Innocent Graves

by Peter Robinson

  “Here we are,” Dr. Green went on, stepping under the porch of the dormitory and lowering her umbrella. She shook it carefully before rolling it up. “The infirmary is on the ground floor. We have one full-time nurse on staff and a local doctor on call.”

  They walked down the hall and entered the infirmary. It smelled of disinfectant. After a brief word with the nurse, Dr. Green directed Banks and Susan towards a row of curtained cubicles, in one of which Megan Preece lay on a narrow bed.

  “Megan’s fine, nurse says,” Dr. Green whispered. “But she’s had a terrible shock and she’s been given a mild tranquillizer, so please go slowly.”

  Banks nodded. There clearly wasn’t room for all of them in the cubicle, yet Dr. Green seemed to want to stay.

  “It’s all right,” Banks said, ushering Susan to Megan’s bedside chair. “We’ll find our own way out when we’ve finished.”

  Dr. Green stood for a moment and frowned, then she nodded, turned on her heel and clicked away down the corridor.

  When Banks found a chair for himself, Susan was already talking to Megan, reassuring her that everything would be all right. From what Banks could see of the head poking above the gray blanket, Megan was a slight, thin girl of about Deborah Harrison’s age, with dark curly hair and a tanned complexion.

  But Megan’s features lacked whatever cohesion or symmetry it took to make her conventionally pretty, unlike her friend Deborah, who had been beautiful in that lissom, blonde, athletic sort of way. Megan’s nose was a little too big, and slightly crooked; her lips were too thin, and her mouth was too small for her teeth. But her big, serious earthbrown eyes were striking; they seemed to capture you at first glance and draw you to her.

  Banks introduced himself, noting that Megan seemed comfortable enough in the presence of a male policeman, and said he wanted to ask her a few questions about Deborah. Megan nodded, eyes turning a little glassy at the mention of her friend’s name.

  “Were you very close friends?” he began.

  She nodded. “We’re both day-girls and we’ve known each other for years. We both live in the same area.”

  “I thought you must be boarding,” said Banks. “Why aren’t you at home?”

  “I had a dizzy spell at assembly, then I…I got all upset. Nurse says I should rest here for a while, then I can go home at lunch-time. There’ll be nobody there, anyway. Mummy’s away in America and Daddy’s at work.”

  “I see. Now can you tell me what happened yesterday after the chess club. Go as slowly as you want, there’s no hurry.”

  Megan chewed her lower lip, then began. “Well, when we’d put all the boards and pieces away in the cupboard and made sure the room was tidy, we left the school-”

  “Was this the main building?”

  “Yes. We hold the chess club in one of the upstairs classrooms.”

  “What time?”

  “Just before six o’clock.”

  “How many attended last night?”

  “Only eight. Lesley and Carol are doing a play with the theatre department, so they had rehearsals. The others are all boarders.”

  “I see. Was there anyone else around?”

  “A few people, coming and going, as usual. The school is always well lit and there are always people around.”

  “Okay. Go on.”

  “Well, we walked down the drive to Kendal Road. There’s only one main gate, you see. The school’s surrounded by woods, and there’s the river on the west side. It was so foggy we could hardly see the trees around us. I must admit I was getting a bit scared, but Debs seemed to be enjoying herself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, she liked things like that. Spooky things. She liked to tell ghost stories in graveyards, just for fun.”

  “Do you know if she ever went inside the Inchcliffe Mausoleum?”

  “She never said anything to me about it if she did.”

  “Okay. Go on.”

  “We crossed the road. I live on St. Mary’s Hill, behind the shops, so Debs and I always said goodbye at the bridge.” She put her hand over her eyes.

  “Take it easy,” Susan said. “Take your time.” When Banks looked down, he noticed that Megan was gripping Susan’s hand at the side of the bed.

  Megan took a deep breath and went on. “That’s all,” she said. “We said goodbye. Debs was running backwards, just showing off, like, then she disappeared into the fog.” She frowned.

  “Was there something else?” Banks asked. “Did you notice anyone else around?”

  “Well, like I said, it was so foggy you couldn’t really see more than a few feet, but I saw a shape behind her. I remember thinking at the time there was something odd about it, but I put it down to the way Debs had been scaring me with her stories of ghosts taking shape from the fog.”

  “You mean you thought you were imagining it?”

  “Yes. Seeing things. But I know I wasn’t, if that makes any sense.”

  “You’re doing fine, Megan. What kind of shape was it?”

  “It was a man’s shape. A tall man.”

  “What was he doing?”

  “Nothing. He was just standing on the bridge looking down the river towards the town.” She paused and her eyes lit up. “That’s it. That’s what was strange. He was looking over the bridge towards the town, but he couldn’t possibly see anything, could he, because of the fog. So why was he standing there?”

  “Did you think that at the time?”

  “No. It just came to me.”

  “Did you see what he looked like?”

  “Not really, because of the fog. I mean, he was like a silhouette, a dark figure. His features weren’t clear, and he was in profile. He did have a bit of a big nose, though.”

  “Could you see what he was wearing?”

  “An anorak, I think. A bright color. Orange or red, maybe.”

  “Did you see him approach Deborah?”

  “No. He was just behind her. I don’t think she’d seen him because she was still running backwards and waving goodbye. I remember thinking if she wasn’t careful she’d bump into him and that would give her a shock, but I really didn’t think much of it. I mean, it wasn’t the only person we’d seen.”

  “Who else did you see?”

  “Just ordinary people, you know, crossing the road and such. I mean, life goes on, doesn’t it? Just because it’s foggy you can’t stop doing everything, can you?”

  “That’s true,” said Banks. “Can you remember anything else?”

  Megan squeezed her eyes shut. “I think he had dark hair,” she said. “Then I turned away and went home. I never thought anything of it. Until…until this morning, when I heard…I should have known something was going to happen, shouldn’t I?”

  “How could you?”

  “I just should. Poor Debs. It could have been me. It should have been me.”

  “Don’t be silly, Megan.”

  “But it’s true! Debs was so good, so wonderful and pretty and talented. And just look at me. I’m nothing. I’m not pretty. She should have lived. I’m the one who should have died. It’s not fair. Why does God always take the best?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that,” Banks replied softly. “But I do know that every life is important, every life has its value, and nobody has the right to decide who lives and who dies.”

  “Only God.”

  “Only God,” Banks repeated, and blew his nose in the ensuing silence.

  Megan took a tissue from the box on the table beside her and wiped her eyes. “I must look a sight,” she said.

  Banks smiled. “Just like me first thing in the morning,” he said. “Now, when we found Deborah, she had about six pounds in her purse. Did she ever have a lot of money to flash around?”

  “Money? No. None of us ever carried more than a few pounds.”

  “Do you know if she kept anything valuable in her satchel?”

  Megan frowned. “No. Just the usual stuff. Exercise books, textbooks, that sor
t of thing.”

  “Did she say if she was intending to meet anyone after the chess club or go anywhere else before she went home?”

  “No. As far as I know, she was going straight home.”

  “Can you tell us anything else about her?”

  “Like what?”

  “You were her best friend, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you ever fall out?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Why?”

  “Nothing, really. Maybe Debs would tease me about a lad she thought I liked, or something, or about not being good at arithmetic, and I’d get mad. But it wouldn’t last long.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes. She can be quite a tease, can Debs. She gets her little needle in where she knows it hurts and just keeps pushing.” She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, I didn’t mean that to sound as bad as it did, honest I didn’t. All I mean is that she had an eye for a weakness and she could be a bit nasty about it. It was never anything serious.”

  “Do you know if anything had been bothering her lately?”

  “I don’t think so. She’d been a bit moody, that’s all.”

  “Since when?”

  “The beginning of term.”

  “Did she say why?”

  “No. We have a lot on our minds. A lot of work. And she’s been moody before.”

  “She didn’t mention any problems, anything that might have been worrying her?”

  “No.”

  “Did she have any enemies, anyone who might have wanted to harm her?”

  “No. Everyone loved Debs. It must have been a stranger.”

  “Did she ever mention Mr. Jelačić, the sexton at St. Mary’s?”

  “The man who got fired?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “She said he was gross, always sticking his tongue out and licking his lips when she went past.”

  “Did he ever bother you?”

  “I never went in the churchyard. I live this side of the river, over Kendal Road. It was a short cut for Debs.”

  “Are you sure Deborah didn’t have any other problems, any worries? Maybe at home?”

  “No. She didn’t complain about anything in particular. Only the usual stuff. Too much homework. That sort of thing.”

  Banks realized that Deborah Harrison would probably have fewer practical causes for concern than his own daughter, Tracy, who, at one time anyway, had been constantly moaning about some new style of jacket or jeans she just had to have because everyone else was wearing it, and the Doc Martens that were just essential these days.

  Banks had been like that himself, and he gave Tracy the same answer his mother and father gave him when they bought him a pair of heavy workboots for school instead of the thin-soled winkle-pickers he had asked for. “We can’t afford it. You’ll just have to make do. These will last a lot longer.”

  But Deborah Harrison had wanted for nothing, at least nothing that had a monetary value.

  “What about boyfriends?” Banks asked.

  Megan blushed. “We don’t have time, not in the lower sixth. And Debs was always involved in some school event: equestrian, sports or quizzes or whatever.”

  “So she didn’t have a boyfriend?”

  “I’m not saying she never had one.”

  “When was the last one?”

  “In the summer.”

  “What was his name?”

  “She told me his name was John, that’s all. They didn’t go out together for long. She said he was really cool but too thick, so she chucked him.”

  “Did she tell you anything else about him?”

  Megan blushed. “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. That’s all I know. His name was John and he was a thickie.”

  “Where did she meet him?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t say. I was away in America all summer with my parents, so I didn’t see her until school started. By then she’d already chucked him.”

  “Was he her first boyfriend?”

  “I don’t think so, but there was never anyone serious.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She would have told me.”

  “Does she tell you everything?”

  Megan considered the question seriously for a moment or so, then said, “No, I don’t think so. She can be secretive, can Debs. But she’d tell me if she had a boyfriend. Or I’d just know.”

  “Was she being secretive about anything recently?”

  Megan frowned. “Yes, she was. I was getting fed up of it.”

  “Did she tell you anything about it?”

  “No. It wouldn’t be a secret then, would it?”

  “Did she tell you who or what it concerned?”

  Megan shook her head. “No.”

  “Did she say anything about it?”

  “Just that she thought it was time to tell someone, and then to watch what happened when the sh-. Just to see what happened.”

  “When did she tell you this?”

  “Just as she was leaving, on the bridge.”

  “While she was running backwards?”

  “Yes. It’s…it was the last thing she said.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m tired.”

  “All right,” said Banks. “I’m sorry, Megan. You’re doing really well. I’ll try not to be much longer. But you must realize how important it is. If it was a secret about somebody who didn’t want it known…And if that somebody knew that Deborah knew…Do you see what I mean?”

  Megan nodded.

  “How long had she been talking about this secret?”

  “Since the beginning of term.”

  “That’s quite a long time.”

  “Yes. She’d let it drop for a week or two, then bring it up again.”

  “Would she have told anyone else?”

  “No. I’m her best friend.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell us, Megan? Anything at all.”

  Megan shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Banks and Susan stood up. “Get some rest now,” Banks said. “And believe me, we’ll be doing our best to find out who did this.”

  They said goodbye to the nurse, picked up their raincoats and headed out into the drizzle.

  “What did you think?” Banks asked Susan as they walked back to the car.

  “About Megan? I think she told us pretty much all she knew.”

  “Notice the way she blushed and turned her eyes away when I pushed her about the boyfriend? I’d say there’s more to that relationship than she’s told us.”

  “Well, sir,” said Susan, “from my experience I’d say Deborah probably said he had his uses but he was thick.”

  “You think Deborah might have slept with this John?”

  “She might have, but that’s not what I mean. What I mean is, she’d say that, or hint that she had, the way kids do. It doesn’t mean they actually did anything.”

  “And Megan was embarrassed by it?”

  “Yes. I’d guess Megan is a bit shy around boys.”

  “Would you agree she was the ugly one in that relationship?”

  “I wouldn’t put it quite that way, sir.”

  Banks smiled. “I’m sorry. It must be something to do with being on school grounds again. It takes me back. But when you were a teenager and you met two girls, one of them was bound to be the ugly one.”

  “And when you met two boys, one of them was certain to be a drip and the other an octopus. If you were really lucky, you got a combination of the two.”

  Banks laughed.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Susan went on, “I don’t get your point. Surely you’re not suggesting that Megan Preece had anything to do with Deborah’s murder?”

  “No. Of course not. Just thinking out loud, is all.”

  They got in the unmarked police car. When it started up, Vaughan Williams’s Suite for Viola and Orchestra was playing on the radio: the beautiful, melancholy “Ballad.
” It suited the falling leaves and the November drizzle perfectly, Banks thought.

  “I’m just trying to understand the relationship so that I can understand the way Deborah related to people,” he said. “The way I see it is that Megan was the less attractive of the two friends. That would probably make her adoring and resentful in equal measures. She knew she was overshadowed and outclassed by Deborah’s looks and talent, and for the most part she was probably content to bask in the glory of being the chosen one, best friend of the goddess. Are you with me so far?”

  “Yes, sir. Megan was the kind of friend who could only make Deborah look even better.”

  “Right. But it also sounded as if Deborah could twist the knife, too, could be cruel. If she could annoy her best friend the way she did, then she could have angered a more dangerous enemy, don’t you think?”

  “It’s possible, sir. But a bit far-fetched, if you don’t mind me saying so. I still say we’re looking for a stranger. And from what we know already, that stranger on the bridge could have been Ive Jelačić.”

  “True,” said Banks. “It could also have been a figment of Megan’s imagination, at least in part. But we’ll sort out Mr. Jelačić later. He’s not going anywhere. Ken Blackstone’s got him under surveillance. What do you think about the secret?”

  “Not much. A lot of schoolkids are like that. As Megan said, it probably didn’t mean anything.”

  “Not to her, perhaps. But maybe to someone else. Look, isn’t that…” He pointed.

  As they were turning left onto North Market Street, Banks noticed a woman in a long navy raincoat standing at the bus-stop over the road.

  “Isn’t it who?” Susan asked.

  “Oh, I forgot. You haven’t met her. Rebecca Charters, the vicar’s wife. I’m sure it was her. I wonder where she’s going?”

  “Curioser and curioser,” said Susan.

  Chapter 4

  I

  “Well, sir,” said Sergeant Hatchley, looking at his watch. “Don’t you think we might as well have a spot of lunch?”

  Barry Stott sighed. “Oh, all right. Come on.”

  This was the detective inspector’s first major case after his promotion and transfer, and he intended to make the most of it. The only thorn in the ointment was this idle, thick lump of Yorkshire blubber beside him: Detective Sergeant Hatchley.