by Jay Nadal
“So what can you tell me about the music room?”
“Ah, the music room. I never really had a reason to go there as a teacher when I came back. I taught history and politics…my forte. To be honest, I didn’t even know it was being used now.” He shrugged pathetically.
Scott felt a degree of remorse for the man. He was well and truly attached to the past, a past that had shaped and guided him, but nevertheless, Collier knew more than he was letting on. Scott was sure of that.
“I knew that things went on there. They happened even when I was a lad here, but it was just how the school was run. Of course there was a bit of argy-bargy, and the proverbial initiation ceremonies to be accepted into a house by the senior pupils. The prefects got a bit heavy-handed, but it was boisterous more than anything else. If you can’t take a bit of aggro, it’s unlikely that you’d survive in the real world.”
The pair came to an uncomfortable pause on the lawns as Collier glanced around to survey his domain.
“Obstruction or withholding information that could help my investigation is a criminal offence. I hope you realise that, Mr Collier?”
“I’ve nothing to withhold, Inspector. We live by the sword, we die by the sword.”
Scott thought that was an odd and perhaps extreme ideology. “Mr Collier, let me remind you that two members of your current teaching staff are dead, a former member of staff is dead too. This is a multiple murder investigation, and this school, your school,” Scott said, waving his arm in an arc in the direction of the main building, “is at the centre of it. My team is currently poring over every detail of this school, its history and its staff. We will find out who’s committing these crimes. It’s only a matter of time, and I hope for your sake and that of your career, that you’re not tied up in this.”
Collier turned back in the direction of the school, pausing for a moment as he came alongside Scott, turning his head slightly, his eyes deceptively cold and empty with a hint of resignation. “My career is already over, Inspector.”
26
Any hope of Scott slipping into the station unnoticed by DCI Harvey soon evaporated as the desk sergeant pointed out that the DCI had been asking for him. She was clearly tracking him down as several other officers stopped him in his tracks to mention it on the way to the CID office.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he turned into his office only to jump at the presence of DCI Harvey sitting in his chair, her hands clasped together on the desk, fingers interlocked. She raised a brow at him. He’d seen that look many times on his boss’ face. She was pissed off; that he was sure of.
“Ma’am?”
“Scott, CC Lennon is, shall we say, a little concerned at the lack of progress, and frankly, I don’t take too kindly to getting a barrow full of elephant shit from him on the phone first thing this morning. I’ve got three deaths in under a week on my watch, no evidence of substance, no witnesses, sketchy CCTV and more importantly, no one sitting in a bloody cell downstairs…have I missed anything, Inspector?”
Scott hoped to correct her on some of those facts, but she wasn’t far from the truth. It looked just as grim for her as it did for him and the team. They’d made little progress, and a week on, questions were being raised from management, questions he didn’t have answers for.
“Ma’am, I know it doesn’t look great, but we’re dealing with a bit of an unusual case here and…”
“There’s nothing unusual about it, Scott,” she interrupted. “We’ve got three suspicious deaths. They appear to be connected. Statements need to be taken and reviewed again. Forensics need to be re-examined, and questions need to be asked…” She paused for a moment. “What’s difficult about that? You’re a detective. You lead a team of detectives. Do what you’re supposed to do, or do I need to find someone else to take over the investigation?”
Scott had never seen Harvey react quite like that. She was enraged and frustrated, her words delivered in a sharp, precise tone. In all the time he’d worked for her, she’d never questioned his authority, management of his team or his capability. If he felt pressure, then she certainly was experiencing it tenfold from CC Lennon.
“It’s not as clear-cut as that, Ma’am…”
“Don’t mug me off, Scott,” she said, thumping a fist on the desk.
Scott sighed and blew out his cheeks as he collapsed in a chair opposite Harvey. Any investigation involving a suspicious death could take weeks and sometimes months to solve. He had a stack of files somewhere on the floor filled with unsolved deaths, cases dating back months and years that without new evidence, new breakthroughs in forensic science or witnesses, would languish away in a brown box.
Occasionally, he would pull them out and have a flick through. It helped to cast a fresh pair of eyes over them in case something had been missed on previous case reviews. Invariably, nothing changed. They were statistics, nothing more than case file numbers.
“Ma’am, as I was about to say…” Scott glared at DCI Harvey, annoyed at how she kept interrupting him, “we are making inroads. The plastic tape that we believe was used to kill victim three this morning was still wrapped around the deceased’s body. Forensics have that now. I’ve just come back from the school after being called out there by the caretaker. A derelict room in the old part of the school has been used recently. Now it may or may not be connected, but we’re following up. And I’m fairly sure that the principal knows more than he’s letting on…”
“So why isn’t he in here being interviewed?” Harvey snapped back.
“I’m planning to, Ma’am…”
“Planning isn’t good enough, Scott,” she barked, rising to her feet. “I want a progress report from you first thing, understood?”
Scott nodded as she walked around his desk and made towards the door. “First thing…” she repeated.
Some would have folded and questioned their ability after DCI Harvey’s verbal volley. Others would have walked around like a bear with a sore head all day, but Scott had been on the receiving end of worse. He was forever saying the wrong things to defuse confrontational situations whilst in training as a rookie. This had led to several of his trainers pulling him up on his communication style. It’s one of the reasons that he’d gone on to learn NLP. He saw neuro linguistic programming as a way to better his ability to read others, understand human behavioural patterns, as well as improve his own depth of communication.
Scott took a deep breath before slowly releasing it to focus his thoughts. After straightening his Thomas Pink deep navy tie and repositioning his suit jacket, he headed off towards the drinks machine to grab a coffee shouting, “Briefing in five minutes!” to his team.
Leaning on the edge of Abby’s desk, Scott sipped at the tepid, bitter coffee as he stared at the incident board that now had pictures of victim number three pinned to it. Three middle-aged men, all teachers, all dead.
“Listen up team. I spoke with Matt earlier. It’s taken some time, but we can confirm that the rope found at Giles Rochester’s property had the same fibre composition as the rope used on Johnson. I had a look around the school lawns to see if there was any missing from the boundary rope, but that’s all intact. But I’ll come back to that in a moment. Remind me if I forget, Abby.”
“Guv, there’s been a sighting of John Morecombe, the missing teacher. Hampshire police got back to me. Morecombe was nicked for speeding on the A31 east near Winchester. He was driving a hire car, heading east.”
“Towards us…”
“Possible, Guv. That was two weeks ago. A week before that, he was arrested and bailed for being drunken and disorderly. Spent the night in the cells sleeping it off. He assaulted the door staff trying to throw him out. He threw a chair at them, apparently.”
“Where’s the car and Morecombe now?”
“Not been seen since. The car was never returned. I’ve circulated the car details to uniform here, so they can keep a look out, just in case he’s coming back here.”
Raj wafted a she
et of paper. “DNA analysis using the hair fibres and toothbrush from Rochester’s property confirm that vic two is Giles Rochester, but we knew that anyway. Also, there were tiny fibres found on the compression marks on both Johnson and Rochester. In Johnson’s case, two different sets of fibres were found under magnification. Fibres matching the boundary rope were present, however…” Raj paused as he referred to his sheet, “a second set of fibres were found on Johnson that matched those found in Rochester’s neck skin.”
All eyes were on Raj as he revealed more. It was during moments like this that Raj lapped up the attention. More often than not, he was given menial information gathering tasks to do that kept him occupied, and more importantly, silent, much to the delight of the team. For a thirty-one-year-old officer, Raj often found that he played the practical joker card a little too often, which meant he wasn’t taken seriously as an officer or someone looking to push on in their career.
“The fibres are PP or polypropylene…as you’d find in plastic strapping tape.”
“Okay, that’s helpful. Thanks, Raj.”
“What’s PP?”
“It’s a form of plastic, Sian,” Scott replied. “In this case and judging from the width of the depressions left in the skin and how clear and sharp the edges are on the skin,” Scott pointed out as he headed over to the incident board to point out the impressions identified in the close-up post-mortem pictures, “I’d say PP straps similar to those used as bindings around cartons and boxes.
“Unfortunately for us, it’s a common packaging tape used around the globe, so not easy for us to follow up on. You can buy it anywhere, even on eBay. I guess there’s the option to do a chemical composition analysis on it.”
The news left the team with mixed feelings. Another dead end it appeared.
“The DCI is really pushing for some results, so we need to pull out all the stops. There’s more to this case than meets the eye. The principal is without doubt hiding something, so, Mike, I want you to bring him in. Tell him he’s helping us with our enquiries. I’ve just come from the school, and he’s a little too laid-back for my liking. He seems angry about all the proposed changes put forward for the school. Our first two vics seemed to approve and side with Mary Harrison about future proposals. It’s clear the school means a lot to Collier and he’d do anything to keep the status quo.”
“Enough to commit murder?” Raj asked. Scott didn’t have an answer.
Scott’s phone vibrated in his trouser pocket. Ignoring it, he continued.
“Sounds like it, Guv,” Mike said.
“Guv, you said to remind you.”
“Yes, cheers, Abby. Two things. After I left Bennett, I came across an aviary of some sorts…behind Bennett’s cottage. Amongst the birds, were a few white pigeons. Could be completely random and they’re freely found in any park, but the fact that we have white feathers left with the victims is suspicious. I thought that they could have come from there. There was also more boundary rope behind his house. Now purely circumstantial again, but we still need to follow it up.”
“Are you suggesting that Bennett may be involved?” Raj asked.
“I won’t rule him out, but he doesn’t seem capable of planning something like this. I can’t think of a motive. Collier after all, gave him a break with a job. How many times have we seen ex-offenders struggle to get a job, and reoffend? The cage isn’t locked, so anyone could access the birds. I’ve given Matt some samples,” he said. “There are firms doing DNA profiling for animals, but results take five to seven working days. Clearly we haven’t got that long, so he’s going to try and push them to prioritise our analysis.”
“Who would have thought you could do that,” Raj remarked.
“Apparently, it’s very common in racing pigeon circles because birds are so precious. They do all sorts of testing and screening like DNA parentage, genetic disorders and infectious diseases like cryptosporidium and pigeon circovirus. And before you ask, no I haven’t got a sodding clue what they are, and nor do I wish to know.”
A light ripple of laughter spread around the team.
“The other point I wanted to bring to your attention was the CCTV still image we’ve got of Rochester. I’ve had the image enhanced,” he said, pinning a fresh blown-up image to the incident board.
He had their full attention as the team straightened up in their seats and took in the new image with a mixture of nodding heads and the odd raised brow.
Scott took his pen and used it as a pointer. “As you can see, Giles Rochester appears to be in a state of distress, but what you can see clearly now is a white line of some sorts around his neck. We can assume that he was driven there under duress, and that the line is some sort of ligature. From the way the ligature is placed and secured, it looks tight and that suggests someone was in the back holding it.”
“So the persons unknown were hunched down in the rear passenger well to avoid detection?”
“Correct, Abby. They wanted to avoid being caught on camera. Unfortunately, there’s no evidence or indication of who it is, but at least we can assume that Giles Rochester went to the car park with the person who most likely killed him.”
Scott’s phone bleeped again in his pocket. Pulling it out, he realised he’d missed a call and now a text from Cara. She could wait.
“Also, Bennett, the caretaker, showed me an abandoned room in the old part of the school. It’s certainly been used recently, and there’s evidence of something going on that I’m not comfortable with. I’ve got SOCO down there at the moment. Sian, can you check with the council to see what objections have been raised, if any, towards the new development?”
Scott locked his fingers behind his neck and stretched his back, the vertebrae cracking as they unlocked and released the stiffness that had been building for days. The burning sensation under his left shoulder blade still irritated him like a mosquito bite that needed scratching.
“This whole white feather thing has been playing on my mind. If we explore this coward thing further, then something may have happened in the army. A triggering event. I’ve been checking the backgrounds of the deceased. They all had a background in the army, including our victim from this morning. Collier was a prefect when he left Edmunston to join the army. All the deceased were recruited by Collier into the army after their days as school prefects, and then from the army back to Edmunston as teachers when Collier returned to Edmunston as deputy principal. They basically followed him.”
The information raised a few eyebrows as the possibility of a new line of investigation opened up.
“Mike, with your military background and understanding, get working on that the moment you get back here with Collier. I need some answers by first thing tomorrow when I update the DCI. Abby and I will interview Collier.”
Mike nodded as he rose, pulling his suit jacket off the back of his chair before proceeding to tuck in the bottom of his shirt. The garment had been exposing his large, overhanging, hairy stomach through the gaping spaces between each button.
The team turned back to their desks busy with a fresh to-do list. Scott headed back to his office so he could call Cara. He sat down with a refreshing smile on his face as he unlocked his phone hoping to listen to a nice message from her. His moment of excitement fast evaporated. Cara’s panicked voice faltered as she tried to explain over the tears. “Someone’s outside the mortuary…they’ve been banging on the windows…I’m scared.”
27
Scott sped the short distance from the station towards Brighton and Hove mortuary on the Lewes Road. He’d left Abby to deal with the imminent arrival of Collier, assuring her that he’d be back in time for the start of the interview. He’d thought about organising a patrol car to make its way there ahead of him, but figured he’d arrive just as quickly.
There’d been too many strange occurrences recently for Scott not to take Cara’s distressed call seriously. What he couldn’t figure out was whether the perpetrator had it in for him and was using Cara as bait.
Just as likely was the theory that a disgruntled family member had a grievance with Cara over a case she’d dealt with. He dismissed the later offhand as he’d never heard of such a thing occurring in his career.
As he pulled in through the gates of the cemetery and made his way towards the mortuary, he couldn’t see evidence of anyone acting suspiciously in the grounds. The scene seemed similar to many prior occasions.
Scott pressed the buzzer several times without a response. At this time of day, the mortuary staff would have gone home but Cara often remained behind to write up her reports on post-mortems she’d carried out during the day. With no response to his repeated attempts on the buzzer, Scott became increasingly concerned as he stepped back and walked around the perimeter of the building looking for any signs of forced entry or criminal damage.
He tapped her contact in his phone in an attempt to reach her. A lengthy pause ensued before she finally answered. “Cara, I’m outside. Where are you?”
“I’m…I’m sorry. I’m coming to the door now,” she replied in a shaky, stuttering voice.
The door flung open as he arrived back around the front, with Cara running out towards him visibly upset as she grabbed him in a tight embrace, burying her head deep into his chest with a deep, long sigh.
“Hey…hey…you okay? What’s happened?” Scott asked as he lifted her head from his chest. She blinked tears from bloodshot eyes. Her thick, brown lashes stuck together in clumps as if she’d immersed them in a bucket of water. Her tears made wet tracks down her face and dripped from her wobbling chin. “Shit, what’s happened, babes?”
Her shoulders heaved as she tried to control her breath. “I…I was so…so scared.” The words fell from her mouth in staggered fits of breath. “I could hear someone banging at the main entrance. I came down and there was no one there. I thought it was kids. I…I went back to the office and carried on. Then it happened again, but when I went to the door again, no one was there, but the bushes over there were moving,” she said, pointing over towards the hedge line that skirted close to the building. “I still thought it was kids.” Cara began to cry again.
