Free Garden of Evil by Graham Masterton Page A

‘You
will
understand, DaJon, I promise you. And sooner rather than later.’
    â€˜Well I sure as fuck hope so, man, cause I’m gettin’ real confused back here.’
    â€˜
Language
, DaJon,’ Jim cautioned him. ‘There are ladies present.’
    â€˜Oh, yeah. Sure,’ said DaJon. He tilted back in his chair and said, ‘Sorry, Simon.’
    Jim started to walk back to the front of the class to ask Kyle Baxter what
he
had thought about the poem when there was a brisk rapping at the door, and Detective Brennan walked in. He was closely followed by a woman detective with dyed-black, pixie-cut hair, a snub nose, and bright scarlet lips. She had eyes as a green as a cat’s, and there might have been some whistling and feet-stamping if she hadn’t had a gold LASD badge on the pocket of her blouse and a large nickel-plated SIG Sauer automatic holstered at her waist.
    â€˜Mr Rook?’ said Detective Brennan. ‘Real sorry to break into your class like this. This is Detective Carroll. May we have a private word with you, please?’
    â€˜Sure,’ Jim told him. He turned around to Special Class Two and said, ‘I won’t be more than a couple of minutes. Try and write me that one sentence about
A New
Language of Love
, OK? Don’t try to impress me. Don’t worry about your spelling, or your grammar. We’re going to be tackling all of that later. Just try and express how you feel. Make it come from the heart.’
    He followed Detectives Brennan and Carroll out into the corridor, and closed the door behind him. Immediately he heard talking and laughter, and he didn’t hold out much hope of his class actually writing anything.
    Detective Brennan said, ‘We have some information on the young girl who was nailed to the ceiling of your classroom.’
    â€˜I see. Really?’ For some reason, Jim felt suddenly breathless, as if he was about to be told something matter-of-fact but terrible at the same time. He had experienced the same breathlessness on the day that the nurse had come out of that room at Cedars-Sinai and told him that his father had died. He could see his father through the open door, lying in bed with the sun shining on his silver hair, and he didn’t
look
dead.
    â€˜Did you check your class register yet, Mr Rook?’ Detective Carroll asked him.
    Jim shook his head. ‘I usually like to kick off with something a little more lively, before I do that. I’m not too good with names, as a matter of fact. I’m like,
visual,
more than categorical.’
    â€˜Special Class Two is supposed to number fifteen students this semester, including a student called Simon Silence who was enrolled only the day before yesterday.’
    â€˜That’s right. Yes. I think so, anyhow. I’ve only counted fourteen so far, but it’s not unusual to have one or two fail to turn up, especially on the first day.’
    Detective Carroll said, ‘Do you know a woman called Jane Seabrook? She currently resides at three seven one zero nine, Stone Canyon Avenue.’
    Jim stared at her. His breathlessness was growing worse. ‘Jane Seabrook? Jane Seabrook is just a girl. Well, she was when I knew her. And she was living in Santa Monica in those days.’
    â€˜Jane Seabrook is thirty-nine years old, Mr Rook.’
    â€˜Thirty-nine? Yes. Jesus. I guess she must be. What about her? Nothing’s happened to her, has it?’
    â€˜No, Mr Rook. Ms Seabrook is fine. But Ms Seabrook had a daughter, Bethany, and Bethany Seabrook was enrolled in Special Class Two this semester.’
    â€˜She had a daughter? I didn’t know. She told me she wasn’t going to keep it.’
    â€˜Apparently Ms Seabrook always told her daughter who her father was, and how much she still loved him, and that was one of the reasons why Bethany wanted to join Special Class Two – to get to know her father without her father realizing who she