“I think they’re intending to occupy the stage area only. The advantage of the hall is that all the doors leading into it can be locked. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get on.”
Juliet watched Veronica hurry away, hands thrust deep into the pockets of her coat, head bowed. She decided to complete her circuit by returning to the netball courts. The first games would have started by now. She’d hover right on the periphery of the crowd so that she could watch the main entrance as well as the spectators. She was looking back at the main door whilst still walking when she bumped into someone. Jerking round sharply, she saw it was Andy Carstairs.
“Ow!” he said ruefully. “That was my shin!”
“Sorry, I was trying to do two things at once. I’m glad you managed to get in before they closed the gates. Councillor Start’s orders, apparently.”
“Wouldn’t have stopped me,” he said. “I know this area well. I grew up in Alexandra Road. I’d have just gone down Matmore Gate and then cut across the playing fields from the river bank.”
“Show off! Interesting that’s possible, though. Who else would know?”
“I suppose most of the people who live round here. And most of the students at the school, too. You can bet they sneak out to the shop in Matmore Gate during school hours. I’ll move on. DI Yates will be annoyed if he sees us hanging around in gaggles, as he put it. Where is he, by the way?”
“You’re right, he will. He’s going to stay close to Richard Lennard. I’m not sure exactly where they are at the moment: you’ll probably see them if you move further into the crowd. I’ll stay here. Could you ask Verity Tandy to come across for a quiet word? I think I saw Mrs Painter talking to her earlier.”
“Sure.”
“Found out anything interesting?” she said to Verity when she appeared.
“Not much. I was surprised to see Cassandra Knipes’s parents here. I know they’re supporting the match because Cassandra was so keen on netball, but I’d have thought it would be too much of an ordeal for them. Most people have treated them with respect – even deliberately kept their distance, actually, almost as if misfortune is catching. I think only Cindy Painter has spoken to them at any length. She seems to be talking to almost everyone.”
“Yes, I saw her talking to you. I didn’t make the connection when I first saw him, but I assume Mr Knipes is the man in the wheelchair?”
“Yes. That’s his wife standing beside him.”
“Did they speak to you?”
“Only to say hello. He’s in a really bad mood. I know he’s got cause to be, but he’s taking it out on her. He seems to be furious with her, for some reason.”
“Really? I suppose everyone reacts to grief in a different way. Might be worth keeping an eye on him, though. Do you know anyone else?”
“I recognise the teachers and some of the students. I don’t know any of the other spectators. I think they’re mostly parents. DI Yates’s hope that we’d discover a smoking gun was optimistic – though worth a try, of course,” Verity added hurriedly, as Juliet’s friendly expression faded. “I’d better go and stand somewhere else now. I know DI Yates doesn’t want us to spend much time talking to each other.”
She moved away. Juliet stood with her back against the wall and tried to keep watch on both the crowd and the main entrance. She was very cold and could have murdered another cup of tea. It seemed an age until a shrill whistle announced half time. She watched the girls re-don their discarded sweatshirts and file off the netball court, past the tea table and into the ‘changing room’ in the foyer.
Tim appeared at her elbow bearing a fresh beaker of tea.
“Thanks,” said Juliet. “Manna from heaven! But I thought you were glued to Mr Lennard.”
“He’s talking to Mr and Mrs Knipes. I’ve had a brief word with them myself. I thought I’d better leave Lennard to it for a little while.”
“You don’t suspect them of anything, do you?”
“Not really. But this whole thing doesn’t make much sense. Who knows who’s guilty of what? Have you found out anything worthwhile?”
“A couple of things. Ivan Grummett’s pick-up’s in the car park, so I’m assuming he’s a Bricklayer.”
“I certainly haven’t seen him here,” said Tim, looking round.
“And Councillor Start has made the hall out of bounds while his meeting is going on. That includes the adjacent changing rooms. The netball teams can’t go back to them until the match’s over.”
“Lennard didn’t tell me he’d agreed to that. How did you find out?”
“Veronica Start was supervising the car park. She told me. She was also instructed to close the school gates after the netball started. I assume all the Bricklayers had arrived by then.”
“You didn’t see any of them?”
“Could have done. Presumably they don’t look unlike parents!”
“I’ll ask Lennard if he thinks they’re all here. We didn’t check that side car park, did we?”
“No. But Giash and Verity may have done.”
“Ask them, will you? I’m going back to Lennard now.”
“Enjoy,” said Juliet.
Chapter Fifty-Four
WE ARE LOCKED together in Ariadne’s room. The sheets on the bed are foetid with her sweat. I realise that the room must stink. Cassandra gagged as he shoved her through the door. She and Philippa are huddled on the floor, sitting next to each other but not speaking. There’s no rapport between them. They seem only to agree about one thing: they don’t want me anywhere near them. We are separated by the bed. If I try to get closer, they tell me to keep away. Philippa says it menacingly, Cassandra is almost hysterical. It is worse than a nightmare. If I’d never set eyes on them, at least I could have pretended that I held a place in their hearts.
Chapter Fifty-Five
TIM HAD TAKEN only a couple of steps when he heard some angry shouts. His name was being called and straight away he recognised Richard Lennard’s voice. Lennard sounded as if he was being attacked.
“DI Yates! DI Yates! Over here!”
Tim sprinted to Lennard’s side, pushing his way through the crowd, most members of which were converging on the same spot. Lennard was still standing beside Mr Knipes’s wheelchair. Red in the face, he was being challenged by a tall young woman standing aggressively close to him. He saw Tim and pointed accusingly at the woman.
“This woman is trespassing. Please ask her to leave.”
Tim was about to intervene when Andy Carstairs came diving through the throng.
“Jocelyn . . . Ms Greaves. What’s wrong?”
“I’ve come to report on the netball game. I have a perfect right . . .” the woman began indignantly. Tim disliked her immediately. He wasn’t keen on people who insisted on their rights.
“You have no right!” said Richard Lennard furiously. “You are trespassing on school property. DI Yates, this woman’s name is Jocelyn Greaves. She’s a reporter. She’s made several malicious attempts to discredit this school.”
Tim had just reached them. He gave Andy a puzzled look.
“Let’s all keep calm and sort this out in private, shall we?” he said. “Where can we go to talk?”
Richard Lennard was still glaring balefully at the young woman. Looking past her, he saw several parents staring curiously and was suddenly aware that he’d made a spectacle of himself.
“The German room is the first classroom to the right of that door,” he said, indicating the side entrance grudgingly. “I suppose we could go in there.”
He led the way. Tim shepherded Andy Carstairs and Jocelyn Greaves after him.
“Now,” said Tim, turning to Jocelyn Greaves, “please explain why you’re here, Ms Greaves.”
“As I’ve said, to report on the netball match.”
“For the Spalding Guardian?”
“No. I’m a freelance reporter.”
“Who wants a report on a school netball match, if not the local paper? I wouldn’t have thought it the sort of news that would travel far.”
“Well, I . . .”
“Ask her how she got in!” Richard Lennard shouted. “Ask her about her snooping. If she wanted to cover the netball, why did she arrive so late?”
“Mr Lennard, please keep your voice down. Ms Greaves, I’d be grateful if you would answer Mr Lennard’s questions. As you no doubt know, the school gates were closed when the match began, at 10.00 a.m. Its start time was well-advertised.”
“I mistook the time.”
“How did you get in?”
“I took the back way, across the river bank from Matmore Gate and over the playing fields.”
“I see,” said Tim, giving Andy a searching look. “That is actually trespassing. Mr Lennard is correct.”
“I’d be obliged if you’d make her leave,” Richard Lennard said, trying to re-summon his dignity. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to be there for the second half.” He left the classroom.
“Ms Greaves, I am afraid that I am going to have to ask you to leave. DC Carstairs will escort you to the gate. Mrs Start has the keys,” Tim concluded, addressing Andy. “She’s round the front of the school somewhere.”
Jocelyn Greaves’ eyes blazed fury, though she spoke with restraint.
“Well, that’s the last time I help the police with their ‘enquiries’,” she said.
“Ms Greaves was very co-operative yesterday evening in supplying the information you requested, sir,” said Andy uncomfortably.
“And I’m very grateful,” said Tim, “but that doesn’t mean I can help her to break the law.”
“Then let me get out of here at once,” she said, “but don’t be surprised if you live to regret it. There’s more going on here at the moment than you understand.”
She left the classroom abruptly. Andy followed her.
“I don’t doubt that she’s right,” Tim sighed to himself. “It’s nailing it that’s the problem.”
The netball players had reconvened and begun the second half. Outside again, Tim noted swiftly that Richard Lennard was no longer among the spectators. Shit, he thought to himself. I’ve lost him now. Whatever Jocelyn Greaves’ intentions, she could hardly have done the headteacher a greater favour. Tim glanced across to where Juliet had been standing and saw that she also had vanished. Perhaps she’d accompanied Lennard, or at least followed him. Tim hoped so. He thought of texting her, but decided against it. Scanning the crowd, he saw Giash standing on the far edge of the netball courts and Ricky MacFadyen standing just apart from a group of spectators. Verity Tandy was nowhere to be seen. In the distance he perceived Andy walking back to the netball courts. Veronica Start was beside him.
Tim had a sudden inkling that something had gone wrong. He’d hardly formulated the thought when he spied an uncouth figure lurking on the periphery, smoking a cigarette and staring hard at the crowd. He heard someone gasp close by and, looking across, saw that Mrs Knipes had also spotted Ivan Grummett standing there. Grummett grinned at her, making eye contact for some seconds, then turned on his heel and ambled back down the sweep. Mrs Knipes had quickly crouched down to tend to her husband. She was tucking his travel rug around him while he swatted petulantly at her with his hands. Either he hadn’t seen Grummett, or the man’s silent interaction with his wife held no meaning for him. Tim needed to question her urgently, but her husband presented an obstacle. He moved towards her as casually as he could and said quietly,
“Mrs Knipes, may I have a quick word?”
She nodded and walked backwards a few paces. “It’ll have to be quick,” she said. “I can’t leave Arthur.”
“Of course not,” said Tim. “I just wanted to ask you whether you know the man who was staring across at you from the sweep?”
“Which man? I didn’t notice anyone in particular.” She clipped her words tersely. Tim knew that she wouldn’t yield the truth.
“My mistake,” he said evenly.
Chapter Fifty-Six
JULIET DECIDED TO walk round the building again. Maverick reporters didn’t concern her, but she was suspicious that the Bricklayers had some secret way of getting into the school. She was convinced the Bricklayers had information about the two missing girls and agitated by Tim’s failure to bust their meeting.
She turned the corner and saw Verity Tandy walking a few paces in front of her. Verity was moving cautiously, hugging the wall, evidently observing a small man leaning against one of the hall windows. The man stubbed out the cigarette he’d been smoking and let the stub fall to the ground. He stamped on it briefly before scurrying towards the other end of the building. Verity followed him, walking fast but nimbly. Juliet trailed them both, closing the gap between herself and Verity but still leaving a few paces between them. As the man turned the corner, Verity swivelled her head and saw Juliet; at the same instant, the man turned and spotted her. Verity rapidly focused on her quarry, herself cautiously rounding the corner. When Juliet caught up with her, the man had vanished. He was no longer on the path and the car park beyond was deserted.
She and Verity moved forward together silently. It was darker at this side of the building. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Juliet noticed a slight movement at the periphery of her vision. A blue door set into a cranny in the building was swinging shut. She sprinted towards it and held it before the latch could close, praying fervently that the person who had just passed through it would not try to pull it from the other side or check to see it had locked. She waited, stock still, for a couple of minutes, Verity equally motionless at her side.
“What now?” Verity mouthed.
“We go in,” Juliet whispered. “Have your baton ready in case someone’s waiting for us.”
She slipped through the door, her heart banging, Verity on her heels. The room they had entered was windowless. Reassured they were alone, Juliet took a small torch from her pocket and shone it around until she spotted a light switch and snapped it on. The low watt bulb barely served its purpose, but she and Verity could see they’d entered a store for lighting equipment. Several large round lamps, packed around with straw in lidless boxes, had been stacked along two of the walls. There were also larger boxes from which a jumble of cables protruded and a number of tripods.
“What do you think all this is for?” said Verity, still keeping her voice down.
“It’s stage lighting. The hall obviously doubles for putting on plays as well as for gym and assemblies.”
“I’m surprised they don’t leave it in there all the time.”
“Probably have to move it when the hall’s hired out. But I wouldn’t mind betting all this stuff is in here because there’s a quick route through to the stage.”
“I can’t see another way out.”
“There certainly isn’t another door.” Juliet turned her torch on again and shone it around, finally arcing the pool of light at her feet. “There’s a panel set into the floor here. Could be a trapdoor.” She knelt down, grabbed the piece of raised wood at one end of the panel, and pushed. It slid back smoothly. Juliet peered into the cavity that she’d opened up and shone the torch into it.
“It’s quite deep,” she said. “Not room height, but almost that, I’d guess. I’m going to climb into it, see if it leads anywhere.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“Stay here for a couple of minutes. If I don’t come back, follow me. Do you think you can manage in the dark if you turn the light off first?”
“Sure. You’re not the only one with a torch!” Verity hissed indignantly.
“Great. If you pull the lid back over after you’re in, no-one will know we’re here.”
Verity hated confined spaces and understood the advantage of invisibility could be two-edged. But
Juliet was being so matter-of-fact that she hesitated for only a second.
Juliet disappeared into the cavity. Verity monitored the passing seconds with religious accuracy. After two minutes had elapsed, she switched on her torch, turned off the light and followed.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
STILL SMARTING FROM Jocelyn Greaves’s frosty departure, Andy Carstairs realised only gradually that Veronica Start had continued to walk alongside him. When he turned to speak to her, he noticed the huge badly-camouflaged contusion on her face. He paused and she also stopped, turning her face slightly away from him.
“Mrs Start, are you all right? That’s a bad bruise on your face. Don’t you think you should see a doctor?”
She searched his face with an intensity that disturbed him.
“Can I see your ID?” she said.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Can I see your ID? You tell me that you’re a police officer and one of DI Yates’ team. I only have your word for it.”
Andy drew his ID card from his inside jacket pocket and flipped it open.
“Thank you. In answer to your question, no, I’m not OK. I want to seek police protection. Can you tell me how to do it?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“I understand that your priority is to find Cassandra Knipes and the other girl who’s gone. Please believe me when I say I have no idea whether my husband is mixed up in either of their disappearances. I can tell you that he’s dangerously unstable. He has been from the start of our marriage, but he’s got worse over the past few days. I suppose that might tell you something about whether he knows where those girls are. I’m terrified of him. And I’m ashamed: I’ve been behaving like a typical battered wife, too frightened to leave. Not much of a role model for young girls, am I?”
Andy was stunned.
“Of course we can help you,” he said. “Stay with me until we’re finished here. Then I’ll arrange for a WPC to come and escort you to a safe unit.”
The Crossing Page 27
