I Wrote This While You Slept - 6. Chapter 6

Dalton

Dalton walked over to Professor Hearst’s study and plopped down on the blue sofa. He had an essay due, his last one before summer break, and he was struggling with it. They played a round of chess while discussing what approach Dalton could take for the essay. "Hold on, I have a book that will be of help." Professor Hearst got up and walked over to the very end of his bookcase, where at the top behind glass he housed his most prized possessions. Vintage, rare editions, autographed copies. "This one is from my private collection, very valuable, so be kind to it," he said handing it to Dalton with that well-meaning smile of his. The book looked familiar, but Dalton couldn't place it. As usual, he thanked him for his time and left.

Later that day in his room as he sat down and prepared himself for the mental anguish of typing up the essay, he remembered the book. He looked at it and slowly ran his hand across the rare cover bound in burgundy Moroccan leather and caressed the gilded gold decoration that adorned it. Where had he seen it before? He felt his brows furrow as he tried to remember, but the only explanation was that he must have seen it at the Professor’s office. He opened it carefully, and with fervent respect, to the first page where his eyes were immediately drawn to a symbol penciled in at the bottom right-hand corner. It was a simple continuous line design: it began with a stem, which connected to four leaves, and ended with a tiny heart inside. It was a cloverleaf. Scribbled underneath it were the words “Noelle Hearst.”

He bolted out of his room and walked hurriedly until he reached India’s door. He had to tell someone. Thankfully, she was in there alone.

“Look at this,” he said, opening the book and showing her his discovery. Her usually tan face turned pale white right away. She looked up at him with watery eyes.

“We have to tell the principal,” he said, and she seemed to panic, but he ignored it. “Let’s go,” he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down the long corridor leading to Principal Archie's office. He needed to speak to the man right away. He had to show him the discovery and let him decide what to do with it. Could what Mrs. Miller was saying be true? Could Professor Hearst be a killer? He knocked on the door in a frenzy then waltzed in before the man had a chance to answer.

"Principal Jones, we have to show you something."

"What is it my boy?" he asked, his pitch filled with worry right away.

Dalton put the book on his desk. "This book. Professor Hearst gave it to me this morning to help me out with an essay. It's a rare vintage edition, he almost never lends it out. This book, I've seen it before. The morning we found Noelle dead, it was laying on the floor of his room, as if someone had thrown it at him. And today I opened it, and look," Dalton opened the book and showed him the cloverleaf and the name underneath it. "Noelle. She loved cloverleafs, it was her thing. Remember she had that cloverleaf bracelet, and she always doodled cloverleafs in class. I know she drew this. And the name…" He was starting to sound hysterical.

The Principal swayed from foot to foot looking uncertain. This was not the time for indecision, Dalton thought, he needed to kick in gear and believe what they were saying. That there was a possible murderer amongst them. That the students were in danger.

“Teenage girls have crushes,” Principal Jones mumbled out, as if he were trying to convince himself. Dalton looked at India. She seemed to hesitate for a moment.

“I…he…he also had a thing with me,” she stammered out, quietly. The Principal and Dalton looked on in silence. “We…we’ve been seeing each other, in secret. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but I guess…I guess he was seeing Noelle as well,” she said, then broke down crying. But there was no time to console her because suddenly, there was a frantic knock on the door.

"What is going on," the principal muttered. The door burst open. It was a younger student.

"It's Mrs. Miller! She's been found dead at the bottom of the stairs," he declared, and Dalton thought that Principal Jones looked close to fainting. He sat back down in his chair; face ash white.

"I think you need to call the police, before he strikes again sir," Dalton stated plainly.

"Maybe I should talk...talk to him first," he said, almost as if he was asking for permission.

"Why, to give him time to come up with a fake alibi? Or worst yet, escape? No, you have to call the police. He killed Noelle and now he killed Mrs. Miller because she was onto him."

Principal Archie let out a sound similar to that of a shot bird, then slowly picked up the phone.

When the detectives heard the story, they decided to arrest Professor Hearst right then and there. And when they searched his office, they found the candlesnuffer. It laid underneath his famous blue sofa. But the Professor’s face showed the most confusion when he saw the burgundy book Dalton was still holding in his hands.

"How did you get that?" he asked, looking at the blonde boy with no comprehension. But instead of replying, Dalton let the police drag him away.