1

They had carted the body away before dawn, before anyone had a chance to stumble onto the scene and create a panic, before the rush to the 8 a.m. classes. What was left was a tangle of police tape, a cluster of unmarked vehicles and a dozen men milling around. Their breath rose like smoke.

I set my gear down and stared. There were a few other onlookers, mostly students. We eyed each other warily, like we could telekinetically plead our innocence with rumbled brows.

Behind me, twigs snappy, frost crunching. "It happened around a quarter of 3., maybe 3 on the dime," Matt said. His voice sounded isolated, like it was a test experiment conducted in a vacuum. He coughed and took a step to stand next to me.

I nodded. "Student? Faculty?"

"Student."

"Wh--"

"Don't know yet. They already took the stiff away. They'll probably get more on the scene before noon."

"This definitely was the last thing I expected." I look around at the other students; most were lingering now, latched onto the quiet crime scene with a few remaining tendrils of interest. The walkways were filling up, drawing attention away from the dead.

"It'll clear out soon," Matt added as the majority of the students by the police tape shuffled off. He looked up, watched his exhalation drift. "We can ask questions then."

I had questions of my own. "Are you serious? I mean, this just---what are you trying to do?"

Matt shrugged. "I am serious. Someone was killed on our campus; this is not a common thing."

"This is a good observation."

"So we can either be like them--" Matt pointed at the small packs of students drifting by, most looking over with faint interest "--or, you know, actually try to put two and two together."

"And become detectives. I'm not exactly keen on this idea."

It was Matt's turn to ask questions. "And why not?"

"Well, because we're college students. We're not detectives."

"Who says those are mutually exclusive things?"

"I do. We're paying money--a lot of money--to study and learn to be civilized. Detectives, on the other hand, are getting paid money to attend to things like this." I jabbed a finger toward two men comparing notes near the practice gym, one fishing in his pocket for an unlit cigarette.

Matt nodded. "OK, I see where you're going with this. I guess I can play ignorant, then; maybe if I see someone acting suspicious later on, I'll just whistle and put it out of my mind. Or when I'm studying in the library I'll just, you know, forget about any connections the victim had with this person or that person and just worry about Sartre. I'm just a student, after all."

He got me. "Huh. Good one."

Having found a smoke, the detective lit it and kept up his silent conversation with his partner. He exhaled a cloud that seemed to freeze momentarily; when it dissipated, the homicide men were both staring at us. I waved. They scowled.

"I'm in. what do you have up your sleeve?"

Matt had been thinking. "First things first: we split up. We can put our heads together in a few hours. If we start digging around now, before anyone else on campus, we're more likely to be the first ones on the path."

"But, uh, isn't that a bad thing? I mean, aren't established trails the easiest to follow?"

"Maybe if you're lost in the woods, dude. Whatever. We split up, we ask around. We call our parents and see if they caught anything on the news."

"Good one."

"Check the newspapers in the library. It might've made the morning editions, if the printers were on the ball."

"Yeah--we should be discreet, I take it."

Matt turned his head slightly. "Yes. If not, people will start questioning our motives--"

"--and become suspicious."

"Right." The detectives were now both staring at us, one gesturing at us with his hand. Their conversation was muffled and indistinct, but definitely agitated.

"We also need to find another place to practice." I looked down at my case on the ground.

Matt groaned. "We'll do that after lunch, with the rest of the guys." He hefted the guitar case in his right hand. "Our amps are still in that building, too!"

He was right. The practice gym, the one partially cordoned off by the yellow DO NOT CROSS tape, held most of our equipment. That included the drum kit. I didn't think the authorities would be letting us in there for a while.

We decided to meet again after lunch, and to get in contact with the rest of the guys. Matt was ready to wheel around and head off before I stopped him. "Should we miss class?"

Matt thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Do not skip class. We need to maintain the illusion that we care. Use class as an opportunity to gather your thoughts, piece together clues, whatever. Just don't get caught."

We split up, leaving the police tape and frowning detectives behind us, leaving frost-etched footsteps in our wake.