The Boom Room by Rick Blechta

Pratt remembered. It was still filthy though, as cleaners hadn’t been allowed in yet.
    He felt sure now that the murder had been a spur-of-the-moment opportunity. The matter of Jamie Clark’s heated argument with Lewis had started it off. Someone had seen what happened and used it for his own ends. But why and, more important, who?
    The main room had been pretty thoroughly searched before the knife showed up under the photocopier, but in thinking back, Pratt had remembered one spot that hadn’t gotten much of a going-over. The stage.
    Rotten Attitude’s gear was still there, in much the same place he remembered from the night of the murder.
    It took a few minutes to get the stage lights on. Their flashing and sweeping movement almost made him ill, but he needed to be able to see.
    Pratt began to carefully check each piece. The drum set was fairly easy, but the amplifiers were quite heavy. The effort of moving them into the light soon had him removing his jacket and wiping his brow with his shirt sleeve.
    Two of the smaller amps had slightly open backs. Laying the first one facedown, Pratt shone his flashlight around the inside. He found some guitar cords and a small metal box with The Destroyer printed on its front. Pratt wondered what it could be used for. Other than the speaker, there was nothing else.
    The second amp looked much the same, although it had two smaller speakers covered by a piece of wood that only partially covered the back. Pratt couldn’t see much and hadn’t brought a screwdriver, so he used his hand to feel around. Almost immediately, he touched something metal stuck to the big magnet on the back of the left speaker.
    He knew at once what it was.

Chapter Sixteen
    Forensics responded to Pratt’s call with impressive speed.
    â€œI’m not surprised this was missed first time through,” the tech said. “Whoever stuck the knife here knew it wouldn’t come loose, not with this huge magnet holding it.” He removed the final screw holding the back on. “Thing that puzzles me is why you were looking for this in the first place.”
    â€œYou’ve seen those smudges on our murder weapon?”
    â€œYeah. I took the photos.”
    â€œWhat did you think?”
    â€œThey bothered me. Gordon had too ready an explanation, seemed to me. If you were pulling the knife out quickly, you might cause those smudges, but I wasn’t convinced.”
    The flashing stage lights had been turned off and two portable work lights set up. The two techs wanted to get this new knife photographed properly in situ.
    â€œHow did you figure this out?” the tech asked as he worked.
    â€œI like to consider things backward,” Pratt answered. “It often helps.”
    â€œLike this time. Man! You’re a magician, Pratt.”
    The knife looked similar to the murder weapon. The handle was different, being all metal, but its blade, once revealed, would almost surely be the same length.
    Just then McDonnell showed up—followed closely by Gordon.
    â€œWhat have you got, Pratt?” he shouted, striding down the length of the room.
    â€œA second switchblade.”
    Gordon looked like he’d been slapped. “A second knife?”
    The tech was ready to remove the knife from the grip of the speaker magnet. The three detectives crowded around to watch.
    â€œHow did you come up with this?” McDonnell asked.
    â€œThose smudges on the first knife bothered me. They were odd, not expected. I simply tried to come up with other theories to explain them.”
    â€œAnd that led you to a second knife?”
    â€œI felt from the beginning that the knife we found might be a plant. Consider. You’ve just stabbed someone. Do you throw the murder weapon away in a place where it will certainly be found?”
    Gordon said, “Come on, Pratt. No one said this kid was a brain.”
    â€œNo, but they didn’t say he was stupid either. It just