by Paul Gitsham
‘Apparently, that’s what you and the school agreed to. You hadn’t been reported to the police. None of the sixth-form girls you were alleged to have slept with would admit to it, and of course litter-picking was part of your job description. But everybody knew that “Creepy Cruikshank” had a thing for young girls and had no business working in a school. So the agreement was that you left. Bringing the matter to the attention of the police would be embarrassing for everyone, so redundancy with appropriate pay was offered, with good references as long as you didn’t apply for another school job.’
Warren leant forward.
‘And you kept that bargain for ten years. I bet by then you probably figured that nobody would remember you.’
Cruikshank had gone back to staring at the table. Warren was unsure if the reddening of his ears was due to embarrassment or anger.
‘You forget though that Middlesbury is a small town, and schools speak to each other. They borrow equipment, share best practice, and they help out when there’s a problem; for example, by sending a couple of their own site team staff across town to help another school that has had a burst water pipe two hours before parents’ evening. I suppose you thought nobody would remember you when you drove over. I imagine you were just thinking of the overtime you’d earn. I’ll bet the last thing you expected was Middlesbury Town Comp’s own safeguarding lead to still be working at the school, all those years after you left. Imagine her surprise when she reviewed the visitors’ log a few days later and saw your name.’
Warren glanced over at Ruskin, who continued.
‘Why did you apply to Sacred Heart? Did you think that nobody would put two and two together, given that you worked at Middlesbury Town Comprehensive before the ISA was set up? It still seems a bit of a risk, did you need the money that badly?’
Cruikshank continued to stare at the table.
‘Or is there something else that attracts you to working in a school?’ asked Ruskin.
‘What gets me,’ Warren continued, ‘is that Ms Gwinnett was told of these concerns months ago, yet you are still in post. In fact, we have found nothing in the school’s safeguarding records detailing the conversation she had with her opposite number at Middlesbury Town Comp and that email was deleted from her inbox.
‘Which leads me to some disturbing conclusions, the most likely being that Ms Gwinnett spoke to you about these allegations and that you somehow persuaded her not to say anything. Given that she was murdered some weeks later, I can only imagine how you did that.’
‘I want a lawyer,’ said Cruikshank.
‘I think that’s a very good idea,’ said Warren.
‘Stanley Cruikshank, you are now under arrest on suspicion of the murder of Jillian Gwinnett…’
Day Five
8 a.m. on day five of the investigation, and the hustle and bustle of the CID office belied the fact that it was now the weekend. There were a number of new officers from headquarters joining the team, so Warren took the opportunity to recap.
‘This is where we stand at the moment.’ Warren stood in front of the whiteboard. ‘We currently have one suspect on bail, and two in custody. Matthew Waring, an assistant head, was the last person to see her alive. A preliminary search of his house has revealed no sign of the rope used to murder Jillian Gwinnett. Although he has admitted to lying about the time he left Jillian Gwinnett’s office, and he does have a motive in the form of an as yet unfiled disciplinary proceeding, we currently have nothing else on him. Movement data from his mobile phone around the time of death is ambiguous at best and it would be a stretch for him to have got from Gwinnett’s office to his car and then to have driven the mile to the ANPR camera that picked up his licence plate at 7:08pm. Therefore, he’s been released on bail, pending further inquiries.
‘Giles Sanders, the head of Science, is not being cooperative. He won’t say why he was hiding in school long after he claimed to have gone home. He’s refusing to surrender his mobile phone, so we are awaiting data from his service provider. He certainly has plenty of motive, and potentially the opportunity. He also teaches a module of Forensic Science for the Applied A level students, for what that’s worth. We have an extension to keep him in custody until tomorrow if we need it.
‘Our final suspect is Stanley Cruikshank, the deputy site manager, who locked up the previous night, and unlocked the morning Jill Gwinnett’s body was discovered. He has no alibi and we can’t confirm what time he left the school. Jillian Gwinnett was informed some time ago that there were concerns about his suitability to work with young people. However, she doesn’t seem to have done anything about this. According to colleagues, she is normally very rigorous in her role as safeguarding lead, so I have to ask why she seems to have been so negligent in this case. So far, he too is not cooperating, refusing to talk about the allegations made about him and claiming to have lost his mobile phone. Again, we’re awaiting data from his service provider. DSI Grayson and I will decide if there are grounds to apply for an extension to his custody this afternoon.
‘The CSIs are going through all of their houses with the proverbial fine-tooth comb. No sign of the rope yet, but unless the killer got rid of what they were wearing after strangling her, there should be hemp fibres from the rope on their clothes. There are also some out-of-place fibres on the victim’s shoulders that may have been transferred from the killer’s clothes.’
‘What about Russell Leigh?’ asked Mags Richardson.
‘Officially he’s not on bail, since there weren’t sufficient grounds to arrest him. However, I’m still not sure about him. I won’t be happy until we fully account for his whereabouts that evening.’
‘Have there been any leads from the students?’ asked Ruskin.
‘Nothing of any significance from the counsellors so far, or the hotline,’ said Rachel Pymm. ‘Mr Ball and the governors have decided to reopen the school for a special assembly and memorial mass on Monday, with lessons restarting on Tuesday, so perhaps something will come to light when the kids return.’
* * *
‘DCI Jones, I have a call for you. The caller says it’s important that he speaks to you.’
‘Thanks, Janice, I’ll take the call in my office.’
Two minutes later, Warren left his office, crossing over to Tony Sutton’s cubicle.
‘Noah Ball’s coming in with his wife, and he sounds like a man with something on his conscience.’
* * *
Noah Ball was smartly dressed in an expensive-looking two-piece suit. His silk tie looked as though it cost more than Warren’s whole outfit. In Warren’s experience, people dressed like that when they had something very important to say. His wife Patricia, currently waiting in reception with a cup of coffee, had been similarly well-dressed.
Expensive tie or not, Ball still vigorously rubbed his glasses on it as he prepared to speak. At least he used a handkerchief to spot the perspiration from his brow.
‘I understand that you have arrested Giles Sanders.’
‘We are pursuing a number of inquiries,’ responded Warren carefully.
‘What has he said about his whereabouts on Monday night?’
‘I’m afraid that I can’t discuss that, Mr Ball.’
‘No mind. Knowing Giles as I do, permit me to guess. He probably claimed that he went home at his usual time about 6 p.m.?’
Warren said nothing. Ball stared at him unblinking and Warren felt for a moment as if he was back in school, his old form tutor probing the veracity of his claims to have mislaid his completed homework.
‘I’m imagining that you don’t believe him and have contradicted his account. Now he’s sitting there refusing to comment.’
That was about the size of it, but Warren said nothing. Truth be told, the team were only a few hours away from having to release Sanders on bail, and he was intrigued to hear what Ball had to say about the man. He hoped his poker face had improved in the years since he had left school.
‘Well, I’m sure that an
y evidence or suspicions that you have about Giles are purely circumstantial. I’m certain that you have no forensic evidence linking him to the crime scene.’
‘Inquiries are continuing.’
Ball sighed and leaned back in his chair.
‘Well, you won’t find anything—’ he raised a hand as if to forestall any objection on Warren’s part ‘—and not because I think him teaching an A level module on Forensic Science makes him capable of committing the perfect murder. Rather, I know that he didn’t do it.’
For the first time since Ball had entered the room he took a sip of his water. His hand shook.
‘On Monday evening, Giles Sanders was with me. We were together all night.’
* * *
If Warren thought that Noah Ball’s revelation that he’d been in a two-year affair with Giles Sanders, his head of Science, was the end of the day’s surprises, he was to be mistaken.
‘She’s known about my… dalliances… for years. She accepts them as part of the price of being married to me.’
Noah and Patricia Ball’s marriage arrangements were hardly the most unusual that Warren had come across in his years as a police officer, nevertheless they were interesting and unexpected to say the least.
‘I love my wife very much, DCI Jones. We have been married thirty-two years, and they have been the best years of my life. I know that she feels the same way. But we haven’t slept in a bed together, except when visiting friends, for years.’
‘You described putting up with your affairs as part of the price of being married to you. That sounds a bit… self-important… if you don’t mind me saying so.’
Ball smiled slightly. ‘A poor choice of words.’
Warren couldn’t imagine what Ball thought needed cleaning off his glasses, but again he was vigorously rubbing their lenses with his tie.
‘I’ve been a head teacher for nearly twenty years. Sacred Heart is my third school. My speciality has become turning around failing schools and I also do a lot of work with other schools in the local area that need help.’
‘You’re a superhead?’
Ball’s mouth twisted. ‘I really don’t like that tabloid description.’
Warren could see where this was going.
‘The job comes with certain… compensations,’ said Ball.
‘Almost two hundred thousand a year, according to an article in the Daily Mail.’
‘I’d have thought an intelligent man such as yourself would know better than to believe anything he reads in the Daily Mail.’
Warren accepted the rebuke with a dip of the head.
‘The money is good, no question. But the job comes with other benefits. Less tangible, but important nonetheless.’
‘Such as?’
‘Education has been a top priority of Hertfordshire and Essex Diocese for many years, and is personally close to the heart of our current bishop and his predecessors. As a successful head who has worked exclusively in the Catholic sector, I am on close personal terms with a number of senior clergy. Patricia left classroom teaching many years ago, but she sits on the board of a number of advisory panels.’
‘Including Sacred Heart’s governing body. Which does seem a rather… cosy arrangement.’
Ball smiled tightly. ‘Patricia is an associate member of the governing body. She has acknowledged expertise in curriculum development within the Catholic sector; we are very lucky to have her. As to any “cosiness”, her appointment has been cleared both by the local authority and the diocese. She has no influence in decisions or discussions outside of her specific remit. There is no suggestion of any conflict of interest.’
‘What about your other friends—’ Warren made a show of looking at his notes ‘—Father Beresford, Samantha Maitland and Nathaniel Parkhouse? I understand that you had known them all for a number of years prior to them joining the governing body? In fact, I believe that collectively, you were all known as Team Ball?’
Ball snorted. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, DCI Jones. The Catholic education sector is small enough that it is inevitable that we would know each other. Do you know how difficult it is to get suitably qualified people to give up their time – for free, I might add – to become part of a school governing body? The whole school is grateful for their time and effort, and we are very fortunate to have them.’
‘I see. And I imagine your infidelity would reflect badly on both you and them.’
Ball’s voice quietened. ‘Yes. It would be very embarrassing for all concerned.’
‘So tell me more about what happened Monday evening.’
‘Well, it is largely as I said before. The SLT meeting finished about six-thirty. I popped into my office to pick up my briefcase—’ he took out his mobile phone ‘—and I texted Giles to meet me in five minutes, which he did down by my car. We then drove back to his.’
The text on the screen gave little away. Timestamped at 6.35 p.m., the recipient’s name was not given. Without asking, Warren scrolled up through the previous text conversations. All were pretty much the same. Little more than an ambiguous ‘meet me in 5’ or a time; no names or signs of affection. The recipient rarely replied with more than a simple ‘OK’. Ball and Sanders no doubt thought they were being clever – there was little concrete evidence to incriminate them if somebody were to get hold of either man’s phone. However, to an experienced detective like Warren, the exchange screamed either ‘affair’ or ‘drug dealer’.
‘I can see that this is awkward for you, Mr Ball, and I am glad that you came forward.’
‘I would appreciate it if you could keep this to yourself. If word of this were to get out, then it would likely be regarded as serious professional misconduct and both Giles and I would lose our jobs.’
‘If what you have told me is true, then I assume that explains Mr Sanders’ refusal to cooperate with us?’
Ball sighed. ‘Yes, that sounds like Giles. He’s very loyal.’
‘Not to mention ambitious.’
Ball smiled humourlessly. ‘Yes. An extramarital affair with your head teacher would be problematic in any school – Giles is fully committed to the Catholic sector; I don’t need to spell out for you the implications for his future career plans if the… details… of our affair were to become public knowledge.’
‘Was your affair a factor in Mr Sanders’ divorce by any chance?’
Ball winced. ‘In part. Giles’s former wife was not as… understanding as Patricia.’
‘Which accounts for the rather generous divorce settlement she received. To an outsider, it might appear that Mr Sanders bought his former wife’s silence?’
‘It isn’t my place to comment on Giles’s marriage.’
Warren said nothing, before changing the topic.
‘I imagine that the affair would also cast something of a shadow over your retirement this summer?’
Warren wasn’t entirely sure why he chose to bring up that particular nugget of information, but it had stuck in his mind since it was mentioned to him by Father Beresford.
Ball looked surprised.
‘I’m not sure where you got that idea from, DCI Jones.’
‘I understand that you will soon be turning sixty, and I believe that there is an assumption that you will retire when that happens.’
Ball frowned.
‘I’m afraid that whoever told you that was speaking out of turn. When I first took over at Sacred Heart, I did plan on retiring at sixty. However, despite our recent glowing OFSTED reports, I feel that there is still work to be done. It is the school’s centenary in two years. We’ve just started to plan a year-long celebration and fundraising drive, and I recently decided to delay my retirement plans until the end of that school year.’ Yet again, he took his glasses off and rubbed them on his tie.
‘Sacred Heart is in dire financial straits. Like all schools, we’ve had our funding cut significantly in real terms. You’ve seen the state of the school site, even essential repairs such as the CCTV system are being
postponed. We’ve slashed photocopying budgets and started turning the heating off. We’ve halved the number of learning support staff, decreased the admin team and increased class sizes. When a member of staff leaves, they are no longer automatically replaced, and we’re preferentially employing newly-qualified teachers because they’re cheaper. Yet still I’m looking at two compulsory redundancies this year and more next year, if no one else resigns or retires.’
He let out a deep sigh.
‘I can’t leave the school in a worse financial state than I found it. My goal by the end of our centenary year will be to set up an alumni foundation that can help ease some of these burdens. Only then can I retire.’
* * *
When the interview with Noah Ball finished, Warren escorted him to the reception desk, before inviting his wife to join him in the interview suite.
Patricia Ball was a robust-looking woman, with short, elegant hair, dyed a light, silvery blonde. Like her husband, she too had dressed smartly, with a smart coat and matching gloves. Despite the warmth of the interview suite, she declined to remove her outerwear, and looked uncomfortable.
‘Why did you lie to us about your husband’s whereabouts on Monday night?’
She shifted in her seat.
‘I’m sure that my husband has explained where he really was. You’re an intelligent man, DCI Jones, I don’t need to tell you why we preferred to keep things… discreet.’
Warren chose his words carefully. Russell Leigh had painted a picture of an arrogant and ruthless woman prepared to go to any lengths to support her husband; her husband’s confession had shown just how far she would go to advance their joint vision. He could see no traces of remorse about having wasted police time.
‘Mrs Ball, I am conducting an investigation into a brutal murder, the victim of which was supposedly a long-standing friend of yours. I would expect a bit more cooperation.’
She looked down at the table, knotting her fingers together.
When she looked up again, her expression was softer.
‘You’re right, of course. I’m sorry.’
