Kennedy 02 - A Darker Side

by Shirley Wells

  ‘Good.’

  Peter Davy had been a pupil of Morrison’s, in the same year as Paul Sharp, the lad who had made those accusations. According to Sharp, Peter Davy had also been popular with Morrison.

  ‘Your boys are at Harrington High, aren’t they?’ Grace asked him.

  ‘They are, yes.’

  ‘Did they know Martin Hayden?’

  ‘Ben didn’t. Harry knew him by sight, but had never spoken to him.’ Max was glad about that.

  Realizing that he could hardly hear himself think, he hit the radio button to silence it.

  Grace grinned across at him. ‘Sorry, guv, but I don’t think this picks up Radio Two.’

  ‘Well, I won’t say it’s crap and it all sounds the same or I’ll think I’ve turned into my dad. It is though.’

  ‘Don’t your boys listen to it?’

  ‘Not if I’m within earshot,’ Max assured her.

  She pulled into the car park and they got out.

  ‘I hated school,’ Grace said with a shudder.

  ‘Best years of your life.’

  Max knew exactly what she meant, though. He hadn’t enjoyed it, either. Like Harry, he’d been happy on the sports field and bored rigid in the classroom. Ben, still in his first year at the school, seemed simply bored rigid. He resented anything that took him from his beloved dog.

  Their first stop was the headmaster’s office, and Philip McKay was looking exceedingly ruffled this morning. He was also looking exceptionally smart, ready, no doubt, to face the television cameras and tell the world how devastated the school was at the loss of its star pupil.

  ‘None of this has sunk in,’ he said again. ‘If I can’t accept it, it’s no wonder the children are so dazed. We’re trying to carry on as normal, but it’s difficult if not impossible. Staff and pupils alike are very distressed. Understandably so.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I know you’re only doing your job, but I’m not sure that a police presence is helping matters.’

  A police presence? Max had spotted one uniformed PC standing at the main entrance.

  ‘This is a murder inquiry,’ Max reminded him, ‘which means you’ll have to get used to us.’

  ‘Just because the lad attended this school ’

  ‘Could mean nothing,’ Max finished for him. ‘We’re aware of that. Now then, can I ask you about Geoff Morrison?’

  ‘Geoff?’ That threw him. ‘Well, yes, of course.’

  ‘How long has he been at the school, Mr McKay?’ Grace asked, notebook poised.

  ‘Four years. Why?’

  ‘He came from Manchester? Yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you aware,’ Max asked, ‘that, at his previous school, a sixteen-year-old pupil accused him of indecent assault?’

  Philip McKay opened his mouth, but no words came out.

  ‘Mr McKay?’ Grace prompted.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he asked at last.

  ‘Yes. It came to nothing,’ Max informed him, ‘and Morrison claims it was sour grapes. Apparently, the boy was miffed because he’d been excluded from the school team.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘We’ve spoken to the person in question,’ Grace explained, ‘and he still stands by his story. Nothing came of it, he says, because his family knew it was Morrison’s word against theirs.’

  ‘I see.’ Philip McKay tapped a pencil against his desk. ‘I knew nothing of this, but I wouldn’t, would I? If nothing came of it, if it was an innocent mistake, well, I wouldn’t.’

  He looked at Max, and Max knew there was something else. He just knew it.

  ‘Have you ever had any concerns?’ Max asked.

  ‘No. None.’

  Liar.

  ‘We need to speak to him.’

  Philip McKay nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’

  Max and Grace were at the door.

  ‘Wait!’ Philip McKay waved them back to their seats. ‘There was something.’

  Bingo.

  Max and Grace sat.

  ‘Geoff, as you’ll know, likes to keep in shape. He runs a lot.’

  ‘And?’ Grace prompted.

  ‘One evening, more than a year ago, he was running through the park and . . .’ He paused, and looked at Grace. ‘He was caught short. Call of nature, you know.’

  Max could guess what was coming.

  ‘A third-year pupil and his father were walking their dog there,’ the headmaster continued. ‘Unfortunately, Geoff hadn’t picked a terribly secluded spot. The father got a bit irate. He thought Geoff was . . .’ Again, he paused.

  ‘Having a wank?’ Grace suggested casually, adding at his disapproving glare, ‘Masturbating?’

  ‘Yes.’ His distaste for the uncouth Geordie officer was obvious. ‘We had a chat and it was sorted out when Geoff explained he’d been answering a call of nature.’

  ‘The pupil’s name?’ Max asked.

  ‘What does it matter? As I said, it was all sorted out. Geoff is a well-respected teacher and the idea that he might have been – well, it’s preposterous.’

  ‘I’d like to talk to the boy’s father,’ Max insisted. ‘His name?’

  ‘The boy was Mark Jones,’ he said with a heavy sigh, rising to his feet. ‘I’ll get his father’s name and address for you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  They sat and twiddled their thumbs for a couple of minutes, until Philip McKay returned with the necessary information.

  ‘Thank you,’ Max said again. ‘We’ll talk to Mr Morrison now if that’s OK.’

  ‘I’ll have him brought here,’ he was informed curtly. ‘I don’t think there’s any need for staff or pupils to know that you’ve singled him out.’

  ‘Fine.’

  The door was closed none too quietly behind him.

  ‘Having a wank,’ Max tutted with a grin. ‘Really, Grace.’

  ‘I thought the conversation needed moving forward, guv. We’d have been sitting here till Christmas if we’d waited for him to describe what happened. I’ll tell you something else, for a highly respected teacher, this Geoff Morrison has a lot of bad luck.’

  ‘He does,’ Max agreed. ‘Too much for my liking.’

  A few minutes later, Geoff Morrison walked into the office. He was wearing a white T-shirt and dark blue jogging bottoms. From the sweat on his face, he’d either been running or he was nervous. Given his job, Max supposed it was reasonable to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume the former.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt again,’ Max began pleasantly, ‘but we’d like another word. Please, sit down.’ He indicated the seat behind the desk, the comfortable leather recliner.

  Morrison sat, but he didn’t look comfortable.

  ‘How can I help?’ he asked.

  ‘We need a few points clearing up,’ Max told him. ‘Firstly, we’ve spoken to Paul Sharp. You remember him? You claimed he was upset because you’d omitted him from the school team. He claims indecent assault.’

  ‘He’s lying,’ Morrison retorted. ‘And what’s more, he knows it. If there had been anything in it, they would have had me up in court.’

  ‘He says it would have been a waste of time,’ Grace explained, ‘and that it would have been the word of a sixteen-year-old, as he was at the time, against a teacher, someone in authority.’

  ‘Pah!’

  ‘Have you had any other slurs on your character?’

  Max asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘The thing is,’ Max went on, ‘we’ve heard that a young boy and his father saw you answering a call of nature in the park and misunderstood the situation.’

  ‘Oh, that.’ Morrison laughed, but he looked as if the temperature in the office had suddenly increased to skin-burning levels. ‘My own stupid fault, I suppose,’ he said. ‘I was dying for a pee and thought I could wait till I got home. I couldn’t, and in the end I headed for the nearest bush. I didn’t think there was anyone about.’‘

  And why would people think you were doing anything other than having a pee, do y
ou think?’ Max asked.

  ‘People always think the worst,’ Morrison answered simply. ‘In this day and age, when you can’t turn on the radio or television or open a newspaper without seeing, hearing or reading about paedophiles, people automatically jump to the wrong conclusions. Everyone’s a thief, a killer or a paedophile.’

  ‘A slight exaggeration perhaps, but I see your point,’ Max said.

  ‘It’s no exaggeration. People always believe the worst. And teachers are a prime target. Parents are neurotic when it comes to leaving their cherubs in someone else’s care. No teacher is good enough for their precious little ones.’ He took a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his face. ‘You can check these things out. I’ve nothing to fear.’

  Why was that? Because Paul Sharp had simply been out for revenge? Because Mark Jones and his father had completely misinterpreted the situation? Or because there was no proof to substantiate the stories?

  ‘Martin Hayden,’ Max said. ‘Did he know about Paul Sharp’s accusations or about Mark Jones’s mistake?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘No, I’m not sure,’ Morrison said irritably, ‘but I can’t see how he’d know. Paul Sharp’s claims were made when Martin was still in short trousers. As for Mark Jones and his father well, that was something and nothing. I explained what had happened and that was never mentioned again.’

  ‘If Martin Hayden had found out,’ Max went on, ‘do you think he would have mentioned it to you?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. What are you getting at exactly?’

  ‘Might he have been tempted to blackmail you? After all, you wouldn’t want the world and its wife knowing no matter how innocent it all was. It would look bad, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘You’re right; I wouldn’t want people to know. It’s all ridiculous, but as I said, people jump to conclusions.’

  ‘So might he resort to blackmail?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. It’s all a bit hypothetical, isn’t it?’

  He was rattled and uncomfortable, but that was to be expected, Max supposed.

  ‘So he wasn’t blackmailing you?’

  ‘What? Are you mad? Of course he wasn’t. What sort of fool do you take me for? Blackmailed by a pupil? A schoolboy? For God’s sake!’

  ‘For a schoolboy, Martin Hayden seemed quite affluent,’ Grace said. ‘Do you have any idea where he might have got extra cash? Perhaps a job he didn’t tell his parents about? Something like that?’

  ‘I couldn’t say.’ He let out his breath on a long sigh. ‘Look, I’m sorry about what’s happened to him, we all are, and I’ll do all I can to help, obviously. I dread to think how his parents are suffering. But I really can’t think of anything that might help you. As I’ve told you before, I didn’t really know the boy well. He wasn’t an outstanding pupil when it came to sport. He had little interest in sport or me, and I’m afraid I had little interest in him. I wish I could help, really I do, but I can’t.’

  ‘You can,’ Max assured him. ‘I need to eliminate as many people as possible from this inquiry so you can tell me where you were last Wednesday.’

  ‘I’ve already told you. Or if not you, the coppers who were here taking statements.’

  ‘Humour me,’ Max said pleasantly.

  ‘I was here. I left home at the usual time, about eight fifteen, and got here at about eight fifty. I stayed here until gone five and then I drove home.’

  ‘And home is?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Mount Pleasant,’ he told her. ‘It’s about twenty minutes away, unless you try it in the rush hour. And you’ve already spoken to Alan, my partner. He’s confirmed that.’

  ‘OK.’ Max got to his feet, a pleasant smile pinned in place. ‘That’ll be all for now. Thanks for your time, Mr Morrison. We appreciate it.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I only wish I could be of help. Right, I’ll bid you good day.’

  He had his hand on the door handle.

  ‘Oh, one other thing, Mr Morrison,’ Max said. ‘What colour car do you drive?’

  ‘What?’ That laugh again. That nervous, forced laugh. ‘Red. Why?’

  ‘Just trying to eliminate people,’ Max told him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jill was about to sit down to an unappetizing lunch of eggs on toast when her doorbell rang. She hoped her visitor wasn’t hungry.

  She was amazed to see Phil Meredith standing on her doorstep, his face wreathed in smiles.

  ‘Whatever brings you to Kelton Bridge, Phil?’

  ‘I was passing so I thought I’d drop in and say hello.’ He followed her inside. ‘You’ve got it looking very nice,’ he said, and although she knew he preferred the modern executive boxes with their en-suites, he sounded sincere.

  ‘Thanks.’ She nodded at the table. ‘You’ll have to watch me eat. Are you hungry? Can I get you something?’

  ‘No, thanks. You go ahead.’

  That was a relief. ‘A coffee?’

  ‘No. Really.’

  No one ‘just passed’ Lilac Cottage. The lane was a dead end. Nor did people visit Kelton Bridge without good reason.

  Jill was on her fourth mouthful when he got to the point of his visit.

  ‘You’re pretty busy with your next book, aren’t you?’

  ‘I certainly am, Phil.’

  ‘Ah, that’s what I thought.’ He seemed pleased to hear it. ‘That’s what I told Max. He assumed you’d be able to help on the Hayden case, but I told him you were far too busy.’

  Jill wasn’t convinced. She knew damn well that if Phil wanted her on the case, he’d waste no time in telling her so. To him, her book was of no importance whatsoever.

  ‘Besides, as I told Max,’ he went on, ‘I don’t think your involvement would be a good idea. You’ve too high a profile and you’re associated with Valentine. People would immediately think we were hunting a serial killer. This Hayden case is going to receive a lot more media coverage than will be comfortable as it is.’

  He smiled in that jovial, all pals together way he had.

  ‘Mind you, Max wants you in on every case he has.’ He tutted. ‘That man has no idea of the budgets we work to.’

  ‘Max has never thought highly of budgets,’ Jill agreed, ‘especially when there’s a killer on the loose.’ She could see that her sarcasm was lost on him. ‘And this case will be especially delicate,’ she reminded him, ‘because a young person is involved.’

  ‘Seventeen. That’s almost an adult.’

  ‘Almost, but not quite. No one in Lancashire will be happy until whoever killed Martin Hayden is locked up.

  The population will be nervous. Edgy. And meanwhile,’ she murmured, ‘Max has to send his boys to Harrington High School.’

  ‘I appreciate that.’ The all pals together smile was gone and he rose to his feet. ‘Right, good to see you, Jill, and really, you’ve got this cottage looking very nice.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Jill saw him out and waved when he’d turned his car around and was driving off.

  He hadn’t actually forbidden her to have anything to do with the Hayden case. Had he? No. He’d merely said he didn’t think her involvement was a good idea.

  Given that, she’d have to make sure her involvement was kept very low-key. In other words, she’d have to make sure he didn’t find out.

  Feeling better for having sorted that out, she finished her lunch, made a couple of calls while she drank her coffee, and set off for Lower Crags Farm.

  As she drove, she tried Max’s number, but he wasn’t answering. She’d catch him later.

  She knew he’d be busy, just as she knew he’d only taken time off yesterday because he’d promised the boys lunch. Jill was glad he had; it was the first decent meal she’d had in ages. Well, except for the dinner party with Scott. It had been fun, too. They’d been laughing and joking, like a real family.

  The only thing that had marred the day had been the appearance of Martin Hayden’s English teache
r, the undeniably sexy Donna Lord. She’d arrived at the restaurant with a female friend just as they were getting ready to leave, and she had been all over Max like a bad case of hives.

  ‘I didn’t realize you two were an item,’ she’d said, looking Jill up and down and clearly finding her rival lacking.

  ‘We’re not,’ Max replied immediately.

  Excuse me, Jill had wanted to shout, but we were an item, and we just might be an item again. The only reason we’re not currently an item is because Max fancied a night of unbridled sex with a tart like you.

  Of course, she said nothing.

  It came as a bit of a shock though to realize she was thinking they might get together again one day. Had she always believed that? Did Max believe that? Or did he believe it was all over? Perhaps the choice was no longer hers to make. Perhaps he’d rather have Donna Lord.

  For the next few minutes, Donna had teased the boys, and then, finally, they’d been able to leave.

  No one mentioned the encounter, but why should they?

  It had depressed Jill though, and she almost wished she’d stayed at home. But no, she missed those boys so much. Every time she saw them, which wasn’t often, maybe only a dozen times a year, it was as if she’d never been away, as if she still lived with them.

  At times, she wished she did.

  The best times had been when they’d all had breakfast together before she and Max left for work and the kids left for school. Or perhaps the best times had been those lazy Sundays. Or perhaps

  It didn’t matter. The worst time was when Max came home and told her, oh, so casually, that he’d spent the night in a hotel with another woman. The good times didn’t make up for the pain.

  Jill wondered if Josie Hayden was thinking about the good times with Brian Taylor . . .

  When she arrived at Lower Crags Farm, it was Sarah Hayden who answered the door. Her eyes were red and swollen as if she hadn’t stopped crying since her brother’s body had been found. Jill supposed she probably hadn’t. Her unwashed hair hung lankly down her back. The fashion-conscious girl was wearing black jeans and a shapeless black T-shirt. She was twenty, but looked younger.