holding a fist-size black box in his hand. Con Riley was talking with him. Another officer stood near the two, quietly staying out of the conversation.
âI canât believe all this lunacy!â McCool said, holding out the box. âThis lens wasnât stolen. Itâs right here. I put it away for the weekend. Thereâs no crime here, no mystery.â
âAccording to the student who reported the incident, the lens wasnât where it was supposed to be,â Con said calmly.
McCool blew out a long huff of air. âIâm sorry I didnât put it in the usual place,â McCool said. âBut here it is. You can see it with your own eyes. If anyone had called me, I could have told you where to find it.â
âWe tried to get in touch with you, Mr. McCool,â Con said. âBut we couldnât reach you all weekend.â
âIs that my fault?â McCool asked. âI have to get ready for class. Is there anything else you need from me?â
Con tipped his hat back on his head. âNo, sir. I think thatâll do.â
âGood,â McCool said, stalking back into his classroom.
âWhat a hoot!â Tim said quietly. âGood thing the cops didnât find my cards. Iâve been worried about them all weekend.â He took off his coat and opened his locker door.
A Creature Card fluttered out of Timâs locker and fell faceup on the floor.
Chetâs eyes went wide and he gasped, âMy Bargeist!â
12 The Tournament Timâs jaw dropped. âH-How did that get in there?â he stammered. He looked up to find all eyes on him. âHey,â he said sheepishly, âyou donât think I had anything to do with this.â
âYouâre sure this is your card, Chet?â Joe asked.
Chet picked up the Bargeist and examined it.
âWell, itâs not mine!â Tim put in defensively.
âI canât be sure,â Chet said, his mouth drawn into a tight line. âBut there arenât a lot of Bargesits in circulation. Itâs a very rare card. This could be the one from my missing deck.â
At that moment Con Riley and the other officer walked by on their way to the front door. âWhatâs that?â Con said. âYou found one of your stolen cards?â
âThe Bargeist,â Iola interjected. âItâs rare and very valuable.â
âWhere did it turn up?â Con asked.
âIt fell out of my locker when I opened it,â Tim said. âBut I donât know how it got there.â
âReally . . .â Con said, rubbing the slight stubble on his chin. The officer with Con glanced suspiciously at Tim. âWhatâs your name, son?â Con asked.
âTim Lester,â Tim said, his voice shaking nervously. âBut I really donât know anything about this. Honest, Officer Riley!â
âI think you and I should have a talk,â Con said. He turned to his partner. âOfficer Chisholm, please secure that locker until we can investigate further.â
âRight,â Officer Chisholm said. She closed Timâs locker and took up a position in front of the door. âThe rest of you, move along,â she said to the Hardys and their friends.
âBut itâs my cards that were stolen,â Chet said.
âI know, that Chet,â Con said. âFor now, though, Iâll have to ask you for that card. We may need it as evidence.â
Reluctantly, Chet handed over the Bargeist. âWill I get it back in time for tomorrowâs tournament?â Chet asked.
âWeâll do our best,â Con said. âI canât make any promises, though.â He looked at the rest of the group. âYou should get to class. I may need to talk to the rest of you, though. Weâll be in touch. Keep an eye on that locker, Marge.â
Officer Chisholm nodded. âCheck. Tell Crime Scene to hurry back.â
âDonât worry, I
C. J. Cherryh
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