SHAKESPEARE’ SECRET (10 page)

“Hey, you're the one who almost ran into me. You watch where you're going.”

Hero guided her bike into the street again. She glanced irritably at Danny. “Maybe this isn't a good idea.”

“It's a great idea. And we're almost there, so quit complaining.” Danny pushed off easily and coasted ahead, his slim frame shifting comfortably with the motion of the skateboard. Hero had no choice but to follow.

Finally they reached the end of Grove and turned on to Main. There was the police station, a squat brick building with brass letters on the side that read POLICE HEADQUARTERS.

“Headquarters, that's a joke,” said Danny. “They've only got eight cops.”

“Your dad is the head of everything?” asked Hero.

“Yeah, he runs the place.”

“He must have been—” Hero paused. “Was he mad when you got suspended?”

Danny took her bike from her and leaned it against the wall in the parking lot. He clamped his skateboard under one arm.

“Not really,” he said.

They walked through the double doors together, and Hero immediately felt her stomach clutch. She'd never been inside a police station before. They were standing in a tiny lobby. There was a bulletin board on one wall, covered in
WANTED
flyers that had bold letters with creepy photos. In front of them was a metal door with peeling paint and a large, sliding window. Through the window they could see a middle-aged woman with curly red hair typing at a computer. She smiled at Danny.

“Well, hi, hon. Did you come to see your dad? He's on patrol.”

“He's still out? I thought he was coming back this afternoon.”

“Not till later.”

Danny hesitated, long enough that even Hero thought he looked like he was about to leave. Then he said, “Could we wait for him in his office?”

“Well, sure, of course you can. I'm just saying it could be awhile. Come on through.”

The red-haired woman smiled again, looking curiously at Hero. She pressed a button on the edge of her desk. There was a buzzing noise, which made Hero jump, then a dull metallic thunk as the door unlocked. Danny pushed it open and Hero followed him inside.

The room they entered was large and plain, with a linoleum-tile floor, a few metal desks heaped with papers and file folders and, here and there, a stained coffee mug. At the back there was a separate office. Its half-glass wall overlooked the room. The red-haired woman returned to her typing, and Hero followed Danny into the rear office.

“This isn't exactly private,” she whispered, as he shut the door. “She can see everything we're doing.”

“I know,” Danny said. “We have to be careful. Just sit here for a minute.” He motioned toward a wooden chair against the wall. Hero sat stiffly, already feeling like a criminal.

“The file is over there in the cabinet,” Danny said. “Bottom drawer. But we should sit here until she gets busy with something.”

Hero nodded. “Are you sure she can't hear us?”

“No way. It's soundproof in here. This is the room they use for questioning.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, shooting quick glances at the secretary, who continued to type.

“So why did you get suspended?” Hero asked.

Danny looked at her. “Why do you care?”

“I don't,” Hero said quickly. “Forget it.”

He shrugged. “It's no big deal. I pushed a teacher.”

“What do you mean, pushed her?”

“Him. I kind of shoved him. Not hard. But he said I hit him.”

“Well, why did you do that?”

“He was picking on somebody. This girl he always picked on.”

“Was she a friend of yours?” Hero tried to make sense of it. It was hard to imagine deliberately touching a teacher, much less pushing one.

“No, not a friend. Just some girl who showed up late for class, never had her homework. She never knew the answers when he called on her. So he'd dump all over her. And this time, he was yelling at her, and she was starting to cry, and he was leaning
over her, in her face, saying, 'What's your problem? Are you lazy or are you stupid?' So I told him to stop. And he told me to sit down. And I kind of pushed him away from her . . . and then I got suspended.”

Hero stared at him. “That's it? You got suspended for that?”

“Hitting a teacher,” Danny said flatly.

“But, I mean ...” Hero shook her head. “You shouldn't have been suspended for that.”

Danny shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Didn't you explain what happened? What happened with the girl?”

“It wouldn't have made any difference. They didn't like that girl. She was always getting into trouble.”

“How long were you suspended for?”

“A week.”

“Wow.” Hero couldn't think of anything to say.

“It wasn't so bad,” Danny said. He seemed amused by her reaction. “I just hung out and watched movies.”

“Were your mom and dad mad at you?”

“Not really. My mom's not around. And my dad, he wasn't thrilled, but he never liked that teacher. He said he probably would've done the same thing.”

Hero knew her own parents would have had more to say than that. There'd have been some relevant Shakespeare quote from her father at the very least.

“So where's your mom?” she asked.

Danny picked at a loose thread on his T-shirt. “She's not around,” he said again. Then, reluctantly, “She's in California.”

“Oh,” Hero said. “How come? Are your parents divorced? Do you see her?”

Danny shook his head, still tugging on the thread. “I have her address and write to her sometimes. Every once in a while she calls. But I live with my dad.”

He shifted in his chair to look at the secretary. Hero wanted to ask him more, but she was afraid he would unravel his entire shirt. The red-haired woman was facing the window, talking on the phone. She held it against her shoulder, using both hands to sort through the papers on the desk.

“She looks busy now,” Danny said. “Let's find the Murphy file.”

Danny knelt by the file cabinet and with another glance at the secretary slid the drawer open. Hero could see that it was filled with files, packed with them. The manila folders bulged, wedged so tightly against one another that the tiny plastic labels along the top were impossible to read.

“Oh!” she exclaimed hopelessly. “How are we ever going to find it?”

Danny seemed at a loss. “I know it's here. But geez, if all these are unsolved cases, the police aren't doing such a good job.”

“Have you ever seen your dad take it out? I mean, did he reach toward the back of the drawer, or the front, or where?”

“I don't remember. I think it was kind of in the middle.” Danny sat back on his heels and started
painstakingly pinching the labels apart, squinting at the names.

“Do you see something that says Murphy?” “Uh, no. They're just labeled with numbers.” “Numbers?
Numbers?”
Hero crouched down next to him. “Are you kidding?”

Danny frowned. “What did you expect, Netherfield? Did you think it was going to say Murphy Diamond Mystery on it?”

“No,” Hero snapped. “But maybe you should have thought of this before we came all the way down here. These are case numbers or something. There's no way we're going to figure out which—”

At that moment, they heard the doorknob turn. Hero scrambled backward in a panic, and Danny pushed the file drawer shut with such force it rattled the cabinet. But not before his father swung the door open.

“Danny? What do you think you're doing?” Hero looked up miserably. Danny's father didn't resemble Danny at all: there was nothing friendly about him. Maybe it was the uniform, which was dark and frighteningly official. His hair was brown, and his face had none of Danny's lazy, easy openness. In fact, he looked almost mean. Or at least stern. Like a policeman.

Danny scrambled up from the floor. “Hey, Dad. Hey. We . . . we were waiting for you. Cheryl said we could wait in here, so we were just, you know, waiting.”

Mr. Cordova looked at Hero. She tried to smile, but she couldn't stop staring at his gun.

“Hello,” he said, not smiling. “Who are you?”

“Hero Netherfield.” Her voice sounded like something between a squeak and a whisper.

“Carrie?”

Hero cleared her throat. Her heart was pounding. “No, Hero.”

Mr. Cordova snorted, closing the door to the office. “What were you doing looking at those files?” he said sharply, this time to Danny.

Danny swallowed. “Well, see . . . we came down here . . . because, you know, Hero's doing that Civics project for sixth grade.” Danny seemed to relax. He glanced at Hero, then flashed a quick smile at his father. “Remember? And she has to interview somebody who works for the town.”

Mr. Cordova sat down behind his desk, studying them both. “I thought that project was in the spring.”

Hero nodded. “It is,” she heard herself say, and was amazed that her voice sounded steady and clear, no trace of a quaver. “But I wanted to start early. We
just moved to town, so I don't know anybody, and Danny said you're a policeman—”

“Chief of police,' Mr. Cordova said.

“Right, chief of police,” Hero corrected herself. “And so I thought everybody must want to write about you.” She could see Danny's smile getting wider. She took a deep breath. “So, anyway, I thought if I came early enough, then maybe nobody else would have asked you yet. And I was saying to Danny, you must not get many cases in such a small town, but he was just showing me how many files you have. It must be a lot of work.”

Mr. Cordova leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. He didn't say anything, just looked at her. The room was so quiet Hero could hear her heart thumping. She felt a pang of gratitude for her own vague, distracted father, her busy cheerful mother.

Finally, Mr. Cordova said, “Where do you live?”

Hero hesitated. 'OnOakdale.”

“Whereabouts on Oakdale?”

Danny answered for her. “You know what's funny, Dad? They bought the Murphy house.”

“Is that right?” Mr. Cordova leaned forward, still looking at Hero. 'Well, Danny's probably told you about the Murphys.”

“Yes,” Hero said. “I mean, a little. I was thinking that for my report maybe I could interview you about that case. It must have been one of your more interesting ones.”

Mr. Cordova shook his head. “No, not really. Pretty routine.”

Hero glanced at Danny. “Routine?” she asked, puzzled. “But you never solved it, right?”

Mr. Cordova glanced at the file cabinet, and then his mouth relaxed, as if he were about to smile. “Oh, sure, we solved it. We just couldn't prove it. Not without the diamond. But I've been on this job twenty years, and I knew the minute I walked in that house, there hadn't been a break-in. No way was that a break-in.”

Hero hesitated. “So you think they faked it? Do you think it's still there? The diamond?”

“I used to.” Mr. Cordova seemed lost in thought. “But we went over the house and the yard about four different times, everything short of tearing up the floors and pulling down the ceilings. I think Murphy's got it with him, probably.”

“You do?” Danny seemed as surprised by this as Hero was.

“Yes, I do.” Mr. Cordova looked at them both in a way that suggested the conversation was coming to an end.

“It's not my case anymore,” he added pensively, “but I'll tell you this much: There's nothing Murphy can do with that diamond. He can't sell it. He can't give it to anybody connected to him. He can't keep it anywhere the police might find it. If that diamond turns up on either of the principals, they're going to jail. Simple as that.”

Hero looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean, the principal? What does she have to do with it?”

“The principals. The suspects.”

“I thought Mr. Murphy was your only suspect, Dad,” Danny interjected.

Mr. Cordova paused. Hero thought he looked reluctant, like he'd said more than he intended. “It's not my case anymore,” he repeated. “Murphy's left town.”

“But who's the other suspect?” Hero asked.

Mr. Cordova drummed his fingers on the desk. “You kids better skedaddle. I've got work to do here.” He turned to Hero and said, not unkindly, “If you want to come down and ask me questions about my job, set something up with Cheryl, all right?”

“But, Dad,” Danny protested. “You never said there was somebody else. Who's the other suspect?”

Mr. Cordova stood up abruptly. He swung open the door, gesturing to Hero and Danny. “Go on,
Danny,” he said. “We'll talk about it later. I've got a meeting at four o'clock.”

His son's crestfallen expression seemed to amuse him. He clapped his hand on Danny's shoulder as he pushed him through the door. “You know this already, Dan. You know her. It's Murphy's ex-wife.”