Allen looked up from his maths homework as the headmaster made his way toward his corner of the library.
"Allen, I need to see you in my office for a moment."
"Of course, Father." His stomach rolling with dread, Allen put away his books and computer as quickly as he could, and looped his backpack onto his shoulder. "What's happening?" he asked, any number of possible scenarios racing through his head.
"I'm sorry to keep you in suspense, Allen, but there's been an incident, and the police are here to speak with you. I'll be with you, just like I was last time, so you have nothing to worry about."
Just like last time, when Hevlaska's flat was burned, when Father Tiedoll pulled an all-nighter to be with the Order students when they were questioned. Hopefully, this wasn't about poker. Allen hadn't been playing much lately, but the amount he'd won over the last year or so was enough to get the attention of the authorities.
The headmaster's office was a stark, simple room. There was a desk, but it was nothing special, nor were the chairs or bookshelves, and the books were yearbooks, reference books, and other necessities. The only ornament was a wooden cross on the wall, and yet the air overflowed with the kind of authority most people in Father Tiedoll's position decorated to convey.
Two of the chairs were occupied by uniformed police officers with somber expressions, a man and a woman. Father Tiedoll pulled out a chair for Allen, then pulled his own chair out from behind the desk, placing it beside Allen's before sitting down.
"Allen Walker?" the male officer asked.
"Yes," Allen said.
The officer held out his hand. "I'm Detective Ruben Lenaerts, and this is my partner Alicia Carlier."
Allen shook hands with both of them. "Nice to meet you."
"You studied dance with Marian Cross, correct," Carlier said.
"Yes," Allen said. So this was about his teacher, not him.
"I'm afraid we have bad news for you," she said. "Marian Cross was found dead in his hotel room earlier this afternoon."
"What?" Allen was glad he was sitting down or he would have fallen down.
"Are you all right, Allen?" Father Tiedoll asked softly.
"Yes. No. I mean...dead? Are you sure?"
"Why do you ask that?" Lenaerts asked.
"B...because he's really good at disappearing," Allen said. "He used to do it all the time when we were traveling, so if he's just missing, he might not be dead." Allen's teacher had always seemed like a force of nature rather than something human enough to die.
"We believe he was shot in the head. The attendant saw a body, although it was gone by the time we got there," Carlier said. "The amount of blood, though...I'm sorry, Allen. No one could survive that."
When Allen looked at his hands, he saw that they were shaking, so he clenched his fists. "Why? Who would do that. I mean, he was a...he wasn't nice, but murder?"
"That's an interesting question," Lenaerts said, pulling an envelope out of his pocket and pulling a piece of paper out of it. "Do you recognize this?"
Allen took it and unfolded it. It was a faxed copy of an adoption certificate, his own he realized with a shock, dating back ten years. Then he saw the other name. "No," he said, aware of the rush of adrenaline that was sending his heart rate too high.
"Allen?" Father Tiedoll asked.
"I'm all right," Allen said, closing his eyes and breathing as deeply as he could, blowing it out at half speed.
"Allen?" Carlier asked.
"Allen has a heart condition," Father Tiedoll said sharply. "I'd appreciate it if you not shock him in this way again. He's already had several heart attacks, and he doesn't need another one."
"Sorry, Father," Carlier said. "Allen, are you all right?"
"I'm fine." Allen opened his eyes.
"You didn't know about this?"
"No!" Allen said, handing the paper back as if it was poisonous. "How could he...why...? Are you sure that's real?"
"Let me see it, please," Father Tiedoll said, reaching for the document.
Lenaerts gave it to him and turned back to Allen. "You didn't know?"
"No, and I didn't want to."
"He's on your passport as your father."
"He's on a lot of things he has no business being on," Allen said.
"You thought he'd falsified your passport?" Carlier asked.
"Why not? He falsifies everything else." Allen's bits of bank fraud were learned from Cross.
"Why didn't you report it to the authorities?"
They were the police. Were they really that naive? "Because I was twelve and my father had just died. Where else was I going to go?"
"Your father?" Lenaerts asked. "I thought you were orphaned as a baby."
"Mana Walker was my father." Allen closed his eyes as tightly as he could, trying to block out the memory of what he'd just seen. "He's the one who took me when I was little, not Cross. He fed me, clothed me, raised me, and taught me to dance. Mana is my father, not Cross." Not Cross.
"Why did Cross leave you with him?" Lenaerts asked.
"I didn't know that he had! I didn't know!" Allen said, then he sat back in his chair, deliberately steadying his breathing to slow his pounding heart.
"Why...?" Lenaerts began, but Father Tiedoll held up his hand.
"Give the boy a moment to collect himself."
They paused until Allen opened his eyes again, then Carlier spoke. "When did you first meet Cross?"
"At the hospital," Allen said, "when I was twelve. They discharged me into his care."
"That was the first time you met him?"
Although Allen had tried to remember another meeting, he couldn't. Either it was too fleeting, or had happened too long ago. "Yes."
"What did he say to you?"
"That I would be living with him from now on."
"And you just went?" Lenaerts asked.
Allen shrugged. "Where else was I going to go?" It wasn't as if alternatives were lined up waiting.
"What kind of relationship did you have with Cross?" Carlier asked.
"It wasn't a very good one," Allen admitted. "I wasn't even in school for three years because we moved around so much, and he was a hard teacher."
"Lot of that kind of thing going around in this family," Lenaerts muttered under his breath.
"What do you mean?" Father Tiedoll said.
"Maybe the best way to do this is to get the routine questions out of the way," Lenaerts said. "Where were you this afternoon, Allen?"
"In a practice room in the basement of my dorm," Allen said.
"Anyone with you?"
"No. I was signed in, though."
"Signed in?"
"The boys sign in and out at the desk every time they enter or leave the dormitory," Father Tiedoll said, "and sign in and out of the practice rooms as well."
"Are there windows in those rooms?" Lenaerts asked.
"Very small ones," Father Tiedoll said. "They can be broken in an emergency, but not opened."
"How well is that area supervised?"
"The monk who handles the sign-in sheets can see anyone who enters and leaves the area."
"Let's say someone managed to get past the monk," Lenaerts said. "What about the dormitory's back door?"
Allen suppressed a smirk, but a fly wouldn't get past that monk.
"It has a very loud alarm," Father Tiedoll said.
"Fire escape?"
"That would leave him coming in the front door a second time," Father Tiedoll said, "and probably right away. The ladder on the fire escape is on a springed hinge. It folds up automatically and quite noisily."
"Perhaps he has a friend on the first floor."
"The first floor is the monks' dormitory," Father Tiedoll said. "We have better sense than to house the boys there."
"That's a lot of precautions for a school dormitory," Lenaerts said.
"Many of our students come from difficult backgrounds," Father Tiedoll said placidly. "We find it reassuring to know that they are where they're supposed to be at all times."
Allen had to hide a smile this time, but he'd watched his hallmates try to get around those precautions many times. Hell had no fury like a monk frog-marching a would-be escapee to the head proctor's office.
"We'll need those records," Lenaerts said.
"Of course. Is there anything else?"
"There is, but if the adoption certificate was a shock, this probably will be, too," Carlier said.
"Maybe you should come back later," Father Tiedoll said.
"No, it's all right," Allen said. "A shock is a shock. If I know something's coming, I can manage it. What do you want to tell me?"
"Are you aware that Marian Cross was also an orphan?" Carlier said.
"Yes," Allen said.
"Like you, he was also adopted. Did you know that?"
"No," Allen said. "He had people he called Mother and Papa, but I didn't think they were actually his parents."
"They were the people his adoptive parent left him with. Can you guess who adopted him?"
This, Allen realized, was why they had dropped the adoption certificate on him like that. They'd been trying to shock him onto a confession, or at least a slip of some kind. Whoever Cross's adoptive parent was, they were someone important enough to kill over. "No," he said
Lenaerts pulled another piece of paper out of his envelope. "Have a look for yourself."
This certificate was a different version of the one he'd been shown before, from a time before computers were commonly used. Allen glanced through the names, and his jaw dropped. "Hevlaska? Hevlaska adopted him?"
"That's right," Lenaerts said. "You realize what this means, don't you?"
"No!" Allen said, but he was in no position to realize anything.
Father Tiedoll, however, was outraged. "Are you seriously telling me that you suspected Allen of murder?"
Once again, Allen had to close his eyes and steady his breathing.
"Look at it from our point of view," Lenaerts said. "Miss Rouvellier is very elderly and quite wealthy, and Allen is now her heir. People have killed for less than that."
"I'm what?" Allen asked, struggling with his own disbelief.
"And there was the fire at Miss Rouvellier's home," Lenaerts added.
"You think there's a connection?" Father Tiedoll asked.
"We have to look into every possibility," Lenaerts said.
"Well, I assure you that Allen's alibis are very good," Father Tiedoll said.
"Every once in a while a boy slips through, but it's quite rare and usually they only succeed after repeated attempts, which Allen has not made. I also think it's been made clear that he had no idea there was any legal tie between himself and Marian, never mind between himself and Hevlaska."
"Teenaged boys are no angels, Father," Lenaerts said.
"I'm probably better aware of that than you are," Father Tiedoll said. "I run a school full of them, many of whom you or your counterparts in their hometowns have met. I didn't mean to suggest that Allen is an angel. What he is is a dedicated dancer. Dance takes up far too much time and energy for him to get into trouble, especially on a competition year. This boy lives a very regimented life, Detective. He swipes a card for meals, gets marked for attendance at each class, gets marked for attendance at the studio, signs in to the library to study, and signs in to use the practice rooms in our basement. His only real privacy is his bedroom, and he must sign in to the dormitory to go there. His only outside socializing is meals at the restaurant across the street from the studio, and there are plenty of witnesses who can vouch for his regular presence there. I can see why he's such a tempting suspect, but he had neither means nor opportunity. Nor motive. He had no idea that Marian was more than a temporary guardian."
They really thought he'd killed Cross, Allen thought, and had tried to kill Hevlaska. They really thought that.
"I'd like those records, please," Lenaerts said, "going back...say, six months. Including cafeteria and classroom attendance records."
"Certainly," Father Tiedoll said. "Given that Allen has just been orphaned a second time, shall I assume children's services will be involved?"
"Yes," said Lenaerts. "They'll be speaking with Miss Rouvellier, since she's his next of kin."
Next of kin, Allen thought. Hevlaska was his next of kin.
"We're willing to keep him here, to keep disruption of his life to a minimum. I'm sure she'll have no objection. Is there anything else?" Father Tiedoll asked.
"Not the moment,' Lenaerts said, rising. "Thank you for your time."
"Allen, we're sorry for your loss," Carlier said as she stood, and only then did it finally sink in that this whole thing had been about the death of Marian Cross.
Allen sat as the headmaster showed the visitors out, surprised to find himself more angry than sad. It was so typical of his teacher to just disappear like that, leaving behind more questions than answers, only this time there would be no answers.
"Allen?" Father Tiedoll knelt beside Allen's chair.
Allen shook his head. "I don't understand."
"Neither do I. We just have to let the police do their jobs. Listen, now that Marian is dead, if there's anything you need to talk about, anything at all, please feel free to come to me or to Brother Marie. If you're in some kind of trouble, we'll help you. Whatever you've done to survive in Marian's care is his responsibility, not yours. You're still a child, even though Marian didn't treat you like one."
Well, shit, Allen thought. They must have found those damned gift cards on Cross. No more poker for a while, not until this blew over.
Then again, he didn't have to play anymore. His most urgent reason for playing was gone, and gone for good this time. There would be no more demands for money, either from Cross himself or from his creditors.
Allen put his face in his hands and began to cry.