[DCI Neil Paget 01] - Fatal Flaw

by Frank Smith

  ‘Was Monica right-handed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where did she inject herself? What part of her body?’

  ‘In her tummy,’ Miss Wolsey said promptly, and smiled slightly as Paget grimaced. ‘It’s the best place, really,’ she explained. ‘And it doesn’t hurt much if you pinch the flesh between your fingers. And I made sure the bath water was not too hot. It makes a difference, you see. It can alter the rate at which the insulin is absorbed into the body.’

  ‘I see. You seem to be very knowledgeable on the subject, Miss Wolsey. Have you had some previous experience?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. But when you have young girls in your care, you have to be prepared for every eventuality, so I made it my business to learn.’ Tears welled up in her eyes again.

  ‘But even that wasn’t enough, was it? I wasn’t prepared for what happened.’

  He didn’t give her time to dwell on that. ‘Tell me. Miss Wolsey, was the light on when you entered Monica’s room this morning?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, it was. And the reading lamp beside the bed was on as well. That’s why I thought Monica was playing some sort of game, all huddled up in the bedclothes like that.’

  ‘Did you touch anything? Move anything, or take anything from the room?’

  Jane Wolsey looked distressed. ‘No. No, of course not. Why should I?’

  ‘You mentioned taking the gift along to her room, but I see you brought it back.’

  ‘Well, yes, but it wasn’t ever in the room itself,’ the house- mistress explained. ‘I had set it down just outside in the corridor while I went in to make sure Monica was awake, and when the ambulance men came I brought it back in here. It would have been in the way where it was.’

  ‘Did you see what Monica was wearing in bed?’

  Miss Wolsey shot a quizzical look at Paget. ‘Her pyjamas, I should think,’ she said. ‘Monica preferred pyjamas.’

  ‘But you didn’t actually see what she was wearing. Miss Wolsey?’

  The woman looked mystified. ‘Well, no. She was all wrapped up in the sheet, and when I touched her; when I realized...I - I’m sorry. Chief Inspector, but all I could think of was to get help.’

  ‘So you didn’t know she was fully clothed?’

  The housemistress stared at him.

  ‘There was a coat on the floor at the foot of the bed,’ he went on. ‘A blue coat and a pair of boots. They do belong to Monica, I take it?’

  Jane Wolsey nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right, they...’ She stopped in mid-sentence. ‘That’s right! It was her new coat. I meant to pick it up - she’d never even worn it. It was on the floor, and I remember wondering...Her boots; they were wet and muddy when she came back from the stables, so I put them on a piece of newspaper to dry. I’m afraid I don’t understand this at all, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ he confessed, ‘but at a guess I’d say Monica got dressed and went out again some time during the night.’

  Jane Wolsey looked shocked. ‘Oh, no,’ she insisted, ‘she wouldn’t do that. I left her in bed. Besides, it had started to snow, and Monica hated the cold.’

  ‘Nevertheless, she was dressed, and there were wet patches on the floor where I suspect snow melted after she returned. Do you happen to recall whether it was snowing when she returned from the party?’

  ‘No, it wasn’t. It started shortly after, I believe. I looked out about nine and it was quite deep on the window-sill by then.’

  ‘I see. Now, is there anywhere Monica might have gone? Did she have friends around here? What about these stables? Could she have gone to see someone there?’

  ‘No!’ The word came out sharply, too sharply - and too quickly in Paget’s opinion, and the woman herself looked faintly startled by her own vehemence. ‘No,’ she said more softly. ‘There would be no reason for her to go there.’

  He decided to leave it for the moment. ‘How would you describe Monica?’ he asked her. ‘What sort of girl was she?’

  The housemistress raised her eyes to his. ‘That’s not an easy question to answer,’ she said sadly. ‘To be honest, not many people liked her. She had no friends, at least not among the girls. She was quiet; too quiet, perhaps.’ She made a small gesture of apology. ‘I’m sorry if I sound negative. Chief Inspector,’ she said, ‘but Monica made it very difficult for anyone to be her friend. I don’t know a lot about these things, but I think she was afraid that if she did reach out to someone, they might let her down in some way.

  ‘You see, there was no love in Monica’s life. It was an emotion that was foreign to her. Perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but I suspect she’d never known love, even as a child. Her parents were divorced when she was three years old, and she’s never seen or heard of her father since that time. As for her mother...’

  Jane Wolsey stopped abruptly, cutting off whatever it was she was about to say. Her mouth set in a thin, hard line. ‘I tried in my own small way to be her friend,’ she went on after a moment, ‘but it wasn’t enough.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘Not enough,’ she repeated softly.

  ‘You say she discouraged friends, yet she went to a Christmas party at the stables,’ Paget said. ‘And you mentioned this girl, Sally, who brought her home. Wasn’t she a friend?’

  ‘Well, yes, she was in a way,’ the housemistress said. ‘But Sally is at least ten years older than Monica, so it’s not quite the same thing, is it? She’s one of the instructors at Glenacres. As a matter of fact, she was a Thornton Hill girl herself some years ago. I had the juniors, then. She’s a nice girl. Sensible; level-headed. I asked her to keep an eye on Monica when she was over there at the stables.’ Miss Wolsey stopped, perhaps thinking she was wandering from the subject, but under Paget’s compelling gaze felt obliged to go on.

  ‘You see, lately, Monica has been spending more and more time over there, and I was, well, frankly. Chief Inspector, I was worried.’ She paused as if selecting her words carefully before continuing. ‘She was not a rider - Monica was actually very awkward on a horse - but lately she’s been spending every spare hour over there, and I didn’t want her to overdo it.’

  ‘Was her condition that critical?’ Paget asked. ‘I was under the impression that people with diabetes can do just about anything they choose as long as they monitor themselves carefully.’

  Unaccountably, a flush appeared in Miss Wolsey’s cheeks. ‘Well no, it wasn’t critical, but Monica was...I know Miss Crowther thought I was being over-protective, but seventeen can be such a difficult age for a girl, and she had no one else to look out for her.’

  Paget phrased his next question with care. ‘We don’t know yet exactly how Monica died,’ he said, ‘so we have to explore every possibility. Did Monica ever speak, even obliquely, of taking her own life?’

  For a moment, Paget thought she hadn’t heard the question. The housemistress continued to stare into the fire, eyes moist, unseeing. A tremor ran through her small frame, and she wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold. She plucked nervously at the sleeve covering her left hand.

  ‘No,’ she said at last. The word was little more than a whisper. ‘If I’d thought she would...’ She pressed her knuckles to her mouth and closed her eyes. Paget waited, but the woman remained silent.

  ‘You saw no note when you found her this morning?’

  The housemistress shook her head. ‘There was no note,’ she said with infinite sadness. ‘Nothing.’

  There was a knock on the door, but Jane Wolsey remained seated, seemingly oblivious to the sound. Paget rose to his feet and opened it to find Maitland standing there.

  ‘Excuse me, sir, but there’s a Miss Gray downstairs,’ he said quietly so that only Paget heard. ‘She says she’s come to take Miss Wolsey and Miss Shaw to church. I asked her to wait in the common room, seeing it was empty. WPC Turner is with her. I hope that was all right?’

  ‘Quite right, Maitland,’ Paget said. He turned to Miss Wolsey. ‘Were you expecting a Miss Gray?’ he asked her.


  Jane Wolsey rose from her chair. ‘Sylvia?’ she said, obviously puzzled. ‘No.’

  ‘She says she has come to take you and Miss Shaw to church.’

  Jane Wolsey’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, dear! Oh, how thoughtless of me. I should have telephoned. But it was Sally who was coming to pick us up.’

  ‘Tell Miss Gray I’ll be down in a couple of minutes,’ Paget told the constable. ‘You haven’t told her what’s happened here, have you?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Good. Don’t. Oh, and there’s one more thing. It seems that there’s a problem getting hold of Monica Shaw’s mother. She’s in Brussels at the Common Currency conference. Get the details from Miss Crowther and phone them into Division. I want someone on it right away. The sooner Mrs Shaw is found and notified, the better. And there’s to be no mention of suicide. For the moment, all we know is that the girl died in her sleep. All right?’

  Maitland nodded. ‘Right, sir.’

  6

  Thornton Hill School was built in the shape of a squared-off U. The main building, Crowther Hall - named after the founder. Miss Crowther’s great-grandfather - formed the base of the U, while Cameron Hall and Braden Hall formed the two sides. Miss Wolsey’s quarters, and those of the upper and lower sixth form girls, were in Braden Hall.

  The common room was at the rear of the main building. It was a long, narrow room, with tall windows that looked out on a broad expanse of lawn, now blanketed in snow. Beyond the lawns were tennis courts, nets down and put away for winter, and beyond them was a grove of trees.

  A young woman was looking out of one of the windows. She had her back to him but turned quickly when she heard the door. She was very young; eighteen or nineteen, perhaps, with the fresh complexion of one who spends a lot of time outdoors. She was a pretty girl, with chestnut hair and green eyes, but she looked troubled and apprehensive.

  ‘Miss Gray? I am Detective Chief Inspector Paget.’ He smiled as he saw alarm flare in her eyes. ‘Please don’t be alarmed,’ he said. ‘I’d just like to ask you a few questions.’

  Alarm gave way to wariness. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘What has happened?’ Her eyes went to the policewoman beside the door. ‘No one will tell me what is going on.’

  He nodded apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, but that was my fault,’ he said. ‘Won’t you sit down?’ He indicated one of the chintz-covered chairs.

  The girl sat down, but the question remained in her eyes as he took a seat facing her.

  ‘Miss Wolsey seemed surprised to hear that you had come to take her and Monica to church,’ he began conversationally. ‘She thought Miss Pritchard would be here.’

  ‘Yes, well she would have except she’s a bit under the weather this morning,’ the girl said, ‘so she asked me to take them and bring them back.’

  A feeling of disquiet came over Paget. ‘Did Miss Pritchard say what was wrong?’

  ‘She said it was nothing serious - probably something she ate or drank at the party yesterday - but her stomach was still a bit queasy and she thought it best if she didn’t leave the house today. But she’d promised Miss Wolsey that she would take her and Monica to church this morning, so she rang and asked me if I would come over instead.’

  ‘You live at Glenacres, do you?’

  ‘That’s right. I share a room with another girl. Penny Wakefield.’ Sylvia Gray smiled ruefully. ‘I lost the toss, so I had to stay behind while she went home for Christmas.’

  ‘Are you a friend of Monica’s?’

  The girl hesitated. ‘I know her,’ she said cautiously, ‘but we’re not what you would call friends, exactly. Why? What’s happened? Is she in some sort of trouble?’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s more serious than that,’ he said quietly. ‘Monica died last night.’

  Her eyes grew even wider, and her mouth formed the word ‘died?’ but no sound came out. ‘How...? What happened?’

  ‘We’re not quite sure. That’s why we’re here. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Were you at the Christmas party yesterday?’

  The girl nodded.

  ‘How did Monica seem to you then?’

  Sylvia Gray shrugged. ‘All right, I suppose - for Monica.’ Colour began to rise in her face. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound...’ She stopped and looked away.

  ‘Then what did you mean. Miss Gray?’

  The girl shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘It’s just that Monica isn’t - wasn’t - all that easy to get along with,’ she said. No doubt she would have stopped there, but under Paget’s unrelenting gaze felt compelled to continue. ‘It’s not that she didn’t try. She was a hard worker; Sally only had to suggest a job and she was off like a shot. It was just that she was, well, awkward. No one wanted to work with her because she always seemed to mess things up somehow. I think Sally was the only one who could get along with her. There was a bit of a joke around the yard that if you wanted a job to take twice as long, you should get Monica to help you.’ She grimaced apologetically. ‘I’m afraid that doesn’t sound very nice now, does it?’

  ‘So you tended to avoid her. Is that it?’

  The girl nodded. ‘Yes, I’m afraid I did.’

  ‘Tell me what you did see of her yesterday.’

  Sylvia Gray thought about that for a moment. ‘I remember she knocked over a bottle of wine,’ she said slowly. ‘She was filling up the glasses - well, plastic cups, actually - and she turned round to get another bottle and knocked it over. Somebody grabbed it, but most of it had run out by then.’ She shrugged. ‘But that was Monica. She just couldn’t seem to get it right, somehow. I know Mr Lucas wasn’t all that pleased. It was some of his best wine.’

  ‘Do you recall anything else?’

  The girl looked away as if trying to think, but there was a subtle change in her voice when she said: ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Are you quite sure. Miss Gray?’

  Colour tinged her face. ‘Sorry, but I can’t think of anything,’ she said.

  ‘What about later, when Miss Pritchard brought her back here? Did you see them leave?’

  A guarded look came into Sylvia Gray’s eyes. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I - I’m not sure what you mean.’

  Paget allowed his irritation to show. ‘Come, now, Miss Gray. I’m told that the girls usually walk back and forth between the stables and the school. Why did Miss Pritchard bring her back in the car?’

  Sylvia Gray avoided his eyes. ‘You’d have to ask Sally about that,’ she said evasively.

  ‘Oh, I will,’ Paget assured her, ‘but in the meantime. I’m asking you. Miss Gray. Why was it necessary for Monica to be taken back to the school by car? Was she drunk?’

  The girl looked startled by the suggestion. ‘No. At least, I don’t think so. She was diabetic, so she couldn’t drink much at all.’

  ‘Then why the car. Miss Gray? Was she ill, perhaps?’

  ‘I don’t know. I saw them getting into the car, but that’s all. It was dark.’

  ‘There are no lights?’

  ‘Well, yes, the yard lights were on, but they’re not all that good. And it was just for a few seconds.’

  The girl seemed to be trying to distance herself from whatever had taken place the day before. It might mean something or it might mean nothing. Paget decided to let it go for now. ‘How did Monica seem to you at the party?’ he asked her. ‘Did she seem to be enjoying herself, for example? Did she seem happy? Sad? Was she with anyone in particular?’

  Some of the tension seemed to drain away as the girl considered the question. ‘I don’t think she was any different,’ she said at last. ‘As I said, she didn’t have any real friends, so she was sort of outside the circle, if you know what I mean. To tell you the truth, I don’t know why she came to the stables at all.’

  ‘Why did she come, do you think? Was she paid for her work?’

  ‘Oh, no. She just came over whenever she had time to spare. She doesn’t ev
en have a horse. She just seemed to like being there. To be fair, she did work hard when she was on her own. It was just that she could never work with people.’

  ‘Did she ever say anything that might suggest she was unhappy enough to consider taking her own life?’

  Sylvia Gray sat very still. ‘So that’s it!’ she breathed softly. ‘I’ve been wondering why you were here; what all these questions were about.’ She frowned in concentration. ‘No, I can’t say she ever said anything like that to me. I’d have remembered if she had.’

  ‘Did you ever see Monica take her insulin shots?’

  ‘No. I know she did take them sometimes when she was over there, but I never actually saw her. She carried a kit with her all the time, though.’

  ‘I see.’ Paget stood up. ‘Thank you. Miss Gray. You’ve been very helpful. But I must emphasize that we really don’t know exactly how Monica died. There could be any one of several perfectly natural explanations.’

  Sylvia scrambled to her feet. ‘You mean she may not have committed suicide?’

  ‘Do you know of any reason why she should?’ he countered.

  ‘Well, no, but I thought you said...’

  ‘I said we don’t know. Miss Gray.’ He led the way to the door.

  ‘Poor Miss Wolsey,’ the girl said as they left the room. ‘She’ll be ever so upset. May I go and see her? I think I should. Is it all right?’

  ‘Quite all right as far as I’m concerned,’ he told her. ‘I believe she is still in her room. Do you know the way?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ve been here before.’

  As the girl ran up the stairs, Paget followed her with his eyes and wondered what it was she was holding back. Perhaps it had nothing to do with the way Monica Shaw had met her death, but all the same he’d like to know. He didn’t like loose ends.

  ‘Apart from Miss Wolsey and I, there were only two other people on the premises last night,’ Miss Crowther said. ‘The rest are either away for the holidays or they live outside.’ The headmistress went on to explain that in order to survive financially, it had been necessary to take in more girls, which meant there was less room for staff on the premises.