Retribution

by Jay Nadal

  The boy was troubled; Scott was sure of that. He’d witnessed the intimidation that Matthew had faced, and for that reason, he couldn’t stand by. Maybe it was the paternalistic side of him, but the one thing he knew was that he hated to see any child suffer. His last big case involving the death of Libby Stevens still affected him and the team even though they didn’t talk about it.

  They were still human after all. They had feelings, and were deeply moved by Libby’s death and the horrors that Sabina and Kelly, two girls who were trafficked and abused, had endured. They were crimes that had robbed young girls of their innocence and childhood. Scott couldn’t wait until the crimes and the ruthless individuals behind them had their day in court.

  Scott parked just inside the gates of the school as Ms Harrison had instructed. Her unusual request only fuelled his inquisitive mind and the nosiness that all coppers seemed to have inbuilt like a sixth sense. She’d specifically asked him to park out of sight of the main building. Then he was to make his way along the front perimeter of the school to the walled gardens on the right flank where she’d be waiting. In any other situation, Scott thought that the instructions could have been those shared between two clandestine lovers.

  As he made his way through the gardens, he noticed that each plant, each shrub and each neatly pruned bush had a brass name plate on the floor in front it. Scott was hopeless when it came to matters of the garden. He couldn’t tell a tulip from a crocus, or a daffodil from a dahlia, and found himself walking past an array of names that were lost on him. Wisteria, clematis, star jasmine, they were just plants to him. An infusion of floral scents that surrounded him.

  Navigating around the lily pond that formed the central feature, Mary Harrison came into view, partially obscured behind a large tree that offered a darkened space beneath it. Not far behind her, stood the small figure of Matthew Edrington. Scott immediately noticed a darkened area beneath one of Matthew’s eyes.

  “Thank you for coming so quickly, Inspector,” Mary Harrison said, glancing over her shoulder towards Matthew.

  “Your message sounded important?” Scott replied. “Are you okay, Matthew?”

  The boy stood quietly in the background, his big, doughy eyes bloodshot, a pained expression etched deeply on his face as he pursed his lips tightly. Matthew nodded once as he held his hands in a ball pressed firmly into his chest.

  “As you know, I’ve been off, Inspector. I’ve found it incredibly stressful following the death of Mr Johnson. But needs must and I’m trying to get back into some sense of normality, but as you can imagine, that’s a little hard to do when members of staff are dying around you.”

  Mary Harrison paused awkwardly when she realised that she’d probably said that a little too loud in front of a pupil as her eyes shifted towards Matthew, who had now inched closer to her. Beckoning Matthew, she placed a protective arm around the boy’s frail thin shoulders and pulled in him towards her.

  “Matthew came to see me yesterday and confided in me that he’s being bullied…and I’m not talking about the usual name-calling or barging into you in the corridor type of thing. Quite frankly, I’m deeply upset by what he’s been experiencing and the deliberate oversight by my colleagues. I just felt I needed to take this further. I’m afraid to say, Inspector, that from what I’ve heard since I’ve been here, the school has a reputation for bullying and shall we say taking things further.”

  Scott nodded slowly as he shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. A look of concern washed over his face as he looked down at Matthew. “Is this true, Matthew?”

  The boy nodded hesitantly as he looked up towards Ms Harrison for reassurance, and a much-needed hug.

  In the silence of the walled gardens, Matthew’s faint voice was hard to hear as he slowly shuffled on the spot, his mind a melting pot of confusion, sadness and fear.

  “I don’t want anyone to get in trouble. I just want it to stop,” he said, his voice slow and high-pitched.

  “It’s a very brave thing for you to come forward. Often the first step is the hardest, but I’m here to help you…we both are,” Scott replied, glancing towards Mary Harrison who nodded reassuringly. “So how about you tell me what’s been going on?”

  35

  Matthew Edrington cast a disconsolate figure as he sat between Scott and Mary Harrison on a stone bench. With his hands tucked firmly beneath his thighs and head bowed, Matthew nervously swung his feet back and forth as he stared at the ground looking decidedly unsure of himself.

  “Tell the inspector everything you told me, Matthew. It’s okay; I promise,” Mary Harrison said with a reassuring tap on the boy’s arm.

  Scott had briefly seen Mary Harrison at the start of the investigation. He’d forgotten how her soft, well-spoken southern English accent felt calm and reassuring. Scott had to admit that her whole persona was appealing on several fronts. She would easily fall into the category of a typical English rose with her brunette hair, long and flowing with wispy ends that framed her thin face. A creamy-white, blemish-free complexion was offset by red cheeks and dark, warm brown eyes.

  “Call me Scott,” he offered.

  For children, titles like inspector and even constable could be daunting, off-putting and create unhelpful barriers. Children needed to feel safe, and from previous experience, Scott knew that remaining silent and giving the child space to think and express their feelings and experiences was vital.

  Matthew’s gazed remained firmly fixed to the ground as the tips of his shoes flicked small stones that formed the path that weaved in and around the fixed planted areas.

  To gently prompt Matthew, Scott asked, “How did you get that black eye?”

  After a lengthy pause, Matthew said, “They did it…they pinned me to the wall and punched me.”

  “Well, why don’t you tell me what they’ve been doing?” Scott asked.

  For the time being he deliberately held back from asking who had hit him for fear that Matthew would clam up straight away if put on the spot.

  “They’ve been picking on me. Wherever I turn…they’re there. It started off with a bit of pushing as they walked past, then it went to pulling pages out of my books…and then when I said I’d tell our housemaster, they…”

  Matthew clenched his jaws desperately fighting the urge to cry as he swung his legs furiously. His whole body ached with sadness and fear. He’d lived off adrenaline for months, his body on a heightened state of alert for the next attack.

  He craved sleep, but fear kept him awake for hours every night, the bedcovers tightly pulled up under his chin, his senses ready to register any change in his environment. He’d heard it all, a creaky floorboard in the corridor, the soft sound of approaching footsteps and heavy breathing. Just thinking about it turned his stomach into knots and parched his mouth.

  His first words seemed to be the catalyst to releasing months of pent-up frustration and sadness that had haunted him.

  “They what?…” Scott asked gently.

  Matthew looked out of the corner of his eyes towards Scott, it was just a brief second, but he felt he could trust the officer.

  “They just picked on me all the time. First it was name-calling. They said I looked like a girl. They called me pussy, said I didn’t deserve to grow up a man…” His voice trailed off.

  “Go on, Matthew. You’re doing really well,” Ms Harrison reassured him.

  “After sports lessons, they’d taunt me in the showers. They’d take photos of me and steal my towel, saying stuff like I’m going to get bum fucked because I was gay.”

  Scott listened to Matthew’s story. The boy’s plight touched a nerve in him. “Why would they say something like that?” Kids could be so cruel.

  “Because of this,” Matthew added, pointing to his ginger mop of hair. “I’m not an athlete. I’m not strong enough to play rugby. I can’t compete against the others. I’m like the odd one out here, and because of that they picked on me. They’d come into my dorm and do things to me. I slept in a w
et bed more times than I can remember…”

  Scott glanced at Mary Harrison, sadness made her face heavy, her eyes moistened. “Listen, Matthew, I’m sorry you’ve been through so much. I only wish you’d spoken to someone earlier. It’s not right that they’ve singled you out like this. No one should be bullied.”

  Matthew shrugged heavily as he slumped, his shoulders drooping forward. He shook his head. “It’s not just me. It’s been happening for years, since the school was founded. I’m not the first to go through this. It’s just my turn I guess. It was my turn to get black-balled.” He sighed as if he’d been expecting this at some stage in his time at Edmunston-Hunt.

  Scott turned towards Matthew, his eyes narrowed. “What do you mean black-balled?”

  Matthew hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting from left to right as he sought answers to Scott’s question. The events of that night haunted him. He’d been humiliated, his body abused and his mind torn apart. He replied in a soft, stuttering voice.

  “They’d taken me from my bed to a room. It’s in the old part of the building. I wanted to run, I really did, but I was too scared and they gripped my arms and dragged me there. I begged them to let me go, but they just laughed.” Matthew began to cry, tears collecting on the tip of his nose. Like a slow dripping tap, each drop fell in to his lap.

  “They tied me by my ankles and wrists. It hurt, Scott. The more I tried to get free, the more it hurt. They punched me and laughed. I wanted to run away, but even if I could, I had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.”

  Mary Harrison placed her arm around Matthew once again, pulling him close protectively, like a mother would. In the absence of family, Mary fitted the role perfectly, Scott thought.

  “They…they…then put hot shoe wax on my balls. It hurt so much Ms Harrison,” Matthew said as he cried into her chest.

  Mary Harrison pursed her lips, and winced in sympathy at Matthew’s last recollection. She stroked his hair, apologising, promising him that it was going to be okay.

  Scott gently reassured the boy with a few taps on his shoulder. This was a clear case of assault in Scott’s eyes. He was lost for words. As an officer that had seen and witnessed the most heinous of crimes, it was those involving children that affected him the most. His whole team was still coming to terms with what they’d uncovered in the child trafficking case, and here he was now listening to the premeditated intimidation and bullying of a small boy unable to stand up for himself.

  Scott was furious that a boy under the care of an expensive boarding school had been let down by the system, and by people who were there to guide and protect him. The school was there to give him the best start in life, to put in place the skills, attributes and abilities that would shape Matthew’s journey in life. However, the opposite was now the case. He’d been left a fragile, traumatised and frightened boy. And something Matthew had just mentioned got Scott thinking.

  Walking through the large front doors of Edmunston-Hunt School was becoming far too frequent. On each occasion, frustration had tinged his visit with the lack of cooperation, the tense atmosphere and the sheer bloody-mindedness of Collier. On this occasion, it was no different. The school was eerily silent as his footsteps clicked on the tile floor and echoed around him. But to his surprise Mrs Hilary, Collier’s sidekick and gatekeeper, appeared to be less than her usual cantankerous, bullish self. If anything, he’d swear that she was in a flap.

  “Where’s Collier?” Scott demanded as he strode up to her desk.

  “I…I don’t know. You see he hasn’t turned up…I…I just don’t know where he is,” she stuttered as she nervously fiddled with her pearl choker.

  “And you’ve checked his office?”

  “Yes…of course I did,” she replied defensively, as if Scott had asked something preposterous. “In all the time I’ve known Adrian…I mean Mr Collier, he’s never not turned up. Even if he was unwell, he’d be here bright and early, his eyes full of life, his head held high, his big strong shoulders pinned back, looking perfectly turned out…” Mrs Hilary suddenly stopped mid-sentence as her cheeks flushed a deep red.

  “And you have no idea where he is? Did you check with our officer outside?”

  “Yes…No…No, he’s not answering his phones. I was just about to go over to his residence to check up on him,” she replied, hastily reaching for her handbag.

  With his suspicions raised, Scott left her with the clear instruction to call him the minute she had found Collier or had further news on his whereabouts.

  36

  “Get me a black coffee will you, Raj?” Scott shouted across the floor as he marched into his office to throw his jacket over the spare chair. Frustration and anger in equal measures started to piss him off as he headed back out towards the incident board.

  The pictures of the victims stared back at him. Crime scene photos, post-mortem photos and brief descriptions of the victims were spread out across the whiteboard. He still felt like the team was skirting around the edges of the investigation. Something was being overlooked, something glaringly obvious that once identified would break this case apart. Various elements just rolled over in his mind. Cowards, white feather, black balling, bullying…why?

  “Okay, listen team, we need to break this case, and something I heard today makes me think that the school itself is a key factor in this case. To add to that, Collier has gone missing. Now we can’t be certain if he’s a potential suspect or a victim for that matter. His disappearance is out of character by all accounts. His car is still on the school grounds at his residence, so we can assume he’s either disappeared on his own accord or has come to harm.”

  “You think he’s been had too?” Raj asked.

  Scott tightened his lips. “I wouldn’t put it in quite those terms, but as I said, I don’t know if he’s a victim or suspect. He’s run the school as if it was some sort of military academy. Collier seems too nonchalant about the deaths of his staff members, and carried the belief that violent and ritualistic bullying is acceptable.”

  The team exchanged glances amongst each other as they absorbed Scott’s last point.

  “Who’s being bullied? The staff?” Mike asked as he twiddled a pen through his chubby fingers and eyed up the Krispy Kreme doughnut that was sitting on a plate near Raj’s coffee. He started to reach out for it, but was suitably deterred by a cold, possessive stare from Raj. Mike shrugged it off and thought he’d sneak it from under Raj’s nose once the guv was gone.

  “No, Mike. The pupils. From information I received this morning, bullying appears to have been an accepted practice as long as the school has been around. And that’s got me thinking. How are we doing with chasing up past teachers, Sian?”

  Sian cleared her throat as she rifled through a pile of papers on her desk. She neatly gathered a few sheets and placed them in front of her. Pushing her hair behind her ears, she began to summarise the information she’d found out so far.

  “In the main, Guv, most of the ex-staff are ex-military.”

  “That figures,” Mike said. “There’s always a tendency for the military to look after their own. It’s like a kinship, a bond. Once you’ve been in the forces, you’re never on your own. We all stick together.”

  “So what happened to you?” Sian smirked bravely, not normally so forthcoming with the sardonic digs.

  Mike scowled as Sian raised a brow in defiance. The others smiled.

  Sian continued, “The only other teacher I could find so far other than John Morecombe is Stephen Barrington. Interestingly, he’s only the second teacher I’ve come across so far without a military background. He left three years back; he was only there two terms and resigned.”

  “Not long…” Scott pondered.

  “Didn’t even see out a whole academic year, Guv.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “He’s at Longhill High School in Rottingdean.”

  “Call the head and tell them we’re coming over to see Barrington this afternoon. Abby, you and I will
see him. Sian, keep working through your list. There may be one or two other teachers we’re not aware of.”

  “Guv, forensics came back with more results on the plastic tape that was used on Goddard. There were traces of food-like substances that they analysed further. It was starchy in composition which they narrowed down to potato. That may not mean much at the moment, but there was an oil-based compound that was sent away for analysis. It came back as a refined spice-infused oil,” Abby said.

  “Can that be narrowed down in any way? Can we identify who supplies it? Where it’s distributed? What it’s used for?”

  “I should think so, Guv. We can get on to local catering suppliers and food manufacturers to see if they can shed any light?”

  Scott murmured something to himself, his mind working overtime to join snippets of information.

  “Okay, that could actually be really helpful. Mike, can you look into that whilst we’re out and call me if anything interesting crops up. I’ve also had an email back from forensics. The DNA profile of the feathers I collected from Bennett’s aviary match those placed on the victims.”

  “Is Bennett in the frame, Guv?”

  “That’s a possibility, but I’ve spoken with him at length and I really don’t think he had the nous to pull off something like this. If anything, he’s too much of an obvious suspect. He had access to the whole school, to boundary rope, to white feathers and…he’s just weird. I called him yesterday and asked him to come in to help us with our enquiries. He’s downstairs now, so Abby and I will see him.”

  With that, the team busily got stuck into their tasks as Abby joined Scott as he left the office.