‘Anything else, Sir?’
Woody put the stress ball back and took off his glasses. ‘Keep me updated.’
‘Of course.’
‘Oh, and Stone ...’
She turned at the door. ‘Let your team have some sleep now and again. They’re not all charged via a USB port like you.’
Kim left his office, wondering how long it had taken Woody to come up with that little gem.
Five
Kim followed Courtney, the school receptionist, through the hallways of Saint Joseph’s on their way to the office of the Acting Principal. From behind, Kim marvelled at the woman’s ability to move so swiftly in four-inch heels.
Bryant sighed as they passed classroom after classroom. ‘Weren’t these just the best days of your life?’
‘No.’
They turned into a long corridor on the second floor and were led into an office with a discoloured oblong on the door where the name plate had already been taken off.
The male behind the desk stood. His suit was expensive and his tie was a sky blue silky number. The flat black colour of his hair indicated it had been recently dyed.
He offered his hand across the desk. Kim turned away, examining the contents of the walls. Any certificates or memorabilia containing the name of Teresa Wyatt had already been removed.
Bryant accepted the extended hand.
‘Thank you for accommodating our request, Mr Whitehouse.’
‘You’re the Deputy Principal, I understand,’ Kim noted.
He nodded and sat. ‘I will be stepping in as Acting Principal and if I can be of any assistance in the investigation ...’
‘Oh, I’m sure you will be,’ Kim interrupted. There was something disingenuous about his manner. Too well rehearsed. The fact he had already moved into Teresa Wyatt’s office and removed all traces of her existence was distasteful to say the least. The woman had been dead for less than twelve hours. She guessed that his curriculum vitae had already been updated.
‘We’d like a list of all staff members. Please arrange for them to be available to speak with us in alphabetical order.’
The set of his jaw indicated that he didn’t respond all that well to instruction. Kim briefly wondered if that was the case with all women or just her.
He lowered his eyes. ‘Of course. I’ll have Courtney arrange that for you immediately. I’ve made available a room down the hall that will more than meet your needs to conduct the interviews.’
Kim looked around and shook her head. ‘No, I think we’ll be just fine right here.’
His mouth opened to respond but good manners prevented him laying total claim to the workspace so soon.
Whitehouse gathered some belongings from the top of the desk and headed towards the door. ‘Courtney will be with you shortly.’
As the door closed behind the Acting Principal, Bryant chuckled.
‘What?’ she asked, taking the chair behind the desk.
‘Nothing, Guv.’
He moved one of the chairs to the side of the desk and sat down.
Kim assessed the placement of the remaining chair for the interviewees.
‘Move that one back a little.’
Bryant moved the chair so that it was closer to the door. Adrift. There was nothing to lean on or sit against. Now she could observe the body language.
A light knock sounded on the door. They both shouted ‘come in’ at the same time.
Courtney entered with a piece of paper and a smile that was trying to climb out of her mouth. So, Mr Whitehouse was not all that popular.
‘Mr Addlington is outside when you’re ready.’
Kim nodded. ‘Please show him in.’
‘Can I get you anything else? Coffee, tea?’
‘You most certainly can. Coffee for both of us.’
Courtney headed to the door and reached it before Kim remembered. ‘Thanks, Courtney.’
Courtney nodded and held the door open for the first interviewee.
Six
By four fifteen p.m., after twelve identical conversations, Kim’s head hit the desk. There was something satisfying about the thunk of her skull on wood.
‘I know what you mean, Guv,’ Bryant offered. ‘Looks like we’ve got ourselves a real life saint in the morgue.’
He took a pack of mentholyptus cough sweets from his pocket. By her count that was his fifth.
Two years ago a chest infection had prompted an instruction from the doctor to give up his habit of thirty cigarettes a day. In an effort to get rid of the ripping cough Bryant had popped the sweets non-stop. The smoking had gone but an addiction to the cough sweets had remained.
‘You really need to cut down on those, you know.’
‘It’s that kind of day, Guv.’
And like a seasoned smoker, he indulged more when stressed or bored.
‘Who’s next?’
Bryant consulted the list. ‘Joanna Wade, English Language.’
Kim rolled her eyes as the door opened. In stepped a woman wearing tailored black trousers and a lilac silk shirt. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail revealing a strong square jaw and little make up.
She sat without offering her hand and crossed her right ankle over her left. Her hands landed neatly in her lap.
‘We won’t take up too much of your time, Mrs Wade. We just need to ask you a few questions.’
‘Ms.’
‘Excuse me.’
‘It’s Ms, Detective, not Mrs, but please call me Joanna.’
The voice was low and controlled with a hint of a northern accent.
‘Thank you, Ms Wade. How long have you known Principal Wyatt?’
The teacher smiled. ‘I was employed by Principal Wyatt almost three years ago.’
‘How was the working relationship between the two of you?’
Ms Wade fixed her gaze on Kim and cocked her head slightly. ‘Really, Detective, no foreplay?’
Kim ignored the innuendo and returned the gaze.
‘Please answer the question?’
‘Of course. We had a reasonable working relationship. Not without its ups and downs, which happens between most females, I find. Teresa was a very focused Principal, rigid in her beliefs and convictions.’
‘In what way?’
‘Methods of teaching have evolved since Teresa’s time in the classroom. Creativity is often needed to instil knowledge into young, fertile minds. We have all tried to adapt to a changing culture but Teresa believed that quiet, disciplined, book learning was the only way to teach and anyone who tried anything different was suitably advised.’
As Joanna Wade talked, Kim assessed her body language to be open and honest. She also noted that the woman had not glanced at Bryant once.
‘Can you give me an example?’
‘A couple of months ago one of my students turned in a paper whereby half of the prose had been written in abbreviations more commonly used to communicate by text message or on Facebook. I sent all twenty-three students to their lockers to retrieve their mobile phones. I then insisted that they spend the next ten minutes texting each other in correct, grammatical English including appropriate punctuation. This process felt completely alien to them and they all got the point.’
‘Which was?’
‘That the methods of communication don’t translate. It hasn’t happened since.’
‘And Teresa wasn’t happy with this?’
Ms Wade shook her head. ‘Not at all. She felt that the boy concerned should have been given detention and that would have sent a clearer message. I dared to disagree and Teresa made a note of insubordination on my file.’
‘This isn't the picture we’ve been getting from other members of staff here, Ms Wade.’
The woman shrugged. ‘I can’t speak for anyone else, however I would say that there are teachers here who have given up. Their methods of reaching young minds no longer work and they are treading water until retirement. They are content to remain uninspired and uninspiring.
I, however, am not.’ Again her head cocked to the side and a small smile tugged at her mouth. ‘Teaching today’s teenagers to appreciate the beauty and finesse of the English language is truly challenging. But, I firmly believe that one should never shy away from a challenge. Don’t you agree, Detective?’
Bryant coughed.
Kim offered a small smile in return. The woman’s confidence and open dialogue was a breath of fresh air after twelve identical responses. The blatant flirting was amusing.
Kim sat back. ‘What can you tell me about Teresa, the woman?’
‘Would you like me to toe the line and offer the politically correct epitaph reserved for the recently deceased – or should I be candid?’
‘Your honesty would be appreciated.’
Ms Wade re-crossed her legs. ‘As a school Principal, Teresa was driven and focused. As a woman, I feel that she was quite a selfish person. As you will see from her desk there are no pictures of anything or anyone important to her. She thought nothing of keeping staff members here until eight or nine o’clock.
‘A great deal of her time was spent at spas, shopping for designer clothes and booking expensive holidays.’
Bryant made a couple of notes.
‘Is there anything else you feel might be of help to the investigation?’
The woman shook her head.
‘Thank you for your time, Ms Wade.’
The woman sat forward. ‘If you’d like an alibi, Detective, I was at Liberty Gym practicing my yoga moves. Excellent for muscle flexibility. And if you're interested, I’m there every Thursday night.’
Kim met her gaze. The clear blue eyes sparkled with challenge. She sauntered towards the desk and held out a business card.
Kim had no choice but to hold out her hand. The woman placed the card in Kim’s palm and turned the contact into a handshake. Her touch was cool and firm. Her fingers lingered over Kim’s palm as the hand withdrew.
‘Here’s my number. Please feel free to call if I can be of any further assistance.’
‘Thank you, Ms Wade, you’ve been most helpful.’
‘Jesus, Guv,’ Bryant said as the door closed. ‘You didn’t need a book to read those signals.’
Kim shrugged. ‘You’ve either got it or you haven’t.’
She placed the card into her jacket pocket. ‘Any more?’
‘No, she was the last.’
They both stood. ‘That’s it for today. Go home and get some rest,’ Kim said.
She had a feeling they were going to need it.
Seven
‘Okay folks, hope you all got some rest and kissed your loved ones goodbye.’
‘Yeah, no social life for the foreseeable future,’ Dawson groaned. ‘So, no change for Stacey but the rest of us have real lives.’
Kim ignored him. For now. ‘The TUBs want this one solved by the end of the week.’
They all knew her acronym stood for Totally Unreasonable Brass. Substitution of the last word was optional, dependent on her mood.
Dawson sighed. ‘What if our murderer didn’t get the memo, Guv?’ he asked, checking his mobile phone.
‘Then come next Friday I’ll be arresting you and trust me, I can make it stick.’
Dawson laughed.
She remained serious. ‘Keep pissing me off, Kev, and it won’t be a joke. Now, what did we get from the post mortem?’
He took out his notebook. ‘Lungs full of water, definitely drowned. Two bruises just above her breasts. No sign of sexual assault, but difficult to tell.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Yep, she had chicken korma for dinner.’
‘Great, that’ll break the case wide open.’
Dawson shrugged. ‘Not really much to come out of it, Guv.’
‘Bryant?’
He moved a few pieces of paper but Kim knew that any information was already in his head.
‘The area was canvassed again yesterday but none of the neighbours saw or heard a thing. A couple of them knew her in passing but it would appear she wasn’t a coffee morning kind of person. Not the most sociable of sorts.’
‘Oh well, there’s a motive. Killed for her lack of community spirit.’
‘Folks been killed for less, Guv,’ Bryant responded and she had to concede the point. Three months earlier they had investigated the murder of a male nurse who had been killed for two cans of beer and the loose change in his pocket.
‘Anything else?’
Bryant picked up another piece of paper. ‘Nothing from forensics yet. Obviously no footprint evidence and the fibre analysis has just started.’
Kim thought about Locard’s exchange principle. It held the theory that the perpetrator of a crime will bring something to the scene and leave with something from it. It could be anything from a hair to a simple fibre. The art was in finding it. And with a crime scene trampled by eight fire officers and a waterlogged bathroom, trace evidence was not going to raise its hand voluntarily.
‘Prints?’
Bryant shook his head. ‘And we all know the murder weapon was a pair of hands so we’re unlikely to find them thrown in a bush somewhere.’
‘You know, Guv, it ain’t like this on CSI,’ Stacey offered. ‘Nothing on her phone either. All incoming and outgoing calls are either to St Joseph’s or local restaurants. Her contact list ain’t all that long.’
‘No friends or family at all?’
‘Certainly none she cared to keep in touch with. I’ve requested her home phone records and her laptop is on the way. Maybe there’ll be something there.’
Kim grunted. ‘So, basically, thirty-six hours in and we’ve got absolutely bugger all. We know nothing about this woman.’
Bryant stood. ‘Give me just a minute, Guv,’ he said and left the room.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, while Bryant powders his nose, let’s recap.’ She looked to the board which held barely more information than it had the day before.
‘We have a woman in her late forties who was ambitious and hard-working. She was not particularly sociable or popular. She lived alone, with no pets and no family connections. She was not involved in any dangerous activity and seems to have had no hobbies or interests whatsoever.’
‘That may not be the case,’ Bryant said, taking his seat. ‘Apparently she was quite interested in an archaeological dig that’s just been authorised to take place somewhere in Rowley Regis.’
‘And you know this how?’
‘Just spoke to Courtney.’
‘Courtney who?’
‘Courtney who brought us coffee all day yesterday. I asked if our victim had spoken to anyone different during the last few weeks. Courtney had been asked to get a number for a Professor Milton at Worcester College.’
‘I saw something on the local news about that,’ Stacey offered. ‘The Professor's been trying to get permission to work on that site for ages. It’s just a field since the old kids’ home caught fire but it’s rumoured to hold buried coins. He’s been fighting objections for about two years but got the final go ahead this week. It made the national news ‘cos of the long court battle.’
Finally, Kim felt the stirrings of excitement. Expressing interest in a local activity was hardly a smoking gun but it was more than they had ten minutes ago.
‘Okay, you two carry on digging, excuse the pun. Bryant, go fire up the Batmobile.’
Dawson sighed heavily.
Kim grabbed her jacket and paused at Dawson’s desk. ‘Stace, don’t you need the toilet right about now?’
‘No, Guv, I’m fine ...’
‘Stacey, leave the room.’
Tact and diplomacy had been invented by someone with too much time on their hands.
‘Kev, put your phone down a minute and listen. I know you're going through it a bit right now but you really brought it on yourself. If you'd managed to keep your dick in your pants for another couple of weeks you'd be in the loving embrace of your girlfriend and newborn daughter instead of back in your mum's spare ro
om.’
Kim was not in the habit of employing sensitivity with her team members. She had enough trouble conjuring it for the general public.
‘It was a stupid, drunken mistake at a stag party ...’
‘Kev, no offence, that's your problem not mine. But if you don't stop sulking like a little girl every time you don’t get your own way, that desk over there will not be the only one going spare. Do we understand each other?’
She gave him a hard stare. He swallowed and then nodded.
Without another word Kim left the room and headed down the stairs.
Dawson was a gifted detective but the line he was treading was a very thin one indeed.
Eight
For the second time in as many days, Kim walked amongst that air of naïve expectation present at every learning facility.
Bryant headed to the reception desk while she stood to the side. A group of males to her right were laughing at something on a mobile phone. One of the males turned to her. His gaze travelled the length of her body, pausing at her breasts. He tipped his head and smiled.
She mirrored his actions and took in the skinny jeans, V-neck T-shirt and Justin Bieber hairstyle.
She met his gaze and smiled in response. ‘Never gonna happen, sweetpea.’
He immediately turned back into the group, praying that his friends had not witnessed the exchange.
‘There’s something not quite right here,’ Bryant said. ‘Receptionist looked confused when I asked to see the professor. There’s someone coming but I don’t think it’s going to be him.’
Suddenly the groups began parting like the red sea as a woman four foot in heels bustled through. Her form was small but she travelled like a bullet, slowing for nothing. Her keen eyes searched the area and landed on the two of them.
‘Shit, hide,’ Bryant said, as she headed right for them.
‘Detectives?’ she said, offering her hand.
Kim’s nose was assaulted by the aroma of Apple Blossom. Tight greying curls clung closely to her head and her nose supported a pair of glasses that Dame Edna wanted back.
Silent Scream: An edge of your seat serial killer thriller (Detective Kim Stone crime thriller series Book 1) Page 3