Class Murder

by Leigh Russell

  Behind her she heard the click of a latch.

  ‘Sergeant Steel?’ a woman’s voice enquired.

  Geraldine turned to her with a smile. She was growing accustomed to her new title. In addition to the alliteration, it had a satisfying rhythm to it.

  ‘Mrs Mulvey?’

  ‘Yes. Come in out of the cold and let’s get that door shut. And you can call me Susan. We’re not at school now.’

  There was something dogmatic in the woman’s welcome. Generations of children must have been reassured or intimidated by her air of authority. She took Geraldine into a living room where pale blue curtains and carpet complemented wall paper patterned with tiny blue flowers. Three matching armchairs stood around a low coffee table on which a china tea set had been carefully laid out, complete with a cake that looked as though it might be homemade. A handful of newspapers and magazines had been placed neatly in a wooden rack. This was the home of a woman who appreciated order, a woman who liked to be in control.

  ‘Now then, do you take sugar?’ Mrs Mulvey asked, as though the sole purpose of Geraldine’s visit was to join her hostess for tea. ‘The seed cake’s just come out of the oven.’

  Once the tea had been poured and the cake cut, Geraldine went straight to the point of her visit. She handed the other woman a printout of the two victims’ faces, taken from their passports.

  ‘Do you recognise them?’

  ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘I was hoping you would be able to tell me something about these ex-pupils of yours.’

  Susan screwed up her eyes and scrutinised the sheet of paper. ‘Just a second.’ She stood up and returned a moment later with a pair of glasses hanging on a chain around her neck. Putting them on, she peered at the images again. Geraldine waited.

  ‘This is the poor girl who was murdered last week. Yes, I remember Stephanie. She can’t have been more than about twenty-three. What a tragedy.’

  ‘What can you tell me about her?’

  ‘Well, it was a few years ago, and we have a lot of pupils passing through the school, but yes, I remember Stephanie.’ She stared at the picture. ‘So she was killed?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, no, that’s quite all right. I understand. We need to do everything we can to find out who committed this atrocity.’ She peered at Geraldine over the top of her glasses. ‘I heard on the radio there’s been a second victim.’

  ‘Yes, Peter Edwards. He was in the same class as Stephanie at Saddleworth School.’

  Susan looked solemn. ‘Yes, I seem to remember that.’

  ‘In confidence, can you think of anyone who attended the school around the same time as them who struck you as potentially violent? Anyone who rang alarm bells?’

  Removing her glasses, Susan shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Sergeant, but it’s a while ago. I remember all the pupils who attended my school, but I can’t be sure of the dates of their attendance.’

  ‘Would it be possible for you to check the school records to see if anyone there at the same time as Stephanie displayed signs of psychological disturbance?’

  ‘I guessed you might turn up here about the recent murders. I realised at once that the victims were both pupils at my school. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, as you can imagine, Sergeant, since I heard about Stephanie, not just because my school’s been mentioned in the media in connection with these murders, but because I knew the victims.’

  ‘You knew them both?’

  ‘I knew all my pupils, Sergeant.’ She sniffed. ‘As I said, I’ve been giving this matter a great deal of thought and I have to conclude that it’s really not surprising both victims attended my school, given the killer is presumably also a local. We have nearly fifteen hundred pupils attending the school and send around two hundred out into society every year. So if a violent maniac is killing people in the area, the chances are the victims will have been pupils at Saddleworth School. I don’t think you can read anything into this but a predictable coincidence. What’s more concerning is whether this lunatic is likely to strike again. Are people actually safe, living here in Uppermill?’

  Geraldine reassured her that neither of the murders had taken place in Uppermill. Stephanie had been killed sixty miles away in York, while Peter had been killed in the fields a few miles from the village. The conversation had strayed off at a tangent. Effortlessly taking control, the former headmistress had carefully steered the focus away from the original question. Geraldine slid the printout across the table so that it was right in front of Susan.

  ‘We believe the two murders are linked. The victims knew one another. They were in the same class at school. Now, is there anything you can recall that might help us? Take your time. Please, this is important.’

  Susan replaced her glasses and stared at the paper again. Once more she shook her head.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sergeant, but I can’t imagine who might have done this. I doubt it was a pupil from Saddleworth School. This kind of extreme behaviour would surely have manifested itself in some way during adolescence? And I really can’t think of anyone who stands out as violent. But you’re free to approach the current head teacher and request a check of the school records in case something has slipped my mind.’ From her tone, she clearly didn’t believe that she had could have overlooked anything. ‘I have an excellent memory,’ she added, as though to confirm what Geraldine was thinking. She didn’t want to talk about it.

  Since she had claimed to know all her pupils, Geraldine enquired about the two victims.

  ‘What would you like to know?’

  ‘We’ve seen copies of their school reports, but is there anything else you can tell me? Anything you remember about them.’

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ Susan hedged.

  Geraldine nodded. She didn’t entirely trust the retired head teacher’s claim to have known all her thousands of pupils personally, until Susan continued.

  ‘Stephanie Crawford was a pleasant girl. Quite sharp, but not the best student. She let nerves get the better of her when it came to exams. She was a quiet girl, not unpopular, tolerably pretty, but in no way remarkable. I can’t tell you much more about her, I’m afraid. And I remember Peter Edwards, too. He wasn’t a bad boy, but sadly lacking in ambition.’ A fleeting smile crossed her lips. ‘He was one of the lads. Not a ring leader, but he was involved in any high jinks that was going on. At the end of their last term, six of the boys managed to get hold of the school mascot and hang it from the roof.’ She chuckled.

  ‘You’ve got a good memory.’

  ‘I saw what happened, on the news, and I recognised the names of the victims, so I went through some old school photos.’ She sighed. ‘They were very young. And you really think their deaths were related?’

  She lowered her gaze, and Geraldine had the impression she was uncomfortable.

  ‘Susan, is there something else? You can speak to me in confidence, unless you have something to tell me that has a direct bearing on my investigation, in which case I’ll have to share it with my team, of course. I know you understand what I’m saying, and I can’t help feeling you know more than you’re admitting.’

  The other woman stared at the floor. Geraldine waited. When Susan looked up again she let out a sigh.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘we did have a little trouble at that time. There were a few incidents of bullying. But nothing out of the ordinary.’ She scowled. ‘These things go on all the time in schools. Oh, we held regular anti-bullying campaigns and sometimes we succeeded in putting a lid on it but it was never long before it started up again.’ She fell silent and looked down at the floor again.

  ‘What happened with Stephanie and Peter?’

  ‘Oh, there was nothing particular involving them, but there was some bullying during their time at school that went on for quite a while. We never managed to pin down the culprits,
but we knew there was more than one pupil responsible for what was happening, which always made it more difficult to identify and isolate the perpetrator. We never really did get to the bottom of it.’

  ‘Who was the victim?’

  Susan shook her head. ‘You know, I’ve been wracking my brains ever since you came here asking questions, but I just can’t remember. I’m not sure there was just one victim. It was… well, there was a group of boys who seemed to be doing it. We suspected Peter was one of the gang. But no one ever came forward and we never managed to find out who was behind it. I don’t think Stephanie was involved at all. And now I’m afraid I really do have nothing more to tell you.’

  All Geraldine could do was thank her and leave.

  ‘You will let me know if you think of anything that might help us, and please, whatever you do, don’t mention any of this to anyone else.’

  Susan nodded. ‘I understand.’

  19

  Leaving Uppermill, Geraldine drove straight to the neighbouring village of Greenfield. As soon as the door opened, it was obvious Peter’s landlady knew what had happened.

  ‘Do you know who did it?’ She was clutching a tissue and dabbed at her eyes and sniffed as she spoke. ‘The poor boy. I heard he had stab wounds all over his body. The thought of it’s going to give me nightmares for the rest of my life. He was such a nice quiet young man. Who could have done such a thing?’

  ‘Who told you he suffered multiple stab wounds?’ Geraldine answered the question with another.

  ‘That’s what I heard,’ Peter’s landlady mumbled. ‘Is it true?’

  ‘He had a fatal wound in his chest. Whatever else you may have heard is merely speculation passed around by people who know even less about what happened than you do. I wouldn’t pay any attention to idle chit chat like that.’

  ‘You saw him though, didn’t you? You know what happened. Tell me everything, please. I want to know. We weren’t related, but he lived here in my house with me. He was like a son to me.’ Her voice broke into a sob. She pressed her tissue against her lips and stared at Geraldine. ‘Please,’ she whispered, ‘I want to know what happened.’

  Geraldine sighed. ‘We’re still trying to find out the details and discover who did this. I was hoping you might be able to help me clear up a few questions.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course.’

  They went inside and sat down. ‘Now please, I have to know. Is it safe living here?’

  Geraldine took a deep breath. ‘We believe Peter was targeted.’

  ‘Targeted?’

  ‘This doesn’t appear to have been a random attack. So there’s no reason to suppose anyone else might be at risk.’ Apart from other pupils who were in his class at school, she thought. ‘But I’d be vigilant…’

  ‘Vigilant? What do you mean?’

  Geraldine chose her words with care. In a village her words might be broadcast effectively without any interference from the media. This investigation was assuming a very different feel to the cases she had worked on in London. If she could enlist local support that would almost certainly help her, but the close community was equally likely to cause problems. She was already wondering whether to pursue Susan Mulvey’s mention of bullying. Once news of that leaked out, the issue was likely to start appearing in the media and the number of spurious and malicious calls to the police would mushroom.

  ‘With two people killed in the area, it might be sensible not to wander around at night on your own in the dark. That’s all I meant.’

  ‘Two people?’

  Geraldine mentioned Stephanie.

  ‘But she was killed in York, wasn’t she? It’s different in the city,’ the landlady said, as though Stephanie moving to York explained her death.

  Geraldine decided not to press the point. Instead, she questioned Peter’s landlady about the company he had kept while he was living with her. Apart from going to the pub with a few of the locals, it seemed that Peter had done little other than go to work in a local garden centre. He had led a very quiet life.

  ‘What about family?’

  ‘I was his family,’ she replied, breaking down in tears again. ‘The only family he had.’

  ‘But not related?’

  The landlady shook her head. ‘No, but we might as well have been for all the support he got from his parents.’

  ‘Do they live locally?’

  ‘His mother died while he was still at school. It was the cancer. And his father moved south to Birmingham to be with his new partner soon after Peter left school. Peter didn’t want to go with them so he stayed put, right here. I don’t blame him,’ she added, ‘although if he’d gone with his father…’ she broke off again, shaking her head, too overcome with emotion to say any more.

  ‘Do you know when his father left the area?’

  She shook her head. ‘About three years ago. Maybe longer. Peter’s been living here with me for three years,’ she added, anticipating Geraldine’s next question.

  ‘Did he ever mention Stephanie?’

  ‘No. He never spoke about much really. We talked about the weather, and his dinner – I cooked for him every evening and he was always very appreciative. He always thanked me. I used to care for my mother, but since she died I had no one else to look after. That’s why I thought I’d take in a lodger, have someone else in the house. Peter was the first lodger I took in.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t think I’ll have another lodger. Not now. Not after what’s happened.’

  Even though he had lived under her roof for three years and they had been close, in a way, she actually knew very little about Peter. Perhaps there wasn’t much to know, Geraldine concluded after calling in at the garden centre where he had worked. The manager there was in his fifties, short and wiry and softly spoken.

  ‘He was a quiet lad,’ he said. ‘We were all shocked to hear what happened to him. He wasn’t the sort you’d expect to be in any trouble. What was he doing out there at night anyway?’

  ‘We don’t know.’

  ‘It said in the news he was killed in the early hours in the field where they found him.’ The manager frowned. ‘Do you think someone deliberately took him out into the fields to kill him?’

  Geraldine shook her head. ‘We don’t yet know what happened. There are a number of possibilities. It could have been an accident,’ she hesitated. The media hadn’t yet revealed the extent of the dead man’s injuries, but that was only a matter of time. ‘It’s possible it was a random attack. But we’re currently exploring the idea that he might have been deliberately murdered. If there’s anything you can think of that might help us to get to the bottom of this, please don’t hold back. Anything you say will be treated in confidence. I mean, no one will find out the source of the information. So, can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm Peter? Anyone he’d argued with or upset?’

  The manager shook his head. ‘Like I said, he was a quiet lad, more likely to be overlooked than to provoke any sort of a reaction. To be honest, he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, but he was obliging and he seemed to enjoy working here. He wasn’t what you’d call a top salesman, but he made himself useful. Between you and me, I think he was happiest when he was with the plants. I’m not sure I didn’t hear him talking to them when he thought no one was listening. I think he preferred them to people.’ He shrugged. ‘Can’t say I blame him for that.’

  Geraldine had a word with all the other employees there. Everyone she spoke to described him as an inoffensive young man. They all said they were devastated at what had happened, and couldn’t believe anyone would want to harm Peter.

  ‘He was such a nice young man,’ was the general view expressed. ‘How could anyone do that to someone like Peter?’

  Geraldine had no answer; amiability was no protection against a violent maniac.

  20

  Although Geraldine didn’t retur
n to Fulford Road until early evening, way past the time when most of her colleagues would normally have gone home, the police station was humming. With a double murder investigation on their hands everyone was working hard, and very few people were complaining about the additional hours. Geraldine was quickly brought up to speed. All of Stephanie’s former classmates and work colleagues had been questioned. A few possible leads had emerged. Geraldine studied the reports in preparation for the next briefing the following morning.

  Two years younger than Stephanie, her brother lived at home with his parents in their family home in Uppermill. No one had yet spoken to him, as he had been out when Geraldine had visited his parents. Geraldine didn’t think it was likely to be significant that Stephanie had rowed with her brother shortly before she had moved out. As siblings, they probably argued all the time. Even so, Geraldine wondered whether the boy might have something to add to what they already knew about his sister. Certainly he ought to be questioned.

  Eileen was thinking along similar lines because she brought the subject up almost straight away at the briefing the next morning.

  ‘You spoke to Stephanie’s parents?’ she barked, looking at Geraldine.

  ‘What did they say about their son?’

  ‘Nothing much,’ Geraldine replied. ‘He wasn’t in when I visited them.’

  Eileen frowned. ‘Why didn’t you ask them to summon him home while you were there?’

  ‘He plays the guitar in a local boy band and was out at a gig,’ Geraldine explained. ‘He wasn’t deliberately avoiding me. They were playing in a pub in Leeds and his parents said he wouldn’t be home until late.’

  Geraldine had done nothing wrong, yet Eileen’s tone sounded accusatory.

  ‘And why didn’t you arrange to see his parents when he was at home?’

  Instead of defending herself against the implied criticism, Geraldine kept quiet. New to the force, she hadn’t yet earned the right to argue with her senior officer.