“A question for the ages,” I said. “Can you walk us through it?”
“Like I was saying, first matchup was at eight o’clock this morning, and we’ve been running ’em steady ever since.” He pulled out a little pocket notebook and flipped it open. “Victim is Kevin Schwartzman, and he and a kid by the name of Dwight Parr were the last fight of the afternoon. Both are students here at King George. And according to Parr, they were friends.”
“But Parr killed him?” I asked.
Slack winced and rocked back on his heels. “In a matter of speaking. But I’m not sure he murdered him. That’s why you guys are here. And Parr is in the athletic director’s office sucking on his inhaler when you’re ready to talk to him.”
“Good,” Jack said. “Take us up to the body and let’s see what we see.”
Slack led the way up the short stairs and held the rope up for me to slip under, and then he followed after Jack.
“What’s with the broom?” I asked, noticing the long-handled push broom a couple of feet from the body. And then I got a closer look at the victim and came up with my own conclusion.
The victim wore white pancake makeup, but it had melted off in places, leaving behind red streaks on his face and neck. The tip of his nose and chin were charred completely black—a different kind of black than the makeup smeared around his eyes—and there was metal chain mail draped over the top of his head and slightly melted. The tips of his fingers were all black as well, and I noticed the toes of his leather boots had been blown out.
“Once the victim started smelling like a roast turkey, Parr dropped his sword and he and the ref both ran over to try to help him. It looked like he was having a seizure the way he was shaking on the ground.”
“And the current traveled from the victim to Parr and the ref,” I finished for him.
“Wait a second,” Jack said. “This kid was electrocuted? How is that even possible?”
“Well, that’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Slack said. “Parr’s sword over there shot some kind of electrical current and as soon as it touched all that metal on the victim he started roasting in his own Dutch oven.”
I winced at the picture he painted. “That’s not a good way to die.”
“As far as dying goes, I tend to agree,” Slack said. “As soon as Parr and the ref touched the victim, you could see the arc spread between them. The brooms they use to sweep the floors are right there in that closet,” he said, pointing to a door about twenty-five yards away. “One of the coaches had enough brains to run and grab one and knock Parr and the ref back.”
“Good thinking,” I said. But I was focused on the victim and knelt down beside him. I opened my medical bag and grabbed a pair of gloves, slipping them on quickly.
“Wait a second,” Jack said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “How do you know he’s okay to touch now?”
“Look at his fingers and chin,” I said. “Electricity has to have an outlet. That’s why he has the black scorching on the most protuberant extremities.”
I took my digital camera from my bag and took pictures from all angles. I knew the first deputies on the scene had done the same, but I liked to take my own so I could remember how I’d found the victim when he was on my table. I moved around the yellow numbered markers that were laid out around the body.
“Has anyone else touched him?” I asked.
“No one,” Slack said. “If you’d been here to see it you wouldn’t want to touch him either.”
Jack walked toward me and I knew what he wanted without him having to ask. I handed him another pair of gloves and he moved to the pair of wicked-looking battle-axes that lay only inches from the victim.
He picked the first one up and examined the weight and blade. “It’s lighter than it looks,” he said. “The blade is covered.”
“Arena Wars rules,” Slack said. “Sword tips and axe edges must have a protective covering so no one gets hurt.”
“Huh,” Jack said, putting down the axe and walking to the far side of the ring to examine the sword that had allegedly killed the boy in front of me.
“Jack,” I warned. “Maybe you should get someone to check it out before anyone touches it. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”
“If this thing becomes an electrical sword that actually works and isn’t just a movie prop, I can only think of one person who’s brilliant enough to run logistics on the spot, and he’s a long way from here.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Carver is going to be so mad you didn’t call him. This is right up his nerd alley.”
“Oh, I’m definitely going to call him,” Jack said. “We’ve got new weapons technology that killed someone. We’re going to need help on this one. This is some seriously advanced stuff. And it’s got to be taken into evidence. I’d rather me do it than one of my guys. Besides, I’ve got a doctor on-site if things go wrong.”
I blew out a sigh. It wasn’t easy being married to a hero. They were always doing hero stuff.
Jack knelt by the sword and then looked at Slack. “What can you tell me about Dwight Parr?”
Slack shifted his weight and rested his elbow on his weapon at his side. “First impression was that he fit right into this kind of scene. He was a mess when I restrained him and put him in the athletic director’s office. He couldn’t get a coherent word out, and I had to call the EMTs over because he was puffing on that inhaler so much I thought he was going to pass out. They gave him oxygen and calmed him down.
“Even then I couldn’t get him to string two words together. I finally got his name from the tournament roster and then looked him up in the KGU database. He’s a senior in the honors engineering program. No marks on his school record, no arrest record, and he’s got a 4.0. He was recently awarded the Archimedes Fellowship, which is some prestigious grant and acceptance to a program at Oxford over the summer.”
“Sounds like Dwight was too smart for his own good,” Jack said. He reached for the hilt of the sword and said, “Here goes nothing.” And then he wrapped his hand around the hilt.
Chapter Two
I held my breath until I was sure Jack was okay, and then I exhaled slowly. Technology and engineering weren’t my thing. If it was more complicated than my phone, I had a tendency to stay away from it. I could dissect bodies all day long, but if there was a problem with my computer, my eyes glazed over and my brain fried.
“Well,” I said once the fear in my chest had subsided. “Now that I’m not going to get to collect your life insurance and logic has prevailed, I guess it makes sense that if Parr struck the blow that sent the current through the victim, then the hilt would be safe enough to keep Parr from falling to the same fate.”
Jack nodded. “My thoughts exactly. But it also makes me wonder why Parr would touch the victim, knowing the amount of electricity running through his sword.”
“So maybe he didn’t know,” I said, leaning over the victim to get a closer look. “He’s a student. Maybe he didn’t realize the power he’d packed in the volts. Could’ve been an accident.”