Traffic [Valduggery, Skulduggery Pleasant Fanfiction]

A Study of Murder (Criminology)

Here, have a high school/sophomore year/3rd year/10th year AU.

Yes, I really did this. No, I'm not crying, you are.

Stephanie had completely forgotten she had signed up for this class. She looked around the room; while most new teachers plastered their walls with diagrams and pictures and charts, this one had stripped the paint down to the concrete. The whole place felt like a dungeon.

There were only a few other kids. Stephanie watched the clock, and already some boys in the back were muttering about study halls after ten minutes.

She had sat nearer the back, but now she wished she had sat closer, to observe the front desk. There was a glorious leather chair, the comfy kind Stephanie imagined CEOs sat in. Something expensive, and Stephanie's chair felt harder than usual.

A man strode it, tall and thin. He didn't address the class. He wrote his name on the chalkboard in one long, eloquent string—

Mr. Pleasant.

He faced them. Stephanie blinked. Blinked again.

The suit was ridiculous—it matched the chair. A hat, cocked low over the black sunglasses. Gloves that were dark, leather, no white chalk dust on them. And a scarf, wrapped around the man's face, covering almost all of his features.

"One of you is now dead."

Silence.

Mr. Pleasant nodded. "An expected response from a group of people who have just witnessed a murder. Not to worry: We should be able to find the perpetrator at some point. That all depends on how smart this particular class is."

Mr. Pleasant stood observing the class, arms crossed. No one said anything. He was probably waiting for a question.

Stephanie raised her hand, slowly.

"Uh—"

"Thank you for volunteering," Mr. Pleasant said, voice cheerful. "Early this morning, you were violently murdered. Do you know why you were murdered?"

Stephanie frowned. "Well—"

"Don't answer that, you're dead," he cut in. He turned to the rest of the class. "Do any of you have any idea why our friend here was shot?"

Nothing.

"I'm afraid we're not off to the best start. You," he pointed at George, "why did you kill—what's your name?"

"Stephanie Edgley."

"Why did you kill Stephanie?"

George seemed to struggle with an acceptable response. Mr. Pleasant waited a few seconds.

"Sorry, you're under arrest for the murder of Miss Edgley, here."

George frowned. "I didn't kill her!"

"That's not very convincing, is it, Stephanie? In fact, that's a pretty rubbish excuse, all together." Mr. Pleasant observed the class, but it was almost impossible to tell who he was looking at with those sunglasses. "However, what I just assumed there was wrong. Any idea why it was wrong?"

Another stunned silence, but Stephanie fought through it. "I didn't do anything to him."

Mr. Pleasant's head seemed to turn towards Stephanie. "Go on."

Stephanie felt the whole class' attention on her. "Well, why would he kill me if I didn't do anything to him? There's no reason."

"No motive." Mr. Pleasant turned, wrote motive on the board. "The thing which sparks all murder. I can't just assume he killed Stephanie because there's no reason behind it." He underlined the word. "We have to figure out why Stephanie was murdered." He turned around. "Any questions?"