‘I think I may have got off on the wrong foot with you yesterday, ma’am,’ he’d said as they waited for the car.
‘Do you have a right one, Jones?’
Tamsin did not want this conversation.
‘It was just that when I referred to the investigation as a “car crash”, I was referring, of course, to the abbot fellow, not you.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah – we understand from the chief inspector that he wasn’t quite up to the mark. An old man out of his depth – to put it politely!’ Tamsin had looked at him blankly. ‘Just wanted to clear up that little misunderstanding, ma’am – the “car crash” wasn’t you – it was the abbot.’
Tamsin had said nothing and got into the car.
‘Good morning, everyone!’
said Chief Inspector Wonder in his heartiest manner. He could handle public speaking, could always get the punters on his side, even in a tricky situation like the one before him now. Assembled in the common room were the suspects, all looking rather withdrawn and none more so than Bart, who was struggling to keep his eyes open. He said to Geoff that he couldn’t understand it, that he hadn’t had that much to drink and Geoff had said, ‘You’re just a lightweight, Bart!’
‘It’s like I’ve been drugged.’
‘You have. It’s called alcohol.’
‘And thank you for gathering so promptly this morning,’ continued Wonder. ‘The early bird catches the worm, as they say.’
‘I don’t see many worms caught so far,’ said Penny.
‘That’s going to change, believe me!’
‘But the second mouse gets the cheese,’ said Geoff, who was not an early morning man.
‘Er, quite,’ said Wonder, who had to press on. ‘And I’m here to announce the fact that I’m bringing in a new investigation team this morning.’ He looked for a reaction but found none. ‘A new team to continue the work in the school – hopefully bringing it to the quick conclusion we all want.’ He looked at Tamsin. ‘I know you all must be eager to get away, and believe me, we do not wish to detain you for a moment longer than is necessary.’ He could have done with a little more enthusiasm. After all, he was the knight in shining armour here. ‘You know DI Shah of course, and she’ll continue to head-up the investigation. But she’ll be assisted now by Detective Sergeants Jones and Shaw, both very meticulous officers – and perhaps more suited to this sort of work than the, er, abbot fellow.’
‘What’s to become of the abbot?’ asked Penny.
‘He’s finished,’ said Wonder succinctly.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, he will no longer be involved in the case. In this case – or any other case.’ Put that on record, thought Wonder, public record.
‘And where’s Cressida?’ asked Penny, worried.
People looked around and noticed her absence for the first time.
‘Could someone go and find her?’ said Wonder. ‘Jones?’
Jones sprang into action as the common room door opened and all eyes looked round. There was Cressida standing in the doorway, still in her running gear, hands tied behind her back, dead-eyed and pale. If she’d slept, there was no evidence of the fact.
‘She’s here,’ said a voice in the shadows.
It was a voice they knew.
‘No need to concern yourself, Jones,’ said the abbot. ‘I went and found her.’ Peter now emerged from behind the prisoner with PC Wilson beside him. ‘And the excellent PC Wilson here has helped her stay found. While you all slept, he has been a most excellent guard.’
‘Cressida, what happened?’ Penny was up immediately, but Benedict calmed her. She sat back down as the widow walked forward. The abbot and Wilson guided her to a seat. She sat down between the two.
‘Top copper, this one!’ volunteered Wilson to no one and everyone. What’s Wilson saying? thought Wonder. Is he talking about me?
‘Well, now we’re all here,’ said Wonder, reclaiming control, ‘I’ll hand over to the new investigation team to get started with the handover . . .’
‘No need, sir,’ said Wilson.
‘I beg your pardon?’
Why was Wilson getting involved? Had he forgotten who was in charge here?
‘The investigation’s over, sir! We sorted it last night – me and the abbot.’
‘And Benedict,’ said Peter quietly, like a prompt in a school play.
‘And Mr Bleake, yeah.’
Wonder’s clean shirt was becoming infused with sweat once again – and so early in the day . . . particularly unfortunate as he wasn’t wearing a jacket.
‘I can explain,’ said the abbot.
‘No, let me explain,’ said Benedict, standing. ‘As the representative of the Bleake family today – and father of . . . the murderer, Cressida Cutting, née Bleake.’
Jones stepped in. Let the amateurism be halted here.
‘I think you’ll find she has an alibi for the murder of Jamie King, mate. Cast iron.’ He referred to his notes, ostentatiously. ‘Having made a call from home at the precise time the headmaster was killed. Now, if you’d like the serious investigation to begin . . .’
This was his chance to make his mark with the chief inspector. And he was going to take it.
‘Crispin?’ said Peter . . . and all eyes turned towards the former head boy, who was blushing. ‘Help us now – and I’m sure all will be well.’
Crispin looked at Cressida – but she didn’t return his gaze. He then looked at Holly who returned it in full.
‘I made the call,’ he said, his voice steady and clear.
‘You what?’ asked Penny.
‘I made it. Cressida asked me to make a call from her home, when she was out . . . and I made it.’
‘But why on earth?’ said Geoff, who’d known Crispin since he was seven, a small boy in shorts in the prep school, such a nervous little fellow.
‘Dr Cutting asked me if I might help her out.’
‘Help her out?’
‘Of a tricky situation. I didn’t know what, didn’t need to know . . . at the time.’
Benedict was on his feet again: ‘I am a witness to the confession of Cressida, by the way – the confession in which she admitted to the murders of her husband, Jamie King, and Jennifer Stiles.’
‘You bitch!’ shouted Penny. ‘You killed my sister!’
And now Cressida laughed, sudden life in her face.
‘The secret team, Jennifer and Penny, the hidden sisters of Stormhaven Towers trying to get you the headship!’ There was shock all around her. ‘How you harassed Jamie about him moving on. “In your own time, of course, Jamie – but when the call comes from on high . . .”’ Again, the savage mimic.
‘Somewhat wasted as a doctor!’ said Ferdinand to no one in particular. ‘The mimicry is quite excellent!’
‘But it wasn’t secret from me,’ said Cressida. ‘I’m an expert with family photos, I always know who’s who. And all because your pathetic father was broken by this place.’
‘You bitch!’
Cressida wanted to explain, or rather, to humiliate: ‘Penny’s dear daddy was expelled from Stormhaven Towers! Did none of you know that? Oh yes, the sad man was expelled from here. And then – being the inadequate he was – he turned to crime and drink. It’s a joke!’ Cressida was hysterical, no one had seen her like this. And Penny was up again in anger but Sergeant Shaw used effective restraint. Were all private schools like this?
‘Nothing personal, though, not with Jennifer,’ continued the doctor, who was some way past caring, a furious ego at play. ‘Jennifer was collateral damage. I just needed her phone for a while, I took it over tea, and all was fine – until she remembered where she lost it. And so I arranged a meeting between the two of you at Tide Mills, using your phone this time, Penny – Tide Mills where you used to play together
. I knew she’d come.’ Despair and sadness broke Penny’s face, past anger now. ‘She just knew the text must be from you. I need help. Meet me at Tide Mills at 8. You’ll be reassured to know that your sister was very prompt. She’d clearly do anything for you.’
Stunned silence.
‘Cressida, dear,’ said Benedict, ‘you don’t have to speak now.’
‘And I don’t have to listen to you and your rules any longer.’
‘I came here to help you, Cressida . . . clearly I failed.’
‘You – help me? You could never help me! You’re the cause, not the cure! You sold my pony!’
This was news to everyone. Was this really about a pony?
‘We talked about that at the time,’ said Benedict. He remembered the pony. ‘It was difficult but we all agreed . . .’
‘I never agreed.’
‘Your mother and I . . .’
‘It was the only creature I’d ever loved or felt loved by.’
Cressida had never sounded so raw – or so young.
‘You needed to concentrate on your studies.’
‘And I did, Father, I did!’
‘You did.’
‘And haven’t I done well? Proud of me, I hope!’
Benedict breathed deeply.
‘I could see the affair growing in your mind – but I couldn’t stop it.’ His voice weakened, as if losing the power to speak. He was talking to himself.
Benedict sat down. But Peter wasn’t finished: ‘And while Terence undoubtedly killed himself, poor soul, he was encouraged by Cressida here.’
‘He wasn’t an embezzler, surely?’ said Penny.
‘No,’ said Peter. ‘He didn’t embezzle funds – he merely found himself crucified by a forbidden love.’
‘Forbidden by whom?’
‘Terence was gay.’
‘Absolutely not!’ said Ferdinand. ‘I won’t countenance the name of a good man being . . .’
‘He had a brief relationship with Benedict,’ continued the abbot calmly. ‘But he couldn’t cope with the self-hate and when Cressida threatened exposure, well . . . Chief Inspector?’
Wonder was poleaxed.
‘It does look like there have been some advancements in the case since yesterday,’ he said.
‘That rather undersells the achievement, Chief Inspector,’ said Benedict. ‘It’s solved . . . the case is closed.’
‘A little premature, perhaps . . .’
‘As PC Wilson said, we have a “top copper” here,’ continued Benedict as he looked with both warmth and sadness towards Peter. Without Peter, his daughter would surely have got away with it, she was clever – she would not have been caught, never. But did he wish his daughter her freedom? When was the right time for one’s child to face the music and take responsibility for things done? Benedict had created a successful business; but whether he had done so well with his family . . .
‘We all get lucky sometimes!’ said Wonder, in a bluff sort of way.
‘No,’ said Benedict, who had no love for this pompous officer of the law. ‘He got clever, Chief Inspector, and he got brave. While you slept last night, snoring in Mrs Wonder’s ear, this abbot lured the killer out into the woods.’
Tamsin looked questioningly across to Peter, a hint of mirth, their first eye contact since her return. The abbot mouthed ‘later’.
‘He was acting like he was drunk!’ said Holly, excitedly. ‘He was saying how rubbish the police were – and how he so knew who the killer was, and like, how he was going to announce the killer today!’
The abbot looked suitably abashed, as an actor must when his performance is praised.
‘Look, I’m so sorry, Abbot,’ said Bart, leaning forward. ‘I was meant to protect you. I don’t know what happened.’
‘You were drugged,’ said Peter. ‘And I was the fool, not you. She read my hand too easily.’
‘I genuinely thought you were being a complete prat!’ said Holly merrily. ‘And, like, we did “playing drunk” in drama. It’s not as easy as you think!’
‘You became the shark bait,’ said Crispin, who was now holding hands with Holly. ‘Bloody amazing.’
‘Well, the shark bait would not be here but for Benedict,’ said Peter. ‘Without Benedict, the shark would have won – death by hemlock.’
Faces now turned towards Benedict Bleake, who tried to play the whole thing down.
‘I merely saw the trap being laid,’ he said. ‘After all, I noted the abbot drinking nothing stronger than tonic water all night – with a lemon, to give the appearance of gin.’ There was some consternation, as if this was cheating in some way. ‘But I also knew who would fall into his trap – who would have to push the boundaries further still.’ He sighed. ‘I went to Loner’s Wood to be with my daughter upon her arrest, nothing more. The saving of Abbot Peter was not my intention. And since virtue is all about intention, there was no virtue at all.’ Ferdinand nodded. ‘But I am glad to have done so, in a manner. I respect the abbot’s power of being nothing but sane . . . quite rare, in my experience.’
Tamsin then spoke, quietly and calmly: ‘Clearly I’ll need to have contact addresses for you all. We’ll also need to take statements from each of you before you go. But with that done – and we’ll work to make sure this is all done as soon as possible – then you are free to leave and start your summer holiday.’
‘What about our phones?’ asked Holly, instantly, for here was a more pressing matter than any holiday . . . or murder.
‘With your phones,’ said Tamsin and there were cheers and a sweep of relief across the room.
‘Hallelujah!’ shouted Geoff, both fists in the air, and everybody laughed – apart from Ferdinand who started to cry. It was Crispin who said, ‘You don’t need to cry, sir,’ but Ferdinand didn’t reply.
Tamsin continued, now standing in front of Wonder – perhaps unwittingly, who can say? But he was cut off from the audience. ‘And I’m sure it’s only right to say that we’re all grateful to Abbot Peter for bringing this case to such a swift conclusion.’ There were mutters of approval, ‘hear, hear!’ and the like. ‘My only contribution – small but telling – was to bring him in on the case in the first place.’ She smiled awkwardly at Peter and then turning round, smiled at Wonder . . . in triumph. ‘We’ve worked well together in the past, the abbot and I. And perhaps we will do again?’
And the other question on Tamsin’s mind was this: with whom was Cressida having the affair?
Wonder had left the scene.
He’d driven away from Stormhaven Towers with Jones, Shaw and Dr Cutting, who had been placed under arrest. ‘I’m arresting you for the murders of Jamie King and Jennifer Stiles,’ said Jones, with a trace of regret. ‘You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say . . .’ Cressida wasn’t listening to the boy. And there wasn’t much talk in the car on the journey back to Lewes. Wonder remained in the driving seat but it seemed to count for less. His day was a strange ruin given the successful outcome of the investigation; while for Jones and Shaw, there was a terrible sense of anticlimax. Cressida Cutting remained silent. She had no time for these people, had nothing to say to them. Prison didn’t frighten her. It might even be quite interesting. She’d still be a doctor and everyone loved a doctor . . . especially the prison officers.
*
Back at Stormhaven Towers, the atmosphere in the common room was less elated than might be expected with murders solved and eight weeks of holiday beckoning.
‘Sometimes you don’t know the stress you carry until someone takes it away,’ said Penny to Peter. The former murder suspects were relaxing with coffee and chocolate bars which the abbot had brought from his room. Further supplies had thoughtfully been delivered by Wilson, from the local newsagent�
�s. Wilson was thinking that one day he might like to run a hotel by the sea.
‘And was Cressida right about your father?’ asked Peter.
‘Yes, he died of liver failure four years ago. Both Jennifer and I, we wanted to come back here to the scene of the crime and redeem it in some way, reclaim it for the family.’
‘The crime?’
‘They expelled him for groping a minor, when he himself was a minor . . . he never recovered. I mean, he was young, he was just growing up, unboundaried – he wasn’t gay, for a start!’ She paused, her anger cooling. ‘Though Jennifer did become slightly too close to Jamie. I mean, she never said as much – but I sensed a change.’
‘And now, Penny?’
‘Oh, I’ll apply for the headship.’
‘The school hasn’t hurt you enough?’
Penny’s eyes watered a little.
‘Nothing is bad in itself, Abbot – if that doesn’t sound too much like a fridge magnet.’
‘It does sound a little like a fridge magnet.’
‘I mean, I’m no great fan of the chapel here – certainly not as delivered by the chaplain. But I keep coming back to the word redemption. I don’t know exactly what it means – but I do believe that graves are for the planting of flowers. I like flowers.’
‘Just be careful which flowers you grow. Avoid wolfsbane where possible . . .’
*
‘We will be pressing charges,’ said Tamsin to Ferdinand, an isolated figure . . . though Crispin and Holly had sat with him for a while. Holly had even apologized for the trouble she’d caused him – an apology which Ferdinand had accepted with a nod. ‘It’ll be up to the CPS as to whether they take it further.’
‘But the matter is dealt with, surely – finished?’ he’d said.
‘How exactly is it finished?’
‘Well, it was so long ago – and Holly has apologized to me, just now, you can ask her. She apologized for the trouble she’s caused me. That says something surely?’
A (Very) Public School Murder Page 24