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  “That is valid reasoning, as long as all acts of sabotage have been carried out by one person.”

  “I’m following the simplest theory first. I’m going to assume it’s down to a single person until I see something that tells me I’m wrong.”

  “That is the correct approach.”

  “Thanks,” Luke muttered with a smile. “Just out of interest, who was that stroppy trainer in the gym? Can you access reservations?”

  “Searching.”

  Luke watched the runners for a while. One of them kept glancing at her watch and muttering something – probably their lap times – to her companion.

  “The practice gymnasium is reserved today in the name of Yvonne Chaplow,” Malc announced.

  “I wonder why she was so touchy. Does she have any class athletes?”

  There was a loud thump from a nearby construction site and the pigeons took off all together.

  Malc answered, “Yvonne Chaplow is an expert on muscle movement. She coaches athletes from a wide variety of disciplines that require specific muscle groups and posture to be optimised. This includes rowers, skaters, footballers, marathon runners and gymnasts. Several are being considered for the Games. For example, Ford Drayton has recently emerged as a contender for the marathon and Saskia Frame is a fourteen-year-old gymnast.”

  “She’d have no trouble climbing up scaffolding and swinging on rails,” Luke said with a grin. Thinking of the gymnast’s ill-tempered coach again, he added, “It’s tempting to put Yvonne Chaplow on my list of suspects because she was horrible, but you’ll tell me getting my own back isn’t a legally valid approach. You’ll want a motive.”

  “She has a motive. According to records, she is not in favour of regenerating Hounslow. She believes that the Games should be held in a northern centre of sporting excellence with existing facilities and an outstanding reputation for gymnastics.”

  “Mmm. So, she might want to see Hounslow fail. While we’re on the topic of suspects, Malc, open that file on objectors to the development. The one with Frank Russell in it. How many others are in there?”

  “Three.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  “Holly Queenan,” Malc told him, “is probably twenty-four years old. Little is known about her. My records indicate that she has two convictions for theft. William Underwood is a seventy-eight-year-old biologist, living in Ealing. Currently, he is ill and medical files suggest that he is nearing the end of his life.”

  Luke interrupted. “Is he the one Frank Russell told us about? His neighbour with a reptile house?”

  “Insufficient data, but highly likely.”

  “Who’s the other protester?”

  “A historian called Trevor Twigg. He is thirty-one years old.”

  “All right. I’ll need to speak to them all. Better start with William Underwood, but he’s not Spoilsport if he’s really sick.”

  ****

  The old man’s voice called, “Is that you, Elsie?”

  William’s young nurse touched her patient’s arm. “No. It’s a forensic investigator.” She turned to Luke and whispered, “Elsie’s his wife. Died two years ago, after fifty-six years together. It’s terrible, what Hounslow’s done to him.” She shook her head sadly. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  Luke sat beside the old man’s bed and Malc perched on a sideboard.

  William’s head turned stiffly towards his visitor. “The hospital sent me home to die. Not much of a home. This is my new place. Not a patch on...” His eyes lost focus for a moment and he looked puzzled. “We got evicted. The move was too much for her.”

  “Who?”

  “Elsie.”

  “I’m sorry,” Luke replied. “What do you remember of your old place in Hounslow?”

  “Bernard got hold of one of Frank’s young pigeons.” Suddenly, surprising Luke, he burst out laughing. It was more of an unearthly cackle really.

  “Who’s Bernard?”

  “My Nile monitor lizard. He’d enjoy a baby pigeon. Delicious. Frank was livid.” He laughed again. “Elsie didn’t like the horned lizard.”

  Trying to keep him talkative, Luke asked, “Why not?”

  “Didn’t like the blood.”

  “What?”

  “It squirts blood from its eyes when it’s under threat. A quarter of its blood flies out.”

  Grimacing, Luke didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know whether to believe the confused old man, either. He turned to look at Malc.

  His mobile said, “That is a correct description of the horned lizard’s defence mechanism. The foul-tasting blood comes from sinuses behind the eyes.”

  “Charming.” Luke looked back at William. “What happened to your reptile house?”

  All humour vanished from his face. “Flattened.”

  “And the animals?”

  “A vet was on his way to collect them but the bulldozer got there first. Frank’s pigeons could fly away but not Bernard and the rest of mine. All gone.” William’s eyes became wet with tears.

  The reptiles’ fate was a shame, Luke knew, and the memory had remained clear in William’s fogged brain, but it didn’t seem to have anything to do with his inquiry. “Did you get on well with Frank?”

  The old man nodded weakly. “Wanted us to join his fight. But... There was Elsie to think of...” He ran out of words.

  To prevent him getting more distressed, Luke asked, “What about Holly Queenan and Trevor Twigg? Do you know them?”

  He seemed to be gazing at something beyond the ceiling. “No.”

  “Was anyone else fighting against the development?”

  “I don’t...” He twisted his head again to look at Luke. “How could they do that to Elsie and my pets?”

  Luke shrugged. “It should’ve been handled better.”

  “You’re young,” William said as if he’d just noticed Luke’s age. At once, though, his mind drifted. “There’s rats in here. They say there aren’t, but I’ve seen them. Big ones. Didn’t have rats before. My snakes would’ve swallowed them whole. You should’ve tasted Frank’s strawberries. Or was it blueberries?”

  Luke smiled. “I bet Frank’s a lot fitter than he looks. Is that right?”

  “Frank? He’s strong. Stronger than me. Put it down to digging his garden. Always on the go. He kept pigeons as well.”

  “Did he use pesticides? On his garden, not his pigeons.”

  “I don’t think so. But...” He shrugged helplessly.

  “Did either of you work for the airport?”

  “The airport?” William looked shocked. “We’d rather die.”

  “Did you hear about the plane crash?”

  William looked puzzled. “What plane crash?”

  “Two years ago.”

  “That was when Elsie...”

  “Yes,” Luke said softly.

  “No,” William replied. “I can’t remember a plane crash. It was grief that took my Elsie.”

  Thinking of the shotgun that blew up in its owner’s hands, Luke asked, “Was there anyone who knew all about rifles?”

  “Rifles? You don’t want to mess around with that sort of thing. Dangerous.”

  “Yes, but do you remember anyone who did?”

  He shook his head.

  The door opened and his home nurse came back in with a razor and a bowl of soapy water.

  William craned his neck and called, “Is that you, Elsie?”

  ****

  On his way back to Hounslow Residential, Luke stopped by the indoor arena and golf house. There were four large concrete pillars and, in front of them, a plinth, ready to take a statue of some sort. It would probably be a celebration of the human form, Luke guessed, in the shape of an athlete. The pillars were fancy but the plinth was plain. Luke imagined that the designer didn’t want an ornate base to detract from the sculpture still to come.

  “This is the last thing Libby Byrne worked on,” Luke said, reaching out and touching the rough pedestal. Struck by a chilling thought, he
shuddered and glanced at Malc. “Can any of your scans penetrate concrete?”

  “Only to a few centimetres, depending on the density of the matrix.”

  “Is there anything that can look all the way through?”

  “Confirmed.”

  “Order it, Malc. I want to see if there’s anything inside the pillars and the plinth apart from concrete. Like Libby Byrne’s body.”

  “Transmitting request.”

  Chapter Nine

  It was Friday evening. Luke had stripped down to a T-shirt because his room was sweltering. The thermostat had clearly gone wrong but at least there was no shortage of electricity. Luke was occupied with the horrifying thought that Libby could have ended up encased in concrete until he was interrupted by a vibration that seemed to bore right into his head. Somewhere below him, a decorator was drilling into the wall. Unaffected by the irritating noise, Malc said, “The kitchen has informed me that your dinner is ready.”

  “Thanks. Ask them to bring it up and come straight in. Unlock the door. That’s fine.”

  “Sending message.”

  Luke had been on the Spoilsport case for only two full days, but he was already feeling frustrated. “It’s one thing to come up with a few promising motives and people who had the opportunity, but getting real evidence is going to be tricky on a filthy great building site.”

  “To gain a conviction, eyewitness statements or confessions must be supported by some physical evidence.”

  “Thanks for giving me a Year-8 criminology lesson, Malc.”

  “Gratitude is unnecessary.”

  “The thing that’s bothering me most is Libby Byrne. She could be in danger or dead. I need to find her one way or the other. Top priority. And I want to know why her partner’s heart rate went up when I asked him about the Games.”

  “You should also interview the objectors, Holly Queenan and Trevor Twigg. However, Holly Queenan’s whereabouts are unknown.”

  Behind them, the door slid open and a female voice said, “Room service. Dinner for Forensic Investigator Harding.”

  At once, Luke gasped and spun round.

  “Hiya!” Hardly able to suppress her laughter, Jade wheeled the trolley into Luke’s room.

  “What...?” Dumbstruck, Luke’s mouth stayed open in amazement.

  “How’s tricks?”

  “It’s... You.” Luke jumped to his feet.

  Jade looked into the mirror to her right. “True.”

  It took Luke another second to understand. Then he exclaimed, “You got the anthem job! You didn’t tell me!”

  “What? And miss the opportunity to see that wide-eyed expression when I came in?”

  Luke ran to her. “But... You don’t come down south.”

  “I made an exception for the Games music,” she replied, throwing her arms around him.

  “Brilliant,” Luke said. “Well done.” Towering above her, he glanced down at the trolley. “Did you bribe your way into the job by agreeing to deliver room services?”

  She giggled. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  Luke nodded.

  “Me too. I got them to make lots for both of us.” She unwrapped her arms from around him and added, “Seems they’ll do anything for the Games’ musician. Look.” She took away one of the lids to reveal a plate of fruit.

  “What’s this?” Luke said in amazement.

  “Well, I thought you’d be able to tell me, you being an expert and an investigator. If you’re not sure, see if Malc can recognize it.”

  “It’s a pomegranate!”

  “Your favourite. Ten out of ten.”

  “Huh. Nothing was happening for me. Malc set up a supply from Jordan but the kitchen wasn’t getting its act sorted out at this end. How come you...?”

  “I asked nicely before I set out. I said the Games’ musician needed them and...” She shrugged. “Bob’s your uncle, to quote you. They’ll be on the breakfast menu while I’m here.”

  A small lizard, off-white with grey bands and a light pink on its head and legs, ran down the wall, across the floor and disappeared into one of the heating vents.

  Surprised, Luke said, “What was that? And what’s it doing here?”

  “It is a reptile of the family Gekkonidae,” Malc answered. “It is widespread in warm climates. It is probably searching for spiders to eat.”

  For a moment, Luke was back on the case. He said, “I wonder if it’s one of William Underwood’s pets. One that escaped the bulldozer, now living in the nice warm ventilation system.” He looked at Jade and said, “I bet your room doesn’t come with lizards and spiders. You’ve probably got staff to shoo them away for you.”

  “That’s right,” she said. “I’ve got my own creepy-crawly warden, a hairdresser, a girl who puts toothpaste on my toothbrush, another one who flushes my toilet, and my personal chef.”

  “Huh. If I were you, I’d keep the last two well apart. Are you still going to complain about how awful everything is in the south?”

  More serious this time, Jade replied, “Outside this sport scheme, yes. I saw what it’s like from the cab on the way down here. But we’re hungry. Let’s tuck in before it gets cold.”

  “It doesn’t matter, does it?” Luke replied. “You can call in your personal food reheating attendant.”

  “Very funny,” said Jade.

  ****

  At half past six on Saturday morning, Luke met Jade downstairs in the reception of the accommodation block. Bleary-eyed, Luke said, “Are you sure this is a good idea?” He’d promised to take her to the main stadium while it was still dark, before the builders began their day’s work and before her official guide arrived.

  Always full of life, Jade rarely looked tired. “Yes,” she replied enthusiastically. “I want to see the sun rising over the stadium. It’s symbolic. Dawn’s a new beginning, like the regeneration itself, like the opening of the Games. They’re all the start of something big. I’m hoping daybreak’ll give me inspiration.”

  Luke didn’t pretend to understand but he said, “All right.” He would have preferred to stay in bed but, trying to be cheerful, he added, “I’ve always wanted to see what you look like in a hard hat.”

  It wasn’t an improvement. She stood beside the control room, her head swamped by the protective hat, and took in the scale of the place as daylight began to flood the stadium. “Wow,” she said. “It’s huge. Just the positioning and type of speakers is going to be... a challenge.”

  Overhead, a suspended platform let out a creak. Luke glanced upwards nervously but there was no sign of movement. He hoped the noise was normal when the sun’s rays began to warm and expand the metalwork.

  “Plans and photos will remind me when I’m back in Sheffield,” Jade said, “but there’s nothing like being here, drinking in the atmosphere.”

  Luke looked around the empty stadium as well, wishing he could also be inspired. He needed something special to solve his case. The sun was low in the sky and bright enough to sting his eyes, yet there was a winter chill in the air. His hands ached with cold.

  “I want to bathe the whole space in sound,” Jade said, looking up at the enormous arch and the oval canopy, “so everyone gets the same experience whether they’re on the field or at the back of one of the stands. Tricky, but putting a bank of downward facing speakers in the overhang might be the answer – like floodlighting, but with sound.”

  Luke thought that he heard a sound behind them. A bump. He spun round. There was nothing but the control room, filled with an array of computers and monitors. Most of them had not yet been properly installed.

  Jade glanced at him. “You’re twitchy this morning.”

  “Yes, well. Somewhere, there’s someone – Spoilsport – trying to make sure the Games won’t happen.” He turned to Malc and asked, “Did you hear a noise?”

  “Confirmed. In the last few seconds, I have logged twelve types of sound.”

  “Apart from us speaking, the place creaking, and anything normal. It migh
t have come from the control room.” He took a few steps towards its broad window.

  “I have recorded one thud from that direction.”

  Luke cupped both hands around his eyes to cut out the sun’s glare reflecting off the glass and peered into the room.

  Almost at once, the side door opened and a shadowy figure took off at speed towards the main exit. The faded jeans, scuffed fleece coat and hood told Luke that it wasn’t a builder. All construction workers wore overalls and a hard hat. Luke did not see the intruder’s face. But something about the running style told him it was a woman. “Stop!” he shouted. “Forensic Investigator!”

  But she didn’t hesitate.

  Luke said, “Pursue, Malc. Don’t hurt her, though. Obstruct-mode only. And call in security guards.” He glanced at Jade and said, “Hang on here.” Then he sprinted along the gap between banks of seats, chasing the prowler who had broken into the control room.

  Chapter Ten

  Luke lost sight of Malc because he was concentrating on hurrying down the stone steps without falling. Some way in front of him, the intruder was equally nimble on her feet. But Luke was confident that, with or without Malc’s help, he’d catch her. He believed he could outrun her, unless she was a contender for the International Youth Games. He was also hoping that arresting Spoilsport had become as straightforward as winning this race.

  He reached the bottom of the steps and, stretching his long legs, accelerated along the passageway. Ahead of him in the wide tunnel, the woman was sprinting for the exit. Now it was a straight race, with piles of rubble as the only obstacles, Luke began to gain on her. She would emerge into the open air first, though. He had to trust that Malc would be on hand to track her, in case she tried to lose Luke in the countless pathways through the construction site.

  Reaching the open air, the woman skidded to a halt. Malc was hovering at the entrance in obstruct mode. As a warning, he fired a laser beam from his underside and hit the concrete floor a few centimetres in front of the woman.