by Rashad Salim
“Oh?”
“Yeah. And apparently it’s a long one. Goes all the way back to the seventies.”
Barker was scribbling notes in his pad. “And how do you know all this?”
Tom sighed. “I found out afterwards.”
“Afterwards?”
“After I reported him. Someone filled me on in his history.” That was Nadeem.
“What kind of trouble had he been in before?” Barker asked. “I’ll look all of this up but I need to hear it from you.”
“It turned out that Gilby used to be an enforcer back in the day. For some of the East End gangs.” There was regret in Tom’s voice and Barker picked up on it.
“Did that make you wish you hadn’t crossed him?
Tom thought about it. “No.”
It was the truth. He still would’ve done the same either way.
“Waters is in his sixties? Sounds too old to have been involved in this crime. Seems unlikely he’d do something so obvious and bring attention to himself. What do you think?”
“I’m not saying he was one of the attackers. I doubt any of the three of them were over twenty-one. I’m just saying he might have set them on me and Chris got in the way.”
Barker nodded and looked down at the list again.
“Mobeen Uddin?”
“Was a student at the sixth form until I had him expelled for possession of drugs.”
“My. You’re quite the Elliot Ness, aren’t you Tom? War on drugs and booze. Do all the students caught with drugs get kicked out of here?”
“It was in my first month.” Thinking about it now, he realised he had been a little overzealous when it came to clamping down on the students. “Besides, the school and sixth form want to project a good image so yes, from what I understand we do remove all the bad influences at Binford. When we can.”
“Is there anything I should know about Uddin?”
“I learnt that he had been a problem student ever since he was in Year 7 but always managed to get away. After he was expelled, some of the other staff said he never should’ve been admitted into the sixth form in the first place. Once he was gone, there were rumours that he wanted revenge on me.”
Barker looked at the next name on the list. “Marcus Wright?”
“A Year 11 student I had expelled and there was no need for rumours about his desire for revenge. He threatened to kill me himself.”
“Crikey.” Barker scribbled more notes in his pad. “What was he expelled for?”
“Fighting with other students. Eventually, he was caught carrying knives. It was only a matter of time before he used it on one of the kids.”
Barker thought about that for a moment. “A knifeman, hey?”
“Yeah. The last time I saw him he said he was gonna stick one in me. That was three months ago. I never saw him again.”
“Did you report this at the time?” Barker asked.
Tom shook his head.
“Why not? The threat wasn’t serious enough?”
Tom felt himself redden. “It was said in the heat of the moment – in anger – and other people convinced me it was all talk. I suppose I should’ve reported it. But I didn’t.”
Barker scribbled more notes. “John Thompson?” Barker asked, looking at Tom’s list.
“Not a student. He’s my next door neighbour.”
“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere.” The tone of Barker’s voice made it sound like he had been sceptical about the other suspects Tom had already discussed.
This annoyed Tom for a second until he gave it more thought.
“Why is he on the list?”
Tom hesitated. He thought carefully about how to explain. “We got off on the wrong foot. He’s about my age. Maybe a year or two younger. About my size too. At first I thought we’d get on but when I saw the way he was, that idea went out the window.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s a bum. A hard drinker. Thinks he’s a badass rocker. Wears heavy metal T-shirts and listens to it at full volume at all hours of the day – night too. The only time there’s silence is probably when he’s asleep or out.
“Anyway, when I moved in six months ago I tried to be friendly but he wasn’t that interested in being neighbourly. I’d come home from work and see him standing at his window with the missing curtains. He’d be drinking from a bottle of Jack Daniels and glaring at anyone who made eye contact with him.
“And then the shit with the music started up. He’d start playing it after dark and at first I tried to ignore it. It wasn’t as if I hated the music. I was quite a fan of heavy metal.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, when I was fifteen.”
“Right.”
“So I tried to ignore it the first few times but then I’d had enough and decided to put my foot down. I tried to talk to him. I knocked on his door but he didn’t answer. So I reported him to you lot for noise pollution. Disturbing the peace and all that.”
“Then what happened?”
“Some coppers showed up and had a word with him and he promised to keep it down. But the next night, he was back up to his usual shit. He did this on and off, the loud music.
“Then over Christmas, I went away – back to Nottingham. When I got back a week later I got home to find loads of beer bottles smashed near my front door. The same beer I’d seen him drinking many times in the past. And when I turned in the direction of his place, I saw him standing at the door. He had a cigarette dangling from his mouth and held a bottle of JD. He looked at me and shrugged. I was so pissed off I wanted to say something but before I could he shut the door.
“I grabbed some bin liners and filled them with all the broken bottles, double bagging them nice and tight and when I was done I went over to his place and left them at his door with a note saying ‘you forgot to pick up your shit.’”
“So you didn’t confront him?”
“No.” Tom wished he had now. “This was only two weeks ago.”
“And you think he might’ve gone to the trouble of having you killed over that?”
“Who knows? Maybe you’ll find that out, won’t you?”
Barker nodded. He finished scribbling some notes in the pad and flicked back a few pages. “Do you remember Zafar Khan?”
Of course Tom did. “Yeah. I do. Why? You think he might’ve been him one of the attackers?”
“Don’t you?” Barker asked. “You did have him expelled, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did.”
“But he wasn’t on this list of yours?”
“It must’ve slipped my mind. It’s not easy coming up with names of people who might want you dead. How do you know about him?”
“Atif told me. Funnily enough it was the only name he could come up with. He’s been living in Binford – what? Sixteen years? – while you’ve only been here half a year and have a whole list.”
Tom clenched his jaw in anger. “I’m a fucking teacher. No one likes us.”
Barker snorted. “That’s true, I suppose.”
Tom tried not to lose his temper with Barker’s inappropriate remarks. “So what now? What are you gonna do about all this?”
“What do you think I’m gonna do? Find the persons responsible for this murder.”
Tom took a deep breath and sighed.
There was a knock on the door before it opened and Woolrich popped his head in. “How are we doing in here?”
“Fine, thanks,” Barker said, putting his pad back into his suit jacket pocket. “We’re done here.” He looked at both Woolrich and Tom. “I’ll be in touch.”
When he walked out Tom saw Blake standing outside and leading Barker away.
Tom waited until the door shut and he was alone with Woolrich before he spoke.
“Has anything like this ever happened before?”
“There have been many incidents of students fighting other students and yes – students also fighting with staff – but nothing to the extent of what happened yesterday.
”
“You’re not getting panicky are you, Tom? Worried about further attacks from students inside the school premises? Because let me assure you you’re safe. I can understand your nerves must still be shaky but fear not. Chris was the first teacher to be killed and as tragic as it is it was on the edge of the premises. Not inside.”
The first teacher to be killed? Tom wondered if he was still next in line.
6
Tom waited until the first lesson of the day ended and break time began before he went to see Kate at the History department.
The classroom door was open. Kate was at the other end of the classroom with her back to him. She was writing something on the whiteboard when he knocked on the door.
She turned around. When she saw it was him she put the pen marker down and gave him a sympathetic look.
“Shut the door,” she said softly.
He did.
She opened her arms, gesturing for him to come to her. When he was a few feet away she moved forward and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight.
“I’m so sorry, Tom.” She held him until he broke free. She looked him in the eye and said, “I still can’t believe he’s dead,” whispering the words as if saying them louder made it more real than it was. “You weren’t hurt, were you?
Tom shook his head.
“You poor thing.” She looked over his shoulder at the door before leaning in to kiss him.
He let her but stood still with his hands by his side.
She placed her hands on his shoulders.
“How are you coping?”
Before he could answer there were sounds of footsteps outside in the hallway and the door opened.
“Er, easy on the public displays.”
Tom looked over his shoulder.
It was Nigel Holmes, the Head of the History department standing at the doorway. He was a short man, approaching his forties with a ridiculous comb-over hairstyle and wore glasses.
Kate scowled. “Don’t you know how to knock?”
“Oops,” Holmes said, smiling. “Sorry.”
“Nigel,” Tom said and realised Kate still had her hands on his shoulders. He stepped away from her and her arms slipped off him.
Tom and Kate had been seeing each other for three months but their relationship was no secret at the school. The other staff members were aware of it. Some of the students too.
“Terrible news about Chris,” Holmes said. “You weren’t harmed too, were you?”
“No.”
Holmes paused before speaking and rested a hand on his hip. “I just spoke to Woolrich. He said he’s getting cover teachers to handle all your classes and Chris’. He told you that?”
“Yeah, why?”
“He said he’s giving you two weeks off, is that right?”
Tom was growing more annoyed by the second with Holmes’ incessant questioning and his avoiding Tom’s own question.
“How are we gonna cope?” Holmes asked.
Kate rolled her eyes. “Nigel, really?”
“What?” Holmes asked her. “You don’t think it’s gonna be a problem? Two of my teachers classes being handled by hopeless cover teachers?”
“For god’s sake, Nigel!” Kate said. “Chris was murdered and Tom was there! It’s a miracle he survived. What don’t you understand?”
Holmes’ mouth twitched as he struggled to answer Kate.
“Just go away,” Kate said and turned back to Tom.
Tom looked at her and wondered what he could say to her. He was almost glad for the interruption from Holmes. He thought he could excuse himself while Holmes was still there.
“I’m just saying...” Holmes said feebly.
“Nigel, fuck off already,” Kate said without breaking eye contact with Tom.
Tom heard Holmes sigh and then his footsteps as he left the two of them alone.
“That was a bit harsh, don’t you think?”
Kate rolled her eyes. “Thought he’d never go away.” She reached out and held his hand. “You spoke to the police?”
He nodded.
“You tell them everything?”
He nodded.
“What did they say? Anything promising?”
“No idea.”
“...Why didn’t you tell me?”
Tom looked away. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“What am I, a little girl who can’t handle shit like that?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Time off’s gonna be good for you. Think you’ll go back to your mum’s?”
He shook his head.
“You have told her, haven’t you?” she squeezed his hand tight.
He didn’t answer.
“Tom! You’ve gotta tell your own mum. What if she finds out from someone else, like the news?”
“I’ve just gotta find the right time, that’s all.” He pulled away from her.
They were silent for a moment.
“Fucking Binford,” Kate said. “Town’s getting worse every day. Still can’t believe you left Nottingham for this.”
“If I hadn’t, I’d never have met you, would I?”
She smiled at that.
“I’ve gotta go.”
“Where?” she asked.
“Back to the sixth form. Need to speak to someone.” He gave her a quick kiss.
She told him she’d come around his place later on after work but he told her he had stuff to do and that he’d call her. He didn’t know if she believed him or not.
He walked out and hoped he’d find Atif quickly. He had a lot of questions for him.
7
Tom was walking around the main section of the school buildings, half way to the sixth form, when he saw Gilby approaching his direction. He slowed down and kept his eyes on the caretaker.
Gilby had spotted him too and when they were a couple of feet apart they stopped in their tracks. There was no pretending to ignore the other from either of them. It was impossible after the previous day’s incident.
“Heard you had some trouble yesterday,” Gilby said.
He had his sleeves rolled up, his beefy forearms displaying various faded tattoos he’d gotten during his younger days. He might have been in his sixties but he was still bigger and stronger than most male teachers at the school who were less than half his age, like Tom for instance.
“You know all about that, don’t you?” Tom said. He watched Gilby carefully.
Gilby snorted and folded his meaty arms across his chest. “Heard there were three of them, is that right?”
Tom nodded.
“And three of you?”
Tom. Chris. Atif.
“Just me and the boy, really. Chris came afterwards.”
“Ah, makes sense.”
“How come?”
Gilby smirked. “I can’t imagine anyone would wanna chop him up.” He looked pleased with himself and Tom could see he was enjoying this.
Tom looked at him in disgust. “Oh yeah, I bet you’d have loved it if they had got me instead, eh?”
Gilby acted coy. “See, what I was wondering was how you managed to get away from three men with knives. What’d you do? Do a runner and leave him on his Jack Jones?”
Tom stepped up to him and leaned forward. “You know what I’ve been wondering? ...Who put them up to it in the first place?”
The smirk on Gilby’s face gave way to a laugh but his eyes were steely.
“I mean, it must’ve been some proper lowlife cunt without the balls to do it himself.”
Gilby glared at him.
“What kind of criminal scum would do such a thing, eh?” Tom asked.
“Maybe we’ll never know.” Gilby’s voice was low but steady and his eyes burned into Tom’s.
“Or maybe the police already have a clue? Maybe they’ve been pointed in the right direction?”
Gilby’s eyes widened at the insinuation and his breathing became heavy.
Tom glared back and passed him with apprehe
nsion. He didn’t want to admit it but the caretaker intimidated him and now he wondered how much of a threat he might really be.
8
Tom walked into the sixth form common room where all the students hung out during their free time. On the right side of the huge room were rows of tables-for-six along the wall while the rest of the common room had comfy chairs – all the tables and seats in the room were now fully occupied by students.
Tom spotted Atif in the far corner with Heena.
He could feel the large room quieten when he made his entrance and everyone watched him. He had to lighten the mood and shake off all the attention he was getting so when he spotted a few of his students scattered around the common room, he used the opportunity to make a few comments to them as he passed, reminding them of their coursework deadlines and cracking a few half hearted jokes with some of the boys.
He wasn’t sure how convincing his casual demeanour had been to those around him but it worked – most of the students resumed their conversations and looked away from him – making him feel less self conscious.
He approached the table casually. He didn’t need to get Atif’s attention. The boy hadn’t taken his eyes off Tom since he had walked in.
Tom nodded in the direction of the corridor outside, gesturing for Atif to join him.
He walked out of the common room with Atif following him.
Once they were outside in the corridor, Tom looked both ways to see who else was around. The corridor was empty.
“How you doing, sir?”
Tom gave him a thumbs up and gestured for Atif to join him in a nearby empty classroom. Once they were alone inside, Tom shut the door behind him. The two of them sat at a table facing each other.
“How did it go with officer Barker?” Tom asked.
The boy looked uncomfortable. “Fine. How about you?”
“Too early to tell, really. I’m guessing he asked me the same questions as you.”
“About your enemies?” Atif asked.
Enemies. It was such a strong word, Tom thought. Before he moved to Binford, he didn’t think there was anyone who fit that term. Now his life had changed without him seeing it coming.
“What did you tell him?” Atif asked.
