Under Control…
Part Two
“So do we know who the victim is, any ideas?”
Dick paused but didn’t stop eating, “Amy Stanford, a freshman at Brixton, family
just moved to the area from San Francisco a few months ago. I don’t remember
her.”
Bruce’s attention was on the current issue of Forbes where he was this month’s
cover subject. “Only child?”
“No, two younger brothers who go to public school.”
“Master Richard, swallow before you speak, please, semi-masticated food is
unseemly when on view.”
“You don’t remember her?” Bruce’s attitude was that ‘of course he should know
her and every other student who had ever passed through Brixton’s halls’.
“Sorry, Alf. I don’t remember her because I didn’t have any classes with her, we
didn’t have any friends in common and she was a year behind me. Besides, no one
knows who she was, she was one of those locker melters.”
Bruce glanced over. “Excuse me?”
“You know the kind; they melt into the lockers, no one knows them, they never
speak, have no friends, shy or something. They don’t make an impression on
anyone.”
“So why would anyone want to kill someone like that? And do we know if she was
sexually abused?”
“According to the police reports she was raped and was likely killed either at
or near the scene, her body temperature indicated that she’d been dead less than
half an hour when she was found. They’re running DNA analysis on skin found
under her fingernails and semen samples.”
“I heard that the cause of death was strangulation.”
Dick swallowed half his glass of milk in one swallow. “’Wasn’t strangulation; no
marks on her neck. Cause of death is unknown so far, or that’s what they’re
saying.”
“Suspects?”
“None so far and school has a delayed opening tomorrow so they can get the
school psychologists in place in case anyone’s too upset to deal. I don’t have
to go in ‘till ten.”
“All right, it looks like we have our work for the evening laid out for us.
‘Ready in an hour?”
Dick started on the homemade ice cream Alfred had just placed in front of him,
nodding around a mouthful.
Two hours later Batman and Robin had finished their preliminary recon of the
school finding a storage shed used by the maintenance staff to store gardening
equipment, snow shovels and ice-melt. The girl’s underwear was on the floor
along with some blood. There was little sign of a struggle, easily explained by
a chloroform soaked rag, the smell obvious to anyone familiar with it. “It looks
like she was dragged in here and tried to fight but was overcome.”
“She wasn’t too big, five feet even and ninety-five pounds, it wouldn’t take too
much.” Batman looked around the area. This was the back of the campus, lined by
trees that shielded the nearby houses. “’Much traffic back here?”
Robin nodded. “This is a shortcut from the science wing over to English, a lot
of kids take it to save trying to save time during class changes.”
“Is there a fence in those trees?”
“No, just the hedge and there are gaps, someone could get through pretty
easily.” Robin pointed out the most obvious opening. “Kids use it to cut school,
too. No one pays much attention.”
“The padlock for the door is broken.”
“I saw, looks like a crowbar or something. BPD took prints and pictures and the
autopsy should be done in the morning. Was there anything else you wanted to see
here?”
Batman shook his head. A few minutes later, back in the Batmobile; “Dick,
there’s something about this that’s bothering me.”
Robin was looking out the window, watching the street lights and houses go by,
relaxed and at ease. “Hmm?”
“A student in your school was murdered while you and all of your friends were
attending class, in broad daylight.”
“And…?”
“You seem remarkably unconcerned.”
“Robin turned his head, confused. “It’s not like I knew her or anything. I mean
I’m sorry she was killed and all but it’s just another case. It’s not like we
haven’t worked things like this before, right?”
“Well yes, but…”
“But what? You know the rules; ‘don’t get personally involved, don’t get
emotional’. Sure it’s sad and tragic and all, but our job is to solve the case
so the bad guy gets locked up or gets help and this doesn’t happen again. That’s
why we’re here.”
“Of course, but…”
“Let it go, okay? So, what do we know so far? She was raped, she was murdered,
possibly through chloroform and she was thrown in a dumpster when the cops were
probably already on the scene, which is strange. They could have just left her
in the shed.”
“True, why take the chance unless someone was coming or…”
“No, makes no sense, Bruce. And who called in the bomb scare? What was that
about? Distraction?”
“Likely, yes.”
“And it probably wasn’t the janitor since the door was forced. Okay, so we don’t
know all that much.”
“Tomorrow we’ll see where we are, find out more from the police and take it from
there.”
“’Sounds good.”
The next day Dick went to school after sleeping in an hour, pushing his morning
workout up to seven AM instead of the usual five-thirty. Brixton Academy was in
official mourning, the flag at half-mast and two police cars parked in front of
the main gate. Both students and staff were being questioned and a full
complement of guidance counselors were on hand to talk to anyone who felt the
need.
“Hey, dude—weird stuff, huh?”
Dick nodded without stopping on his way to homeroom. The day was truncated,
class periods compressed to thirty minutes from the usual forty-five so they’d
be out at the usual time. He sat in his normal seat, the teacher taking roll,
though a few more kids than expected were absent. Okay, maybe that wasn’t
unexpected.
The intercom buzzed, the principal’s voice came through without preamble, asking
everyone to proceed directly to the auditorium for a special assembly.
That was strange, but maybe not, under the circumstances. The kids did as asked.
Seated, quiet and expectant, they listened as the principal stood at the podium,
wearing a black dress.
“Everyone is shocked and deeply saddened by yesterday’s terrible events and
Amy’s loss will stay with us. I want you all to know that the Brixton Police are
working to find the person or people responsible and will do everything in their
power to bring this horrible crime to a just conclusion. Any one who would like
is free to talk with any one of our counselors any time during the week or to
make an appointment for any time you feel the need to speak with someone.
“Classes have been suspended for the day, teachers and other faculty will be
leading discussions about what’s happened. Also, the library will be open in
case anyone would rather not participate. A list of where each discussion and
its subject will be held has been posted in every classroom as well as on the
screen behind me.
“In addition, I’m sure that most of you have noticed that the police cruisers
parked here. The police are here working and will be speaking to several people,
though I want to stress that at this point there are no suspects. Please
cooperate with them and don’t do anything to hinder the investigation. In
addition, if anyone has any information, a hot line has been set up with all
calls being confidential.
“If anyone would like, they may stop in at the office where we’ve set up a
condolence book which will be given to Amy’s family and we’re accepting
donations to be sent to Gotham Ballet Theater in Amy’s name. Her parents have
told me that she had just been accepted into their training program two weeks
ago.”
Several hands were raised and ignored. “I’m not taking any questions, the
faculty have all been appraised of what’s known and you may ask them about
what’s going on. Now please, I’m also asking that none of you talk to the media
if you can avoid it and to not spread any rumors; please bear in mind that a
young lady has been murdered and her family is in mourning. Now, if you would,
please o to your first classroom.”
The student body did what they were old; reading about the various programs that
had been designed for them to cope with the tragedy and making decisions as to
which they’d attend. A few kids opted to spend the day in the library,
disappointed when they learned that they could read, work quietly on a computer
and little else. Dick almost automatically went to the room where the local cops
would explain what they were doing to solve the case and how the students could
try to avoid the same fate as fourteen year old Amy.
Dick sized up Sergeant Foley quickly. He’d met him once or twice in passing,
usually when he was acting as part of security for one of Bruce’s things at the
Manor and he was generally unimpressed. The man was youngish, maybe thirty, had
attended college but flunked out and had only gotten his job through his
father’s intervention. He wasn’t completely stupid but he wasn’t going to win
any prizes either.
It was an informal Q&A, everyone sitting loosely in the school desks and open
talk back and forth. Dick mostly listened.
“Do you have anyone who’s a suspect yet?”
“We’re looking at several person’s of interest, yes, but I really can’t say who
right now.”
“How come this girl was targeted? I didn’t even know who she was—I know that
sounds bad, but I didn’t.”
“That’s something we’re investigating.”
“Have there been any other murders like this around Brixton or is this the
first?”
“This is the first murder in Brixton in seven years.”
“Well, yeah, but we’re only like ten minutes from Gotham, they have lots of
murders.”
“We’re aware of that.”
“So are you talking to the other police departments nearby?”
“We maintain good relations with all the other departments.”
And on it went, the man said nothing, clearly knew nothing until Dick couldn’t
stand it. “Have you considered calling in outside help? You said yourself that
Brixton hadn’t dealt with a murder in sever years, maybe a department with more
experience would have some ideas or insights.”
“We believe that we have things under control.”
“Wasn’t there a similar murder in Akhram Acres a month or so ago? That’s less
than three miles from here, have you talked to the police over there?”
“We will if we suspect a link.”
Dick gave up; the guy was an idiot. He listened but let his mind run for the
rest of the day. He was anxious to see the DNA results and to really get a look
at Akhram Acre’s files on their case. Murders weren’t all that common in the
rich suburbs; rape, drug use, domestic violence, sure, but murder was usually a
bit too extreme.
Clearly someone had made an exception to the general rule, the question was who
and why Amy? Was she specifically targeted or was she just in the wrong place at
the wrong time? He finally gave up on the ‘programs’, they were useless, or at
least they were useless to him.
He took his laptop to the library and began looking through the press clippings
about both of the murders, trying to see what he could see. By two-thirty he was
thinking that there was a definite connection, though he was having trouble
putting his finger on it and would have to wait till he got home to check the
police files.
The approaching sirens made him look out the window to see three Brixton police
cars pulling up fast, cops getting out and an ambulance rounding the corner.
Everyone in the room, everyone on that side of the building was tense, watching.
Over the intercom came; “Teachers please keep your students in your classrooms.
Please stay out of the halls. The authorities have everything under control.
Please stay calm.”
Cell phones went off at every desk, students listening, trying to find out what
was going on. Finally a senior, his face white, answered everyone’s question;
“They just found Dave Metcalf in the cafeteria kitchen. He’s dead.”
TBC