by Paul Gitsham
‘They don’t really. Waste bins are left outside the door for emptying and sensitive paperwork is taken directly to the communal shredder. About once a month, the cleaners do a quick dust and hoover, but have to be let in to the office to do so. The occupant is expected to either stay in there or ensure that sensitive material is not on display and computers are password locked.’
‘Who else is on the list?’ asked Warren.
‘The canteen staff were all gone by three-thirty – again, they signed out at reception. The last to leave was the canteen head, who delivered a tray of refreshments to the conference room where the SLT had their meeting. She left it, planning to pick it up the following morning.’
‘What time did the reception and admin staff leave?’
‘Everyone was out by a few minutes past five. They all either drive or lift-share, so we’re checking them out.’
‘What about the rest of the governors? Father Beresford said that none of them attended yesterday’s SLT meeting, however he has no alibi.’
Sutton consulted his notebook again.
‘In addition to Father Beresford, the governing body consists of seven members, including two members of staff who have already been checked out. Of the remaining governors, two have alibis, the rest don’t.’
‘Start with those who don’t have an alibi,’ instructed Warren.
‘Mick Shorting is a parent governor. He separated from his wife last year. His kids stay three nights a week at their mum’s, and he doesn’t have a new partner. Guess where they were Monday? He works for the post office and does the early shift, so he reckons he was at home from mid-afternoon and in bed by about nine. We’re canvassing his neighbours, to see if anyone saw him.’
Sutton flicked over to the next page.
‘Samantha Maitland is a businesswoman, forty-two years old and married, no kids. No prior ties to the school before joining the board, but she has known Noah Ball for years because she is heavily involved in Catholic education charities. Apparently, she’s training for a marathon and says she was doing circuits of Middlesbury Common yesterday. She reckons it’s safer than running on the roads in the dark. We’ll pull the CCTV from the area to see if we can locate her. Unfortunately, she doesn’t wear one of those GPS fitness trackers.’
Warren wasn’t entirely convinced that running alone on the poorly-lit common was safer than running on the roads, but he supposed she had to train somewhere.
‘Who else?’
‘Nathaniel Parkhouse. He’s sixty-three and retired, although the constable interviewing him reckons he looks a lot younger and fitter than that. Apparently, he is a lay preacher, again with a strong interest in Catholic education provision, and again, a long-time acquaintance of Noah Ball.’
‘It sounds as though Noah Ball hand-picked his governing body,’ said Hutchinson.
‘Well, it gets better,’ said Sutton. ‘Patricia Ball, Noah Ball’s wife, is also a governor. She claims to have been home that evening. Her husband confirms that she was home when he returned, and of course she can vouch for him.’
‘How can Patricia Ball be on the governing body of her husband’s school?’ asked Richardson. ‘Surely that can’t be allowed?’
‘Technically, she isn’t a full governor,’ answered Sutton. ‘Apparently, it’s legit if she doesn’t vote on anything that concerns her husband, and isn’t involved in discussions outside her specific remit. You know what faith schools are like, they can do what they want.’
‘Who else had an alibi?’ asked Warren quickly, not wanting to give Sutton a chance to air his opinions about the place of religion in schools. It was a topic that he had strident views about.
‘Rebecca Green, claims to have been at a WI meeting from early evening until late that night. I’ll check that out obviously, but I can’t see her being guilty. She must be the wrong side of eighty; apparently, her great-grandchildren are now going through the school. She was very prim and proper. To be honest, she reminds me of that woman who played Miss Marple on TV in the Eighties. Perhaps we should ask for her help?’
‘I’d rather ask her friend, the little Belgian chap with the moustache,’ said Warren.
‘I’ll explain the joke to young Moray later,’ said Pymm in a loud stage whisper.
‘It’s OK,’ he replied in the same manner. ‘My grandparents were around back then, they’ll tell me about it.’
‘So that leaves who then? Site team?’ prompted Warren after the laughter had died down.
‘Yes,’ continued Sutton. ‘Most of the team had gone home by five, we’re checking that now. Locking up is done by two members of staff on a rota, starting at five-thirty. Monday night was the deputy site manager, Stanley Cruikshank, and another lad, Graham Harris.’
‘Noah Ball says that he saw Cruikshank this morning, presumably unlocking the site,’ recalled Warren.
‘He claims not to have unlocked the admin corridor by the time Noah Ball swiped in, so didn’t see anything,’ said Sutton. ‘However, I have the locking-up schedule from last night. They did the canteen first, then the admin corridor, then they split up and did the classrooms, finishing in Science at quarter past six. The routine never varies, so you can figure out roughly where they are going to be at any given time, although it tends to be quicker in winter as people are less likely to have left windows open.’
‘Which could be useful information for our killer,’ suggested Rachel Pymm.
‘Did either of them see our unaccounted-for head of Science?’ asked Richardson.
‘Apparently not, although he claims to have left before they got to Science, and you can easily move around inside the school building without bumping into them.’
‘So who does that leave us with, suspect-wise?’ asked Warren.
‘Giles Sanders.’ said Sutton.
‘I also don’t like the look of Matthew Waring,’ said Ruskin. ‘He was definitely hiding something in that interview and he’s the only member of the SLT, except for the victim, who didn’t leave immediately after the meeting ended. As far as we know, he was the last person to see her alive.’
‘Do we know what time Stanley Cruikshank and Graham Harris from the site team actually left? Especially given that Cruikshank was back on site before Noah Ball discovered the body. Can anyone confirm their movements?’ asked Richardson.
‘I’ll look into that,’ volunteered Sutton.
‘Forensic IT have taken Gwinnett’s school and personal devices,’ offered Pymm. ‘That could generate some new leads.’
‘What about students?’ asked Ruskin.
‘School ends at three-thirty,’ said Sutton. ‘The school’s behaviour policy states that staff should be visible in the corridors at that time to ensure that there is no silliness; it would be difficult for pupils to stay behind unnoticed. The only after-school activities running that day were detentions for the languages department, boys’ football training, mixed netball practice and GCSE Art coursework catch-up. For fire safety, all pupils were registered and all signed out.’
‘Thank you, Tony. We can’t rule out pupil involvement just yet, but it would seem unlikely that they would hide on site for three hours, just to confront Gwinnett. Let’s keep our ear to the ground though, and see if anyone in particular had a grudge against her.’
* * *
Warren was practically ambushed by his wife when he finally made it home that evening.
‘What happened up at Sacred Heart? Is it true that someone was murdered? It’s been all over the news. Who was killed?’
Warren put his hands up.
‘Woah, sweetheart. Let me get in the door.’
He stowed his briefcase under the table and shook off his coat.
‘Sorry.’ Susan pecked him on the cheek. ‘Somebody in the staffroom caught it on the BBC website at break-time and the kids were all full of it after lunch. The evening news hasn’t said who was killed yet.’
It didn’t really matter, Warren supposed, as they were planning on releasi
ng the name the following morning anyway.
‘Jill Gwinnett! Oh my God!’
‘Well, keep it to yourself, we’re still notifying next of kin. Did you know her?’
‘In passing and by reputation, more than anything. She and Noah Ball are quite the double-act after turning Sacred Heart around.’
‘Did you ever hear anything about her?’
‘You mean, did she have any enemies?’
‘Well, if you want to put it that way.’
Susan thought for a moment, before shaking her head. ‘No. I’m not really privy to the gossip at that level and I only met the Science team when we went on our visit a couple of years ago.’
Warren had forgotten that Susan had spent a day at Sacred Heart sharing best practice. He paused, an idea forming. He thought about how best to phrase his question, before concluding there was no way he could do so without raising her suspicions.
‘What do you know about their head of Science, Giles Sanders?’
Susan’s eyes widened.
‘Oh my God, is he a suspect?’
‘I’m just getting a feel for the school,’ Warren fibbed.
‘Liar.’
‘This cannot go any further, you understand.’
‘Of course.’ Susan’s pout was fleeting and replaced by excitement. ‘I’ve met him a few times. He was really helpful when we were preparing for OFSTED. He arranged for several of my staff to observe some of his colleagues’ lessons and was really generous with his resources, especially for the Applied A level course. He’s always been really friendly when we bumped into each other on training courses.’
Warren frowned slightly. ‘Is that the A level you wanted my help with last year?’
‘That’s the one.’
Warren filed the titbit away for future reference.
‘What about outside of the classroom? Any gossip?’
‘Well, he’s ambitious. He’s made it clear that he wants to be a head in the next few years and he’s been applying for deputy and assistant headships at a number of schools. I heard he went through a nasty divorce a few years ago, and doesn’t have kids, so he’s probably prepared to move if he needs to. Rumour has it that Sacred Heart are so desperate not to lose him that they fast-tracked him up the pay-scale and rewrote his job description to justify paying a higher allowance. I wish I was that sought after.’ She suddenly stopped. ‘Oh my God, now Jill Gwinnett is gone, there’s a vacancy for her job. You don’t think that’s why he killed her do you?’
Day Two
Eight o’clock Wednesday morning, and the golden twenty-four hours since Jillian Gwinnett had been found had elapsed sixty minutes previously. In the twelve hours since the last briefing, however, information had continued to flood in.
‘The swipe card logs have arrived and, as we suspected, for the most part they’re about as much use as a chocolate teapot,’ said Rachel Pymm, ‘but they have thrown up something interesting.’ She picked up her glasses and read out loud from her tablet.
‘He may just have got his times wrong, but I think our assistant head, Mr Waring, warrants closer investigation. According to witnesses, the SLT meeting finished at 6.30 p.m. Waring then walked back along the corridor with Jillian Gwinnett to her office. He claims to have been in there for about fifteen minutes, before returning to his own office for about fifteen minutes – which means that he left about 7 p.m. We don’t have any CCTV footage of him leaving the school site directly, as the car park he uses isn’t covered, but an ANPR camera pinged his licence plate at 7.08 p.m., just over a mile from the school, heading in the direction of his home address.
‘However, according to the swipe card log, Matthew Waring’s office wasn’t entered again after 3.30 p.m. Which means that he was potentially alone with Jillian Gwinnett for thirty minutes or more.’
‘I knew there was something dodgy about him,’ said Ruskin.
‘Good find, put him on the list for re-interview. Anything else?’
‘We also have logs from the school computer network. They can tell us who was logged onto which computer and when, as well as outgoing and incoming phone calls. All computers in the school were logged off by 5.30 p.m., with the exception of Jillian Gwinnett’s. A lot of staff used remote access that evening from home, which could strengthen their alibis. In terms of phone calls, nothing from Gwinnett’s office phone after 3.30 p.m., presumably because she was in a meeting. After about 4 p.m. almost all calls were outgoing: the English department’s staff phone rang a succession of different local numbers at roughly two-minute intervals, between 3.30 p.m. and 4.20 p.m., and there were two lengthy calls to local numbers from the year ten office at 4.15 p.m. and immediately after, at 4.40 p.m.’
‘From what my wife has said, that sounds typical for a school,’ said Warren. ‘Look into it, but I imagine we’ll find out that all the calls were to parents about behaviour incidents or trying to collect money for a school trip.’
‘I’ve already got a team from Welwyn working on it.’
‘Anything back from Forensic IT?’
‘Pete Robertson promises a report for you this morning.’
‘OK then, everybody, you have your jobs. Moray, you’re with me, we are going to have a talk with Mr Sanders, our as-yet unaccounted-for head of Science.
‘Whilst you’re doing that, you might want to ask him about this.’ Pymm pushed her tablet across the desk. Warren read the entry in the log.
‘Well-spotted, Rachel. The conversation with Mr Sanders just got more interesting.’
* * *
Giles Sanders was much as Susan Jones had described him. Smooth and well-polished, the man was a youthful twenty-nine, with a neatly trimmed goatee beard.
‘Thank you for coming in, Mr Sanders,’ started Warren.
‘Of course, anything I can do to help.’
‘We’re currently trying to work out who was in the building Monday evening and approximately what time they left. What time did you leave, Mr Sanders?’ asked Ruskin.
‘About six.’
‘And were you the last person in that area of the school?’
‘I believe so. There was nobody in the Science staffroom and all of the lights in the laboratories were off, so none of my colleagues were still in there marking.’
‘Did you swipe out of the building when you left?’
‘I’m afraid not, you only need to use your swipe card to enter. There’s a release button that you can press to exit.’
‘Where were you parked?’ asked Warren.
‘I wasn’t. My flat is about a mile away, so I only drive if the weather is really bad, or I have to carry lots of books with me. I walked in on Monday.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘It’s the only exercise I get some days.’
‘OK, that matches what I’ve got here. The site team reported the lights in Science were off when they did their security checks at six-fifteen.’
Warren turned over another page in his notes.
‘Jillian Gwinnett was in your way, wasn’t she?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘According to these personnel files, there have been six requests for references in the past eighteen months. All for deputy and assistant head positions.’
‘So? I’m ready to move on. I’ve never made any secret of that fact.’
‘But still, six attempts – and none of them successful? I’ve got to ask myself why.’ Warren pulled out another sheet. ‘According to your file, you’re an outstanding classroom teacher and a very well-respected head of department, so I imagine that you interview pretty well. Then I looked at your reference – which I believe Ms Gwinnett was in charge of writing – and it describes you as “an extremely effective head of department, who I believe will one day be ready to take on a significant whole-school leadership role”.’ He closed the file again.
‘One day. But not yet.’
Sanders face was white. With anger or fear, Warren wasn’t yet sure.
‘I don’t know about you, DC Ruskin, but I think I’d
be pretty pissed off with a reference like that.’
Ruskin shrugged. ‘Perhaps. I suppose it could be seen as quite flattering? Perhaps it’s an indication that Sacred Heart is so desperate to keep you as head of Science that they’d be willing to stop you getting a job anywhere else?’
‘That’s quite possible.’ Warren turned back to Sanders. ‘I believe you’ve already successfully negotiated a higher Teaching and Learning Responsibility payment than the other department heads, so you must be doing something right.’
‘I’ve never seen that reference before—’ Sanders spoke through gritted teeth ‘—and I don’t like what you are implying. I did not kill Jill as some sort of revenge for a shitty recommendation.’
‘Perhaps not. Did you kill her in the hope that you’d get her job?’ asked Warren.
‘No, of course not!’
‘Even with the extra salary from your additional responsibilities, it would be a significant pay hike if you made it on to the leadership pay-scale. Money that I’m sure you’d find useful after that rather messy divorce.’
‘I don’t see what my divorce has to do with anything.’
‘Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but your wife really took you to the cleaners, didn’t she? No kids, yet she still got the house. That must have hurt.’
Sanders teeth were gritted. ‘My divorce is none of your business.’
Warren pulled out another sheet.
‘I believe you are one of the teachers responsible for delivering the Applied Science A level.’
‘Yes, along with two colleagues.’
‘Is it a popular subject?’
He shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’
‘What sort of careers do students go on to after they complete the qualification?’
‘All sorts.’
‘Forensic Science? After all, you do teach a module on Forensic Science, don’t you, Mr Sanders.’
The teacher looked at Warren for a few long seconds.
‘No comment.’
‘Tell me, Mr Sanders. You say that you left at about 6 p.m., and the site team reported that the Science department was all locked up, with the lights off by 6.15 p.m. So why was your swipe card used on the communal photocopier in the main staffroom at 6.32 p.m.? Why were you still hanging around school half an hour after you claimed to have left?’
