“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I know how intrusive they can be.”
“Well, there’s intrusive, and there’s down-right rude.”
“Any idea how they’ve found out? I mean, it’s not come from the police station. We have very strict rules about releasing information regarding our cases, particularly when they involve a minor.”
“Oh, no, I mean, I assumed that it must have been from the police?”
“No. It must be somebody inside the school.”
“Oh, I see.” Mrs Horsfield looked a little embarrassed, and Miller had a sneaking suspicion that she might have leaked the story. He had an intuition for these things, he found little nuances that always gave people away. Mrs Horfield’s over-genuine shock at what he’d said was a dead give-away.
“Any idea how much they know, from the questions they’ve been asking?”
“Er… not much from what I can gather. Just that a pupil and a teacher have been reported missing.”
“Do they know the identities of the two?”
“No, no, definitely not. That’s the main thing they are trying to find out. They’re really stressing me out.”
The secretary’s response to that question made Miller revise his theory.
“If you get any more enquiries, which you will, just say that all press relations will be handled via Manchester City Police. That’s the only information you are permitted to reveal. Okay?”
She nodded and looked relieved that she finally had something constructive to offer the media.
“We had an urgent staff briefing about it this morning, it will be a member of staff who has leaked it, probably a text message to a spouse, which has been passed on. Would explain the press not knowing very much.”
Miller nodded. That made sense, and he started feeling bad for suspecting the secretary.
“Anyway, let’s get down to business. Did you want to see anybody in particular?” asked Mrs Horsfield.
“Well, yes, as many people who know Mr Pollard, and Darren, as possible. I need to build up some background.”
“Would you like to start with the Head?”
“Well, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to start with you. I’m sure that your role as school secretary will bring you into contact with both Darren and Mr Pollard on a regular basis?”
Mrs Horsfield looked quite flattered to be the first of Miller’s interviewees. “Certainly, come on into the office. I’ll pull the blind on. Would you like a cup-of-tea?”
“No, no, I’m fine. Thank you. So, tell me a little bit about the two missing people, if you will.” Miller sat down on the chair facing the school secretary’s desk. She followed his lead and sat opposite him.
“Well, first of all, I’ll place two-hundred pounds on a bet that Mr Pollard has got nothing to do with Darren Jenkins disappearance. He’s one of the kindest, most professional teachers in the school. He’d have been Headmaster by now if it wasn’t for the politics of modern education.”
Miller smiled politely, but he didn’t want a chat about internal bullshit. It was as though Mrs Horsfield read his mind, and just got on with it.
“He has worked here for thirty-something years. Half of the parents who come in on parents evening know him, he taught them. He’s an old-fashioned, no-nonsense teacher with an impeccable reputation, both with staff and pupils alike. I really must impress this on you, he’s the best-known personality in the whole school community.”
Miller was making notes in his pad.
“Some of these questions that the press have been asking me, it’s absolutely unforgivable. One asked if we knew that one of our teaching staff was a predatory paedophile!”
Miller smiled politely. He knew the press tactic of trying to gain information by upsetting the people they were quizzing.
“What about Mr Pollard’s domestic situation?” asked Miller, lifting his head and making eye-contact. Mrs Horsfield seemed a little bit worked-up, and he sensed that she had the utmost respect for her colleague.
“He’s recently moved out of the family-home, he has two grown up kids, Daniel and Jess. His ex-wife is… well, they are both good friends…”
“What’s his ex called?”
“Sandra. She’s not really… you know, I don’t think they’ll be separated long.”
“What makes you say that,” asked Miller, one eye-brow raised. This was new information, and contradicted Mr Pollard’s missing person’s report. Miller assumed that the school secretary might be a little behind with her gossip.
“Well, they’re soul-mates at the end of the day. They’ve just struggled with the transition of the kids growing up and moving out. I’m sure they’ll soon be back together. They got together when they were twenty and twenty-one.”
“So, there are no third parties involved?”
“Oh no, God no, nothing like that. Sandra told me that they just row all the time, mainly because he’s always working. If they go out for a meal, he starts talking about work. He stays up late marking, it’s just a tricky time. They’ll work through it.”
“But Mr Pollard is…”
“Phil… please call him Phil.”
“Okay, but Phil Pollard is missing. Are you not concerned about that fact?”
“Well, no I wouldn’t say I’m concerned. A little curious perhaps. Like I say, he’s a perfectly sensible, totally reliable man. He’ll soon turn up.”
“Do you have any theories about his whereabouts?”
“No.”
“Any idea why he would simply take himself off somewhere during term-time?”
“Well, yes, actually.” Mrs Horsfield stood, and stepped across to the door, ensuring that it was closed firmly, before turning back to face the detective. “This is strictly confidential mind, data protection and so forth…”
“Go on…”
“Well, Phil put in for early retirement at the last round of voluntary redundancy applications.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, and from what I can gather, he was rejected. He’s been here so long, his redundancy package would be extremely expensive. They tend to select applicants with shorter service, in order to make it economically advantageous.”
“Okay, that’s interesting. Have you got a phone number for Phil’s ex… Sandra?”
Mrs Horsfield grabbed her handbag off the floor and found her phone. She started looking through the contacts list. “Here we are, 07584…“ she read the number out to DCI Miller, who jotted the digits down.
“Thanks, and does Sandra work?”
“Yes, she works for Social Services over in Oldham.”
“Thanks. That’s been very interesting. I’ll give her a call once I’ve finished here. Now, what can you tell me about the missing pupil, Darren… Jenkins?”
Mrs Horsfield’s face changed. Where she had been talking affectionately about Phil and Sandra Pollard, her manner suddenly stiffened up.
“Darren is one of the school community’s more challenging members. He is up here to see the Head more often than the Deputy Heads are.”
“Naughty?”
“Well, we don’t really use words like naughty anymore. But yes, he’s what we would describe as behaviourally challenged.”
“Oh right, that’s a new one on me.” Miller hated modern, made-up words and terms that don’t even work as well as the words they were brought in to replace. What’s up with just plain old ‘naughty,’ thought the DCI. “Would you care to explain what you mean by behaviourally challenged?”
“Well, we have certain pupils who don’t want to be here. Subsequently, they make as much fuss as they can to stay outside of the classroom setting. Darren is a classic example. He’s usually up here, on the corridor, in fact he’s a regular feature outside this office. It has felt a bit weird without him there this week, if I’m being brutally honest.”
“And tell me about Darren. Is he a nice lad, or a total head-banger?”
“He’s nice. When he’s on his own. But as soon
as he has an audience, he’s off on one. Darren is like two different people. If I’m alone in here, he can’t do enough for me, he’s quiet, polite, funny, kind-hearted. He’ll do my errands, make me a coffee, he’s even watered my plants and advised me that this one is getting too much sunlight!” The secretary pointed at a dry looking spider-plant on the window-sill and smiled. “But then, when another pupil walks in, he turns into a little monster!”
“In what way?” Miller seemed confused.
“Oh, last time, he was in here filling up the paper cupboard for me. Good as gold, just getting on with it. The next minute, a year-nine walked in here to pick up a message, and Darren turned into a different child. He was standing behind me, making funny faces, sticking the V’s up behind my head, doing the curly-hair gesture. It’s so annoying.”
“How did you know?”
“Well, I could tell he was doing something, because the year-nine was trying not to laugh. So, I put two-and-two together, and checked the CCTV.” Mrs Horsfield pointed up at the camera above Miller’s head.
“So, you say he spends a lot of time here with you. What kind of things does he do wrong in the classroom?”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly say. I always ask him, and he just says he doesn’t know, or says it wasn’t him, or says the teacher has got it in for him. Whatever has happened, it is never his fault.”
Miller was nodding, listening intently as he scribbled his notes.
“He was in a spot of trouble for bullying last year as well.” Said Mrs Horsfield, almost thinking out-loud as the memory came back.
“Bullying?”
“Yes, no rough stuff, just name-calling. But it got quite bad, the boy’s parents were not happy. There is a year-nine boy called Mark Arena who started getting a hard time from Darren.”
“Oh right. That’s interesting. Has the bullying stopped?”
“Yes, I think so. It came to a relatively quick conclusion. I think the parents were more upset with themselves for calling the boy that.”
“What?”
“Mark Arena. Darren spent every day shouting ‘Heeey Mark Arena!”
Miller and the school secretary laughed at the child’s unfortunate name. But the fun didn’t last very long. Miller quickly pulled another question out of the bag.
“Forgive me for asking, but you don’t seem particularly worried about all this. Is there a reason for that?”
Mrs Horsfield looked slightly annoyed by the question. It hadn’t made her feel like she’d been made the prime suspect, but the question insinuated something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Her cheeks were flushed again as she answered.
“Mr Miller, with respect, I’ve seen the comings-and-goings at this school for a long time. I imagine that you were in the second-year when I began work at this very desk.”
“I left in 2007” said Miller, trying to keep the mood pleasant. The school secretary ignored his quip and continued with her point.
“In that time, I’d say we have had a pupil going walkabout once a term. I’ve seen the logic of teenagers up close and personal. I’d be extremely surprised if anything untoward has happened to Darren. Very surprised. This is just the latest attention-seeking stunt on a very long list, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Really?”
“Really. Believe me, if I had the slightest suspicion that something untoward was going on, you’d be the first to know.”
“Okay. Well I hope you’re right.”
“Have you spoken to Darren’s peer group?”
“Peer group?” asked Miller, unfamiliar with the terminology.
“He has a small group of friends. Very small. He changes friends a lot, but he rebounds from one to the other. His long-standing friend is called Michael Donnelly. They’ve been going around since primary school. I think that he’d be a good person to talk to about Darren’s whereabouts. If anybody is going to know the inner-workings of that child’s mind, it will be Michael. I can get him up here for you, if you like.”
“Yes, yes, that’s a great suggestion. Thank you.”
Mrs Horsfield lifted the phone off her desk and began talking a few seconds later. “Hi, it’s Debbie. Can you see what lesson Michael Donnelly is in, and bring him up to the school office please?”
She placed the phone on its cradle, and looked at Miller. “He shouldn’t be long. Mind you, he’ll probably go for a cigarette on the way up here.”
“Thanks a lot.” Said Miller, as he made some additional notes on his pad.
“I’m sure this will all be settled soon enough.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Chapter Four
“So, what’s come in boss?” DC Jo Rudovsky was standing behind DI Keith Saunders, trying to see what he was doing, over his shoulder.
“Mind your nose, and pick your crows,” said Saunders, without looking around.
“Well I can read the top copy. So, I know already. I’m just trying to engage you in conversation.”
“And I’m busy, Jo.”
“A young lad’s gone missing, as well as his teacher? God, my mind’s wandering already. Is it a love thing? The paedo teacher elopes with his forbidden fruit?”
Saunders carried on with his work, ignoring his best DC’s attempts at distracting him.
“Oh, wait. The teacher has killed the kid, and gone Rambo on the moors?”
“Jo, off you fuck love.”
“Ah, I know, the teacher has been seen going into a brothel by the kid, and the kid has tried blackmailing him. So, the teacher has thrown him down a well?”
“Jo, seriously mate. Go and jump off the roof.”
“Charming!”
“Well, it’s you. You’re doing my head in. I don’t know what’s happened yet, do I? So, I don’t need you talking a load of shit next to my right ear.”
“Okay, the kid has been injured by the teacher, and he’s hiding him away until he can work out a plausible plan that will help him to get away with it.”
“Jo…”
“I’m only trying to help.”
“If you want to help, go and work on your own file. If you put this much effort into your own case, you’d have it cracked by the time I’ve finished reading these notes.”
“My case is boring. A dead prostitute with links to every drug-dealer in the city. It’s making me self-harm, everyone knows what’s happened, except us. This one looks well exciting though. Let me work on this please. Come on, boss. Please.”
Saunders finally turned around. Rudovsky was wearing her customary charming, innocent grin.
“Jo, can I ask you a personal question?”
“How personal?”
“About you being a knob-head.”
“Yes, go on then. I’m not proud.”
“Were you a dickhead like this when you were at school?”
“You what?”
“Well, I’m reading notes about the missing kid, Darren Jenkins. He has a long history of doing everybody’s head in. And, well, the description I’m reading, it reminds me of you.”
“So, it says the missing lad is ace, basically?”
“No, not quite. It says he’s really annoying. He’s got a history of being a pain in the arse. But he’s extremely bright, articulate and quick-witted. So, the teachers are really frustrated because he has the potential to be the brightest kid in the school. But instead he refuses to do the work, pisses about and jumps on the teacher’s desk with his school-bag on his head shouting “I’ve got AIDS! I’ve got VD! I’ve got an itchy tit and I hope you catch it!”
Rudovsky laughed loudly, holding her hand up to her mouth to hide her embarrassment at being amused by such a stupid, childish thing.
“Is that what you were like at school?”
The DC regained her composure. “I wasn’t quite like that. But I used to get into a lot of bother for talking, messing about and all that. I don’t think I’m quite in the league of this one, though.” Rudovsky laughed again.
�
�But you’re like that now, aren’t you? I mean, don’t get me wrong Jo, it’s what makes you, you. You bring a great vibe to the team. But I imagine its hard work trying to get through school with that kind of a personality?”
“Well, it was a long time ago. And I’m on nearly forty grand a year now, so it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“I remember when I was at school. There was a kid in our class who was a total throbber. Jason Parker. He used to bang his knee against the bottom of his desk in every lesson,
dead loud, it made everyone jump. When the teacher had a go at him, he used to deny it, and accused the teacher of picking on him.”
“What else did he do?” asked Jo.
“He was just a doughnut Jo. He wanted to be the centre of attention all the time. But the stuff he used to do, the remarks he used to shout out… it wasn’t funny. Maybe once every sixty-times he’d strike lucky and get a laugh. But mostly, the rest of the class just tutted or called him a spack.”
“A spack? You can’t say that Sir!”
“I know, I know, but it was what we said in the eighties. He used to get crap off the teachers all day, and then he’d get beaten up off the other pupils after school, and then his parents would give him hell when he got home. I used to look at him and wonder what the hell possessed him to be such a knob. I mean, it must have been a shit existence for him. But, all the other forms in our school had a Jason Parker. I think every class has one.”
“Every class except this one…” said Jo, pointing to the paperwork.
“Precisely. I need to find this kid as soon as possible. And I think that in order to do that, I need to get a better understanding of what goes on inside his head. I was always perfect at school, so it’s a new world to me. But I think you might be quite useful to me for this, in your role as the resident gob-shite. So, go back to your desk, get on with your work, and if you behave well, I’ll let you do something on this. If you’re good.”
“Bloody Norah Sir, I’m not sure I like you acting like a teacher. I might start trying to do your head in!” Rudovsky smiled widely.
“Jo, I can assure you that you do my head in every single day of the week. But I wouldn’t be without you.”
Proof of Life Page 2
