Murder Mystery of Arck

Two Heads Are Better Than One

“Got into an argument, I heard,” Sebastian says as he stands next to me, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket. “Word travels fast, huh?” I say, snatching the cigar from his hand.

“What are you-” he exclaims, looking at his empty hand. I throw it out the window in front of me and interrupt him, “You have already smoked thrice today. Wait till tomorrow.” He scoffs, placing his hands in his pockets, “Who told you- It was Harry, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe,” I shrug, although he already knows it was Harry. “Sometimes I feel like he is more loyal to you than he is to me,” he says. “He does this because he cares about you. Because you are his friend,” I counter, looking around to see if there were any people, especially teachers, around.

I look back at Sebastian and continue, “Besides, being a friend is not about blindly showing loyalty. It is about whacking your friend’s head when he or she thinks of doing something wrong.”

“Well, he hasn’t whacked me yet-” he attempts to counter my statement.

“Because he understands that there are better ways to change people, without the use of force,” I interrupt him, tilting my head, slightly annoyed by the useless conversation.

“-And, do you think the people who smoke are bad and are going down a bad path?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

I sigh exasperatedly and close my eyes for a moment before replying, “That’s not what I meant. People have the freedom to smoke or not, and I have nothing against people who smoke. It’s just that you’ll be in better health if you don’t smoke.”

“Hmm. I see. So, does it bother you that I smoke?”

“Why would it bother me if you want to deteriorate your health?”

“Then, why do you keep a track of how many cigarettes I smoke every day, Ms. May?” Sebastian questions, tilting his head in fake confusion and tapping his finger on his chin.

“How am I supposed to get good marks without your teaching? I can’t afford anything happening to you, Mr. Worde,” I say, copying his actions and smiling sweetly.

He returns the smile, nodding in agreement. “That’s true,” he says, “Although, you can do better on your own. My opinions can become your opinions. And that’s not right.”

I think back on what I said and what he said in the past few minutes. It's a habit, and a good one. Or a bad one. I'm not very sure. It started when forgetting minor details, and sometimes important ones, of a conversation bothered me enough.

“What?” Sebastian asks, raising his eyebrows. “Nothing.” I say, shaking my head. He stares at my face for a few moments before shaking his head as well.

“So, why did you call me here?” he asks, looking at his watch, “You are wasting my time as of this moment.”

“I thought you said you were free,” I say, crossing my arms. “By free, I meant that I had no classes after lunch. Doesn’t mean I don’t have other things to do, you i***t,” he says, copying my action.

I smack my lips in defeat and sigh. He is right. I shouldn’t have just assumed that he was free. I wasn’t the only one who had to turn in assignments and do research work.

If that is the case, should I ask him? Will he be willing to grant his help when he has piles of work to do? Will I be able to pull this off when I am drowning in the deep ocean of tests, assignments and not being able to score good marks?

I internally sigh as I start to get the feeling that he will not accept. No one would say yes to what I was about to ask. Or what I was going to ask.

Why would anyone want to be bothered about the true events that occurred before the death of a person who was not even familiar to them? Except for me. I stay true to my statement. ‘There are exceptions to all things’.

“May?” Sebastian says, snapping his fingers in front of my eyes. He sighs and continues talking, “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“I think it's called over-thinking. But since it’s your case, we need to coin a new word that conveys a stronger meaning,” he jokes.

“Do we?” I say in a small voice, thinking that I shouldn’t have called him here as I look at my feet. His shoulder bumps into mine and I glance up at him.

“What is it?” he asks. He looks out the window then back at me before continuing, “Tell me. I’ll make time. Whatever it is.” I stare at him for a moment, with a little bit of disbelief and a little bit of hesitation, gathering the courage to tell him.

“Are you sure? I won’t let you back out if you agree,” I tell him, half-expecting him to back out immediately. “I’m sure,” he nods and looks in my eyes, “I promise I won’t back out.” I take a deep breath before I start telling him what I heard from Mark.

Reaching out for help is something I rarely do. Helping others seems more right than the other way round. There is like an invisible restraint that I have in me that stops me from asking for help.

My mother says that it's not a good, and that reaching out is alright. I know she is right, but I can't bring myself to bother someone else for something I can solve on my own.

There was only one person I could reach out to, and it was Angie. And she is not here.

“I’m going to tell you something,” I start and sit down on the ground, “And you can’t be telling anyone what I say next.” He sits down next to me, his shoulder brushing mine, and he hums in response.

“I talked to Mark before he took his last breath-,” I continue, shutting my eyes tightly, “-and he might have told me who potentially may be the cause of death or even killed him first hand.” I keep my eyes shut, not prepared for Sebastian’s reaction that comes later than sooner.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asks his first question. That was his first question? I thought he’d be more shocked or freeze at the sudden delivery of information. “Huh?” I blurted, slowly opening my eyes to look at him.

“Why are you-” he starts to repeat his question with an expressionless face. He is good at hiding his reactions. I realized that a long time ago.

And I hate his non-transparency because I can’t control my reactions as well as he does. I have never seen anyone catch Sebastian Worde off guard.

“No- I heard you. I-uh- need your help with finding the evidence to catch the culprit,” I say, my voice getting smaller and smaller with each syllable, until I whisper the last words.

I prepare myself for the part where he tells me that he doesn’t want to be involved in something that could get him in trouble.

The part where he refuses to help me and tells me that I should just tell the police everything I know and let them do whatever they want.

And I won’t even get the chance to explain anything to him because he will get up immediately and leave, like he does when he hears a useless thing that seemingly wastes his time.

I know this because he has done that to me before, and I still don’t know how my questions were a waste of time when they were almost always related to studies, and also because I have seen him do that to others as well.

But that part doesn’t come.

He just sits there, silent and deep in thought as he stares at the wall in front of us. I listen to his breaths; they are calm as ever. I sigh, hugging my legs as I regret asking him for help.

“Was I the first person that came to your mind when you thought that you needed help?” He asks. It is a strange question for him to ask. I don’t know why he wanted to know that.

It would have been justified if he had asked if he was the first person I told. Answers to both the questions are the same. Yes, he was the person who came to my mind and yes, he is the first person I have told this to.

“Well….yes, you were the first person,” I replied. “I’ll help you,” he says, getting up from his spot. A spontaneous smile finds its way to my lips as I look up at him with hopeful eyes.

“You mean it?” I ask, just for confirmation, pointing my finger at him, “You can’t back out now.” He shrugs and offers his hand to me, “I understand.” I stay seated for a moment absorbing the situation, and then take his hand.

“So, who’s the potential culprit?” he questions me as we start walking towards the staircase.

“Mark said that it is Kirk. And I swear to God if you are doing this to gain information, I will personally make sure to make your life hell,” I replied, cracking my knuckles as I think about what we should do next.

“Vince Kirk, that jerk? And I’m not! Have a little trust,” He says, looking at me in confirmation. I nod before scratching the back of my head. Mark didn’t have the time to confirm and he surely cannot tell me now. But, it’s okay to have a suspicion, right?

Although, all we have is a statement of a person who is no more. He could have been angry and just blurted Vince’s name. There is no solid evidence that could help us be sure.

Without the evidence that points towards the suspect, we cannot decide on the right actions to take. Then again, just because all the evidence points towards a suspect, doesn’t mean he or she actually committed the crime.

Argh! I don’t know what to think. Even if we get the evidence, we would need to prove that it really is pointing towards him.

“He didn’t really specify, but I suspect it to be Vince. He used to bully Mark quite a lot. And his anger issues are infamous,” I inform Sebastian.

Vince has a weird character. If he was bullying Mark because of his financial situation, he would have held a prejudice against everyone with the same situation. But he didn’t bully everyone with a financial situation. Some of his friends live in families that have financial problems. So, that can’t be it. Right?

“Prejudgment is harmful, May,” Sebastian warns me and he is right. I don’t mean to be judgmental, but that’s the closest thing to a lead we have. We have to follow it and if we reach a dead end, we need to start all over again.

I wouldn’t mind anything, unless and until it can help us find the culprit.

“I know. But it’s Vince Kirk. I won’t be surprised if it really were him. I mean, I would be. Anyways, as for the evidence, we need to find out where he was when the incident took place,” I suggest.

That was the only thing we can do right now. If he was in his assigned class, that would mean he wasn’t present at the time of the incident. If he isn't, we’ll move forward.

“I’ll ask around,” he says, pausing for a moment to think and then added, “Till then, maybe, find more information on Mark. That is if you didn’t know him well. You seem to because you know about the bullying.”

I wish I knew him well. I wish we were close enough for me to do this. To find his killer. That would have given me a reason to do this. I realize that I don’t have to do this. The authorities in charge can take care of this.

But I don’t trust any of them. The person who did this didn’t fear the result. If he had, he wouldn’t have done it. But he committed the crime which means he was someone with connection that can get him out of trouble as big as a murder.

People are very ambitious, to put it nicely. They will do anything to get what they want. Not all of them are corrupted, but there are a few who are. And they are the ones people, who wish to get away with something, look for.

Not all of them, but the few who are, they should not get away with something that is against the law. The law exists for a reason, and it is to protect the innocent and bring justice to the people who are wronged.

I have seen the law abuse its powers and I wouldn’t let it happen, knowing that I can do something about it.

And I hate that I am so righteous, knowing that it can get me in trouble.

“I lie somewhere in the middle. I knew him, but not good enough to be called a friend. I know about the bullying because I encountered him in the infirmary by chance one day,” I say, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

“Hmmm- alright. And remember: Kirk is just a suspect, not the actual culprit. Innocent until proven guilty. Alright?” Sebastian says firmly.

He was warning me, so that, I don’t do anything stupid. He might be right to an extent. I may end up doing something stupid. But, at least, I take responsibility for my actions. Hopefully, I stay true to myself, if a situation like that occurs.

“Yeah, alright,” I agree with him. Vince is just a suspect. Not the real culprit. I shouldn’t let my opinion of him come in the way.

“Catch you later, May,” Sebastian says before turning around and descending the stairs. He stops after a few steps and looks back at me.

“I need my book,” he says.

“I haven’t finished yet,” I replied.

“Gotten slow on the reading, eh?” He remarks as he starts descending again and I follow behind.

“Forgive me if I don’t get my life together in a split second,” I scoff, glaring at him.

“I didn’t say anything about getting your life, drama queen. But, now that you have mentioned it-” he says, looking back at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I stop walking and just stare at him, not having any of his s**t. Not today. “Don’t, Worde. Just don’t,” I say with a straight face. He smiles innocently at me before turning a corner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There isn’t a long line of students waiting to talk to their family. We can use the telephone at school only four times a month. I don’t have any complaints because I don’t talk much to my family.

The last time I spoke to them was three weeks ago in the month of September. My mum told me that she hoped that I would use all of my telephone privileges and call more often. But I don’t wish to call anyone.

I don’t because there is nothing to talk about nor do I miss them all the time. Only on the days when I am awake late at night and thinking about what they were doing.

I wonder if my mother has found a new movie she wishes to watch, but never would or if she has bought a new dress like she said she would.

I wonder if my brother is doing his studies properly and helping mum with household work. I wonder if my grandmother is still obsessed with knitting my brother and I sweaters now that winter is near or if she has found something more interesting to do.

I wonder if my father is still missing dinner because of work or he has at last found some time to spend with his family now that I am in university.

My mother told me, about two months ago, that she quit her job because we didn’t need the money anymore. I was happy that she had time to do whatever she liked and I asked her what she wanted to do. Her answer was the same as always. She wanted to watch a movie with my father.

She told me that when they were younger, he used to take her to the movies once every three months after gathering enough money for two tickets.

It was considered a big thing when they were young, which it still is, and mum still had the same craze towards movies as she did before, my father said one night at the dinner table when he was able to reach home on time.

Now, they have neither the time nor the money to spare. I loved movies when I was younger because of all the things mum used to tell me, but as I grew older they seemed unnecessary in my opinion.

If they couldn’t help me in any way, there was no requirement for them. And watching movies is something you do in your spare time. I haven’t had time to spare for the last five years. But I miss them now for some reason.

“Rosalind May?” The person at the counter called my name and I stepped forward. “You can borrow telephone number 2,” said Mr. Lance, extending his hand towards me. I nod and hand him the slip with my name and the number ‘9’ on it.

The slip was given to you after you register your name in the logbook that contains all the details about the person who was calling. It included their name, who they were calling, at what time and how many times have they called before in a month.

Many students have tried to trick Mr. Lance by saying that they have only called once or twice. But Mr. Lance, as he likes to say, never forgets a face. He knows who has come in and how many times. He is in his sixties, I think.

I look over the table at the photo that rests on his desk. It was of his wife, who died a few years ago, and him on their wedding day. That was the only photo he had of them together, he had told me when I bothered him enough.

I smile at him, which he doesn’t return and goes back to reading the newspaper, before walking off to telephone number 2. I dial the number and wait for someone at home to pick up. I look at my wrist watch and note that it was half past four.

Richard, my brother, should be home by now considering that he went straight home after school. My mother and grandmother must be at home too.

“Hello?” a voice answered from the other side. “Hello, mum,” I say, leaning against the wall.

“Rose? Is that you?” she says, surprised that I called. “Yeah, it’s me,” I replied, smiling to myself, “Have you heard about what happened?”

“Oh, yes! It was all over the news. Poor boy,” she exclaims, there was a considerate amount of sadness in her voice. But there was something more. Fear.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks. “Hmm. I’m fine,” I say, looking at my feet.

“Sweetheart, would you like to come home for a few days?” she asks. “I can’t. Midterms are coming soon and we have many tests to give,” I say, staring at the floor with blurry eyes, “I called because I wanted to hear your voice.”

“Oh, Rose. Are you sure you’re okay?” she repeated her question, her voice sounded more concerned than before, as if she knew what was wrong.

“Yeah, mum, I’m alright. I’ll be alright. Don’t worry,” I answer, taking a deep breath, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“If you had to do something important that could get you in trouble, would you do it? Would you do it if it could do someone some good?”

“Yes, of course I would. We should always help people as much as we can.”

“Okay. I have to-”

“I hope you know that I’m here for you, always. And I love you so much,” she says. I could see her small smile. The smile she gives when she is trying to comfort someone.

“Alright. I have to go now. Bye.” I hang up and close my eyes. I feel regret and guilt suddenly hurting my chest. I should have said it back.

I never say it back and I feel like it upsets her. I know it does, but the words don’t seem to roll off my tongue. I can feel my throat tighten, holding those words back. I sigh, blinking the tears away and walking out of the calling area.

Arck High School is a building about a hundred feet away from the main building of the University. Most of the students studying there end up in the Arck University.

I don’t know many people from the high school; I barely know anyone from the university. But I know one person who can tell me what Mark was really like.

She will answer truthfully and in an unbiased way, which is very important for me.

It was extremely hard for me to not know her, considering that I am her brother’s classmate, but also in general it is hard to avoid her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Use of any form of tobacco is injurious to health. Do NOT support smoking or consumption of alcohol*