'Blood too,' said Park's wife.
Mac nodded.
Gary House was, more or less, Annette Heights's boyfriend. He was, like her, a junior. According to Annette, Gary was her best friend.
'He's smart,' she said. 'He's quiet, except when he gets excited about computers, and he likes to be bossed around.'
'And you like bossing?' asked Lindsay.
'Love it,' she said.
Gary House was pudgy, pink cheeked and straw haired. He was quite willing to put his hand out to be checked.
'There's a newer model,' he said, looking at the metal box. 'Detects a dozen substances.'
'Too expensive,' said Danny.
'Technology is always ahead of forensic economics,' said Gary House.
'Okay,' said Lindsay.
He pulled his hand back and placed it in his lap.
'You have chemistry with Mr. Havel?' asked Danny.
'Everyone has chemistry with Mr. Havel. There's only one chemistry teacher in the Wallen School. He had the market cornered.'
'That all he had cornered?' asked Danny.
'Gary,' John Rothwell warned.
Gary House looked at Danny blankly and then at Lindsay, who said, 'He corner any of the girls? Annette, for example?'
'No,' he said emphatically. 'She would have liked it if he tried though. She likes to flirt.'
'I noticed,' said Danny.
'Gary,' the lawyer said. 'No more talking.'
'Can I go now?' the boy asked.
Lindsay nodded. Gary had no trace of glass in either palm.
Karen Reynolds's boyfriend, Terry Rucker, was not a nerd. He wasn't a fool either. It took a little persuasion by Headmaster Brightman to get him into the conference room.
'Hands,' said Lindsay.
Terry reluctantly put out both hands. He was several inches over six feet tall and well built. His shirt was about half a size too small to show off his upper torso.
'Palms up,' Lindsay said.
He complied.
Lindsay turned the light on his hands.
'Is this dangerous?' Terry said.
'No,' said Danny. 'Where were you at ten yesterday morning?'
'When Mr. Havel was killed, right?'
'Right.'
'Terry, you don't have to answer any questions,' Rothwell said with a hint of resignation.
'In Ithaca, at a basketball game.'
Lindsay could see no sign of glass, but there was the residue of something on his palms.
Cynthia Parrish did not have a boyfriend. She did, however, have a close friend, a very close friend, on the cross-country team. Jean Withrow was black, model lean and pretty. Her hair was pulled back and tied tightly. She wore a blouse and a skirt that revealed lean, powerful legs.
'I'm not telling you anything,' she said, sitting and folding her arms across her chest.
'We haven't asked you anything,' said Danny. 'But I am now. Please hold out your hands.'
The girl looked from Danny to Lindsay, then at Rothwell, who nodded to show that it was all right. She shook her head and held out her hands.
'You hurt me, my father sues,' she said.
'Painless,' said Lindsay.
'I know why you had me brought in here,' Jean said. 'You think Cyn and I are suspects because we're gay and Havel hit on me.'
'Jean,' Rothwell warned.
For someone who wasn't going to talk, Danny thought, she was providing a whole lot of information.
'And what did you do when he hit on you?' Danny asked.
'Looked at him cold.'
She showed them the look. It was very icy indeed.
'Then I told him if he laid a hand on me again, I was going to scream 'rape.' And I also told him that if I got anything lower than the A I deserved, he'd be looking for another line of work.'
'And what'd he do?'
'Ceased and desisted.'
'Didn't threaten to 'out' you?' asked Lindsay.
The girl smiled. Nice smile. 'Everybody knows we're gay. Even my family and Cyn's. They are, to use their words, 'cool with it.''
'Are they?' asked Lindsay.
'No, but there's not much they can do and they live in hope that it will pass like the flu.'
'Yesterday, ten to eleven in the morning?' asked Danny. 'Where were you?'
'Spanish class. No lo creeo?'
'We'll check,' said Danny.
When the girl had gone, James Tuvekian's two closest friends were examined. Neither showed signs of glass fragments in the palm.
The last three people called in were Bill Hexton and the other two security guards.
Epidermal samples were taken from everyone. No glass fragments anywhere.
'Looks like we'll have to do the whole school, Montana,' said Danny, sitting back, hands behind his head.
'Maybe not,' Lindsay answered, starting to pack the machine away.
There was something. Lindsay wasn't prepared to mention it, not till she got back to the lab. The palm of one of the hands they had looked at was puffy, slightly sore and had a slightly green residue. The other palm looked normal. She had taken a swab from the suspicious palm.
14
'WHAT HAVE WE GOT?'
The question was put by Mac Taylor, who leaned back against his desk. Stella and Hawkes sat in front of him. Flack leaned against the wall. They were all beyond tired.
'We've got someone watching his apartment,' said Flack.
'He won't go back,' said Mac.
'No,' Flack agreed. He put his hand to his face. He needed a shave. He needed a shower, hot water beating against his aching back. He needed some sleep.
'Evidence?' asked Mac.
'The knife in Park's pocket is the same one used to kill Paul Sunderland,' said Hawkes.
'Man has a lot of knives,' said Flack.
'He made a mistake,' said Hawkes. 'There were traces of something interesting on the handle and in Park's pocket. Paint. Green. Fresh.'
