Courts and Cabals by G.S. D'Moore (classic novels to read txt) 📗

“I’m good, sir,” Dupree didn’t look worried. His agitation was about normal for a kid who’d been sent to the principal’s office as much as he had.

“Sir makes me sound old,” Vernon gave the kid an easy smile. “Call me Vernon.” He saw a tell flash across the kid’s face. “I know it’s an old-man name,” Vernon conceded with a shrug. “But it’s the name my daddy gave me. The only thing he gave me,” he clarified. “Daddy was a bad drunk, a worse gambler, and not as good in a fight as he thought he was,” he gave a heavy sight as he sat down, leaving the ending to be interpreted by the young man.

“Never knew my old man,” Dupree shrugged.

“Common point of interest,” Vernon was on his way to building a rapport. They both had deadbeat dads.

“I’m sorry about that, and your momma died young,” Vernon was genuinely sorry about that too, “but it looks like the Young’s took you in and treated you well. I’ve seen a lot of stories go the other way.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Dupree’s face hardened.

“Don’t push too hard,” Vernon told himself and switched topics.

“I’m here reviewing the incident that put you in the infirmary,” he got back on track. “You said you got hit by lightning. Damn, Cam, do you mind if I call you Cam?” he waited for the kid to nod to continue. “You’re one lucky son-of-a-bitch,” he got the kid to smile and relax a bit.

“People told me it was a near miss with the lightning,” Dupree shrugged. “All I remember was walking through the rain, a bright white light, and the next thing I know, I’m waking up in the infirmary.”

“It was the school who told you that you were hit?” Vernon clarified.

“Are they trying to cover something up?” Dupree jumped to a conclusion and leaned forward excitedly.

“No, it doesn’t look that way, Cam,” Vernon leaned back now that he’d drawn the kid in a bit. “We’ve looked at the teachers and faculty, and there doesn’t appear to be foul play.”

Dupree frowned. “Did you check Miller?”

“Miller?” Vernon reviewed the list from memory.

“Professor Miller, he teaches history. The guy hates my guts. If there is something going on, he’s behind it,” Dupree didn’t sound like he was lying, but it could be misdirection.

Vernon pulled out his tablet and pulled up Miller’s bio. It was immediately clear the teacher wasn’t involved. He was a mundane, and not capable of the powerful combination of spells required to summon a lightning strike. Most of the detentions and complaints in Dupree’s file were also signed by a Mr. Miller.

“Just a grudge,” Vernon didn’t completely discount the kid’s accusation. The professor could have always hired someone for the job, but the man was definitely low on the suspect list.

“I’ll tell you what, Cam, I’ll make a deal with you,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small capsule. “People are telling me lots of things. It’s always like this during investigations. Things don’t add up, but I’ve got a way to fix all of it,” he opened the capsule and showed an ordinary looking pill. “It’s a truth pill. Exactly what it sounds like. You take it, you’ll tell me the truth, and I can take your word for it. I’ll do the same thing with Mr. Miller, and we can get this all sorted out. If it turns out the school is liable, then I’ll make the arrest myself, and put in a good word for you at your civil trial,” he added the last bit as incentive.

“Um . . .”

The indecision didn’t tell Vernon a lot. This was a teenager worried about the questions Vernon would ask. He likely had multiple sexual partners, a stack of playboys under his bed, and probably lied, cheated, plagiarized, and everything else he’d been accused of by the school’s staff. Vernon could likely offer him immunity for any misdemeanors he discovered, as long as the information he gathered led to an arrest. HQ had to sign off on that.

“Assuming Dupree didn’t do this himself,” Vernon made sure he didn’t get too far ahead of himself, but the chances of Dupree being involved, despite his gut feeling, were looking less and less likely based on the evidence.

“I guess . . .” Dupree reached out a hand to take the pill when the door was thrown open.

“Not another word, Mr. Dupree,” a silver-haired gentleman in a thousand-dollar suit strode into the room with the self-appointed authority that only lawyers and politicians seemed to have. “Agent,” the man spun around to stand behind the kid. “I find it surprising that the United Nations, of all organizations, would interrogate my client without counsel present.”

“Your client is legally an adult, sir,” Vernon replied, his eyes hardening as he glared at the lawyer. “I’m here investigating a permitting issue that Mr. Dupree might very well be the victim of. This is not an interrogation. It’s a conversation.” Despite his defense, Vernon felt himself losing Dupree.

“Were you going to tell Mr. Dupree that the use of truth pills normally requires a warrant with probable cause of a crime in order for it to be administered during an interrogation,” the lawyer countered.

“I was allowing Mr. Dupree to make his own choice on the subject,” Vernon stated, but he saw anger flash in Dupree’s eyes.

Vernon would admit he wasn’t a choir boy, and he wanted the kid to take the pill so he could get some real answers. “Fuck all chance of that happening now.” He kept his expression neutral.

“Then I think we’re done here, and your office will be hearing from us,” the lawyer grabbed Dupree under the arm and hauled him to his feet.

“I look forward to it,” Vernon didn’t bother to get out