CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

The Principal had given the detective a private space which was converted to an investigation room as there was just a table between two chairs and while the detective sat at one end, the suspects quivered at the other. Stella was still at the hot seat.

She had been staring so keenly at the meticulousness of the detective, observing her rapid eye movements and examination of the detailed drawings in the diary. Stella clasped her feeble palms together between her thighs as one would do bread to butter because that was the only way she could stop them from shaking. She remembered vividly how she had gotten herself there.

A general assembly was conducted under duress when Mary was reported missing. Every girl had been adorned with their white shirt, checked blue and white strokes on their pleated skirts and navy blue blazers while the boys had a crimson red trousers and the same colour on their blazers serving as an extra layer over their shirts. Some had taken theirs off because the meeting had been summoned under the scorching heat of the afternoon sun while others still appeared fully clothed.

Principal May read out a note that had been alleged to be Mary's suicide note. She recalled how the Principal had punctuated at each point, the callousness of depression and how everyone had a hand in her choice for murder, but Stella knew that Mary didn't do it. Someone standing at the row for Ss2A students did it and proper autopsy couldn't be carried out because the body was still missing.

Slowly but steadily, at the last row under the blazing heat and before the teachers and apparently the whole school, Stella rose her hand and countered the contents of the letter.

"Mary didn't kill herself," she had said and an uproar of murmuring students arose. She had reiterated it when the Principal didn't seem to hear her. A little louder even.

"Are you sure about that?" The Principal had asked, killing the murmurs and Stella replied in the affirmative. "Then who did it?"

Stella stared at everyone at her row and many of them shot fiery gazes her way. She then drew lines on the earth with the sole of her shoe which the Principal and many other teachers and Reverend sisters understood to mean that she was trying to protect the identity of whosoever did it.

But that was not it. If at all, Stella would have screamed the name of the person if she had been fully convinced. She had made a claim on uncertain grounds which was just as well punishable by law hence her fear.

"Excuse me detective," Stella spoke up.

"Yes?" The detective asked, raising her eyes from the page she had dwelt upon. It was that of the nun with a blood at the corner of her lips.

"Are you the same detective that handled the case of the little boy who killed his abusive father?" Stella spat out.

The detective pulled out her glasses and smirked in sudden recollection of the memory.

"Yes, it is I. It's been roughly two years. How did you know about it?" The detective asked.

"It was all over the news. It was almost impossible that a child that little could commit such an act. Doesn't the law protect the interest of children that little?"

"The law protects everyone," the detective replied firmly.

That was definitely not the reply she had anticipated but took it in anyways.

"You did mention that the book had a thing or two about everyone. Didn't you?" The detective casually asked and Stella nodded. "Why didn't Mary say much about you as her friend? Or are some pages from this book missing?" Stella fell silent and clutched tightly to the hem of her skirt.

****

It was another new day at Queens' college and it was the period most people dreaded, sanitation day. It had explained why many of the other students had not returned when due. Many of them would resume that day while many of the others would resume the next weekend.

As for those who resumed as at when due, they were unfortunate enough to clear up the entire school. The holidays before the entrance to a new class was always the longest and the messiest when they returned.

There was a lot of scrubbing, grass cutting, sweeping and washing needed to be done. The Principal enlisted the aid of the head girl, her assistant, the labour and the sanitary prefects to supervise all the work.

Occasionally, one would hear, 'what have you been doing?' 'All these places still need thorough scrubbing,' 'Stop idling about,' 'Do your portions quicker.' But you know you've been scrubbing your life out of it.

Asides the major sanitation, another very important work that had been going on was the lifting of bunks and arrangement of the new hostel for the boys. The older hostel where the girls stayed had been arranged to fit a larger crowd. Two rooms which were formerly for one class had the girls of one class squeezed into a single room.

The newer hostel was still undergoing application of fittings, paintings and stacking of bunks. The possibility of boys moving into the girls' hostel still seemed impossible and yet preparations were being made to that effect.

At the end of the vigorous clean up, everyone who had been affected by the hostel displacements had to go through another series of packing and arranging.

There was a loud scream from the upstairs rooms where Ss3 girls had colonized and soon thumping thuds were heard about the whole building. Some accompanied with whistling and within that noise, there was laughter. You'd have to strain your ears to pick up the sound.

"What is going on?" Someone had asked.

"The boys are here!" Another screamed and struggling to put on her pair of rubber slippers and day wear, hurriedly rushed out of the hostel. Mary too had followed the crowd who gawked at the boys as they trooped in on a single file. The school was big enough yet Queens' hostel was so widely seperated from the Kings' hostel that you would think they are different schools entirely.

Another meeting was called for later that day but that time, it had all the students both boys and girls present. Their Principal and the resident Priest, stood beside each other taking turns for their speech. They spent the evening emphasizing on the many do's and dont's they expected every student to abide by.

"We don't accept malignant behaviors," Principal May concluded. They had however stressed on their disapproval and unacceptance towards sexual behaviors. They guided themselves from mentioning the words way too often else it would seem too profane and had crowned it all under the heading of malignancy.

Ashley had her eyes scout the entire hall in between all the boys who had a blue checked shirt and brown trousers in a frantic search for Martins. Her eyes moved rapidly from seat to seat observing the details of each occupant and she hoped silently that he was OK. She found him at the last row and at the middle seat when someone had bent over to pick something. He noticed her stare and immediately she looked away.

*****

The detective watched as Ashley strutted in. Her neck was raised high and her shoulders taken back. She had the perfect build and poise for a model and she continually proved it. Her hair had been loosened and the straight strands fell back stopping at her back bone. It was undoubtedly the longest hair in the school.

For a while, the school didn't permit the keeping of hair for the ladies but dented that rule when they had been in JS3 and so Ashley had grown her hair for roughly two years straight and the black mass was lovely.

She took her seat opposite the detective and stared directly into the detective's eyes, unflinching.

"I didn't kill Mary," she blurted out. Her words weren't accompanied with any form of stutter. They were coherent and confidence radiated evidently from it.

"I haven't asked you a question yet," the detective smiled. "...and besides we haven't concluded that she is dead. Her body is still missing." She knew the cards very well to be fooled. There were many people who stuttered and had been proven innocent while many others displayed confidence and yet had everything to do with the case. It took meticulousness to point that fact out. "How was your relationship with Mary?" The detective asked.

"Rough, I won't lie. I guess we can't all like everyone. I didn't like her but I promise you that I have nothing to do with her disappearance," Ashley said firmly. "Honestly, I think she committed suicide. Mary was depressed as you could see the dark drawings and sketches in her diary. She kept to herself and wasn't performing well in school. I tried to be there for her, but she didn't want my help." Ashley bent her head and a sad expression took over that once confident radiance. A tear or two even slid down her cheeks.

"So you maintain that she committed suicide?" Detective Uju asked.

"Yes."