Billy decided not to mention the fact that he knew Colby ruled by fear, not by respect, and would have no hesitation in fitting someone up for the murder to deflect attention from himself. In fact, what Billy was trying to do was to keep the man occupied so he couldn’t slip away and get rid of a murder weapon. He could only hope that it would work as Colby gave a nod and followed Aiden and his friends out of the room. He also wondered if Colby had killed Jack Walker himself, or had made someone do his dirty work for him.
Chapter 19
Left in peace, Billy turned his attention to Jack Walker. The man was sprawled on the floor on his back, in the midst of a world of chaos. There was blood all around him and on him. In the blood were footprints, scuffs, and abandoned once white material, which was now stained red. His shirt and jumper had been pushed up to reveal a bare stomach, also smeared with blood. Billy took a few moments to photograph the scene, moving around to catch the man’s body from all angles, taking in the mess around him, and he also photographed each of the four walls. He would photograph the knife cabinet in due course.
In the middle of the dead man’s stomach and slightly to the left of his body was a puncture wound. Billy took a small scale ruler from his case. He firstly measured the blunt end of the sculpture knife that he’d shown Aiden and his friends, and then the wound. The wound appeared to be slightly larger than the sculpture knife. But Billy thought this was natural, as the skin could have stretched as the implement was pulled out of his body. Also, the wadding pressed against the cut by Aiden as he tried to staunch the blood, could have further opened and stretched the wound. A post mortem would reveal the exact size. In the meantime, Billy took pictures of both the wound and the sample clay knife with the ruler in place. Grabbing a magnifying glass, he examined the slit in detail, at one point grabbing a pair of long tweezers. He carefully extracted some small flakes of a substance from just inside the wound, and placed them carefully in an evidence container. He then took a sample of Jack Walker’s blood from the wound for comparison.
Billy looked closely at the man’s legs, but couldn’t find any more wounds or broken bones, at least from his cursory examination. Moving around to the other side of the body, Billy noted a clutch of bruising to Walker’s side and stomach. Nice, he thought, nothing like kicking a man when he was down. Or stamping on him, he realised, as Billy noticed that one of Jack Walker’s hands was crushed, with broken fingers canted and bent like old gravestones.
Turning his attention to the man’s neck and head, he once again found the man had been kicked when he’d been at his most vulnerable. Examining the blooming bruises with his magnifying glass, he also found a trail of blood that appeared to have dripped on the floor underneath Walker’s neck. It was difficult to say how much blood there was at this stage, he wouldn’t be able to do that until the body was moved, but he spied a small puncture wound and photographed that as well.
Having made his preliminary examination, Billy pulled a packet from his case and opening the plastic bag, took out a large sheet, which he shook out and used to cover the body. The body and the crime scene had been badly contaminated already, but there was no need to make matters worse.
Moving across the classroom, he turned his attention to the knife cabinet. He’d taken with him his fingerprint kit and proceeded to dust the outside of the box, including the door and sides. Finding several prints, he lifted those, repeating the procedure inside the cabinet. Gathering up the print samples, he moved back to his case where he extracted his scanner. Turning it on, he waited a few minutes while the machine warmed up and connected to the 4G network. He then started to scan in the prints and send them to Reading Police as agreed earlier with DI Briggs. He’d just finished when Aiden and Memphis Colby returned.
Aiden held out the evidence bag containing a sculpting knife. ‘We found it!’ The boy was grinning and hopping around in his excitement, under the cool gaze of Memphis.
‘Well done,’ said Billy, taking the evidence bag and he was pleased to see that Aiden was still wearing his gloves. ‘Where was it?’
‘Under a keyboard in the computer room.’
‘Not very well hidden, then,’ Billy said. ‘Obviously put there in haste.’
‘What happens now?’ Memphis Colby wanted to know.
‘I need to dust it for prints, which is why the lads needed to wear gloves. It helps keep the number of prints down and stops, say, Aiden’s finger prints overlapping those of the murderer.’ Billy deliberately used the word murderer. He was keen to make sure that Colby knew exactly what the stakes were.
‘Can I watch?’ asked Aiden.
‘Sure, you both can if you like.’
‘Yeah, I need to make sure you’re not trying to fit anyone up,’ said Colby in what he obviously considered to be a menacing tone, but which Billy found rather amusing.
‘No, I’m not doing anything like that,’ said Billy, and reached for his equipment.
Under the close scrutiny of the two inmates, Billy carefully dusted firstly the handle and then the blade of the knife. But despite using his best brush technique and the best powder he had available, there weren’t any prints. Not a one. The knife had been wiped clean. It was back to square one.
Chapter 20
Billy decided that back to square one meant talking to the boys. Eliciting Memphis Colby’s help, they got everyone out of the classrooms and into the main area, where the lads milled around, a shoal of fish in a sea of silence. Would anyone listen to him, let alone talk to him? Billy had no idea, but knew he had to try.
Clambering up onto a chair, as Colby whistled for attention, Billy took a deep breath and began to speak.
He firstly introduced himself and told them why he was there. Most of them knew already, but there would be those who wouldn’t: the quiet ones, the ones that kept themselves to themselves, shrinking into walls as they tried their best to get through their sentence without being hurt, bullied or picked on; which, of course, just made them more visible to the likes of Memphis Colby and his entourage. Billy had seen the same thing many times in the army.
‘What I really need,’ Billy continued, ‘is information.’
‘No one here is a snitch!’ yelled someone.
‘Yeah, we don’t talk to pigs!’ another agreed.
‘This has nothing to do with being a snitch,’ Billy said. ‘And I’m not a policeman. I just need an idea of what went on in the art lessons. Did anyone have a problem with Jack Walker and if so, what kind of problem? How were his lessons? Did you enjoy them? Hate them?’
The lads instinctively shuffled together, physically closing ranks at the same time as closing their mouths.
‘Look, as I said, this has nothing to do with being a snitch and everything to do with not being charged with murder. I know some of you are here on much lesser charges and will be leaving within the year, if not sooner. Do you really want to jeopardise that freedom? Do you want to stay incarcerated for another 10 years for something you didn’t do?’
But Billy’s pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears. No one spoke. Not a word.
‘Alright, if you don’t want to speak up now, in public, then come and see me on your own, away from prying eyes and ears. I’ll be here until this mess is cleared up.’
But there was still no reaction from anyone.
‘Right, well, thanks,’ Billy mumbled and gave up, getting down from the chair.
As the lads broke up, bunching back into their preferred friendship groups, Billy was jostled on his way back to the art room. Once there, away from the melee, Billy tried to decide what to do next, putting his hands in his pockets and huffing out his frustration. Then his fingers brushed against a piece of paper. Frowning, he pulled it from his pocket. Scrawled over a page torn out of a ruled notebook were the words…
Find the killer or die yourself!
The note was written in faint pencil but the message was clear enough. That’s just great, thought Billy, and wondered what the hell to do next.
&
nbsp; Chapter 21
The four teachers were taken to the administration offices and plied with tea, coffee and water, none of which helped stop the trembling of their bodies and hands. Emma sat with DI Briggs and looked at the previously in-control professionals and wondered how many of them would now resign. Although everyone who worked in a prison environment knew that it wasn’t without its dangers, actually being faced with that danger was an altogether different matter. Some could handle it, others couldn’t. It was different for Emma and the other governors and prison officers: they’d all been through extensive training, incorporating how best to deal with various threats, but the four people in the room hadn’t. As professional educators, they were employed by an outside body, not by the prison service, and the appointment didn’t come with any riot training or security training. A big flaw in the system as far as Emma was concerned.
Mrs Greenwood, the computer teacher, seemed the most affected, which was not surprising as she was the one who had tried to save Jack Walker’s life. She had been examined by the police forensic technician and her clothes had been bagged and tagged, her finger nails scraped and samples of the blood on her had been taken. She was therefore dressed in odd bits and bobs of clothing; grey sweat pants, a prison service tee-shirt and an old pair of slip on shoes that Emma had found in her desk drawer.
Mrs Greenwood said, ‘When can I leave?’ her voice choking and broken.
‘As soon as we’ve talked and you’ve given a statement,’ replied Briggs. ‘I’m sorry for the delay, but I hope you understand that we have to follow procedure. Your clothes could give vital clues as to Mr Walker’s murderer, and your take on what happened this morning could be invaluable.’
‘But I didn’t see anything. Jack had already been attacked when Aiden came for me.’
‘Can you just walk us through what happened before then?’ asked Emma. ‘Was there anything out of the ordinary this morning? Anything that struck you as strange?’
‘No,’ said Mrs Greenwood, shaking her head. ‘It was just the usual routine. All the lads arrived on time, and when I took the register everyone was present.’
‘Did anyone leave the room during the class?’ asked Briggs.
After a moment’s pause, Mrs Greenwood grabbed her coffee mug and appeared to be warming her hands on it. Then she spoke, ‘No, not that I can remember.’
‘What about the rest of you,’ Emma turned to the other teachers. ‘Did anyone leave your classrooms?’
Emma looked around at the other three teachers. John Rawlings, the cookery teacher was the only one to look up. Dressed formally in a suit and tie, but still wearing a rather incongruous blue and white striped apron, the man was in his 50’s and had many years’ experience teaching vocational training in a college environment for the over 16’s.
‘Someone left my class,’ he said. ‘Oh, what is his name?’ Mr Rawlings paused for a moment, eyes upward, thinking. ‘Ethan Hall,’ he finally said. ‘He didn’t seem well; he was shiny with sweat and trembling a bit. When he returned he said he’d been to the toilet, but I don’t know if that was true.’
‘What was wrong with him?’ asked Briggs.
‘No idea. At the time I put it down to coming off drugs, but who knows?’ Rawlings shrugged.
‘Anyone else?’ Briggs asked.
Marion Bloom, the mathematics teacher shook her head. ‘All I can remember is that one minute I was going through the mechanics of long division and the next I was being dragged out of the classroom and pushed into the staff room. I fell over the coffee table and banged my head on the floor.’ She rubbed at a large bruise on her forehead. ‘I was very frightened, especially when I realised we weren’t being allowed to leave. Some of the boys crowded around the door, refusing to let us out.’
‘That’s right,’ said the English teacher, Kenny Walsh. ‘They were all shouting at us through the glass panels in the room, banging on them, threatening us with all sorts of horrible things. I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same about teaching here again.’ Tears began to fill his eyes and he crossed his arms and rubbed them with his hands, taking a long, shaky breath. His shirt had been torn, presumably in the scrum and his brown hair was in disarray.
Emma didn’t think he’d return to his job, and to be fair she couldn’t blame him. Couldn’t blame any of them. Not really.
‘Can we go now?’ asked Mrs Greenwood again.
‘I’ll send in some officers to take your formal statements and then you can leave the establishment. But don’t forget to give the officers your contact details as we may need to speak to you again.’
Taking her cue from DI Briggs, Emma stood at the same time as he did. She looked down at the teachers with mixed emotions. A mix of understanding how they felt, and sadness that they’d had to go through such an appalling situation. She knew from her own experience of being involved in a train hijack and held hostage that their memories would take years to fade, and she could only hope that they wouldn’t suffer from flashbacks or post-traumatic stress disorder. She managed a small smile and a nod of her head as she left the room, not knowing if she’d see any of them again. As she led DI Briggs back to the education block, her thoughts turned to Billy. How was he getting on? Was he still safe? When would she be able to see him again?
Chapter 22
The first thing she asked Chief Robinson, when Briggs and Emma arrived outside the door to the education block was, ‘Any news from Billy?’
But his sharp retort of, ‘None,’ made her feel small and emotional and determined not to show such weakness again. DI Briggs came to her rescue and covered the resultant embarrassing silence with an update for Chief Robinson, telling him about the suspicious behaviour of Ethan Hall.
‘Do you know the lad?’ finished Briggs.
‘We’re pretty sure he’s a regular drug user. We keep tossing his cell, but have never found anything. But several times he’s turned up for work or education while under the influence of something or other. So the teacher’s assessment could be right.’
‘But we can’t jump to conclusions.’
‘Exactly. Although I think Sgt Williams needs to know about him.’
The Chief picked up his radio and called for Billy to meet him at the entrance. Strictly speaking he called Memphis Colby, who was in possession of the radio taken from the prison officer at the start of the incident. Emma listened closely to the exchange.
‘Colby,’ the chief said, ‘I need to speak to Sgt Williams.’
‘Why?’ came the reply, the voice booming out of the static.
Turning down the volume, the Chief then said, ‘Because we have an update for him and also, we need to know what, if anything, he’s found so far.’
‘What if I don’t feel like letting him?’
‘Then we won’t find the culprit and you’ll all go down for murder.’
Colby appeared to think about that. In fact, he took so long before replying, that Emma was beginning to fear the worst and suspected that perhaps they’d lost what little control they had over the situation. It was all very well expecting the prisoners to be reasonable, but the reality could be very different. As the silence from Colby stretched, so did her nerves. She stared at the Chief, her eyes widening, silently pleading for him to do something, despite her earlier determination to not show any emotion. But with a small shake of his head, he turned slightly away from her, clearly refusing to speak until Colby did.
At last the radio connected again. ‘Alright, I suppose so. I’ll tell him.’
‘Thank you, Memphis,’ the Chief said, and let out a long breath of relief.
‘That was a close one,’ said Briggs.
‘You’re right, it was. But I couldn’t give an inch. I had to make him understand, through my silence, that we meant what we said about charging everyone with murder.’
‘Well, looks like he got the message,’ said Briggs and nodded towards the doors as Billy came into view through the glass panels and pulled open one door, but remai
ned inside the block. ‘You alright, Billy?’
‘Yes, thanks. But it’s a bloody mess in there. Literally. God knows if I’ll find anything useful.’
‘You’ll do your best though?’
Billy nodded his agreement, but Emma, stealing looks at him from behind Briggs and Chief Robinson, could see how tired he was. His normally bright blue eyes were clouded with fatigue and he seemed to be struggling to concentrate. It wasn’t an ideal situation, with Billy just coming off a long and stressful case, but she hadn’t been able to think of any other alternative that would have been acceptable to Colby and his cohorts.
‘What have you got so far?’ Briggs continued.
‘Only this,’ Billy handed over an evidence bag with the sculpting knife. ‘I can’t find any prints on it as it’s been wiped down. But it seems to be the knife missing from the cabinet in the art room. I’ve lifted prints from the cabinet itself and sent them through. Your team should have some names for you sometime soon.’
‘Thanks, I’ll check in a minute.’
‘Any blood on it?’
‘Can’t find any myself, Chief, but again perhaps the lab might be able to. Aiden said he definitely saw such a knife in Colby’s hand before Mr Walker was attacked, but says he couldn’t see who actually knifed him. There was a crowd all around Mr Walker, pushing him back towards his table. It could be any one of half a dozen or so.’
‘Was Ethan Hall there?’
‘Who?’
‘A boy called Ethan Hall was in the computer room. Apparently he left the class to go to the toilet, but the teacher remembers him coming back and looking very upset, shaking and pale. It could have been from drug use, or more probably lack of drugs, but it’s worth checking out.’
Joint Judgement (An Emma Harrison Mystery Book 3) Page 6