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Great Writing - Home > For Kids > MockingBird Nights. Part 2.2
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For Children
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| MockingBird Nights. Part 2.2 | |
| By TomtomKent | ||
| 06 April 2007 | ||
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Final part of the first MBN short story. previously: Mark Bird is new in town. A girl just fell for him, but not in a good way.... The Sherriff’s office wasn’t as busy as you would expect. It’s a small town, most the deputies know most the citizens on first name terms. Those they didn’t they knew in stretched terms like “That one nurse who moved here to work at the Centre, you know, the one with the hair.” The deputies were talking to people in the square, making notes of who saw something, then as the evening rolled in, and after nerves had settled, they would be driving around to witnesses and knocking on front doors, with tails between their legs, asking if they would have time to make a statement? Oh and yes please ma’am a coffee and doughnut sounds wonderful around now. As always I just had to be different. Oh yeah, I was the guy with the note, so I was the guy sitting in the interview room, under a white neon tube light, with a Styrofoam cup of stale tea, with a deputy sitting opposite me, bristling with Alpha Male attitude and impressive facial hair. “So you found that note?” He asked, for the benefit of the tape recorder that was happily recording our every word, beeping periodically to show mark the time. “Yes. I found the note.” “And you are Cherry Mocking’s half brother?” “Yes. I’m Cherry Mocking’s half brother, and I found the note.” “Do you know who the girl who fell from the roof?” “No.” A hint of Oscar Wilde, and a dash of Stephen Fry were creeping into my accent. “I’m afraid I never had the pleasure.” “You are aware that your half sister is now dating Joe Starling aren’t you?” “Yeah. I’m aware.” I made that sound as humble as I could. I was tempted to add another remark like “I bet he has to be careful how he pronounces that,” but bit my lip closed instead. “Was Joe with you? When you heard the scream.” “No. Why?” “The girl was Natasha Piercer, did Cherry ever mention her?” “No. Why?” “And you didn’t see any one else on the roof?” “No.” I repeated. “Why.” “Thank you Bird. That will be all I think.” The deputy rubbed his bushy face fluff to hide a yawn. “If we need more answers we know where you are.” I didn’t move. I sat a little further back in my chair. “I said you could go now Bird.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were going to be polite enough to answer my questions.” “Your questions?” he repeated. “WHY? Why should Joe have been with me? Why would Cherry have mentioned Natasha? And, while I have your rapt attention, how did she get up on the roof?” “Alright. Joe left his father after Cherry asked him out, and before the girl went pavement diving. Cherry might have mentioned the fact that the soon to be dead girl was Joe’s first girlfriend. Oh, and up the fire escape. Any more questions?” “Where do I make a complaint?” “Pardon?” “I take offence to your unprofessional manner, and the term ‘soon to be dead’. I think that is an unkind remark to make, unless you happen to be a qualified doctor as well.” The deputy reached under the desk, and pulled out a pale blue form, with the Sherriff Departments logo on the top. He handed me a pen, and a sarcastic bow. “I do apologise if I offended you.” I ignored him, and started filling out the form. When I got to the large box marked “Nature of your complaint” I went to town. “By the way Officer,” I mumbled without looking up. “I counted seven stores on the main thoroughfare with CCTV cameras. I think every one knows roughly when the incident occurred, so why not check the tapes and see where Joe was?” “We are working on that.” The deputy assured me. “So why not tell me why you think the note was from him?” “Apart from being Natasha’s Ex? Several residents have mentioned rumours that Joe was seen over at Cipher, outside their school. Talking to her. Rumour says that he was jealous of her new boyfriend.” “Who is?” “Jack Thunder. Captain of their football team.” He suddenly remembered who was supposed to be interviewing who. “Hey! Get outta here kid!” I strolled out of the interview room, and deposited my complaints form in the “Please Comment on our Service Box.” A little note said that the comments were read weekly, on a Friday. It was Saturday then, so I had almost an entire week until it was read. Perfect timing. Cherry was waiting for me outside, Joe was there too, with his truck. “Going to miss the game if you took too much extra time.” He warned me. “I thought you were prime suspect.” I warned him. “Nah, Dad was a deputy for years. He spoke to the guy who ran the hardware store and dug out CCTV footage of me buying charcoal when Natasha...” He stopped. His voice wavered and he stared past us, into the distance. “Joe.” Cherry said slowly. “I think Natasha would want you to be with her.” “I can’t back out of the game.” He smiled. “You don’t know what it’s like in this town. Football is some peoples lives out here. The team are my bothers, I can’t abandon them.” “Trust me.” I said, guiding him to his truck. “Us brothers are understanding guys. Any one who wouldn’t want you to do this doesn’t deserve you on their team.” I turned to Cherry. She nodded in agreement. We got in the truck. Natasha was in intensive care, three floors above you. Her room had a lot more machines that went beep, and smelt of all kinds of medicines. She was in a gown, laying perfectly still, her eyes open but staring into space, a neck brace under her chin, large portions of her in plaster. Tubes and sensors and wires poked out from beneath her gown. A plastic mask helped feed her oxygen. Her parents both leapt from their chair as they saw Joe and held him close. He may not have been their daughters love any more, but they sure approved of him. There were cards and flowers around the bed. Both parents. No captain of the Cipher High football team though. Interesting. I scooped up her chart and took a look while Joe was being squashed by grieving parents. I had to look at the chart, if I looked at Natasha’s family, I saw too much of myself. She had belly flopped off the pavement, she had massive trauma, a cracked spine, broken bones, and would need surgery as soon as she was stable enough. But “soon to be dead” was only one of many possibilities, but her prospects were touch and go. We stayed a while. Cherry held Joe, Joe held Natasha’s hand and spoke to her. I sat in the shadows and thought. I thought hard. I stared at the cards and flowers around her bed, I stared at her choker and watch that had been placed on her bedside table. I stared at the messages again. As the night grew darker her dad turned on the radio, and we listened to the Game Week opening match. Joes team versus Natasha’s. Like rugby with Kevlar body armour. I picked up her chart again. An idea was starting to occur to me. Not a good one. I made an excuse of wanting to see you while I was here, then took the elevator down to the Clerical desks. They were empty this time of night, most of that sort of work must be nine-to-five, like Mum. I found a computer that wasn’t in the line of sight of a CCTV camera. Mums username was just her name. Her password was easy enough to figure out. (her love of Hitchcock movies was always going to be her downfall.) I found Natasha’s records, and my idea became a suspicion. One that would be hard to prove. I printed off her files and closed the computer down, if any one went looking they would know I had been there, but then why would they suspect I had been looking. I came here, to sit with you, and read the files. I had a suspect, I had a motive, and I had confirmed an earlier suspicion, one that had nagged me since I read the note, one that had forced me to write my complaint to the Sherriff. They say that in the majority of cases the detective knows who the murderer is in the first forty eight hours. In a lot of cases it’s more like the first forty eight seconds. Most murders are motivated by base passions, and you have to be pretty close to some one to want to kill them. Lovers, friends, siblings, parents, the guy you work with most your life. Knowing who did the deed isn’t the hard part. Proving it is. I was so sure I knew who did it. Yet I was wrong, and would it take me falling asleep in the chair next your bed, with the facts still flowing in my head to put the last few pieces together. Then all I had to do was prove it. And I knew how to do that. Oh yes. But again, knowing how is easy, doing takes time. I needed to get into the Cipher High lockers. They wouldn’t be open, except for Game Week games at night, or training sessions. The next training session was Wednesday. Great. Sunday’s dawn woke me. My entire body ached from the nights sleep in the hard backed chair. I bid you a good morning then I left you and decided I needed a plan for the day. I started by climbing the stairs up to Natasha’s room. Her dad was still sleeping in one of the chairs, slumped in one corner for a vigil over his daughter. I let myself in with out waking him. I needed another look around. Her choker was still on her bedside table, the pendant on a tight leather thong to be worn around the neck. A pendant of Saint Christopher, the patron saint of lost causes. Her dad let out a snort, he was starting to wake up. “Hi.” I said politely as he opened his eyes. “I was here last night with Cherry and Joe, I wondered if you wanted a coffee?” “You came in to see Natasha?” He was suspicious. “We don’t know you.” “No. My sister is down stairs.” I gave him a sad smile, he matched it. “Any news?” “No.” He admitted. “You seem to like that choker.” “Saint Christopher. Patron Saint of a lot of things. My dad had one.” I put it back. “Why did she wear it?” A loaded question. I could picture her in my mind, suspended before her fall, in that fraction of the second she spent caught in the sun’s rays like an angel. No choker. “She wasn’t wearing it.” Her father smiled again. “It was in her pocket. Maybe a gift. Not sure who brought it for her.” “Or who she brought it for?” I suggested. “I’ll get some coffee.” “Thanks.” He mumbled, then leant over to watch his daughter. I got him a coffee from the machine in the corridor, dropped by Vanessa’s room to give it to him, then got ready for a long walk home. Lawrence was in fine form that morning when I got to the house. He looked at me as I slunk through the back door and pinched his nose, a clowns grin spreading over his face. “Hoo Boy. Some ones needs a shower. Did you sleep in those clothes?” “Yes.” “No wonder you are so ripe.” He let loose a gale of laughter. I left him to it. I crawled up to the bathroom, and showered, found fresh clothes, and got things straight in my mind. When I went downstairs again Cherry was in the kitchen staring at a tall glass of OJ. “Hey.” She greeted me. “Are you seeing Joe today?” “Yeah. Want to come with?” “Only to ask a few questions.” We met Joe in town. He was at a gym. It had boxing bags. I changed into my rugby shirt, tracksuit bottoms and trainers, and beat seven shades of Hades out of a sack filled with sand. It felt good. Joe was working out, Cherry was ogling him. She didn’t seem a fussy dater. She was more worried with who she was spending time with than what she was doing. When Joe needed a break the pair came over to me. I carried on smacking the bag. “Hey.” Joe grumbled. “So, when you went to see Natasha, just before the schools broke up for the vacation.” “Yeah?” “She was worried about a bully?” I played on my hunch. “Yeah.” He agreed. “But I don’t know who. She wasn’t sure if she should go tell the coach, or the guys parents, or try speaking to the guy himself. I told her to go to the coach.” “Good advice. She should have listened.” I smiled. “Are you going to tell the cops?” “That’s what I need to decide.” He admitted. “Do you know what the bully was capable of?” I met his gaze, he was scared but didn’t want to show it. He must have heard the rumours going around. That would scare me too. If enough people listen to the rumours there were always going to be people who believed them. Who would treat him as if he was the one who pushed Vanessa. “What he was doing?” “No.” Joe shrugged. His eyes hardened, into determination. “Maybe they will listen to the cops.” He smiled. “Thanks Cherry, Mark, I think I better go speak to my dad.” “He would have decided that on his own.” Cherry said, her eyes looking deep into mine. “I know. He had already decided. But I wanted to know if I was right.” “About a bully.” She said, thinking it over. “We should have asked if he did write that letter. I mean.. He isn’t still in love with her is he?” I watched Joe go to the phone. Slip in a handful of change and dial the number for his dad’s store. His eyes never left Cherry. “No.” I grinned, and felt my emotions lift as she matched my smile. “I think he cares for her a lot. I think he is her friend. But I don’t think he is in love with her.” “So he didn’t write the letter?” “No. Natasha did. It was her way of approaching the bully. Trying to convince them to get some help.” “With a love letter? A creepy love letter?” “It isn’t a love letter, you are reading it with the wrong tone of voice. Think about it.” “I have seen how you look at him. I have seen how you treat him. He does not deserve those words. You are better than you let yourself be. I can help you change. Trust me.” She repeated from memory. “She is saying she has seen some one watch a guy. How they treat –no bully!- them. She wants to help him. But she wrote it in poetry.” “Maybe she likes poems. Or the bully does. It’s not too shabby though. There’s a rumour saying it’s a love letter. So people assume it’s a love letter.” “So, how could someone be spreading the rumour before the police got around to questioning you? How could they know about the letter?” “By being the one who gave her the letter back. By being the person who pushed her off that building.” I grimaced. “You don’t push a girl off a roof to hurt her.” Cherry sneered. “You do it to kill her.” “And if one person has assumed it was Joe.” I intoned quietly. “They might take the law into their own hands.” “So what do we do?” Cherry whispered. “Joe is going to talk to the Sherriff. They can’t touch him there. If most the cops are like his dad they should be able to work this out.” “So we back off and keep out?” “I’m not a Spy. Not any more.” I gritted my teeth and threw another punch at the bag. It bruised my knuckles through the glove. “I want to know who did this.” Cherry pushed me away from the bag. “I want to know who did this, and I want to know why. I want to know that when some one goes down for it, the right person goes down.” “Then we see the scene of the crime.” I said. “Tomorrow when the cops aren’t there.” On Monday evening we broke the law, and inspected the scene of the crime. The police had cut the ladder on the fire escape up to the top of the abandoned store, so we couldn’t go that way. But that didn’t stop Cherry. We climbed the fire escape of one of the other stores, and hid behind an air conditioning unit. I dug into my satchel and unpacked a pair of binoculars and a pair of radio head sets. The cheap type you find in toy stores. Cherry put one on, and tested her signal, then dived from the rooftop, and rolled to a safe landing on the next roof, bringing herself up into a feline crouch between the police tape. “What am I looking for?” She asked over the radio. “Those markers and little paint circles. They are what the police took photographs of.” I told her. “Tell me what they were interested in.” “Foot prints. They took a plaster cast of a footprint, and it has left white powder there, so it stands out. A big shoe size, a training shoe. Two sizes bigger than yours.” “Good. What next.” “Blood spatters. On the ledge where she fell.” “Blood?” “Looks like it. Anything else you want to know about?” “No. That seems like everything. Get back here before any one sees you.” Cherry grinned, took a long run up, and leapt off down onto the fire escape for the building I was hiding on. A few seconds later her head appeared over my shoulder. I was reading the a copy of the Game Week Programme. “What now boss?” She asked, adrenaline flowing through her. “We go to the Game Week tournament tonight. The Cipher Enigmas are playing. I need to watch them.” That night we watched the Cipher Enigmas play. We sat quietly, anonymously in the crowd. I cheered to be polite, but I couldn’t find any empathy in the sport. It was unfamiliar to me, by the time any of the rules could be explained to me, the game was moving on and I was lost. So I watched the players. I watched the players on the bench and on the field. I looked for the player with blood on his hands. I watched Natasha’s new boyfriend, and I watched his buddy, the big guy with the big feet and big hands. The programme said his name was Hawk Lucky. What was it with these guys and their names? There was something about the way he moved. About the way he looked at other people. Was he the bully? Or was he being bullied? I suddenly realised I had the motive back to front, and upside down. Sparks of light went off in my head like fire works on Guy Fawk’s night. I found myself laughing out loud. Tomorrow we could prove it. We. Up until that moment I had been thinking in terms of myself. But it wasn’t just me. It was Cherry too. Bird and Mocking. Mocking Birds. A team. I smiled, and stared at the tall grey chunk of concrete that called itself Cipher High. I worked out where the lockers would be, where the offices. I knew what I was doing Tuesday. Tuesday morning the Cipher Enigmas were practicing in their school field. Their band were practicing in the school hall, and the cheer leaders were practicing in the gym. It was far too easy for another pair of teens to stroll into the school unnoticed. The school office was a mess, but we found the Locker list soon enough, tucked behind the desk with an inspection rota. I looked up the team captain, and Hawk. Then I looked up Natasha’s. Three lockers. It would push our luck, but I was hopeful. We started with Natasha’s, and found little that we didn’t know already. The team captains’ locker was more promising. There were more letters, the same as the one that I found. The same as the ones lost for ever in the wind. A pair of brass knuckles too. They are never a good sign. I tried Hawk’s/ My heart sank. A pair of blood splattered trainers, a blood splattered shirt. Bad news. I found a payphone, I called the Sherriff in Point Hollow. I told him that the name of the boy I mentioned on my Complaint Form was Hawk Lucky, and if they didn’t believ me to ask him waht he kept in his locker. A half hour later the Enigma’s coach had to suspend the practice when two tall deputies in a squad car pulled up, and led the hulking bruiser of Hawk away. He didn’t wait for them to talk to him, to ask any questions. He just held out his hands ready for the cuffs. And that should have been the end of it. For a few days I believed it might be. Simple days. Spend time with Cherry, spend time here with you. Spend time finding out more about our new home. Then on Friday things went wrong. Cherry had taken me to watch Joe in the final. The Ciphers had lucked out once their Lucky charm had become otherwise indisposed. The Point Hollows had made it to the final. The coach had convinced Joe to put his game face on. He still went to see Natasha, but he let out a lot of frustration charging forward with the ball too. He was happy, which made Cherry happy. It was all nice until we went for a burger after the game. We got as far as the car park of the Burger Barracks. Then there was a squeal of a wheel spin and a big expensive car lumbered to a halt in front of us. The passenger doors opened, and three guys with baseball bats climbed out. Joe tried to be brave. He pushed himself in front of Cherry and told her to run. Then the baseball bats rained on his knees, and two of the boys dragged him into the car. “You want to find out what happens when you stitch up a Cipher?” One of them kept shouting. “Wait!” I screamed. “You got this wrong!” Like it was ever going to work. Cherry would have been busy kicking the guys, if she hadn’t been busy dragging me out of the way of the car. A few seconds later and the whole mess was over. We watched the car zoom away. That’s us right up to where I started this. The party. The boat house. My spiral into unconsciousness. The worst Friday night I had experienced in a few weeks. I opened my eyes, and struggled to clear my head. I pushed the pain of my injuries back down to the pit of my stomach and let it be lost in the fires of anger. I concentrated on getting my vision to settle. I must have been unconscious for almost three minutes. Long enough for the world to shift, but soon enough for the crowd to still be busy kicking Joe. Kicking him a lot. I staggered to my feet. The boy with the baseball bat was Danny something or other. The team captain. I couldn’t get his surname to manifest in my head. Not surprising, I was busy trying to make my lunch not manifest in my mouth. “Stop this!” I croaked. “I told the police about Hawk. Not him.” “Rubbish!” Danny What-Ever screamed. “He went to the police station. He was questioned! A day later the cops show up for Hawk. We all know about the letter. We know Joe did it. We know he framed Lucky. Now he pays! He pays!” Mister Danny swung the bat in my direction. “Want to stop me?” “I don’t want to. I don’t like hitting people.” I said. I don’t. You may have noted that I have avoided hitting people for over a week at this point. Several weeks in fact. “I don’t want to, but...” I charged forwards, I swung my hand back, I made a fist, I let it swing. My shoulder connected with his cheek a second after my fist had connected with his gut. He dropped his bat. I snatched it before it hit the floor, and tossed it to Cherry. She swung it like a flaming torch, driving the crowded team mates away from Joe. “Anyone who steps towards me, my bro, or my boy gets a permanent hang over cure. Ok?” The crowd listened. Cherry has that effect some times. I knelt next to Joe. He was hurting, but could heal. “Some one get an ambulance.” I ordered. “Now.” One of them flicked open a cell phone and started to dial. “Now, sit down, shut up, and learn why you are all idiots.” I snapped. “Natasha went to Point Hollow to look for Joe. She was worried about one of her team mates. He had been bullying Hawk. Bullying Hawk bad. That would be you Danny.” I pointed at the knocked-out captain. “Natasha had been trying to get him to talk to her for a while. But he wouldn’t. She was scared he would lash out her, so she wanted Joe on her side. Good thinking on her part. But, while she was in town Hawk found her. He took her to the roof, where they could talk in private. Above the crowd, out of the noise, out of mind. He was furious. Danny Boy had shown him the letters. Given them to Hawk. Let him know that a busy body girl had been fighting his battles for him. Well, that about made Hawk mad. He was furious with Natasha. He screamed at her, how dare she interfere? How dare she try and fight his battle for him. Yak yak yak. So mad he hits her. Hits her hard. Splits her lip and spills blood over his shoe, his shirt. She stumbles. She falls. The letters go with her...” I stop. I feel everybody is looking at me. “Now, Danny here wants to keep face. Wants to hide his little anger problem, and keep everyone blaming Joe. After all, if people find out why Hawk was angry, they take Danny down. So Danny latches onto the rumours and uses them as a scapegoat. This is the result. Congratulations. You just helped a nut-job scum bucket choose his next victim. And you call it justice.” I lifted Joe onto my shoulder and made my way back to door. “I expect you will all be hearing from the police soon enough. But right now we need to see that ambulance.” A few minutes into Saturday morning three of us sat waiting for the ambulance. In the rain. I was on the verge of passing out. I was cold. I was thinking of you. I had never felt so alive.
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