Cooke and Sharp, Ace Detectives

Frank’s advancement faltered a few steps down from where Elsie sat. Sam blinked, having no clue how her friend could remain so calm as she stared down the hulking mass of meat, when Sam’s own body was tense. She sure as hell wasn’t going to sit by and let Frank hit Elsie; the moment he took a step forward would be the moment Sam intervened, preferably with a flying kick to the face. A small breeze blew through the field, carrying Frank’s foul odour up to Sam, the stench of sweat with a vague touch of boycum making her nose curl. She wanted to hit him. Badly.

Unfortunately, the slowly churning gears in Frank’s head finally spun enough to arrive at reason. “Whatever,” he grumbled, flipping the both of them off before turning back to his goons.

“C’mon, Frank, I want to hit some shit,” Tweedledee complained.

“Shut up, I’m working on it,” Frank barked back as he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. He gave Sam and Elsie a backwards glance before hurrying away.

“I’ve said this before, but you have balls, girl!” Sam laughed as the figures of Frank and his lackeys disappeared behind the gym building.

“See? Not everything has to end in ****,” Elsie let out a sigh, her mask of composure waning to a face of relief. “Though I’ll admit, I wasn’t certain he would see reason there.”

“Somehow, I doubt this is over…” Sam said as she hopped down the steps.

“Where are you going?” Chelsea asked with a raised brow.

“Just gonna go do a bit of eavesdropping,” Sam shrugged in reply, before creeping up to the corner of the gym building.

A car park had been built on the other side for ease of access to both the gym and the sports field. It being a Saturday, the car park was mostly empty, save for a few staff cars, Sam’s own hatchback, and Frank’s truck. Tweedledee and Tweedledum leant against the back of the vehicle, lighting cigarettes, while Frank stood off to one side as he spoke on the phone to someone.

“...No, the twat wasn’t there… that’s why I’m calling you!” Frank sighed and scratched his crotch as he listened to whoever spoke on the other end. “The fuck do you want me to do, then?... No? Why would I know or care where he lives? Fuck, you’re kidding right? Yeah, yeah, call me back when you do, I’ll set him straight,” Frank unhappily shoved the phone into his pocket before marching over to his truck.

“C’mon, boys,” he called to his goons as he swung into the driver’s seat, “we're going for a cruise.”

“What about Newman?” Tweedledum asked as he stamped out his cigarette on the tarmac.

Frank cracked his knuckles. “Vanessa’s finding out where he lives. Once she does, we’ll go pay him a visit, yeah?” he promised.

“But what about his parents?” Tweedledee wondered.

Frank shrugged. “Vanessa says the twat’s dad is out of town, so it’s just him and his mom; we’ll just tell her we’re besties or something; I’ve seen it work on TV.”

“Ooh, that’s smart,” Tweedledum grinned.

It wasn’t. Sam would have laughed if she wasn’t genuinely concerned. ‘He’s not serious, is he?’ she blinked as Frank’s truck sped out of the car park, leaving some rubber behind as it did. ‘I mean, it’s a Saturday morning, there’ll be something like twenty witnesses in the neighbourhood if he tries anything.’

“Learn anything?” Elsie voiced behind her, having packed her things and come over.

“Yeah… apparently they intend on giving John a housecall.”

Chelsea pinched the bridge of her nose and grimaced. “Why does he insist on acting like a dimwit?”

“You say that like you expect him to suddenly grow a brain,” Sam chuckled in response.

“Regardless, with any luck we can contact Newman before the thugs arrive,” Elsie said as she began briskly walking towards the main school building.

“Where are we going?” Sam asked, jogging to catch up with her friend.

“To the Records Department, they have a registry of all the students; Newman’s contact information should be among them.”

“Ooh, gonna flex your Student Council muscle, huh?” Sam grinned. “What a convenient way to learn the number of your crush.”

“Won’t you just give it a rest?” Elsie groaned back. “I do not like John Newman, I simply said he was cute. Besides, I would never **** my authority as a member of the Student Council for personal reasons. Not to mention that Newman’s number won’t be in the database; it will only contain his parent’s contact information or their home phone.”

“What a pity,” Sam sniggered, as they made their way into the school building.

The school was open on weekends to allow students access to the library for research or a quiet place to study. They found it moderately full upon entry; after all, Ashcroft Academy was a prep school for the rich and those serious about their education (a certain meatheaded asshole notwithstanding). Conveniently, the Records Department was in a room at the back and was maintained by the library staff, meaning they could gain access even on a weekend.

“Good morning, Miss Emelie,” Chelsea greeted the staff member on duty brightly.

She was a comely middle-aged woman with long brown hair, large spectacles and wore a checkered sweater, the quintessential librarian, through and through.

“Oh, hello, Chelsea,” Miss Emelie smiled in return, looking up from a book she had been reading. “What can I do for you today?”

“I was wondering if you could pull up a particular students file…”

“Of course,” Miss Emelie replied. “Funny thing, the Student Council President asked me for the same thing moments ago.”

“Oh?” Elsie’s eyes narrowed. “Whose file?”

“He was looking for the details of a student absent from school for several days this past week, give me a moment… ah yes, one John Newman.”

Somehow, it surprised neither Sam nor Elsie that that weasle of a pres was helping Vanessa and Frank.

“I see,” Elsie said sourly. “Do you mind if we take a look at his file?”

“Not at all, why?”

“I wish to make contact with the boy’s parents due to his absence from detention, today,” Elsie explained. It wasn’t entirely the truth, but it would do.

“Okay,” Miss Emelie shrugged as she flicked on the monitor on her desk.

“Thank you,” Elsie said gratefully.

“By the way,” the librarian began, making small talk while she typed into the registry. “I haven’t seen you at the Literature Club lately.”

“Yeah,” Elsie agreed sadly. “I haven’t had much spare time lately, thanks to Student Council activities.”

“Well, if you find the time, we’d love to have you back,” Miss Emelie smiled warmly. “We’re looking at crime fiction in the coming months.”

“Sounds fun; I’ll try my best to attend,” Elsie promised.

“That’s great,” the librarian said happily, before turning the monitor to face the two girls. “Anyway, here is that boy’s file. Sounds like he’s quite the troublemaker.”

“Apparently,” Elsie agreed as she made a note of how to contact the Newman residence on her phone. “Thanks,” she repeated again once she had finished. “I hope you have a good day.”

“Likewise, Chelsea,” Miss Emelie replied, waving goodbye to the both of them. “And you too, Miss Cooke.”

“Yeah, ta,” Sam replied, gesturing with something between a wave and a salute before turning to her friend. “It sounds like Frank already knows where Newman lives,” she said once they were out of the library.

“Right, but there’s still enough time to warn him,” Chelsea grimaced as she put her phone to her ear. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for someone to pick up, all the while nervously playing with a long strand of her blonde hair.

‘Yep, totally crushing,’ Sam couldn’t help but grin; however, it soon turned to a frown as Elsie pulled the phone away having not said a single word.

“No answer?”

“Landline is disconnected, apparently,”

“Try his mom’s phone?”

“Doing it now,” Elsie said, the tempo of her foot increasingly slightly. They waited in silence as the phone dialled before it ultimately just went to voicemail. Chelsea tried twice more before giving up. “Well, it seems our only option is to go in person,” she sighed. “And just hope we get there before Frank.”

“He said something about joy riding, so you never know, he could crash and die -- the world would probably be a better place,” Sam replied lightly as they began to jog to her car.

Elsie shook her head wryly. “I know you're not that spiteful.”

“To be fair, if I had to put up with Vanessa on a daily basis, It'd probably be a deliberate crash,” Sam continued with a small laugh.

“Sheesh. Maybe you are just that terrible,” Elsie laughed lightly as they arrived at Sam’s hatchback.

"Yeah but you love me anyway."

It wasn’t a long drive to the Newman residence. Like most of the students at Ashcroft, John seemed to come from a fairly well off family, judging by the modern two-story house with ample lawn space — which was currently occupied by a crudely parked truck.

“I guess that answers whether Frank’s here or not,” Elsie sighed.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed as she parked the car and they both stepped out. “And Frank’s already used up his supply of reason today. To be honest, I’ve been itching to take the punk down a peg or two,” she grinned as she cracked her knuckles.

They walked up to the front door and knocked. “Hello?!” Elsie called inside. “Is anybody home?!”

There was no answer.

“Try the doorbell?” Sam suggested. “It is a Saturday; I know I’d usually be sleeping in.”

Elsie nodded, but just as she reached for the button, they heard a sharp crash that sounded like a window breaking.

“That sounded like it came from around back,” Sam told her friend before sprinting around the side of the house.

“What does that idiot think he’s doing?!” Elsie groaned as she hurried after her.

“This shit is messed up! We need to get the fuck outta here!” Sam barely heard Frank’s voice before he and his two goons suddenly appeared around the corner. They barely registered the two girls’ presence as he barged past them, vaulting into their truck with a moment’s hesitation and speeding off.

“What the hell?!” Sam yelled and flipped them off as they sped away. “Come back here so I can hit you!”

“How strange,” Elsie hummed.

“You’re telling me,” Sam huffed in a mix of outrage and disappointment. “It’s like he didn’t even care we were here, how rude.”

“In any case, we should check on the damage they’ve caused and call the police,” Elsie sighed, before turning and marching into the backyard.

Sam nodded and followed her friend. It was a modest backyard, with just enough room for an outdoor dining area and a garden where Mrs. Newman was cultivating a small range of vegetables. A chair had been thrown through the large floor-to-ceiling window that would have shown the living room had the curtains not been closed.

“What an asshole,” Elsie grimaced in disbelief.

“Amen,” Sam said sourly as she stepped closer, shattered glass crunching under the sole of her boot. “I’m gonna take a peek inside and check the damage,” she said, her nose curling as she lifted the curtain and crouched under it. “Sheesh, it smells like something died in-” her eyes widened as she looked around the living room… at the blood splatter across the couch and walls.