by Paul Gitsham
Waring was out on bail by 10 a.m., although the CSIs were still poring over his house and car, looking for anything that connected him to the murder. A single hemp fibre could be enough to charge him.
As for Giles Sanders, Warren started his morning interview by presenting his solicitor with a twelve-hour extension to his initial twenty-four-hour custody. The lawyer objected, but Warren dismissed her protestations. Since Warren had revealed the day before that he knew that Sanders’ card had been used on the communal photocopier thirty minutes after he claimed to have originally left, Sanders had refused to say anything. Even after a conference with his solicitor later that afternoon, the man had folded his arms and replied ‘no comment’ to everything Warren asked him. Furthermore, he refused to surrender his mobile phone for scrutiny, or even confirm its number so that they could remotely access it and its records via his mobile provider.
His lack of cooperation wouldn’t prevent Warren’s team from getting the information that they needed, but it was an irritant; if they didn’t find the handset when they searched his house and car, they would have to track him down by asking the mobile phone companies to search their customer databases for a Giles Sanders.
An unregistered pay-as-you-go phone presented a few more challenges, especially if none of his acquaintances or his employer knew the number, however a suitable court order could get mobile phone providers to reveal all of the phones active in that vicinity at the time of Jillian Gwinnett’s death. It was then a process of elimination.
In the meantime, Sanders had a choice; either he could cooperate, or he could wait out the twelve-hour extension to his detention, followed by the further extension DSI Grayson was already preparing to take before the local magistrate.
Warren just hoped they had enough evidence to either charge him or satisfy them that he was innocent – otherwise, they were potentially releasing a dangerous killer back onto the street.
* * *
Susan’s revelations the night before had left Warren thinking. He’d passed what she said onto David Hutchinson first thing and asked him to do some digging around. He delivered his findings after lunch.
‘I’ve just had an interesting chat with Hertfordshire County Council. As you probably know, academy schools are largely free from local authority control. However, the school’s conversion to academy status only happened under Noah Ball’s tenure.’
‘OK.’ Warren was sure that the news Hutchinson had to share was more interesting than the ins and outs of the previous government’s education policy.
‘This means that Mr Leigh was still employed as a head by the local authority – and as such it was them that he took to an industrial tribunal for constructive dismissal.’
Warren let out a low whistle.
‘It sounds as though Susan was right, and he didn’t quietly take early retirement then, despite what Father Beresford implied.’
‘No, he was not happy at all.’
‘But why would he kill Gwinnett now? Surely, this all happened eight years ago when Noah Ball took over?’
‘Well, you’d think so, but in fact the case was only lodged two years ago, and it’s dragged on for ages. I’ve been reading the tribunal report, and it’s illuminating stuff.’
‘Why the delay?’
‘Questionable legal advice at the time, supposedly. When the original OFSTED report came in, Leigh was under a lot of pressure to resign. He fought that, believing that he and the existing Senior Leadership Team and governing body were best placed to implement the improvements recommended by the inspectors. He claims, however, that the chair of governors was bullied into resigning. When the rest of the board – except for Father Beresford – followed suit, he felt that he and the rest of the SLT were placed in an intolerable position.
‘The two assistant heads were both mid-career, and so accepted the offer of good references and a downplaying of their culpability in the school’s woes, if they moved on quietly. The deputy head was over sixty anyway and had been suffering from ill health, so she decided to retire. Leigh then felt that he had no choice but to resign also.’
‘I thought that he took early retirement?’
‘Not strictly speaking. He accepted an offer to take his pension early. He claims that it was implied that doing so would mean he was unable to take the authority to an employment tribunal.’
‘But that wasn’t true?’
‘Apparently not. At the time he was under so much strain, he accepted the deal and walked away. He then licked his wounds for a few years, but he’s still in his early fifties and eventually decided he wanted to go back into teaching. Unfortunately, his reputation precedes him, so he’s never going to return to a leadership role. On top of that, it has been so many years since he’s been an active classroom teacher, he would need to practically retrain from scratch.’
‘A bitter pill to swallow, but presumably he doesn’t need the income – a head teacher’s pension, even if it’s taken early, isn’t too shabby. Why didn’t he just let it go and take up gardening?’ mused Warren.
‘Maybe he had kids at university to support? Or perhaps he has hay fever,’ suggested Hutchinson.
‘Thank you, Sergeant, that was a rhetorical question,’ said Warren, trying to sound stern.
‘Anyway, he got new legal advice and decided he had a case for constructive dismissal after all. In terms of the timing of events, he had resigned before the offer of the early pension was made, meaning he could argue that his resignation was forced upon him by his employer’s lack of support. In the opinion of his legal team, the offer, and his acceptance, of a pension was irrelevant as to whether there was a material breach of employment law.’
‘Well, don’t leave me hanging, what happened?’
‘His claim was dismissed three months ago when he couldn’t find anyone to corroborate his version of events. His deputy head died two years ago, the former chair of governors has dementia, and everyone else declined the offer to attend the hearing. It sounds as though they’ve moved on, even if he hasn’t.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Exactly. It also cost him a small fortune. There was no criminal negligence alleged, so he couldn’t claim legal aid, and his former union declined to support him.’
‘He’s starting to sound like a man who might feel he has a legitimate grievance.’
‘Precisely my thoughts, sir.’
‘So where does Jillian Gwinnett fit into all of this? Does he hold her responsible?’
‘Very much so. He essentially claimed that the whole business was orchestrated by Gwinnett, alongside Beresford, who wanted to install Noah Ball as head to implement their own vision for the school. The appointment of the rest of so-called Team Ball to the governing body shortly after the transition just confirms his theory. He says that the OFSTED report was a smokescreen, just an opportunity and excuse for them to seize control.’
Warren raised an eyebrow.
Hutchinson continued, ‘The impression I’ve got from reading the transcripts is that he is obsessed with what happened back then, and has spent an unhealthy amount of time dwelling on it. In his statement laying out the personal toll it has taken on him, he claims to have suffered a range of stress-induced illnesses and blames the whole saga for the collapse of his marriage.’
Warren twisted his lip thoughtfully.
‘Good work, Hutch. I think a chat with Mr Leigh is in order.’
* * *
Russell Leigh lived in a modest two-bedroom terraced house on the edge of Middlesbury. He didn’t seem surprised when Warren arrived with Moray Ruskin in tow, late that afternoon.
The house was in sore need of decoration, and was far from what one would expect a highly-paid professional such as Leigh to be calling home. A brief glance into the kitchen before he closed the door revealed a small, cramped area with an outdated electric oven and grubby, battered cupboards. An overflowing recycling bin was flanked by an honour guard of empty wine bottles.
The living-
room-cum-dining-area had enough space for a two-person sofa and a single armchair. The tiny folding dining table, at the opposite end of the room, had a solitary wooden chair. An almost empty bottle of red wine, a large, empty glass with a red tidemark just below the rim, and a fruit bowl with a lone banana took up most of its surface.
A handful of photographs on the mantelpiece, a bookcase crammed with well-thumbed paperbacks, and a television were the only personal touches in the room; even the clock on the wall was a basic, plastic version Warren had seen on sale in the supermarket for a fiver. Warren recalled what Hutchinson had said about the breakdown of the man’s marriage and the large legal bills he’d accumulated in his failed tribunal attempt.
Balanced on the armchair, an almost full ashtray sat next to a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. The smell of recent smoke lingered in the air. That surprised Warren; he couldn’t recall any of his wife’s colleagues who smoked on a regular basis. Even before the 2007 ban that made smoking on school sites and other public places illegal, progressively fewer schools allowed it on site or provided dedicated smoking rooms. Many teachers struggled to find time during the school day to go to the bathroom, let alone go through the rigmarole of signing out at reception and walking off site for a smoke, and so the prevalence of smoking had decreased sharply. Russell Leigh looked like a man living on his nerves.
‘I won’t say I’m surprised to see you,’ said Leigh. His breath up close had the combined odours of red wine and tobacco.
‘I assume that you know what this is about?’
‘Yes, and I can save us a lot of time by answering your next questions upfront. No, I’m not sorry she’s dead, no, I didn’t kill her and no, I don’t have an alibi for when she was murdered.’
The armchair made a faint squeak as Leigh flopped into it. Despite the wine, the man’s eyes were clear and there was no slurring in his voice.
‘How do you know when we want an alibi for?’ countered Warren.
Leigh gestured towards the television.
‘The news says that she was killed the night before her body was found. I was in all night, on my own, watching TV and reading.’
‘And nobody can confirm that? What about your neighbours?’ asked Ruskin.
Leigh snorted. ‘Have you seen this place? I’ve been here for nine months and the only time I’ve spoken to the neighbours on the right is to ask them not to let their dogs shit on my garden path. The house on the left is some sort of dosshouse. I couldn’t even tell you who lives there.’
Warren could see that Leigh was angry and bitter; was he angry enough to kill?
‘Tell me about Jillian Gwinnett.’
‘She was a manipulative bitch.’
Warren felt Ruskin shift slightly next to him.
‘There’s no point hiding it,’ Leigh said. ‘You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know about our history.’
‘Then why don’t you tell me in your own words what happened?’ suggested Warren.
Leigh grunted, before getting up and walking over to the dining table. He refilled the wine glass, draining the bottle. Returning to his seat, he took a long swig.
‘Where to begin,’ he muttered, almost to himself.
‘Jill had great references when she joined us. She was ambitious, and ready for the next stage in her career. She’d had some whole school responsibilities in her previous school, such as gifted and talented coordinator, but we were advertising specifically for a new head of year for the incoming year seven cohort. We also had space within the Humanities department for a Religious Studies specialist, so Jill was exactly what we needed.’
‘It sounds like she was a bit of an unknown quantity, if you don’t mind me saying,’ said Warren. ‘New to the school and in her first pastoral role?’
Leigh shrugged.
‘To a degree, I suppose you’re right, but everyone has to start somewhere and we didn’t have much choice. We needed an RS teacher and there had been limited interest in the head of year position from existing colleagues. Ultimately, Jill ticked all the boxes and saved us from a significant reorganisation.’
‘So how did she work out?’
Leigh’s mouth twisted.
‘Extremely well. She was a breath of fresh air, if I’m honest. She quickly gained a reputation as a strict disciplinarian, but it worked.’ A faint smile crossed his face. ‘Those poor year sevens couldn’t get away with anything. It paid off though. Throughout their five years, that cohort had fewer disciplinary issues and a higher overall achievement than any of the other four year groups either side of them. On top of that, she was an excellent classroom teacher.’
‘How did the students view her?’
‘They loved her. They were terrified of getting into trouble with her, but when they did, I rarely got complaints from parents. She was scrupulously fair. On the flipside, the kids really valued her praise, because she wasn’t especially lavish with it. When it came, students said they really felt they’d earned it.’
‘So what went wrong?’
Leigh drained his glass. He looked over at his cigarettes, before changing his mind.
‘Jill was an excellent teacher. And she knew it. When her year group finished their five years, she was reappointed as head of year seven again for the incoming group. That was standard practice. I knew that she was ambitious, but I wanted her to work her magic again. To keep her happy, I also created an additional role for her as a pastoral staff coach, supporting heads of year and form tutors. The governors were as keen to keep her as I was, so they were happy to pay an additional allowance.’
‘What happened?’
‘She wanted more. We already had two assistant head teachers, neither of whom was planning to move on, and she lobbied for the creation of a third position. The problem was that if she became an assistant head, she couldn’t remain as a head of year, which is where I wanted her. If we had allowed her to be both an assistant head and a head of year, there’s no way the other four year heads would have settled for less and we couldn’t afford that.
‘Add to that, if she left her role as a head of year, we would have had to employ a replacement and fund more teaching hours in Humanities to replace the hours we’d lose when her timetable changed. Both of those options cost money.’
‘So how did she take that?’
‘Not well. I expected her to leave to be honest, but instead she stayed on and made a nuisance of herself.’
‘How so?’
‘Jill Gwinnett is… was a woman from the old school, if you pardon the pun. She wasn’t exactly a liberal, if you get my drift. As a child, she went to a rather traditional convent school – all nuns, long skirts and corporal punishment – and had rather strident views on the state of Catholic education and how it was changing to meet the twenty-first century.’
‘I take it she didn’t approve?’
‘No. And that was where we disagreed.’
Leigh’s voice hardened.
‘I am a product of the Catholic education system myself. Several of my own teachers were in holy orders and some of the older ones hadn’t updated their practices since before the war, to be frank. But those days have passed. I passionately believe that faith schools have a vital role to play in modern education and I’ll have no truck with anyone who says otherwise. But we are in the business of growing young people who are not only of good moral and spiritual character, but are also fully prepared for the challenges of the future. It is entirely possible to balance a good, twenty-first century education against a school run on Catholic principles, without needing to hark back to the dark ages.’
‘Unfortunately, it seems that neither OFSTED nor the diocese felt that you had achieved that balance.’
It was a low blow and the flash of anger that crossed the man’s face made Warren glad he had Moray Ruskin sitting next to him.
The loss of control lasted only a couple of seconds, before he relaxed. His face returned to stone.
‘There is no denying that we
had a poor OFSTED, and I take full responsibility for that. Unfortunately, the GCSE results from Jill’s year group were a high water mark. The school faced significant challenges, but the Senior Leadership Team and the governors had already started to implement a long-term strategy. Jill was part of that working party. We may have disagreed on some things, but she was a gifted teacher and excellent pastoral leader and I knew we could learn a lot from the way she had managed her year group.
‘However, Jill Gwinnett and her cronies Father Beresford, Noah Ball and that dreadful wife of his, Patricia, saw an opportunity to take control and the bastards stabbed me in the back. Within six months they’d pretty much appointed the entire governing body. To this day, I still can’t work out how the hell he managed to get his own wife onto the board, even if she was only an adviser.
‘As for Jill Gwinnett, I gave that bitch everything, and that was how she repaid me.’
Day Four
‘Do you think he did it?’
DSI John Grayson stood beside Warren, looking at the video monitor showing custody suite one.
‘Well, he’s certainly angry enough, and he has plenty of motive,’ replied Warren. ‘I also found some of the language he used to describe Jill Gwinnett and Patricia Ball worryingly misogynistic. Under the right circumstances, I could see him being violent, especially towards women.’
Russell Leigh sat stock-still, staring into space. He’d been there for the past hour; free to leave any time he wished, but seemingly content to wait for his solicitor to arrive.
‘He demanded a lawyer as soon as you invited him to give a formal statement, I hear?’ stated Grayson.
‘Yes. He was happy to attend a voluntary interview this morning but insisted on representation.’
‘Guilty or prudent?’
‘Definitely prudent. As to whether he is also guilty, I really don’t know.’ Warren pursed his lips. ‘To be honest, I think he’s playing with us a little. It sounds crazy, but even if he didn’t do it, I think he’s enjoying the fact that he’s a suspect.’