by Wes Markin
A tear ran down her face. ‘Promise me.’
‘It wouldn’t be appropriate to promise,’ Yorke said, enveloping her hand with his and gently trying to move it away.
‘Please ...’
‘Mrs Ray–’
‘I need you to, I really do.’ The grip on his arm suddenly tightened.
‘Okay,’ Yorke said.
‘Thank you.’ She released his arm.
As he walked out of the classroom, Yorke looked out of the windows at the falling snow, and wondered how Harry would feel about him making a promise to the relatives of the bastard who’d murdered his wife.
****
Yorke said to Jake, ‘Change of plan, you interview Rushton alone, I want to get back to the crime scene and check everything is okay.’
‘It’s best you do, it’s swarming with forensics already. I also saw half of Wiltshire’s police force in reception; I hope no-one decides to rob a bank in Salisbury today.’
‘Get Rushton to run through what happened again, and then start gathering details of his private life, history in the school, relationships with students, staff and ... ‘ Yorke narrowed his eyes, spun and marched back down the corridor.
‘The crime scene is the other way,’ Jake said after him.
‘Something was bothering me before and it just started bothering me again,’ he called back to Jake.
He opened the door, nodded at Willows and approached Rushton who had changed into a pair of shorts and a tattered t-shirt. He took a seat opposite and Jake joined him.
‘Feels good to be out of that shirt,’ Rushton said.
‘Why did you go and look for Paul Ray?’ Yorke said. ‘Why did you not send the support assistant?’
Rushton sat up. There was a pause. ‘I was worried.’
Yorke looked at his notes. ‘You said he was gone fifteen minutes. Was that really enough time to start worrying?’
‘It was unusual.’
‘But still, why suddenly worry? He could have gone to see the nurse. Why did you assume the worst?’
‘We don’t have real problems with truanting or wandering off from lessons here. Something must have been wrong.’
‘How long have you worked here?’
‘Over three years.’
‘And in that entire time, no student has ever disappeared from your classroom for fifteen minutes?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘So, they have?’
‘Yes, once or twice.’
‘And did you panic then?’
Rushton looked down. ‘I can’t remember. Look, he’s a good student, like I said. He wouldn’t just disappear, I think I had a reason to worry.’
‘I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t send the support assistant.’
Rushton raised his eyebrows. ‘Because she couldn’t go into the boys’ toilets.’
Yorke made a few notes. He reflected for a moment on Rushton’s explanations, deciding that the best way to verify them was to speak to other witnesses. ‘I’m going to leave you in DS Pettman’s good hands. Run through everything you’ve told me and then he’ll take some more details off you.’
He leaned over to Jake. ‘Keep me updated.’
****
Despite there being more warm bodies, the crime scene felt colder than it had done before. Scientific Support Officer, Lance Reynolds, nicknamed ‘the Elf’ due to the spritely dance he conducted around crime scenes with his camera, was snapping the bloody footprints on the corridor. He was in charge of a small group of SOCOs who were dusting for prints and scouring the floor for evidence. He noticed Divisional Surgeon, Patricia Wileman, who Yorke had asked for in case a body materialised in the vicinity, talking to a SOCO. Despite her forty years, Patricia did not look a day over thirty. She had a keen sense of style and wore expensive well-cut skirts and blouses. Jake was always trying to get Yorke to ask her out on a date.
Yorke hung back behind the taped line with PC Sean Tyler, who was still managing the logbook.
‘We can be sure of one thing,’ a familiar voice said from behind. ‘If that is the boy’s blood, he’s dead.’
Yorke turned around and grinned at DI Mark Topham. ‘Always positive, aren’t you?’
‘I did emphasise the if.’
‘It’s been a few months,’ Yorke said, shaking his hand. He noticed Topham was tanned. ‘Been on holiday?’
‘If Sunseeker’s Salon could be considered a holiday.’
‘As long as it isn’t sprayed on. Have you interviewed Abbey Lingard?’
‘I just spoke to her. Nice eyes. I have to be honest, I struggled to stay focused―’
‘Come on, Mark, not now; there’s chaos all around you.’
For some reason, Mark Topham considered being in the police as glamorous, making his lifestyle rather hedonistic. Several failed marriages behind him and an overwhelming fascination with appearance over substance were testament to that. But he had an uncanny ability to keep witnesses and suspects at ease and, despite being excessively vain, was well-liked by his colleagues.
‘You’re right,’ Topham said, unable to supress a grin. ‘Abbey claimed to have had a good relationship with Paul. Said he turned up this morning on time and didn’t seem under duress. She also pointed me in the direction of best mate Nathan White, who Iain is with right now. She didn’t have much time for Simon Rushton though. Must have mentioned him in a rather negative way three or four times.’
‘How so?’
‘Said he was too strict with the children and let them have it when he wasn’t in a good mood. She claimed his marriage is on the rocks, and he hasn’t been in the best of spirits. Knew nothing about his actual relationship with Paul Ray though.’
Topham looked through his notes whilst playing with a professionally plucked eyebrow. ‘Oh, and she didn’t buy the fact that he went looking for the boy, rather than his support assistant. She thought that was very odd.’
‘I did too.’
‘What did you make of him?’
‘Too early to tell. Jake is with him now.’
‘As soon as this hits the press, you know who’ll be calling, don’t you?’
‘I know. I’ve also been thinking about the message left on the wall.’
‘”In the blood?”’
Yorke said, ‘Yes ... do you remember, back when it all happened, I thought about quitting the force?’
‘I remember.’
‘And do you remember what you told me?’
‘I told you quitting was nonsense, because you’re a copper, and it’s in your blood.’
‘So, what’s in Paul’s blood?’
‘Well, he’s a Ray by blood, and that’s never a good thing, considering their history...’ Topham paused and a faraway look entered his eyes.
‘Mark?’
‘Do you remember how horrible that day was?’
‘I remember it taking three of us to get Harry to the ground.’
‘Yes, me, you and Emma. Then, I had to pry that camera he snatched off Reynolds from his fingers. That bit sticks with me the most. His grip was like a dead man’s.’
‘What are you two talking about?’ Straight to the point ― it had to be DS Iain Brookes.
‘Look around, take a guess,’ Topham said.
Despite his questionable social skills and emotional intelligence, Brookes’ talents with computers went unrivalled; he should really have been a DI by now, but he had a poor, often disrespectful attitude toward senior officers.
Yorke said, ‘Iain, good to see you.’
Brookes shrugged. ‘Thanks.’
‘What does the best friend, Nathan White, have to say?’
‘Lots of tears and snot, so it was difficult to probe him for too long. He did say he wasn’t spending that much time with Paul at the moment. They used to meet up in the mornings to walk in together; recently, Paul started to walk in earlier and alone.’
‘Did Nathan give a reason?’
‘Not really. He said they’
d not fallen out or anything; it was just they were spending less time together. Nathan suggested it might be because Paul wanted to spend longer with his head in a book. He did mention that Paul had been upset recently regarding his mother and father not getting along. He’d called his father a bastard on more than one occasion.’
‘That’s interesting,’ Yorke said.
Brookes shrugged again. ‘Yes. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Probably because my father’s a complete bastard too. But I guess it’s relevant. What are you thinking so far?’
‘Difficult. If Jessica Hart confirms that Rushton was only gone a few minutes and he has done the unthinkable to Paul, then the body would have to be stashed somewhere in the school.’
‘And if he is lying and he was gone longer? Would he have managed to get the body out to the grounds around the cathedral?’ Brookes said.
‘Possible, I suppose. PoLSA are on the way; they’ll be tearing up the grounds with Alsatians within the hour. If it’s not Rushton, then it’s plausible someone else could have snatched him from the toilets or elsewhere in the school.’
‘But if the blood is Paul’s―’
‘I know,’ Yorke said. ‘But I’m struggling to see it. Could someone really have enough time to kill him, wrap him up, change his own clothes, and carry him out without anybody seeing anything?’
Topham swept his hand through his hair, giving it the messy look he admired in the teenage indie musicians he listened to regularly. ‘What do we know about Joe and Sarah Ray? Do they own much? Is it worth kidnapping their son?’
‘When was the last time we had a kidnapping?’ Brookes said, screwing up his face. ‘It’s too difficult for them to get away with it. What if the boy is just truanting?’
‘Maybe,’ Topham said, nodding. ‘Could be as a result of the issues that he has with his father at the moment?’
Yorke said, ‘Still, it seems rather elaborate for a twelve year old boy. All that blood and the writing.’
Topham continued his nod.
‘Well, we have over a thousand people in this school, someone must have seen something,’ Brookes said.
Yorke took a deep breath. ‘Mark, get officers to circulate the classrooms and brief everyone on the fact that Paul Ray has gone missing from the toilets. Provide them with the time frame, but keep the details of the actual crime scene out of it. Hopefully, a teacher or a student will then come forward to give us more information on what is going on around here.’
Topham nodded.
‘And me?’ Brookes said.
‘I would like you to interview Paula Moorhouse, the librarian who phoned us, and saw Rushton running back and forth from the toilet. I’ll interview Jessica Hart. Let’s see just how tight Rushton’s version of events really is.’
****
Jessica Hart was an attractive woman, and her blonde, lively hair, coupled with her well-fitted dress, made her glow. Yorke wondered if he would have enjoyed school more if she had been teaching him.
‘Can you describe your relationship to Simon Rushton?’
Her eyes widened. Yorke knew that it was a peculiar question to open with. That had been his intention.
‘I’ve been supporting him in that class since September, looking after a boy with Asperger’s.’
‘So, would you describe your relationship as good?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Jessica said, fiddling with her engagement ring. ‘He’s a fantastic teacher, who always tells me what he wants me to do before the lesson begins. Not many teachers go to that much trouble.’
‘I’ve heard reports that he’s quite strict.’
‘Yes, but that’s important,’ Jessica said. ‘It brings a calmness to his lessons that I see missing in other classrooms. The children are more productive.’
‘Even if they don’t like him?’
‘It’s not about liking him.’
‘Did Paul Ray like him?’
‘I don’t know. Their relationship didn’t seem any different to Simon’s relationships with other students.’
‘Do you think Simon Rushton could have anything to do with what happened?’
‘Not a chance,’ Jessica said and crossed her arms.
Yorke made some notes. ‘Can you take me through your version of events this morning?’
She brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. ‘A minute after break, Paul asked to go to the toilet. Of course, Simon said no at first, but then he started to get upset because he had diarrhoea. At quarter past eleven, Simon told me to watch the class whilst he went to check whether Paul was alright.’
‘Sorry to interrupt, Ms Hart, but did you not think that was strange?’
She looked confused. ‘Not really―’
‘Why didn’t he send you?’
‘I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about it. Maybe he was worried about him. He does care, you know, despite what other teachers might say.’
‘Still, wouldn’t he just assume that he was still in the school toilets, or with the nurse? Surely, it would make sense to send you.’
‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.’
‘I have. Continue please.’
‘At twenty-five past eleven, Simon appeared back at the door―’
Yorke’s heartbeat quickened. ‘Sorry, what time?’
‘Twenty-five past eleven.’
‘You sound so sure?’
‘Yes, I looked at the clock just before he got back because I noticed he’d been gone a really long time.’
‘And he definitely left at quarter past eleven?’
‘Yes. We’d looked at the clock to see how long Paul had gone―’
Yorke stood up. ‘Excuse me, Ms Hart.’
Outside the room, he phoned Brookes. ‘Are you with the librarian?’
‘Yes. I’m just running through her version of events.’
‘Does she know the exact times she saw Rushton walking to the toilet and then running back?’
‘I’ll ask her now, give me a minute.’
Yorke kept his phone in his hand as he commenced the walk back outside to where Jake was interviewing Rushton. He stared at the heart of Salisbury, the cathedral. With no shops or chain stores in sight, it was easy to feel you’d been transported back to medieval times. Even the modernised city around it had attempted to keep outward appearances gracious to culture and history. Victorian villas, Georgian mansions and half-timbered Tudor houses welcomed the visitor to a living museum.
His phone rang. ‘Iain?’
‘She’s not sure on the time when he first came past, but he asked her to call the police at twenty-four minutes past eleven ― she remembers looking at the time on the phone display when she contacted them.’
‘Thanks Iain, I’ll speak to you soon.’
He moved quickly down the corridor, peering in at DI Emma Gardner still interviewing Joe and Sarah Ray. He reached DC Collette Willows again, who couldn’t resist cracking a smile.
‘I know, Collette, I’m in and out like a yo-yo.’
Yorke noticed his heart was still beating fast as he sat down next to Jake, opposite Rushton.
‘Mr Rushton, I’ve already talked to you about how important your version of events is; important to us, and of course, important to yourself. There are discrepancies in what you told me. You told me you left the room at quarter past eleven and estimated that you arrived back at seventeen minutes past.’
‘I estimated because I can’t be sure of the exact time.’
‘Yes, but two witnesses are sure. The librarian said that you asked her to call the police at twenty-four minutes past, and Jessica Hart said you arrived back at twenty-five minutes past.’
Rushton grew paler. ‘So, it was ten minutes?’
‘You told me it only takes thirty seconds to walk to the toilet, and you ran back. What happened during those ten minutes Mr Rushton? And you must be completely honest with me now.’
‘I called my wife before I went to the toilet. I’m sorry, it sl
ipped my mind with everything that happened―’
‘Do you often leave your classroom to phone your wife?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘So, why today then?’
‘She’d phoned three times.’ He paused to sigh. ‘Something was wrong. I didn’t really have a choice.’
‘So you used Paul Ray’s disappearance as an excuse?’
‘Yes, but of course I didn’t realise he’d actually disappeared.’
‘Can I see your phone log?’
‘Yes,’ Rushton said, hoisting his phone out. He showed Yorke the three missed calls from his wife between eleven and eleven fourteen; he also showed his return call to her which began at eleven sixteen and finished at eleven twenty-one.
‘What was the emergency?’
Rushton looked down at the table. ‘It wasn’t an emergency, she was angry.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s personal, can I not keep it that way?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
He sighed. ‘My wife’s friend saw me having a drink with Jessica Hart last night at a pub after work.’
‘Was the drink innocent?’
‘Not really,’ Rushton said, and sighed again. ‘We kissed.’
‘You’re having an affair?’
‘Not as such, we’ve only kissed. Too much to drink I think.’
‘Jessica’s engaged to be married?’
‘Yes. That’s why she wanted me to keep this information out of the interview. Will her fiancé find out?’
‘I don’t know, but right now, that is not a concern. Will you come to the station and make a statement?’
‘Am I a suspect?’
‘As I said, you discovered the crime scene, you are important. I hope you can continue helping us.’
‘Of course. I’ll go.’
‘DC Willows will take you.’
Yorke found a quiet spot to contact HQ and request background information on Simon Rushton and Paul’s parents. Rushton was clean, but he suspected this would be the case – to work in this school, he’d have to have had a sparkling Criminal Records Bureau check. He’d had a very eventful career in the army, but was well decorated, and highly regarded.
Joe Ray had never wanted for anything. The pig farm run by his grandparents had made a fortune. He’d invested his inheritance on an expensive little shop in town which sold colonial styled furniture imported from China and lived in a cottage which was worth over half a million.