A Pocketful of Eyes (6 page)

Why had Gus changed his name? His work with Cranston wasn’t on his CV, and he’d never mentioned it. It was almost as if he were trying to keep it a secret. As if he’d taken on a new identity.

Why? And what was Cranston doing in the Red Rotunda on the morning before Gus’s death? William Cranston, a known recluse. Why the sudden urge to visit the museum? Had he been to see Gus? Did he say something to cause Gus to kill himself? Or did he murder Gus?

Bee shook her head. The front door slammed. Angela burst into the room and flopped on Bee’s bed with a dramatic sigh.

‘Hi, Mum.’

Angela sighed again through a smile and gazed at the ceiling. Bee rolled her eyes.

‘So how was your date with Gavin?’

‘Oh, Bee!’ said Angela, her voice high and breathy. ‘It was wonderful. He’s just amazing. He’s kind and intelligent and funny. We have so much in common it’s uncanny. He even hates the new Star Wars films.’

‘Mum, everyone hates the new Star Wars films.’

‘Yes, darling. But he
really
hates them. He made a
website
about it. And we just talked and talked all through dinner and he was such a gentleman.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘Matsuya. We got that big boat full of sushi that you always said we should get, remember?’

Bee raised her eyebrows. ‘Did he use chopsticks?’

Angela laughed. ‘Of course he did. What a funny thing to ask.’

‘It’s just . . . how did he hold them? With his paws? I can’t imagine it. I thought he’d be more likely to spear each piece of fish with one of those long claws and eat it that way.’

Bee’s mum sat up. ‘Very funny,’ she said. ‘You know I told you that Neal has a human form.’

‘Who’s Neal?’

‘Gavin. His real name is Neal.’

Bee blinked. ‘And he’s not a badger.’

‘No.’

‘So he doesn’t have a furry nose.’

‘No.’

‘Or long claws.’

‘No.’

‘Or whiskers.’

‘I’m not sure if real badgers have whiskers. But in any case, no.’

‘How disappointing.’

Angela stuck out her tongue. ‘He wants to take me out again tonight, but I said I’d have to check with you first.’

‘Well, I don’t know, Angela,’ said Bee. ‘Have you done all your homework?’

‘You were upset the other night,’ said Angela. ‘And I don’t want to be gallivanting all over town with a nice man if you need maternal support and wise counsel.’

‘Now that Gavin’s not a Celestial Badger anymore, I don’t see where I’m supposed to get any wise counsel from.’

‘Seriously, Bee,’ said her mother. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine. Go and call your badger and tell him he can take you out.’

Angela sprang up and kissed Bee on the top of her head. ‘Thank you!’ she said. ‘Neal wants to take me to the Astor. They’re showing
Labyrinth
tonight!’

‘Have fun,’ said Bee. ‘Say hi to David Bowie’s magic pants for me.’

‘I will,’ said Angela, and practically skipped out of the room.

Bee glanced at her mobile phone. There was another missed call from Maddy. And voicemail. Bee deleted it without listening and switched on her laptop.

‘SO I EMAILED MY ANATOMY
professor about Cranston,’ said Toby on Wednesday morning. ‘It turns out he’s totally famous. My professor says he’s been overlooked for a Nobel Prize like a hundred times. He did this thing with horseshoe crabs where he found they had crazy blue blood that clots when it encounters bacteria. Now they use it to test pharmaceuticals, and to check for bacterial diseases. They even use it on the International Space Station to test surfaces for bacteria and fungi. Are you even listening?’

‘Hmm?’ Bee looked up. ‘Sure.’

‘Aren’t you interested in learning about Cranston? Or have we struck him from the list?’

‘No, he’s on the list,’ said Bee. ‘He’s at the top of the list.’

‘But you’re not interested in what I learned about Cranston because . . .’

‘Because I stayed up all night reading about him on the internet.’

Toby made a face of mock horror. ‘You kids and your newfangled technology.’

Bee sighed.

‘So what did
you
discover, Holmes?’ asked Toby.

‘Cranston is rich. Like,
really
rich. Family money. He owns a lot of property in the UK, but lives on this huge estate near Healesville. And you’re right, he’s totally famous in the science world for his work with the horseshoe crab. But he’s also famous because he’s a bit weird. He’s a total recluse – he doesn’t even have any living relatives. He never attends any charity functions or lectures or anything. He was awarded an AO but didn’t turn up to collect it. I guess that’s one of the reasons he lives in Australia instead of England – he doesn’t have to meet fellow researchers and so on. Even the people who worked with him never met him. He employed people in labs all over the world and insisted they communicate via correspondence.’

‘See? Nobody even talks to each other anymore.’

Bee gave him a look. ‘So nobody heard anything of Cranston for years,’ she continued. ‘Except for that article we found in Adrian Featherstone’s office about him being sick.’

‘So he got better?’

‘I guess so – he checked himself out of hospital after three days and went home. And nobody heard from him after that.’

‘Except you saw him in the Red Rotunda.’

‘The day that Gus died. And then I saw him again, sitting outside the museum, on the morning they found Gus’s body.’

Toby took off his glasses. ‘So Gus was working for Cranston,’ he said. ‘And Cranston was in the room where Gus was found dead, mere hours before the murder. Doesn’t that kind of point towards . . .’

‘Towards the possibility that Cranston knew about the murder before it happened.’

‘Do you think he did it?’

Bee shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He must have been
involved
somehow, otherwise it’s just too much of a coincidence. But what could his motive have been?’

‘Maybe Cranston was mad that Gus came to work at the museum instead of remaining his assistant.’

‘Maybe. But that still doesn’t explain what Adrian Featherstone has to do with it.’

‘Oh, and he
does
have something to do with it,’ said Toby. ‘I do not like that man
at all
. He’s definitely involved.’

Bee looked absently at the clock on the wall. Who had changed the time back so it matched her watch?

‘So is it time for the next step?’ asked Toby.

‘What next step?’

‘In your detective methodology. Making a list of suspects.’

Bee blinked. ‘I suppose so.’

‘So who’s on it?’

‘Well, Cranston is currently at the top of the list. He has a connection with the victim and was present at the scene of the crime. Except I don’t know what his motive could have been. He certainly can’t have killed Gus for money. Revenge, maybe? For something Gus did?’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Then there’s Adrian Featherstone. He’s hiding something. Why did he have that clipping on his pinboard? And I’m pretty sure I caught him going through Gus’s desk the other day. And . . .’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know. There’s something else. I’m just not sure what it is. I think we have to find out what his connection to Cranston and Gus is. And see if he has an alibi.’

Toby grinned. Bee raised an eyebrow.

‘Sorry,’ said Toby. ‘It’s just in the last minute you’ve said
victim
and
scene of the crime
and
motive
and
alibi
. I feel like I’m in an episode of
Midsomer Murders
.’

‘I feel like you’re not taking this seriously.’

‘Sorry,’ Toby said again. ‘Carry on. Any other suspects?’

Bee gave him a suspicious look. ‘We should find out which security guard was on duty,’ she said. ‘Even if they’re not a suspect, they might have seen or heard something. And I think we should also see what we can find out from Akiko Kobayashi.’

‘You think she’s a suspect?’

Bee shrugged. ‘She might be able to shed some light on the whole Cranston–Gus–Featherstone thing.’

‘So what first?’

‘Let’s have another look in the Red Rotunda.’

The Red Rotunda was as empty as ever.

‘So this was Cranston’s personal collection?’ asked Toby, indicating the glass cases.

Bee nodded. ‘He was fascinated with the inner workings of animals and how they compared to humans. He even preserved his own pet dog and cats for study.’ She pointed at the mangy animals.

‘Nice,’ said Toby, squinting at the jar of mole paws.

Bee looked at the skeletons, jars and mounted specimens. What had they seen the other night, through their veils of glass and methylated spirits? Who else had been here in this room with Gus? If only they could tell her. If only it had been
her
eyes in Gus’s pocket . . . Bee shook her head. She was going crazy.

‘Hey,’ said Toby. ‘Here’s the horseshoe crab.’

It was in a small glass case alongside an ugly black critter labelled Deathstalker Scorpion
(Leiurus quinquestriatus)
, and several types of spider. Bee shuddered.

‘They’re actually very interesting creatures,’ said Toby, still peering at the horseshoe crab. ‘I did some reading last night after I talked to my professor. This is the closest living relative of the trilobite. And do you know how they mate?’

‘No.’

‘The male is smaller, and not as strong. So he climbs onto the back of the lady crab, holding on with his front claw, while she swims in to shore to lay her eggs. Sometimes he can hold on for months at a time.’

‘Clingy.’

‘It shows a certain dedication to the breeding process.’

‘Or just laziness,’ said Bee. ‘He could have swum there himself.’

‘Maybe,’ said Toby, inching towards Bee. ‘Maybe he just wanted to be close to her.’

Bee studied the horseshoe crab. It didn’t look much like a crab at all, more like some kind of prehistoric armoured miniature stingray. She wondered how anyone could want to be close to anything that hard and spiky. She could feel Toby’s warmth next to her. He wasn’t hard and spiky at all.

‘It’s weird, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘How strange other species are. How different the boy crab is from the girl crab.’

‘Like the difference between girl humans and boy humans?’

‘Even more so, don’t you think?’ she said. ‘I mean, we’re mostly the same, right? On the inside. Apart from wombs and things, and some small structural variations. It’s just culture that makes us seem so different.’

‘Our hearts aren’t the same,’ said Toby. ‘You can tell on an ECG. The intervals are a bit different. The funny thing is, if you put a man’s heart into a woman, it’ll start behaving like a woman’s heart. But if you put a female heart into a male, it’ll always beat like a woman’s heart.’

He put one hand on his own chest, and pressed the other against Bee’s, and closed his eyes in concentration. Bee wondered if he could feel her heart beating faster and faster as soon as he’d touched her. The somewhat sly grin on his face indicated that he could. Bee’s cheeks grew hot. She wanted to lean forward and . . . but she knew she shouldn’t. Toby didn’t
really
like her. He was just a flirt. If he really liked her, he would have made it clear. He would have said something or done something after the incident on the tiger. And anyway, she was glad he didn’t like her. Because she didn’t like him.

‘Come on,’ she said, taking a step backwards so Toby’s hand fell. ‘Let’s go and see Kobayashi.’

MUSEUM DIRECTOR AKIKO KOBAYASHI
was sitting at her desk studying a stapled sheaf of paper covered in tiny numbers. Bee and Toby waited in the doorway for her to notice them. She put a hand to her temple and closed her eyes with a sigh.

Toby knocked quietly on the doorframe to get her attention. Kobayashi jumped and opened her eyes.

‘Sorry to interrupt,’ said Toby. ‘But we were wondering if we could have a word.’

Kobayashi looked flustered and a little annoyed, but she nodded and they sat on the other side of her desk. Bee noticed her slide a letter under another pile of papers.

Kobayashi peered at them through her narrow chrome-framed glasses. ‘You again,’ she said. ‘Why do you always turn up at the most inconvenient of times?’

Toby seemed about to say something, then glanced at Bee and thought better of it.

Bee introduced herself and explained that she, too, had been working with Gus. Kobayashi’s expression softened.

‘Of course you were,’ she said. ‘And you must be very upset. I’m sorry if I was abrupt.’ She gestured to the sheaf of paper. ‘We have to submit the budget to the government next month, and it’s rather like trying to add up every star in the sky using an abacus.’

‘Is the museum having money trouble?’ asked Toby, leaning forward and putting on his best concerned-and-supportive face.

‘Well, that’s one way to put it,’ said Kobayashi. ‘Natural history museums aren’t as cool as they once were. Now it’s all about science museums and immigration museums and sports museums. It’s hard to attract private donors with so much glitzy competition.’

‘Hey,’ said Toby, gently. ‘That must be really difficult. But if it helps, I think you’re doing an amazing job. Natural history is so important. It’s like . . . everything, right?’

Bee bit her lip to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Flirting seemed to be Toby’s automatic reaction to any situation.

‘But none of that need concern you,’ said Kobayashi. ‘What can I do for you both?’

‘We wanted to ask about William Cranston,’ said Bee.

‘Did you see him last Thursday too?’ said Kobayashi, brightening. ‘How very exciting to have him here in our museum! It really is a great honour.’

‘What’s his relationship with the museum?’ asked Bee.

Kobayashi smiled. ‘He has been one of our most generous benefactors,’ she said. ‘He’s donated funds to this museum for the past fifty years, as well as his own collection, which you may have seen in the Red Rotunda.’

They nodded.

‘And of course he’s an amazing scientist, a living legend in the field of natural history. Such an inspiration. We thought we might have lost him last year . . .’

A funny expression passed across Kobayashi’s face. Bee thought it might be . . . disappointment? Then Kobayashi smiled again. ‘But thankfully he seems to be totally recovered. Such a blessing.’ She looked at Bee and Toby. ‘Why do you want to know about him?’

‘We think that he might be connected—’ Toby started, but Bee kicked him in the ankle.

‘Toby’s a fan,’ she said, rolling her eyes and picking up a glass paperweight from Kobayashi’s desk. ‘He’s studying to be a zoologist, and he never stops going on about Cranston. It’s all “William Cranston this” and “William Cranston that”. I’m sure he’s got a poster on his wall that he kisses every night before going to sleep. Anyway, we were just wondering if he’s likely to come back to the museum, so Toby can get his autograph.’

Bee toyed with the paperweight as Toby shot her a puzzled scowl. Kobayashi laughed. ‘Well, he’s
very
reclusive, as I’m sure you know. This was the first time I’d ever heard of him actually visiting the museum in person. So I’m not sure if we’ll see him again. I can’t even imagine what brought him here. Just seeing what we’re up to, I suppose. I’m disappointed I was in a meeting all day and didn’t get to speak to him. I didn’t even learn he was here until after he’d left.’

Bee nodded and then dropped the paperweight. ‘Sorry!’ she said and peered down at the carpet. The paperweight rolled under Kobayashi’s chair. Looking slightly peeved, Kobayashi leaned down to pick it up. Bee quickly slid the letter out from under the pile and stuck it up her top. Toby raised his eyebrows.

Bee stood. ‘Well, thanks for talking to us. I’m sure you’re very busy.’

‘One more question,’ Toby said to Kobayashi. ‘Can you tell me how long Adrian Featherstone’s been the head of Conservation?’

‘Just over a year, I think,’ said Kobayashi. ‘Why do you ask?’

Toby shook his head. ‘I just thought I’d seen him somewhere before,’ he said. ‘But it must have been someone else.’

Once they’d left the office, he rounded on Bee.

‘You stole a document from her office,’ he said, indignant. ‘That’s so my job!’

‘I think we have to add her to the suspect list,’ said Bee.

‘What?’ said Toby. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t want to talk here,’ said Bee, eyeing a secretary who was pretending to be working on a spreadsheet, but was actually updating her Facebook status.

They found a quiet corner of the museum café, and ordered drinks. Bee extracted the letter and read it a few times.

By the time the waitress brought Toby his milkshake and Bee her coffee, Toby was nearly purple with impatience.

‘Tell me what’s going on,’ he said. ‘Why is Kobayashi a suspect? She didn’t even mention Gus. What’s in that letter?’

‘It’s from a law firm,’ said Bee. ‘It’s a response to a request for funding. The letter says that their client isn’t going to give them any money at this time.’

‘So?’

‘Listen to this. “Rest assured that on the unhappy occasion of Doctor Cranston’s demise, once his dependants have been provided for, a generous sum will be bequeathed to the museum.”’

‘It’s from Cranston’s lawyer?’

Bee nodded. ‘I bet Cranston’s fortune would easily solve the museum’s money trouble.’

‘Then why kill Gus?’ asked Toby. ‘Surely she’d kill Cranston.’

Bee stirred another spoon of sugar into her coffee. ‘Well, Gus and Cranston look pretty close in that photo, don’t they? And the letter said
once his dependants have been provided for
. Cranston doesn’t have any family.’

Toby nodded and slurped up the rest of his milkshake. ‘So Gus was in his will too. And with Gus out of the picture, the museum gets
more
money when Cranston dies.’

‘And Cranston’s already sick,’ said Bee. ‘Did you see her face when she was talking about that? It looked like she
wanted
him to die. That newspaper article said his condition was terminal, so surely it’s just a matter of time. And now Gus is out of the way . . .’

‘So the museum gets the whole package.’ He looked around. ‘This café could certainly use a facelift.’

‘It would mean that Kobayashi knew that Gus was really Gregory Uriel Swindon.’

‘Do you think that’s possible?’

Bee shrugged. ‘It would explain how he got the job with such a sketchy CV and a fabricated former employer.’

‘She doesn’t look like a killer.’

‘No,’ said Bee. ‘And statistically it’s pretty unlikely. Eighty-eight per cent of murders are committed by men.’

Toby shook his head. ‘We’re pigs,’ he said. ‘It’s a mathematical fact.’

Bee flashed him a grin, then became serious again. ‘I don’t know, though,’ she said. ‘Kobayashi is clearly very passionate about the museum. And if its money trouble is as severe as she made it sound . . . who knows what steps she’d take to secure its future? We certainly shouldn’t discount her just because she’s a woman.’

‘So how come you didn’t ask her for an alibi?’

Bee screwed up her nose. ‘I don’t think you can just
ask
,’ she said. ‘Not in real life. You don’t casually saunter into someone’s office and say
Where were you on the night of January 13?
People get offended. And if she really did murder Gus, we hardly want her to know we suspect her.’

‘So how do we find out?’

‘I don’t know. I guess we have to be sneaky.’

Toby tied the straw from his milkshake into a knot. ‘What about Featherstone?’ he asked. ‘Where does he come into it?’

‘I don’t know.’ Bee sighed. ‘We’re missing something. Something big.’

There was a list on the fridge when Bee got home.

THINGS TO NOTE

1. As you may be aware, I have a gentleman friend.

2. His name is Neal.

3. He is not a badger, but in fact a Real Live Person.

4. I like him.

5. A lot.

6. I have invited him over for dinner tonight.

7. As I would like him to meet my lovely daughter.

8. (That’s you.)

9. Please join us at seven o’clock for food.

10. If you’re comfortable with it, that is. If not, I totally understand.

11. But I’d really like you to.

12. With love,

13. Your mother.

14. Xxxxx

15. PS Don’t worry, I won’t cook.

Bee scowled at the note. Stupid Celestial Badger. Why did her mum have to get a new boyfriend anyway? Bee hadn’t liked any of the others, so she found it difficult to see how this one would be any different. But Angela had asked nicely and it wasn’t as if there was anywhere else Bee could go. The tiny voice in a dark corner of her head suggested calling Toby to see what his plans for the evening entailed, but she hushed it.

Bee checked her email, but logged out when she saw there was a message from Maddy. Instead, she picked up a James Ellroy novel and automatically turned its pages without taking anything in, until she heard the front door open, and voices in the hallway. Her mother’s laugh was high and girlish, and it made Bee squirm inside. She took a few deep breaths and opened her door.

A man was standing at the kitchen bench with his back to Bee. He was quite short and skinny. Angela was clearing plates and bowls out of the dishwasher. She was wearing something low-cut and purple, with her hair all twisted back and great clusters of silver dangling from her ears.

‘Bee!’ she said, her voice breathless. ‘This is Neal.’

The Celestial Badger turned, a bottle of wine in one hand. He was a small, timid-looking Asian man with silver-rimmed glasses and a pudding-bowl haircut. He ducked his head in greeting and said ‘Hi’ in a quiet, shaky voice.

‘It’s nice to meet you,’ Bee said, taking in his neat but clearly inexpensive polyester suit, digital watch and slightly trembling hands. He had no pale band on his ring finger, so he wasn’t married and hadn’t been recently. Well, that was an improvement on the last guy. The Badger looked to be in his late twenties, which was a good ten years younger than Angela. Interesting.

Bee helped spread containers of takeaway on the table, then poured herself a glass of water and sat at the table.

‘The naan is really good,’ Angela told Neal. ‘I hope you like Indian food.’

Neal smiled nervously. ‘I do,’ he said. ‘As long as it’s not too hot.’

Bee suppressed a smile. Angela liked her food as spicy as possible. During a chilli face-off at a science-fiction convention, she’d made a quite famous vindaloo chef cry.

‘I ordered mild,’ said Angela with a soppy smile.

Bee bit savagely into a pappadum, sending fragments of deep-fried chickpea flour all over the table. Angela looked reproachfully at her, then turned to Neal and began a long conversation about Dungeons and Dragons that involved a complicated analysis of something called psionics and how it related to divine and arcane magic, with lots of gooey eyes and hand-touching in between.

Bee tuned out and made a mental list of questions.

1. Why had Cranston suddenly started visiting the museum?

2. Why was he such a recluse?

3. What had his relationship with Gus been like?

4. Why did Gus have a handful of glass eyes in his pocket?

5. Why had Gus been acting so strangely the day he died?

6. What the hell was Adrian Featherstone’s deal?

7. Why did he act like such a creep?

8. What was
his
relationship with Gus?