Murder on the Coast: The Gemstone Murders

School's Out

School was out.

The train slowly rolled into the station, losing momentum as it came to a stop in front of the drab platform. A lonely poster floated by on the breeze. The lights on the graffitied doors flashed a warning before effortlessly sliding open.

Please mind the gap between the train and the platform.

A handful of kids dressed in dull grey uniforms slowly shuffled on board and took their seats, too bored and tired to care that school was over for the summer. They looked at their phones and pressed play on their personal playlists, settling in for the long ride.

"Wait! Aw shoot, come on we can make it!"

Three kids ran at full speed towards the train, their hair blowing in the wind. The shrill warning bell rang out. As luck would have it, just a few feet from safety, J.T.'s suitcase popped open, spilling the contents all along the deserted platform. He spun around with a laugh on his face.

"What? No!"

Thomas and Henry made it inside, and quickly turned around for their friend. He threw his clothes into the suitcase haphazardly, then hurled his luggage through the door before doing the same with himself. The metal doors slid shut just behind the boy, nearly slicing him in half. No one even noticed.

The three looked at each other. The next second, they were on the floor laughing.

"That was a little too close for comfort." This was Thomas. He whipped out a cigarette and a lighter from the depths of his pocket, smirking as he lit the paper. His orange curls swayed with the rock of the train. The flame of the lighter caught the spark of amusement in each boy's eyes.

"Yeah, maybe just a little." J.T. said, slightly out of breath from his endeavour. His suitcase lay on the dusty floor, its contents strewn around the teenagers.

They laughed.

"So, do you want to find seats, or just stay here on the floor?" Henry asked after they had regained their composure. He leaned back to look down the aisle. They practically had this train car to themselves.

"Let's just stay here." Thomas Jackson replied, pulling out his camera. He took a quick shot of the surrounding mess and his two friends. "Oh yeah, that's definitely going in the scrap book. Summer break, here we come."

J.T. loosened his tie, and took off his uniform coat, throwing it onto the rest of his scattered garments. He ran a hand through his short dirty blonde hair.

Henry Foxtrot distributed a mint imperial from his coat pocket to each teen, then grabbed his ukulele and a tuner. After a few seconds, he began strumming. Down, down, up, up, down, up. C, C minor, F, G. The trio smiled. They sucked on the candy, and basked in each other's presence. Summer was here, and nothing could get in the way of their plans. Nothing at all could stop them from having the best summer ever.

***

"How much farther to Cornwall?" J.T. jokingly whined. They had since migrated to a four person table.

Henry looked up from his doodling for a second, before turning his gaze back down. He was drawing a robin in his beaten-up leather-bound poem journal.

Thomas answered, "We've only just left the station, so I'd say at least another hour."

"Another hour?" J.T. watched the fields pass by in a peculiar state of impatient oneness with the scene.

Thomas returned to the book in his hands. How he wished for his own mystery to solve. Each of the boys had a soft spot for adventure, romanticizing it in their heads, and hoping to get a lucky shot at something exciting.

J.T. pulled out a phone and found his favourite album. He rested his head against the foggy glass, and pressed play. His messy hair blew in the wind from the open windows along the train.

Henry pulled his knees in, setting his dirty white sneakers on the retro fabric of the seats. He drew a few stars, and added the finishing touches to the bird he had sketched.

Thomas was having a second cigarette. Everyone else on board was to preoccupied with their own boredom to notice. To be perfectly honest, the young teenager thoroughly hated smoking; he thought that it was the worst thing to ever be invented. He only did it because it made him look mature. His friends had told him countless times that, though it did make him look extremely cool, it was definitely not worth the risks. However, that's neither here nor there.

Eventually, the train pulled into the St. Ives train station.

J.T. was the first one off (as opposed to being the very last one on).

"Cornwall. Breathe it in. Look, there's the ocean right there!"

The train sputtered to life, gaining speed, before ultimately leaving the boys alone on the small platform. He heaved a contented sigh, and looked across the tracks. As per usual, he rustled his perfectly dishevelled hair.

Foxtrot stacked the luggage on the platform. He sat on one of the boxes to take in the salty sea-side air. Thomas held his camera up, taking a simple shot of the serene scene.

After a few minutes of silence, Thomas remarked, "Well, we're just up this path here." The kids gathered their belongings, and followed the steep path upwards.

Five minutes later, red-headed Thomas pulled out a small silver key. Before them rested a simple, sleek, and modern looking cottage. A beach shower to the right of them, and a small garden and yard to their left. Thomas slid the key into the lock with a satisfying click.

"Is that you kids?" Mrs. Jackson rushed to finish opening the smooth wooden door. "Oh, I'm so glad you've made it back safely! I was fearing the worst after reading the papers." Her face adequately expressed her concern, but it quickly changed to delight at having the children here in front of her.

On the short side, and a little plump, Anita Jackson was a middle aged woman with straight strawberry blonde hair that fell down just past her shoulders. A warm welcoming scent of fresh chocolate chip biscuits wafted off of her. Wrinkles were slowly staking their claims on her caring face. She wore a simple pink dress with a little braided cord acting as a belt wrapped around her waist. All of Mrs. Jackson's clothes looked simple, but still pleasing to the eye.

"My goodness, how you've grown! I haven't seen you for the past six months, now haven't I?" Wrapping her son up in a hug, Mrs. Jackson practically smothered Thomas.

"Oh, please, mum, get it over with."

"I'm sorry, I'm just excited to see you all again. Was your travel nice?"

Thomas's friends smiled at his embarrassment over his mother. Concern was to be expected with parents. Especially with the mums, that is. Henry answered, "Yes, ma'am. It was rather smooth and uneventful."

J.T. interjected, "Except for almost missing the train. Say, are those biscuits I smell?" He was always a bit direct when he wanted something.

"Oh, of course! You must be awfully hungry after your trip. Let's see, I made some afternoon tea to celebrate your arrival. Tea, cake, biscuits, sandwiches: it's all there. Come on, come inside. Let's get you something to eat."

The boys appreciated the kind gesture; J.T. visibly brightened up at the mention of cake. He had a natural sweet tooth.

Following their host, they entered the simple beach house with tangible excitement for the summer buzzing in the air.

The trio enjoyed their little luncheon, played a quick board game before unpacking, then went out for supper at a local pub. Following their meal, they headed home for bed. Luckily, the boys each had a separate room, contrary to their previous set up at boarding school. They settled in for the night, and went to sleep. All was well... for now.