extremely cold, but a nice chill. Sunrise
and sunset were Atticus’ favorite times of day. You didn’t need a
coat and you wouldn’t sweat. It was perfect.

As he stared at the glowing sky,
Atticus thought of all the good times he’d had at Fortuna Prep. He
remembered orientation, his first day of class, his first summer
break. He remembered the first time he’d met Brock. It was the day
after orientation and all of the students were being assigned their
dorms and roommates. You could request roommates if you wanted, but
Atticus didn’t know anybody, so his was picked at random. Luckily,
Brock was a good random.

Initially, Brock was very intimidated
by Atticus and how quiet he was. His nose was always stuck in a
book and very rarely did he speak. But, one night, Atticus got
terrible food poisoning. Brock was supposed to go out with some
friends, but he couldn’t leave Atticus alone. So he cancelled his
plans and stayed with him all night telling jokes, helping him get
to the bathroom when needed, and just talking. Ever since then, the
two were best friends. Atticus knew he could count on
Brock.