‘The lab boys say they might be able to find a trace the manioc esculenta that poisoned Gerard Roberts on a grater or food processor so we’ll be looking for either of those items. We’ll also look for a match to that page the recipe was written on – that’s a longer bet, to be honest but a possibility we won’t discount.’
The inspector had nodded. Without another word he had picked up the phone. It didn’t take long and West left with the promise the warrant would be ready early the next morning.
Now, instead of picking up that warrant, he was stuck here in this fiasco.
They’d responded to the emergency call just after nine. A frantic 999 call from the headmistress. A fire or an explosion. Lots of smoke and noise.
And there was. Lots of both. Sound and fury but, thankfully, nothing else. The fire officer had investigated and quickly found the source of both. ‘Smoke bombs,’ he told West, holding out the evidence. ‘And a couple of firecrackers. Somebody lobbed a smoke bomb through two open windows, a couple more through the post box at the front. Plenty of smoke, lots of noise. Would have lasted,’ he rocked his head side to side, ‘about a minute each, I’d guess. Somebody lit them, threw them in. It’s not very far from the windows to the doors so they’d have gone off fairly simultaneously.’
‘None at the back?’ West asked, looking at the remnants of the devices the fire-officer held in his large hand.
‘Nope, they had a clear path to the assembly hall. Looks as though they were kinda pushed that way, doesn’t it? It meant nobody was hurt.’
‘Frightened. But no, not hurt,’ West agreed, his face grim.
‘What kinda sick bastard would have done this?’
Shaking his head, West waved his thanks and headed to where Andrews was standing speaking to the obviously exhausted headmistress.
‘My thanks to you and your men for responding so quickly,’ she said, her voice trembling.
‘That’s out job, Ms Cosgrave,’ he replied. ‘I’ve just been speaking to the fire-officer. It was a particularly nasty prank, I’m afraid. Smoke-bombs and firecrackers. Thrown through two open windows and the front post-box.’
Frances Cosgrave’s face was a mixture of relief and puzzlement. ‘I thought someone had a gun. There was so much noise and it seemed to be coming from different places. It was quite disorientating. And then I saw the smoke.’ She shook her head, obviously making a conscious effort not to cry. ‘I didn’t know what was happening. It was really quite frightening, you know.’ She took a deep breath, ‘Who would have done such a thing? Why?’
West tried to keep an open mind. He knew the dangers of jumping to conclusions. The possibility of it being another in the series of troublesome but inherently harmless crimes was a strong one, still he had to follow procedure. He had to investigate this crime as a stand-alone crime.
‘You’ve had no trouble with anyone recently? No parents causing you grief?’ he asked.
She smiled. ‘Parents are always causing me grief, sergeant. But no, nothing out of the ordinary. And certainly, I can’t think of anyone who would be capable of an act like this.’
‘Any of your children absent today?’
Frances Cosgrave screwed up her nose, thought a moment and then shrugged her regret. ‘I’m sorry, I really can’t remember. Maisie, the admin, usually tells me in the morning, but generally, to be honest, it goes in one ear and out the other. It only becomes a problem if the absence is continuous or frequent. Those names I get at the end of the month. I can check, it will just take a minute.’
West nodded. ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’
She hurried off back into the building she had exited in such confusion less than an hour before.
‘What do you think?’ Andrews asked. ‘Our troublemaker again?’
‘It looks very much like it doesn’t it? But let’s look in to it before we jump to that conclusion.’
The headmistress bustled back. ‘All present and accounted for today, gentlemen,’ she said. ‘To be honest we have a very low absence rate. It’s something we are quite proud of.’
‘Ok,’ West said. ‘Obviously we will investigate thoroughly. I did notice you have CCTV cameras in the school but none in the grounds. It might be worth having a system installed to take in the grounds as well. And your windows...’
‘They only open three inches,’ she interrupted, ‘we thought that was considered a safe gap.’
‘This isn’t an accusation, Ms Cosgrave.’ West reassured the woman, ‘Unfortunately, there are people who will take advantage. I’m just advising. A grill to cover that three inch gap will prevent a recurrence.’
She crossed her arms across her body, protective. ‘I remember my mother used to say, what’s the world coming to? a lot when I was younger. Now I know what she meant. What is the world coming to Sergeant West, when we can’t leave a window open for a breath of air without some crazy fool seeing it as a way of having his version of fun?’ Her voice caught. She put a well-manicured hand to her mouth and shaking her head, turned and went back into the school.
‘Poor thing,’ Andrews said with quick sympathy.
‘The fire-officer is sending all the devices to the lab. Let’s hope they can manage to lift fingerprints off them. Meanwhile have some of the lads to a house to house. See if anyone saw anybody lurking around. We better be seen to be keeping an open mind. After all it may not be another one of our cases.’
But they both knew it was. It was just too similar to be a coincidence.
West checked his watch. It was almost mid-day. He had to get back to the station, write this up, see if the house-to-house resulted in any information. He’s get Blunt to check for any history of similar crimes. He’d bet there wasn’t, resented the time spent, but knew it had to be done. A case of dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s.
He’d still have time to exercise that warrant. Damn sure he would, this had to stop.
He looked around for Kelly, hoping to have a word with her, checking out the groups of people who lingered oohing and aahing over the morning’s events. She wasn’t among them. He walked to thank the uniformed gardai who were preparing to leave, his eyes still searching. She must have left, he thought, disappointed not to have had a word. Still, he thought, Sunday was only two days away.
Andrews finished taking a statement from the last of the teachers and joined West. ‘We off?’ he asked.
West nodded. ‘Let’s get back to the station and pick up the warrant. We’ll brief the team and head to Nutley Lane. It’s time to get this stopped.’
27
Kelly had also hoped to have a word with Mike West before she left. But every time she looked his way he was deep in conversation with this one or that. He looked worried, she thought, watching him surreptitiously while tending to one child after the other. Then the children were gone and Heather was there fussing, thanking the volunteers for having come so quickly.
The others quickly made their excuses and were gone, leaving Kelly with Heather who continued to witter on. Kelly couldn’t manage to get a word in to say she too had to go. Her hangover headache had come throbbing back. She needed fluids, something to eat. She hadn’t had breakfast, she remembered. No wonder she felt a bit the worse for wear.
‘I must go,’ she said interrupting whatever it was Heather was droning on about. She had no idea nor, she decided, did she care.
‘Come and have lunch with me,’ Heather insisted, linking her arm through Kelly’s, guiding her toward the road, refusing to listen to Kelly’s excuses. ‘We need to talk the morning through, you know. Debrief. You’ll feel better for it. Honestly.’
Kelly tried to insist she felt fine. That she didn’t need debriefing. For goodness sake, she hadn’t just finished a mission for the CIA. She just needed to be left alone, to go home, have something to eat. And she had her writing schedule to keep, didn’t want to waste a full day. But her excuses fell on deaf ears. Heather ploughed on regardless.
Kelly assumed Heather was walking towar
d her car so was surprised a few minutes later when she said, ‘I’m just down here.’ They turned down a narrower road and five minutes later stopped outside a tidy bungalow. ‘This is me,’ Heather smiled, and letting Kelly’s arm go at last, she fished in her coat pocket for a key and opened the front door.
Kelly followed Heather into the small hallway, waited while she wiped her feet several times on the mat inside the door and took the not very subtle hint to follow suit.
‘We can sit in here,’ Heather said, opening a door that led into the front room, ‘we’ll be nice and cosy. Tea or coffee?’
‘Tea would be lovely,’ Kelly answered with a forced smile.
‘Make yourself comfortable, I won’t be long.’
If Kelly had been asked to put a name to Heather’s decorative style she would have gone for kitsch. There was a hideous, garish picture over the fireplace of a boy standing with an overlong and impossibly sparkling tear sitting on his chubby cheek. China cats sat in a variety of poses on virtually every surface. The uncomfortable looking sofa was piled with cushions all, Kelly noticed, bearing some pithy cat related epigram.
‘Please, sit down, sit down,’ Heather fussed, coming back into the room. ‘Just move the cushions. I have far too many, I know.’
Kelly lifted a cushion telling her that a spoilt rotten cat lived there, holding it on her lap as she sat back against the rest of the pile. Despite the cushions the sofa was just as uncomfortable as it looked. ‘You have cats,’ she said, for want of anything better to say.
To her surprise, Heather shook her head. ‘Allergic, unfortunately. I come out in a terrible rash and sneeze my head off. It’s such a shame because I do adore them. So I collect cat related items instead. As a consolation, you know.’
Kelly couldn’t see the logic herself but nodded unable to think of anything to say.
‘Would you like ham or cheese sandwiches?’ Heather asked, clasping her hands together, looking for all the world as if she were going to give Kelly the greatest treat.
‘Ham would be fine, thank you. Can’t I come and help?’
‘Goodness me, no,’ Heather said, ‘you’re my guest. Sit and relax. I won’t be long.’
With that she went, leaving Kelly to sit, twiddling her thumbs. She looked around the room with a critical eye. The sofa was covered in a bright floral fabric. Unfortunately, it clashed badly with a loudly patterned carpet that was almost, but not quite, hidden by the biggest coffee table Kelly had ever seen. Brown velvet curtains, with sun-faded pale stripes, finished off the room. But not in a good way. ‘Enough to give anyone a migraine,’ she muttered.
Checking her watch she made an exasperated grunt when she saw it was almost one. She really should have been firm and refused the invitation. It’s no wonder the others made off so quickly, she thought, they obviously know her well. Then she was hit by guilt, Heather was only trying to be kind. She was probably lonely. Had only ever been kind to her and this is how she repaid her. For shame, she rebuked herself mildly. If only the woman weren’t quite so irritating.
It was fifteen minutes before the door opened and she appeared in the doorway, a large tray clasped between her hands. Kelly had stood several times within that fifteen minutes determined to go, reluctant to be so rude, hesitating and then sitting as Heather’s voice sang out, won’t be long now.
The tray was placed gently on the huge coffee table. Despite having specified ham, Kelly noticed there was a selection of ham, egg and cress and cheese sandwiches on a large and pretty china plate. All were cut into tiny triangles, crusts neatly cut off. Another plate held slices of cake, a rich yellow colour, the tangy smell of lemon drifting toward Kelly. Lemon drizzle cake, she’d bet. Her favourite. Maybe she was glad she had stayed. Maybe.
Heather passed her a cup and saucer, and a small plate. All pretty fine china. Nice, Kelly thought, balancing the saucer on her knee, then holding it out as Heather lifted a matching china teapot and proceeded to pour. It was all very civilized and Kelly started to relax. To even enjoy it. A little.
She took a ham sandwich when Heather held the plate. It was good, but tiny, no more than a bite really. She waited to be offered another. And waited. She sipped her tea and waited, listening to Heather chatting on about the morning’s drama. If the plate had been within reach she’d have tossed etiquette aside and helped herself. But it was on the other side of the table, out of her reach. If she was hungry before she was starving now, the tiny sandwich serving to whet her appetite.
Her stomach growled, a loud gurgle she passed off with a quick laugh. ‘I missed breakfast. My stomach is having a moan,’ she said, but if she hoped Heather would take the hint and pass the plate her direction she was disappointed.
‘I’ll just put these in the fridge so they won’t go stale.’ Heather said, standing and taking the plate away to the kitchen.
Left alone once more Kelly wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry, settled for giggling softly. Oh well, at least there’s cake, she thought, eyeing it, her salivary glands responding with a flush of anticipatory saliva. She was so tempted just to take a slice, gobble it down before Heather got back but she knew...she just knew...that she’d take a bite and the door would open and she’d choke and spray lemony crumbs over Heather’s dreadful carpet.
On the cusp of the thought, the door did open and Heather bustled back wreathed in smiles. ‘More tea?’ she asked, sitting and lifting the pot, pouring carefully when Kelly held her cup out. ‘And would you like a little cake?’
‘Yes, please.’
The plate of cake was out of Kelly’s reach, she waited for Heather to hold it out for her. Instead, Heather lifted a knife, cut the top slice of cake into narrow fingers and then, using a tongs, lifted a finger, held it out with a smile and dropped it onto the plate that Kelly hastily held out.
Kelly bit her lower lip to stop the giggle she knew was waiting, the pain focusing her temporarily. If she could just gain control for a few minutes, she could swallow the cake, drink her tea and escape. The cake, small as the piece was, didn’t take long and a few quick sips drained the cup. She put the cup and saucer on the plate and, stretching, placed the lot carefully on the table. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and leaned forward, preparing to stand and leave.
She was stopped in her tracks as Heather suddenly leaned forward and put a hand on her arm. ‘You see how valuable we are, don’t you? You will stay now, won’t you?’ she said, her voice urgent.
Why had she allowed herself be persuaded to come, Kelly thought with a mental grimace. She should have guessed this would happen. Frustrated, she was just about to agree. Would have agreed to anything, at that stage, just to get away.
Then, she reconsidered. She wasn’t willing to lie. There’d been enough lies told in her life. ‘No,’ she said, deciding not to qualify, not to pretty the word up with a litany of euphemisms. ‘I don’t want to continue as a volunteer. You know I’d already decided that. I was happy to oblige today but that’s the final time. Please don’t ask me again. I would like to come along to the meeting tomorrow to say goodbye to everyone and to meet Viveka again, if you think that would be ok.’
Heather grasped one hand in the other, held them up to her mouth as if to stop words of accusation erupting. Kelly was horrified to see a tear appear and begin its slow descent. She had to get out of there.
With a snuffle, Heather extended her grasped hands toward Kelly, ‘Won’t you reconsider? I was speaking to Viveka. She felt sure you would reconsider after today. Can’t you see how vital we are to the community? Please, tell me you’ll at least think about it?’
What she wanted to do was push the older woman out of the way and run out of the house as fast as she could. Instead Kelly took a deep breath and did what was often done in this circumstance, even by someone who was determined not to embark on a series of lies, she fudged the truth. ‘I will give it some thought, I promise.’
To Kelly’s discomfort, Heather threw her arms around her. Perhaps her fudging had been t
oo subtle? ‘Just give it some thought,’ she reiterated, ‘I’m not making any promises.’
‘Oh, you,’ Heather said and hugged her again. ‘We knew you’d change your mind after today.’
Kelly half opened her mouth to relieve Heather of her delusions and then closed it again. That was it. She was finished with Offer. Not even the prospect of meeting Viveka Larsson could tempt her into spending one more minute in the company of Heather Goodbody.
28
West had gone immediately to Inspector Morrison on his return to the station. He needed to bring him up to date on the situation with the school but more importantly he wanted to collect the warrant the inspector had promised to obtain.
The inspector looked grim as West filled him in. ‘We were lucky there were no injuries, Sergeant. You think this is our woman again?’
West, refusing to stand like a naughty school-boy in front of the inspector’s desk, but never invited to sit, leaned against the wall instead. ‘It’s of a type,’ he said, deliberately vague. ‘It caused a lot of annoyance, involved a lot of people including volunteers from Offer but didn’t cause injury to anyone, or in fact, any property.’
Inspector Morrison sighed and said, ‘It’s all a bit bizarre, isn’t it?’
West guessed the question to be rhetorical and waited for the inspector to say more.
The inspector picked a pen up, held it between his middle and index fingers and rocked it backward and forward, stopping now and then to adjust its position before continuing. ‘Why set up Offer in the first place? Why not a brothel? Why not stick to what she knew?’
Rhetorical questions again. But West had asked himself the same questions, had given them a lot of thought, mulled them over and over and finally come up with what he thought might be the answer. ‘Reparation,’ he said now, putting forward his suggestion.
Morrison stopped his pen exercises and gave him a sharp look. ‘Reparation? He asked, his tone inviting elaboration, explanation.
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