by M A Comley
“Come in here, you silly woman.”
She poked her head around the doorframe and smiled. “Are you still angry with me?”
“Are you with me?” he replied, still smiling broadly.
She ran and launched herself onto his lap. “I’m sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”
“I’m still thinking about that one. I will say one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re forgetting something, Ruth.”
“I am?”
“We’re both on the same side. I’ve never let you down in the past, have I?”
She dipped her head, ashamed of the way she’d spoken to him. “I know. I’m truly sorry.”
“Where did you go?”
“I drove around for a while and then dropped by to see Geraldine. If anything, she’s the one who pointed out the error of my ways.” She cringed as she admitted that to him.
“Oh, did she now? You can be such an obstinate madam at times.”
“I know. But it doesn’t prevent you from loving me.”
“Fortunately, it doesn’t. I was just thinking about going up to bed. You could always join me for an early night.”
Ruth smirked. “But I don’t fancy reading tonight. I haven’t got a good book on the go.”
He raised his eyebrows and patted her on the backside. “Who said anything about reading?”
Chapter 8
Ruth made the decision to get on the road early the following morning. John Calshaw lived approximately twenty minutes away. She began her journey with Ben at seven-thirty, forgoing her breakfast. She’d make up for that by calling in at the baker’s on her way to the office later.
She knocked on the front door of the terraced house in a quiet estate in Wayverley. A man opened the door, wearing a puzzled expression.
“Hello, John. Remember me? We’ve met a few times over the years at functions attended by Geraldine and Bradley.”
“Ah, yes. Wait a minute, aren’t you the private investigator?”
“Good memory. Do you mind if I come in and have a word with you?”
He glanced at his watch. “I’m due to leave for school in a few minutes. Can’t this wait?”
“I’ll be in and out, I promise.”
He sighed and stepped behind the door, allowing her access to his hallway. He closed the door then instructed, “Follow me. I’ll finish off my breakfast while we talk.”
“Of course. First question is, can you tell me why you and Bradley fell out a few months ago?”
He frowned and took a bite of his toast which he chewed several times then swallowed. “Who told you that?”
“Geraldine.”
“I’d rather not say at this point, not until you tell me why you’re here.”
“Geraldine has employed me to investigate who murdered Bradley.”
“What? And you think I did it? Are you mad? Just because I fell out with my best friend, it doesn’t mean that I would conjure up a bizarre way of killing him.”
“Please, calm down. I’m simply asking a few questions to get some background, that’s all.”
He raked a hand through his short dark hair. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t recall seeing you at the ceremony. Were you there?”
“No. Which is another reason why I couldn’t have possibly killed him. I’m gutted he’s dead. Are you a hundred percent sure he was murdered? Couldn’t he have fallen off the turret by accident?”
Ruth inclined her head. “You really think that’s plausible, John?”
“About as plausible as thinking that one of the guests at the wedding could be responsible for his death. Anyway, I was away with the local boys’ football team. Bradley actually asked me to stand in for him, if you must know.”
“I see. Where did you travel to? And what time was the match?”
“The coach picked us up from the town hall around twelve, and the match was on the other side of Bristol. It was a good ninety-minute trip there. The match was at three o’clock.”
“Did you win?” Ruth smiled, trying to put the het up man at ease a little.
His head tilted one way and then the other. “No, it was a draw. Better than losing, though. I was shocked to hear the news when we returned that evening. Some of the boys were in tears.”
“It’s good to know the boys liked Bradley.”
His gaze dropped to the kitchen table, and his hand twisted the mug.
“John, what aren’t you telling me?”
His head rose, and his gaze connected with hers. “Some of the kids hated him. Hang on, that might be a little over the top. Let’s say some of them disliked him.”
A chill ran up her spine. “Why is that? I know pupils can’t always like the teachers or coaches they work with, but what was the reason behind some of them not liking Bradley?”
His gazed dropped again. He swallowed noisily then said, “Because he was a bully.”
Flabbergasted, and with the wind knocked out of her, Ruth fell back in the chair. “What? How in God’s name does a coach bully his team?”
Still avoiding eye contact, he replied quietly, “It’s the reason I fell out with him. Recently we’d made it up, only because he’d seen the error of his ways and swore that he was going to change.”
“And had he?”
“It was too soon to know that. All I can tell you is that he appeared to be making an effort. Some of the boys had started to trust him again, others were proving impossible to get back onside.”
“I don’t think Geraldine was aware of this, was she?”
“I asked him that very question. He told me that he hadn’t had the courage to tell her. As far as she knew, all the boys adored him.”
“Oh heck, how am I supposed to tell her the opposite was true? What an absolute mess.”
He glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall. “I’m sorry, time’s marching on, and I’m going to be late if I don’t leave now.”
Ruth smiled and stood. She offered him her hand to shake. “Thank you for seeing me and divulging what you have. At least now I have some kind of foundation to build on. Do you know if this bullying stretched to the kids at school as well as the football team?”
He shrugged into his jacket. “I really can’t tell you that. Maybe if it did go that far it’ll all come to light now that he’s dead. Sorry, that sounded a bit severe.”
“Not in the slightest. It sounded truthful. Thanks for taking the time to speak with me. I hope you make it to school in time and that the headmistress doesn’t dish out a detention as punishment.”
He smiled, his teeth gleaming under the bright kitchen light. “I don’t think that’s very likely. It was a pleasure speaking with you. Give me a shout if you think I can be of further help.”
“That’s very kind, thank you. I’ll bear it in mind.”
He collected his briefcase from the hallway and showed her to the front door.
Ruth sat in her car for a while, long after John had driven off. She contemplated whether Geraldine knew about the bullying and had chosen to ignore it or if she was oblivious to it all.
What if one of the parents attended the wedding and demanded to have a showdown up in the turret?
Was someone that furious that they were desperate to have it out with Bradley and overstepped the mark? Could there have been some form of altercation? Did a boy’s father push him to teach him a lesson and went too far?
She sighed. How would she ever find out the answers now that Bradley was dead? Dead bodies couldn’t speak, the last time she heard. She shuddered at the thought of having a conversation with a corpse down at the morgue. “That’s not going to happen, Ben. Not while there’s a breath left in my body.”
Ben moaned and looked around him, probably wondering why she hadn’t started the car yet. Thinking she only had one option left open to her, she got on the phone to the members of her club and asked if they could meet up at around twelve-thirty for lunch.
Ten minutes lat
er, lunch was arranged. She would leave the office at twelve and stop off at the baker’s for filled rolls and cakes. She had a rough idea of what each member of the group liked and didn’t like in their rolls. She’d opt to get a mixture—you couldn’t go wrong with a variety of fillings to feed the masses.
The rest of the morning consisted of her making yet more phone calls to the lesser known guests at the wedding, which involved asking the same tedious questions over and over and receiving the same answers in return. No one had either seen anyone talking to Bradley upstairs or had passed him on the staircase. It was all rather strange.
She decided to leave the office a little earlier than she’d originally intended to take Ben for a quick run at the park. Again, she fleetingly met Cynthia with her poodle. They had the briefest of chats before Ruth excused herself and Ben. After securing him in the back seat, she drove to the baker’s to pick up lunch for the group.
Twenty pounds lighter in her purse, she strolled into the town hall and filled the kettle, then pulled a few chairs around one of the larger tables, ready for when the rest of the group arrived.
Hilary was the first to show up, followed swiftly by all the others. She felt proud that everyone had taken her call seriously and turned up for the impromptu meeting. With the initial hellos out of the way, everyone grabbed a roll of their choice and listened to what Ruth had to say.
“We love it when you involve us in an investigation,” Hilary pointed out, smiling gleefully.
That smile didn’t remain on her face for long once Ruth informed them about what she’d learned from John that morning.
“So, you’re telling us that you think someone killed him because he was a bully?” Gemma asked, nibbling on her egg mayonnaise roll, ensuring the filling didn’t ooze out of the sides.
“It seems likely. What I wanted to know is if any of you had ever witnessed any of that sort of behaviour from him or had heard anyone mentioning being affected by his callous bullying.” She scanned the sea of faces, munching on their individual lunches, in expectation. It was then she noticed how fidgety Hilary had become all of a sudden. “Spit it out, Hils. I know when you’re dying to get something out.”
“Well, far be it for me to speak ill of the dead, but…”
“But you’re going to.” Gemma laughed.
Hilary glared at her. “All right, I’ll keep my opinion to myself if nobody wants to hear what I have to say.”
Gemma tutted. “It was a joke, Hils. Lighten up. Stop living on the edge of your nerves all day, every day.”
Ruth slammed her hand on the table. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to intervene once the two ladies started having a go at each other. “Gemma, Hils, come on. This is neither the time nor the place. I want to get on with this investigation for Geraldine’s sake. Can you possibly put your differences aside for ten minutes?”
“Suits me. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” Hils continued, casting a second glare at Gemma, who had the foresight to remain tight-lipped this time round. “Well, Mrs Phillips brought one of her two lads into the surgery a few months ago. He was covered in bad bruises on his legs.”
Ruth’s ears pricked up. She urged Hilary to carry on; she had a tendency to pause mid-sentence for dramatic effect. “Go on, Hils, don’t stop there.”
“Well. Once the boy and his mother left the surgery, I was busy putting the patients’ notes away when I might have overheard a conversation between two of the doctors. One of the doctors had seen the boy that morning and was unsure what to make of his injuries. The other one said that he should contact Social Services if he had concerns.”
“Really? They were that bad? You don’t think it was possible the mother might have caused them and was keen to apportion the blame elsewhere?”
Some of the group laughed.
“Only a PI would think along those lines, Ruth, come off it,” Lynn piped up.
Ruth cringed. “Sorry. Welcome to my world, everyone. I’m so suspicious of people nine-tenths of the time.”
“Don’t think that snippet of information has gone unnoticed in the past,” Lynn replied with a cheeky smile.
“Okay. Hils, getting back to what you overheard, did the boy say where he’d got these bruises?”
“From playing football.”
Ruth groaned. “Highly probable, isn’t it?”
“Well, my nephew plays in his school’s football team, and he’s never once complained about being kicked around,” Lynn suggested.
“Exactly,” Hils replied. “It’s not that common, Ruth. In my eyes it would be worth going further, maybe call round to question the lad or his mother to get the ins and outs of what actually went on. They’re sure to tell the truth now there’s no recourse to their actions. Anyway, the mother confided in me, while she was sitting in the waiting room with the lad that she’d had suspicions about the coach for a while. That’s why she forced her son to go to the doctor. That way they’d have something definitive on record, should the need arise later on.”
“Wow, do parents go that extra mile for their kids nowadays?” The words were out before Ruth had a chance to rein them in. With plenty of parents in the group, she braced herself for an onslaught.
“Hey, most parents care what happens to their kids. It’s not fair of you to tar all parents with the same brush,” Lynn replied, her back stiffening as she spoke.
“I’m sorry, it came out wrong. My mistake.” She turned back to Hilary and asked, “Hils, do you know what came of the incident in the end?”
“I was interested so chased it up myself and looked through the boy’s records. The bruising eventually died down, and no charges were brought against Bradley by SS because the boy refused to blame his coach.”
Ruth gasped. “No, do you think he got to the boy? Threatened him to keep quiet, or even bribed him?”
Hilary shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I know what I would do if I were in your shoes, seeking answers.”
Ruth leaned forward, her eyes wide with expectation. “What’s that?”
“Well, I’d break down the headmistress’s door and demand to be heard.”
Ruth smiled and relaxed her frame. “I’ll make PIs of you lot yet. That, my dear lady, is exactly what I intend doing. This afternoon, in fact.”
“Good for you. Maybe this is the key that will unlock the secret chest to the mystery,” Steven added, in his own theatrical way.
They chatted generally after that, mainly voicing their concerns about Geraldine, shocked that she’d been in hospital over the weekend but glad that she’d made a full recovery. After they’d completed their lunch, they parted company, promising to get together in a few days if everyone was available to begin creating the costumes for the show, which was creeping up on them and only a few weeks ahead. Steven was already in a spin about it and moaning that his sleep pattern had been affected drastically due to his mind constantly being on the go.
Ruth drove to Highgate School. Fortunately, the headmistress was free to see her but made it clear that she could only spare ten minutes for the interview.
“Thank you, Miss Scott. I know how valuable your time is. I’ll come straight to the point in that case. As you’re probably aware, Bradley Sinclair lost his life at the weekend.”
Miss Scott nodded, a sad expression descending on her wrinkle-free face. “I heard. On his wedding day, too, of all times.”
“That’s right. Well, Geraldine, his new wife, has asked me to delve into the tragic incident.”
“You? Why you? Why not leave the investigation in the capable hands of the police?”
“Because she knows that I have had excellent results over the years in my role as a PI. Have the police visited you yet?”
“No, they haven’t. Why would they?”
“I rest my case. I would’ve thought visiting a victim’s place of work would be at the very top of their agenda. I know the inspector running the investigation, and, well, I’m not convinced that she cond
ucts her investigations with the vigour that is expected of her. Maybe she’ll up her game on this one and prove me wrong, or maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part.”
“If you have an axe to grind with the inspector, that’s your prerogative, Miss Morgan.”
“I’m willing to set it aside. I assure you, she’s the one not playing ball. Talking of which, I have a few questions I’d like to ask you about Bradley, if you don’t mind?”
“Fire away. Like I said at the beginning of this meeting, I can only spare you a few minutes, so use the time wisely.”
“I will. Okay, it’s come to light this morning, while I was interviewing someone else connected with this crime, that Bradley was, how shall I put this? Overzealous in the way he handled the pupils under his care.”
Miss Scott’s brow wrinkled. “In what way?” she asked, linking her hands in front of her on the desk.
“I’ve heard on the grapevine that he used to bully the boys on the football team he coached. It would seem logical to me to ask if he’d been found guilty of doing the same to the pupils at this school.”
“Firstly, no, I have never heard of such rumours, and secondly, there are rules in place at this school protecting the pupils, and the staff for that matter, against bullying. I would never have tolerated such behaviour,” Miss Scott replied stiffly.
“I’m glad to hear it. Perhaps you’ve overheard Bradley falling out with another member of staff?”
“No. Nothing of that ilk at all. Are you suggesting that one of the teachers went to the wedding with the intention of harming Bradley?”
“Not specifically, but it’s not something I should discount either, as I’m sure you agree.”
“I can understand that. Although, I have to stick up for my staff on this one. I don’t have anyone working in this school who possesses such a vile temper to possibly do such a thing.”
“Was he well liked amongst the staff?”
“Extremely I would say, which is why you casting aspersions is upsetting me.”
Ruth smiled tightly. “I’m sorry. All I’m doing is trying to get to the bottom of why my best friend became a wife and a widow within the space of an hour on Saturday. If I upset or step on anyone’s toes during my interviews, then I’m afraid that can’t be helped. Geraldine has a right to know who killed the man she loved.”
