"Look up," Reed said and she did. "Higher," he said and she blinked.
"Well, well." She rocked herself on her toes to get a better view of one budding artist's rendition of a Faberge egg tucked away on the top row. It sparkled with intricate beads and crystals set in geometric patterns. "Pretty. I wish I could get closer to see."
"You want a boost?" he asked and she shot him a glare, but her eyes were amused.
"Smart ass," she muttered. "It took one hell of a chicken to lay that egg."
"I think the chicken had some help." He bent close to her ear. "It's the right size."
"And the right color," she murmured. "I think we need a warrant. I'll take care of it."
His smile was satisfied. "And I'll tell Dr. Bixby that we'll be staying a little longer."
She walked away, flipping open her cell phone. "Damn, you get to have all the fun."
Wednesday, November 29, 3:15 p.m.
The art teacher was built like Reed Solliday, Mia thought as she looked around the room. His muscles bulged beneath the paint-splattered T-shirt he wore. His bald head gleamed like polished onyx. His fingers were bigger than hot dogs, the really expensive kind. His name was Atticus Lucas and he did not look happy to see them.
"Which student did the egg?" Solliday asked.
"I don't have to-"
"Uh-uh-uh," Mia interrupted. "Yes, you do have to tell us. Tell him, Mr. Secrest."
"Tell them," Secrest muttered.
Lucas looked slightly embarrassed. "None of them did."
"So it's a real Faberge?" Solliday asked, tongue in cheek.
Lucas glared. "No need for the sarcasm, Lieutenant," he said. "I did it."
Mia turned to face him, blinking. "You?"
He stood as if at military attention, nodding. "Me."
She looked at his thick fingers. "All that dainty work? Really?"
He scowled at her. "Really."
"Did you do all the art in the display case?" she asked.
"Of course not. I was trying to show the kids that art could take different forms. I wanted them to think another student did it so that-"
"They wouldn't think it was gay," Mia finished with a sigh.
"Something like that," Lucas said tightly.
"Well, now that your art's been outed," she said, "where are the rest of the eggs?"
"In the supply cabinet." He walked to a metal cabinet and pulled the doors open. He took a tub and pulled at the lid. And blinked. "They were in here. They're gone."
Solliday glanced at Mia. "We'll want to get fingerprints on the tub and the cabinet."
"I'll call Jack. But first, Mr. Lucas, when was the last time you touched the tub?"
"I made that egg in August. I haven't touched the tub since then. Why?"
"How many eggs were there?" Mia pressed.
Lucas looked perplexed. "They're just plastic eggs. I don't get the big deal."
"Just answer her question," Solliday snapped and Lucas glared at him.
"A dozen, maybe. They were there when I got here two years ago. Nobody ever touched them except for me and only when I did that one egg."
"A dozen," Solliday murmured. "He's used three. He's got nine more to play with."
Mia pulled out her cell phone to call Jack. "Shit."
Solliday motioned to Secrest. "Take me to the lab. I want to check your chemicals."
Mia held up her hand as they started to walk away. "And we'll be taking Manny downtown. Arrange for a guardian or advocate."
His jaw taut, Secrest nodded.
Wednesday, November 29, 3:45 p.m.
Solliday stood sideways in the small chemical storeroom because his shoulders wouldn't fit. On any other man, the goggles on his face would look geeky, but they didn't hurt Solliday's looks one bit. Because it wasn't the time to think so, she focused.
"You know your way around a lab," she observed.
"A lot of fire inspectors major in chemistry," he said.
"Did you?"
"Kind of." He was checking bottles against the inventory he'd found on a clipboard hanging on the door. "My dad was a chemical engineer and I guess I had something to prove, so I majored in that, too."
That he spoke of his adoptive father was understood. "I thought you were a firefighter before OFI."
He crouched down to check out the bottom shelf. "I was. Being a firefighter was all I'd ever wanted to do. I applied for the academy the day after I got out of the army."
Well, the army explained his obsession with shiny shoes. "But?"
"But my dad encouraged me to get a degree while I was still young, before I had a family to take care of. So I went to school on my GI money full time until I was accepted into the academy and part time after that until I finished. Took me a bunch of years, but it was worth it." He looked up. "How about you?"
"Law Enforcement on a soccer scholarship. What are you looking for?"
"There are a couple different ways to get ammonium nitrate. One is in a bottle." He picked one up. "But this has its original seal and the inventory says they only had one."
"When was it delivered?"
"August, three years ago." He squinted at the label. "I"m really surprised a school this size has an inventory this extensive."
"The previous teacher left it behind. I haven't had to buy anything since I got here."
Mia turned to find the science teacher observing from a few feet away. "How long have you been teaching here?"
"About a year. I'm Mr. Celebrese."
"Dectective Mitchell and my partner, Lieutenant Solliday."
"You'll find the nitric acid in the locked cabinet, Lieutenant. Here's the key."
Mia passed it to Solliday, who checked it off. "I take it a second way to get ammonium nitrate uses nitric acid."
"Yeah, it does." Solliday checked the cabinet and locked it back. "Still sealed."
"We don't use a lot of the stronger chemicals here," Celebrese said.
"Afraid the kids will splash each other with acid?" Mia asked.
Celebrese's jaw went taut. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
Solliday emerged from the closet the goggles still on his face. "Not yet." Ignoring Celebrese's scowl, Solliday walked to the far wall, to a booth with a glass front.
"Looks like a salad bar with an overactive sneeze guard," she said and he laughed.
"It's a hood. People use volatiles here because it's ventilated." He pulled out the sniffer he'd used to measure hydrocarbons at Penny Hill's house, pulled the glass window up a crack and slid the sniffer underneath. Immediately it began to squeal and Solliday smiled, a dark edgy smile that said he'd found what he was looking for.
"Jackpot," he murmured. "Celebrese, when was the last time you used the hood?"
"I-I've never used it. Like I said, I don't use strong chemicals."
Solliday pulled the window back down. "Detective, can you ask Sergeant Unger to come down here as quickly as possible? He'll want to take samples here."
Her smile was one of admiration and respect. "My pleasure, Lieutenant."
Behind the goggles his dark eyes flickered. "Thanks."
Chapter Twelve
Wednesday, November 29, 5:00 p.m.
Reed came out of Interview to find Spinnelli, Westphalen, and state's attorney. Patrick Hurst, waiting on the other side of the glass. "You rang," Reed said.
In Interview, Manny sat slumped in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest. Mia sat on the boy's end of the table, crowding him, trying to bully Manny into offering details, hoping he would correct her mistakes. So far all she'd gotten was a bored look.
"That's him?" Spinnelli asked.
Reed nodded. "Manuel Rodriguez, fifteen."