Murder of a Royal Pain

“Chemical bombs.” Homer held his head and slumped in his chair. “Here in Scumble River High.”

“I’m so relieved that I read about those types of bombs in the newspaper a few weeks ago, and recognized them before someone got hurt,” Jackie said, a brave smile on her face. “Though I put myself at risk, I was happy to do it to protect our precious students.”

Jackie and Skye sat in the visitors’ chairs in front of the principal’s desk. It was eleven o’clock and they had been allowed back in the building only a few minutes ago. While waiting outside with the students for the school to be cleared, Skye had talked to a member of the county’s bomb squad and had learned that the bombs discovered in the cafeteria, gym, and lobby had been made using two-liter pop bottles. If the top had been unscrewed and the contents exposed to air, a chemical reaction would have taken place, forming a dangerous gas and a caustic liquid.

For once the school’s small size worked in its favor. The county squad had thoroughly inspected the building in less than three hours, and was satisfied that there were no other bombs present. Nevertheless, the superintendent had decided to close the high school for the rest of the day. All the teachers and other staff members were busy making calls and supervising the dismissal, but Homer had ordered Skye and Jackie away from the phones and into his office.

“This is it,” Homer moaned. “It’s time for me to retire.”

“Sir.” Jackie leaned forward. “You can’t mean that. What would we do without you?”

Skye held back a giggle. Homer threatened—or promised, depending on your perspective—to retire at least three or four times a school year.

“Hell, I don’t know and I don’t care,” Homer snapped, instantly sitting up and throwing off his ‘poor, pitiful me’ routine.

Skye snickered. The social worker hadn’t learned yet that Homer was one of those rare individuals who didn’t respond well to positive reinforcement.

Jackie tried again, apparently not being a quick study. “What I meant, sir, was that the school needs you—now more than ever, in our time of crisis.”

“Yeah. Right,” Homer growled, and bounded to his feet. “What we really need is for you two to figure out who planted the bombs.”

Skye raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a job for the police?” She had spoken briefly to Quirk, who was looking less and less like he enjoyed being in charge.

“With your boyfriend out of town, I doubt the Scumble River PD can find their asses using both of their hands and a butt-sniffing dog.”

“While I think the Scumble River police officers are very good”—Jackie leapt out of her chair and into the conversation—“they do have a lot on their plate with the murder and all, so if you think we can help, I, for one, am happy to be of service, sir.”

“You will both make this your number one priority.” Homer rewarded Jackie with his version of a smile, then glowered at Skye. “I want every student with any hint of discipline problems interviewed.”

“But—”

“Yes, sir,” Jackie cut Skye off. “I’ll clear my calendar for the rest of the week.”

“Week? Are you nuts?” Homer roared. “I want the little booger behind these bombs found by the end of school tomorrow.” He swiveled and pointed at Skye. “You, talk to that newspaper staff of yours. Those brats seem to be able to dig out all the secrets around here and are perfectly willing to spill them.”

Homer had never quite recovered from the exposé Xenia, the Scoop’s bad-girl reporter, had done on one of the cheerleaders.

“Okay.” Skye got up. “But I think Travis Idell should be the first student we interview. This smacks of one of his stunts, and he did get an A in chemistry.”

“Fine. I would love to pin this on that little twerp. Maybe that would shut up his parents.” Homer jerked his thumb at Jackie. “But you talk to Travis. If it’s not him, all we need is for Skye to stir up his folks even more.”

“Yes, sir.” Jackie nearly saluted. “I’ll see him as soon as he arrives at school tomorrow.”

Homer’s hairy brows met above his nose, forming a caterpillar-like shape. “So, why are you two still standing here?”

Jackie raced Skye to the door. Opal handed them two stacks of files as they passed her desk. Silently they walked to their office and got to work. It was one forty-five when they finished reviewing the three years of discipline records. They had discovered forty-two students who had been involved in serious incidents and who still attended Scumble River High; adding the student newspaper staff to their list of interviews gave them an even fifty kids to see the next day.

Realizing there was nothing more she could do at the high school, Skye headed over to the elementary school to talk to Hope Kennedy. After she and Trixie failed to find the teacher on Saturday, Skye had tried to get in touch with her all day Sunday, but Hope hadn’t answered the door or the telephone.