by Jay Nadal
“With all due respect, Ma’am, we are still very early into our investigation. I can’t pull a rabbit out of a hat at the click of a finger.”
“Scott, you have to appreciate that sometimes our job becomes a little political, and more importantly people up there,” she said pointing with a finger at the ceiling above, “have a vested interest, and significant clout.”
“What are you getting at, Ma’am?”
“Superintendent Meadows is on my ass. He’s just had a call from Chief Constable Lennon. CC Lennon moves in the same circles as several of the governors on the board of Edmunston-Hunt. I’ll go as far as to say that they are members of the same Masonic lodge. The governors were a little concerned about the negative publicity that Johnson’s death would have on the reputation of the school. That’s something they want to guard fiercely. The last thing they want are parents, and I hasten to add, very influential parents, pulling their kids out of Edmunston-Hunt. At forty-five thousand pounds a year per pupil, they have a lot to lose. If the second victim turns out to be Rochester, then Lennon is going to be under pressure for his force to deal with this matter quietly and swiftly, with the least amount of fuss.”
“I’m not going to brush it under the carpet, Ma’am, or hope that the file disappears under the other dozens of cases that we’re dealing with.”
If there was one thing Scott hated, it was his team being used as a political football, a point he stressed. It annoyed the hell out of him how those who talked in hushed tones could influence how he did his job on a day-to-day basis.
“I’m not asking you to do anything of the sort,” Harvey replied firmly and quickly, a hint of anger in her voice at the thought of being challenged. “Just be wary, and more importantly bear in mind who you and I report to.” She shook her head furiously and gritted her teeth. “Sometimes you can’t ignore that football. We are part of a team whether we like it or not.” Harvey looked at Scott silently, her eyes conveying the delicate nature of this matter as well the ramifications if he didn’t toe the line.
The corridor fell silent once again as Harvey turned and headed back to her office through the double doors at the other end of the landing. Scott’s mind turned over Harvey’s parting words as he leant on the stair rail. If he did his job, he’d be making a bed of nails for himself, but his conscience would be clean. If he toed the line, his career would be safe, but he’d be going against everything he’d joined up for.
His attention snapped back to the present as Sian pushed through the doors. “Guv, there’s a call for you. It’s Simon Barrett. He’s a lecturer in modern languages at Sussex University.”
“Simon, this is Detective Inspector Baker from Brighton CID. Thank you for coming back to us regarding our enquiry,” he said sitting down at his desk.
“My pleasure, Inspector. How can I help?”
“I hope you’ve had enough time to review the information we sent over to you. We’re hoping you can interpret the Latin inscription?”
“Most certainly. I have to admit, it’s not the usual type of request I receive,” he replied with a deep belly laugh. “Usually it’s feedback on Latin inscriptions in books or photos, and even the odd artefact.”
“I guess so. Can you tell me what it means?”
“Ignavus iners timidius tu mori debes…essentially means ‘You, a coward, deserve to die.’ It’s pretty much self-explanatory.”
Scott thanked the lecturer and hung up. He tapped his pen slowly as he leant back in his chair, the sound sharp and loud in the quiet of his office. Coward, deserve to die ran on repeat in his mind. How did the phrase relate to Johnson and Rochester? That’s what he needed to find out and fast as the conversation with DCI Harvey sprang back into his thoughts.
He glanced at his watch. The PM on the jumper would be taking place now; he’d call Cara later for her results. Firstly, he needed a team update.
13
Abby made her way to the drinks machine to grab a bottle of water before the briefing. Mike blocked her access to it as he chatted with the same female officer he’d been talking to in the canteen. He was so engrossed in conversation that he didn’t see Abby approaching.
“Erm hum,” Abby said, clearing her throat loudly to catch Mike’s attention.
He turned and gave Abby the cheesiest of grins. “Hiya, Sarge, how’s it hanging?”
Abby looked at him with an open mouth, her eyes wide with incredulity. “If you know what’s good for you, you’d get up to the briefing room now. The boss is about to start,” she added shaking her head, as she grabbed the bottle before heading off. Behind her, she could hear Mike throwing out more one-liners to the poor girl. “Catch you later, babes,” he called as he left her standing by the machine.
“Hey wait!” he shouted. His bulky frame shook the floor as he trotted up alongside Abby, a satisfying grin smeared across his face. “See that smile? I reckon I’m well in there,” he said smugly.
“She’s either got a screw loose, or she’s taking pity on you,” Abby said with a shake of her head. “I mean, do yourself a favour and find yourself some new chat-up lines. Anyone would think you’re still at university and about half your age,” she said punching him playfully in the arm. “‘Catch you later, babes’? Really? This isn’t High School Musical, and you’re certainly not Troy Bolton. She might be ten years younger than you, and that’s being generous, but lines like that aren’t you.”
Mike shot her a quizzical look, without kids, the reference about High School Musical and Troy Bolton was clearly lost on him. “Well, she seems to like me. I make her laugh, which is more than I do with you,” he said in retaliation.
“You sure she’s not laughing at you?” she teased. “Maybe she’s taking pity on the less fortunate in our society, namely you.”
The suggestion seemed to hit Mike right in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. Even though Abby was jesting, it nevertheless caused him to reflect, the slightest of doubts slowly invading his mind. No sooner had he entertained them, had he shrugged them off. “Yeah, whatever.”
Abby paused for a moment by the door to the briefing room. “Oh, and one last thing. If you ever say ‘how’s it hanging?’ again, I’ll cut your nuts off. Then you definitely won’t have anything hanging. Get my drift?” she said with a mock menacing glare in her eyes as she used two fingers to mimic the blades on a pair of scissors.
Raj and Sian were already seated as Mike and Abby entered. Scott busily scribbled a few notes on to the whiteboard when he glanced over his shoulder to see them enter.
“Okay team, we’ve got another case that I now believe is linked to our first victim, Johnson. Initially, it was thought that the jumper from Teville Gate car park was unconnected and nothing more than a suicide. Evidence has now come to light that suggests both cases are connected. In particular, both victims were found with a Latin inscription and white feather in their pockets. According to our Latin scholar, the inscription says, ‘You, a coward, deserve to die.’ So in my opinion these deaths were murders and the victims were killed for a particular reason.
“Hopefully, DNA evidence will confirm for completeness that the second victim is Giles Rochester, a teacher at Edmunston-Hunt. But it’s safe to assume it will. There are similarities between these two cases, one which I’ve already highlighted, the second being they both seem to have in their possession love notes from the same person. The handwriting is similar, and they’re both signed off with the letter S followed by a few kisses. And lastly they were both teachers at the same school. I don’t believe in coincidences, so we need to look for motive and the Latin inscription is key to that.”
Scott glanced around, he could see that the others around the table were rolling the connections through their minds, and his thoughts were met with suitable nods of understanding.
“Mike had a quick look whilst we were there and saw nothing, but Sian I want you to widen the search and look for anything on CCTV. Check all the roads leading into the area and to the ca
r park. It’s not the busiest of areas, but there are office buildings in the vicinity, and Worthing station. So there is a chance something may have been picked up. Secondly, get on the case with the high-tech unit. I want the phone records downloaded from his phone as fast as possible. If they haven’t got time to do it, let’s find a designated officer who can.”
Sian whistled softly as she wrote down her instructions.
“The thick boundary rope that Abby and I recovered from the second property resembles the same type of rope used in our first case where the victim hanged himself. Hopefully, forensics can confirm that through fibre type analysis. What I can confirm, however, is the rest of forensics feedback so far.
“Johnson had a significant amount of alcohol in his bloodstream that had been consumed over several hours. They estimated something in the region of half a bottle to a full bottle of red wine. The prints on the glass belong to Johnson. They were able to lift some clear impressions off the love notes from S. There’s nothing showing on the database against those prints. So that person is still unknown to us. Forensics found two sets of prints in his room, one belonging to him, the other matching mystery person S. This person certainly visited Johnson in the past.”
“I’ll do all the usual, and start looking into the background of the second victim. The usual stuff, Guv?” Mike asked.
“Yep, friends, relatives, relationships and social media profiles. Get down to the school and speak to the teachers. Let’s see if he had fallen out with anyone, find out his movements over the last twenty-four hours, and see if anyone spotted anything unusual either in his behaviour, or around the grounds of the school.”
“How have we got on with Johnson?” asked Abby, addressing the others around the table.
“He seemed a likeable character,” added Sian. “He was the housemaster for Ditchling House; I spoke to the pupils there. The consensus was he was fair but firm. He wasn’t the type of guy to take any crap, and said it as it was.”
“I’ve got the phone records back on Johnson. He didn’t make a lot of phone calls to be honest. I guess he didn’t need to. There’s quite a lot of phone traffic between him and another number, though. I checked the number but it’s a pay-as-you-go number, and the number’s not registered.”
Scott thanked her. “I’ve spoken to DCI Harvey, and because of the continued threat at the school, we’re assigning some uniformed resources as a visible deterrent and for reassurance. Although I’m not sure how effective a panda car with a PCSO parked by the main entrance is going to be, but that’s all we can allocate at the moment. The school is not in lockdown, but we need to remain vigilant there. We recommended that the school needs to consider closing for the time being. However, the school and board of governors felt it would send out the wrong message to the pupils and parents, many of which are either not in the UK or wouldn’t be too pleased with the decision.”
Raj shifted around in his seat. Remarkably, he hadn’t come bearing gifts today. Normally, there’d be some biscuits or cakes flying around, and without them, the briefing didn’t feel the same. The heat of the day bothered Raj. He’d chosen a grey shirt to wear with his black trousers. In this heat and without the air conditioning, it had proven a poor choice. A thin, dark grey patch started to appear under each armpit. His hair looked decidedly more ruffled, and his clean-shaven looks had been replaced by short, designer stubble that reminded Scott of the unshaven villains in the old spaghetti westerns.
“Guv, what I find strange, is the lack of reaction within the school. Their assistant principal is dead, and now it looks like a second teacher has died under suspicious circumstances. In any normal school, you’d have the mix of human emotions, panic, fear, outrage, sadness. But there doesn’t seem to be anything like that even after the first victim. And now with a second teacher, you’d think the school would be in overdrive. I’d expect to see parents pulling their kids out and teachers panicking. There’s none of that,” Raj added, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I’m with you there, Raj. It’s a very surreal atmosphere. On both occasions that Abby and I have been up there. The principal had an almost nonchalant, cavalier attitude. There’s definitely more going on at that school than we have been led to believe. We need to find out what. I want you and Mike to look into the backgrounds of all the pupils. Look for any disgruntled parents who perhaps have a grudge against the school. And, Sian, I want you to pull the records of all teachers past and present and review them. Does anything stand out? Were there any past convictions? Any disciplinary issues? Was there anything going on in their personal lives that could have some bearing on this case?”
After wrapping up the meeting, Scott briefed the DCI. Her mood hadn’t really changed much since the last time he’d spoken to her. A knot of deep tension built inside the pit of his stomach as he tried to explain to Harvey all the different avenues that they were exploring in the hope that she’d be satisfied. He’d left the meeting decidedly uncomfortable, sensing that everything he had said had fallen on deaf ears.
Whilst the team busied themselves, he’d retreated to the sanctuary of his office. The emails had been piling up in his inbox. With the case taking up most of his time, he’d not had the opportunity to sift through them. He groaned at the prospect of going through one hundred and twenty-four emails, most of which he knew would be internal memos and circulars.
He glanced up from his PC monitor to look at his in-tray. He had another eleven case files to review. With the current case taking up much of the team’s resources and time, it was easy to have the case files slip to the back of the queue. Rape, burglary, aggravated burglary, an armed robbery in a small off-licence in Hove, and a team of professional shoplifters working their way through stores in The Lanes, all overflowing his review list.
It would have been easy for Scott to type up brief review comments before handing the files back to his officers. He’d come across other DIs who very rarely examined case files in detail. Typing the proverbial ‘I agree with the current approach and suggestions offered’ seemed to be their preferred option. Anything for an easy life.
Scott didn’t want to be like that. He trusted his officers, and in return they trusted him. A good team surrounded him. At the end of the day, the buck stopped with him. He was good at his job. If it meant that he would have to review every single case line by line, then that’s what he would do. He was very much in the camp of ‘leaving no stone unturned’.
His body ached; his shoulders were tight. The muscles radiated bursts of throbbing pain down his back and his eyes felt heavy. He’d leave the case files until tomorrow when maybe he’d have the opportunity to look at them with a fresh set of eyes. He had somewhere else he needed to be now.
14
The heat of the late afternoon sun beamed down on Scott’s shoulders. The much-needed warmth penetrated deep, relieving the tension that had built up during the day. He stretched his arms out to the side, pulling his shoulders back in the hope of relieving the nagging pain that gnawed between his shoulder blades. He loosened his top button and pulled the knot on his tie, releasing its grip from his neck before rolling it into a neat ball starting with the thin narrow end. He removed his jacket as he walked through the grounds, casually throwing it over one shoulder and hooking the hanging loop through his finger.
As the sun began its journey downwards on the horizon, the shadows of the trees and headstones began to lengthen. Scott never understood why for some people a cemetery spooked them out. To him it was a place of solitude and reflection. It offered a lasting connection with loved ones.
In the distance to his right, he could see a couple huddled around a grave. The woman gently wiped her eyes with a tissue; the man provided a supporting arm around her shoulder as he pulled her tight. Further past them, he could see a man, probably in his late sixties judging by his grey hair. He stood solemnly in front of a grave with his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers. He stood there rocking back and forth very gently as he star
ed down at the newly laid flowers.
Stillness hung in the air. The sound of birdsong echoed through the trees. The odd bumblebee buzzed as it hopped amongst the various plots feeding on nectar from the buttercups.
He’d finally arrived at Becky’s grave. He stood for a solitary moment staring at her beautiful picture set in a heart-shaped black marble headstone. His shoulders slumped, a crippling, dark heavy sadness pulled them down along with his broken heart. His eyes misted over. He missed his family so much. His jaw clenched tight as he fought desperately to stem the flow of tears that threatened to break free. Scott blinked hard as moisture wet his lashes. That beautiful smile that greeted him every morning was nothing more than a precious memory. The very same smile that looked up at him now.
“I’ve brought you a present, little one. I promised to bring you your favourite toy.” His bottom lip trembled. “Remember when we used to watch it together, and I’d make the piggy oink, oink noises, and you’d laugh. You would always say ‘again, Daddy, again’…I loved being silly with you.” He knelt down and placed a small, pink, Peppa Pig cuddly toy by her headstone. Minutes elapsed as he stared at Becky’s picture, sobs ripping through his body, a release of the pain and sadness that festered and built up within him every day. Moments like this gave him the opportunity to let go, like a pressure cooker releasing steam.
“I hope you’re resting in peace. I’d do anything to see your little chubba smile now.”
The sounds of daily life seemed to fade into the background. Quietness surrounded him. This sanctuary cocooned him from the tribulations of daily life. If he could, he’d spend every day here. His mind needed it. His body craved it and his sanity depended on it.
Scott finally stood and straightened up. “Love you lots my little lady,” he whispered as he placed two fingers on his lips, placed a kiss and touched Becky’s picture. “I’ll stop by real soon.”