--- Chapter Three ---

"What?" Neller nearly choked as he tried to read Veterson's eyes and determine whether his co-director was serious about this accusation. "A student? You're sure?"

"Positive. I think it must've been a jazz band kid."

Neller shook his head in disbelief. "Why's that?"

"Whoever it was seemed to know the band room lounge well. There was a stand right in front of the door, and they didn't trip over it or anything else in the room."

"Oh, you mean that old broken stand?" Neller glanced sideways at a stand and a stack of chairs just clear of the lounge door. "Gosh, that's been there for…"

"…a long time, I know." Veterson sighed. He scarcely wanted to believe what he was telling Neller himself, but it all seemed so logical. "And since those jazz band kids are always practicing in here every morning…"

"…only they would know about it." Neller and Veterson had worked together for so many years that they could almost finish each other's thoughts and sentences. He was confident that Veterson spoke the truth. "No one else is that familiar with the lounge."

"Precisely. Um…"

"What is it?" Neller asked.

"I seem to remember that the student was shorter than me, as well." Thinking back, Veterson was fairly certain that this was a valid statement. The perpetrator's eyes were a few inches below his own, he'd thought. On the other hand, it had been quite dark… but it was the best description he had of his attacker.

"Really?" Neller stroked his chin thoughtfully. "How much shorter?"

"I'm not sure, exactly." Veterson rested his head in his hands and began massaging his eyes.

Just then, the door burst open. At first, the occupants of the lounge could not see who it was, for the antechamber to the band and chorus rooms remained dark.

"Hey Mr. Neller! I think I've lost my… OMIGOSH!"

It was one of the five Jazz Band One trumpet players, Yaitlin Malar. She was the only female trumpet in the entire trumpet section. Not only was she the lone girl, but she was one of the few smart trumpeters, besides the senior Trew Cavis.

"Wh-what happened?" Yaitlin stuttered, faint from shock and the sight of blood.

"Can't you see, girl!? We're trying to figure that out!"

"Oh, sorry. Um… I'll just go now."

"Not so fast, Malar. You aren't going anywhere."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't move."

"What…?"

"You're short. You're in Jazz Band One. We must question you."

"I… Did I miss something?"

"The police will be here shortly. Until then, have a lollipop."

"Well… okay."

"Now, what did you lose?"

"My mute," Yaitlin said, biting her lip and taking a cherry lollipop. "I was practicing at home when I realized I didn't have it with me. I think I left it here in the lounge, so I came by early to look for it…" The teachers glanced around at each other. The story sounded solid enough… but you never knew with these trumpet players.

All of a sudden, everyone turned as they heard a car noisily drive up outside. In only a matter of seconds, a few police and medical workers rushed into the building. Veterson was lifted up on a stretcher and taken out of the room, while the police sat Yaitlin down and Neller began to question her.

"Now… Do you know anything about what happened to Mr. Veterson?" Neller asked.

Yaitlin shook her head. "No. What did happen?" she asked, still a bit shaken from what she'd seen.

"Hey, I'm asking the questions here," Neller said sharply. Yaitlin shut up. "Now then… tell the truth. Did you come back to the school yesterday after classes were over?"

"Well, yeah," Yaitlin said. "I came back to practice for a little bit. Maybe that's when I lost my mute. But I left at 4:30," she added.

"Were there people still in the band room when you left?"

"No… we all left at the same time," Yaitlin said. "We all went over to Karrad Littner's house to have pizza… his treat, since we did so well at the contest."

"Hm…" Now that he thought about it, Neller realized that Karrad had indeed written a large sign on the whiteboard announcing the party. Of course, high schoolers wouldn't care that such a party would be held on a school night. Go figure. Neller shook his head.

"How long did this party last?"

"Oh, jeez, well… until about eight, I guess," Yaitlin admitted. "It ran kind of long."

"Was everybody there?"

"Yeah… well… most people," Yaitlin said, counting in her head. "Some people couldn't make it, and then some people who aren't even in jazz band came, too… I don't really recall who came or not."

"Hm…" Neller mentally sighed. "Well, we'll have to keep you in touch. Don't skip town, all right?"

Yaitlin stared at him, a little confused. "Um… all right."

"We'll let you go now," one of the police officers said, finishing up some writing in a notebook.

"See you when school starts up again," Neller said. With that, Yaitlin went back out into the band room to use the telephone.

"So, where does this leave us?" Neller asked the police officer.

The police officer grunted. "Well, let's see. My colleagues and I have gathered information about you, Veterson, and Yaitlin Malar. Has anyone else been lurking around?"

Neller was uncertain. Had he seen anyone before he came upon this grotesque sight in the lounge?

"Um… Not that I know of. I don't remember—"

"OUT! OUT, I SAYS!"

A rough-looking detective approached, wearing a Stetson hat accompanied with a trench coat.

"OUT!"

"What's the big idea? We're only—"

"LOOK, I CAN'T WORK MIRACLES HERE, CHUMS. YA'S TRAMPLIN' DA EVIDENCE, YA'S NIMRODS! GET OUT BEFORE ALLA YA'S TRASH DA PLACE."

"All right. Keep your shirt on, Curley."

Neller and the police officer avoided the bloodstained carpet while obeying the detective's words. They moved into the band room.

"Who the heck was that?" Neller asked, glancing back towards the door with a look of confusion.

"Who, Curley? Don't worry about him. Ever since the incident, he's been a little off upstairs, if you know what I mean."

"I… I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ever since that night, he's been crazy. That's when Curley got that strange accent, too."

"What night?"

"Oh, it doesn't matter," the police officer waved it off. "Just be warned… don't cross him," he said. Neller raised an eyebrow.

"O… kay…"

Just then, another police officer stepped out of the lounge door. He looked at Neller and said, "We've decided to run a DNA check on the area… it might lead us to a suspect." But suddenly, the police officer was met with a burst of laughter from Neller.

"Ha ha ha!" the director chuckled. "Good luck with that."

"Eh?"

"We've got jazz band, plus kids with lessons, in and out of there all the time."

"So?"

"That means, you've got about thirty-some kids dumping spit all over that carpet."

"What?!" The police officer made a disgusted face and glanced down at his shoes. Neller merely laughed.