Murder In School (4 page)

‘Can you believe it, Guv – they’ve even
got a shooting academy!’

‘That would have been popular where you
went to school, eh Leyton?’

‘Too right, Guv.  It ran in a few
families round about our gaff.’  He scratches his head absently.  ‘They’re
all bang to rights now, of course.’

‘What is it, air rifles?’

‘No – clays, Guv.  Twelve-bore,
and four-tens for the juniors.’

‘They obviously blood them young, the
gentry.’

‘You’re spot on there, Guv. 
Apparently some of the sixth-formers are expert shots, national competition
standard.  Half a dozen of them stand to inherit shooting estates, mainly
up in Scotland – though there’s one beyond Brough.  They do gundog training
as well.  The groundsman’s got a couple of labs in a kennels round the
back of the school – says he used to be a keeper over Cockermouth
way.  Seemed a bit wide to me, though.  Couldn’t be certain, but I
think he might have smelled of drink.’

‘Name of?’

‘Royston Hodgson, Guv.  Ring any
bells?’

Skelgill looks pensive. 
‘Maybe.  Does he run the shooting club?’

‘He says he just helps out, setting up
the clay traps.  Apparently it’s all above board.  Our licensing boys
inspected back in March and renewed their certificate.  They’ve got a gun
room in the cellars of the main school building.’

Skelgill nods.  ‘Be interesting to
know who keeps the keys.’

‘A master called Snyder is in charge.’

‘He’s first on our list.’

‘Bit of a red herring though – shotguns
– eh, Guv?’

Skelgill shrugs.  ‘I guess I just
like to know the lie of the land if I’m within a quarter of a mile of a
twelve-bore.  I developed a dislike of them early in my career.’

‘So you’ve mentioned, Guv.’

Skelgill flashes DS Leyton a disapproving
glance.  ‘What’s Hodgson’s story, then?’

DS Leyton consults a small black
notebook.  He flips it open where the elastic band marks a page. 
Considering his somewhat shambolic deportment, his printing is surprisingly
small and neat, if a little elementary.

‘He said the Head called him to ask if
he’d seen Querrell – and he replied not since the previous afternoon when
he was taking a cricket practice.  So Goodman asked him to have a look
round and check Querrell’s cottage in case he was ill.’

‘What time was that?’

‘He reckons about eleven.  He drove
to the gatehouse – he’s got a quad bike that he uses for the mowers and
whatnot.  It was unlocked and empty – the key was on the inside of
the door.’

‘Was that unusual?’

‘He’s not sure.  He said he wouldn’t
be surprised if Querrell didn’t lock up, the generation he was, though the lodge
is near the road and an easy target.  He says they’ve lost quite a bit of
sports equipment in the past couple of years.’

‘Probably the PE staff from my old comp.’

‘Ha-ha, Guv.’

‘Go on.’

‘Querrell owned a motorbike.  That
was still in its shed, so Hodgson figured he must be somewhere on the property. 
They’ve got a jogging track that more or less follows the perimeter of the grounds. 
He didn’t see anything until he passed the boathouse and noticed the boat
anchored out on the lake.’

‘What made him stop there, do you
think?  The water’s shielded by all the vegetation?’

DS Leyton looks quizzically at his
superior, as if wondering how he knows this.  ‘Dunno, Guv – he
didn’t say.  Just that he went down onto the landing stage – climbed
onto the railing in case Querrell was asleep in the boat.  But he couldn’t
see anything, and since Querrell apparently wasn’t much of a swimmer that was
enough for him to raise the alarm.  Obviously it was our search team that
found the body.’

Skelgill nods pensively.  After a
minute’s silence he says, ‘What did they use the boat for?’

‘He said Querrell kept the only key
– at least that he knows of.  And the boat’s not generally used any
more.  They don’t let the pupils out on the water – there was some
accident years ago.  And now there’s all this Health and Safety palaver.’

‘And Querrell didn’t fish.’ 
Skelgill says this as a statement – it’s something he would know.

‘That’s right, Guv.  I asked about
that.  It’s not proper angling here, apparently.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ 
Skelgill’s hackles rise.

‘It’s all coarse fishing on Bassenthwaite
Lake – you’d know this, Guv?  For the young gentleman fly-casting’s
the thing.’  DS Leyton must notice Skelgill’s black expression, for he quickly
adds, ‘According to Hodgson, anyway.’

‘I’ve caught plenty of big pike out there
on a fly.’  Skelgill tuts.  ‘I’d like to see them try that.’

‘Definitely, Guv.  You’re the
expert.’

Skelgill nods, apparently feeling vindicated. 
‘And what did he say about Querrell?’

‘Nothing untoward, Guv.  No
indication he was about to top himself.  He’d asked Hodgson to use the
heavy roller on the juniors’ wicket for the match at the weekend – which
he never made, of course.’

‘Who did they play?’

‘School from Edinburgh, Guv.’  DS
Leyton checks his notebook.  ‘Merchiston Castle.’

Skelgill shows no indication that the
name has any significance to him.  ‘How did Hodgson get on with Querrell?’

‘Alright, he reckons.  He says
Querrell was a bit of a loner, but didn’t look down his nose on the ancillary
staff like some of the masters do.’

Now Skelgill’s features involuntarily flicker
with the recollection of DS Jones’s remark.

DS Leyton continues, ‘Called him
cantankerous, though.  And that’s me missing out the two expletives, Guv. 
Says he took the hump whenever the school brought in new equipment or started chopping
down trees to make room for car parking spaces.’

‘What about Hodgson himself, think he was
hiding anything?’

‘Not especially, Guv.’  DS Leyton
pauses, and jolts mildly, as though he’s just received a small electric shock. 
‘One thing he did say, though – just as I was leaving.’

‘Go on.’

‘Well – you know how I was supposed
to ask about Querrell having any relatives – to fit in with our excuse
for investigating?’

‘Aha.’

‘Well – I nearly forgot.  But
I think I pulled it off – like as a casual afterthought, Guv.’

Skelgill raises his eyebrows reproachfully.

‘He said as far as he knows Querrell had
no living relatives – but only because that’s the story that does the
rounds.’

‘So – what’s the big deal?’

‘Well – he said a few weeks ago he
got a surprise – could have sworn Querrell had an identical twin.’

‘What made him say that?’

‘One evening he’d seen Querrell going
into the school, then a few minutes later he went down to mark out some lines on
the athletics track, and there was Querrell walking up the field from the
direction of the lake.  He couldn’t figure out how he could have been in
the two places almost at once.’

‘But both sightings were Querrell?

‘So he says, Guv.’

‘Maybe he mistook the person going into
the school for Querrell.  You know how bad eyewitness testimony can be. 
More likely Hodgson had his lunch in the Blacksmith’s Arms.’

DS Leyton nods ruefully.

‘Thing is, Guv – I put in a call to
the station to get him checked out.  The reason he stopped being a
gamekeeper was because he had his shotgun licence revoked.  He put the
wind up a couple of walkers who’d strayed off a public footpath.  Claimed
he thought they were poachers.’

‘No excuse.’

‘He only got a caution but it was enough
for the Chief at the time.  What do you reckon, Guv?’

Skelgill screws up his face and shakes
his head.  ‘I don’t reckon the Chief is going to be reaching for the
cigars just yet.’

DS Leyton looks slightly
crestfallen.  Skelgill reaches across and pats him on the shoulder. 
‘Come on, Leyton – cheer up.  Let’s go see what else we can turn
up.  And, remember – we act like we’re daft local coppers.’

‘I’ll give it my best shot, Guv.’

‘So, I’m sure you’ll understand,
Inspector, we don’t indulge in what you might call parochial advertising. 
In this era of the global village, Oakthwaite positions itself firmly on the
international stage.  And indeed we attract applicants from all four
corners of the earth.’

Skelgill nods politely, despite the
somewhat oblique reply to his observation that the school keeps the surrounding
community at arm’s length.  Dr Snyder, a tall stooping long-headed man in
his mid-forties, is reminiscent of a character from a gothic horror movie, with
jet-black swept-back hair, contrasting pale skin, dark sunken eyes wide set
astride an aquiline nose, prominent jaw and brows – overall a caricature underscored
by the fact of him wearing his academic gown, an elaborate hooded affair of charcoal
and deep purple.  He sits watchfully still, and when he speaks, which he
does slowly, he embellishes his words with paddling gestures of large hands that
articulate at the wrist.

‘Certainly, sir – and there’s no
law against that.  On this occasion, the school and Mr Querrell being
something of unknown quantities – it means we have no real alternative
but to begin here in order to establish whether there are any surviving relatives.’

Dr Snyder blinks slowly, perhaps in lieu
of a nod of acceptance.  He says, ‘Well I’m sure you are aware that as far
as we know Mr Querrell was the last of his line.’

‘So I gather, sir.  And do you have any
reason to doubt that?’

Dr Snyder flaps his flipper-like palms. 
‘I have seen no evidence to the contrary.  The school’s historical
personnel records were destroyed in a fire in the early nineties, so there is
no file on him, either as a master, or earlier as a pupil.’

‘How long had you known Mr Querrell?’

‘This is just my second year at
Oakthwaite.’

Dr Snyder rubs his nose between his two forefingers. 
He shows no sign that he will elaborate, so Skelgill asks, ‘Where were you
before that, sir?’

‘At an international school... in
Singapore.’

‘Is that why you came – because of
your experience abroad?’

‘It probably did no harm to my
curriculum
vitae
, Inspector.

‘And is that your remit here, sir –
the foreign students?’

Dr Snyder sits back and folds his arms, as
though he’s bored with the direction the questions are taking.  ‘My role
is largely administrative.  Admissions, examinations, timetables,
university entrance, IT policy, discipline.  I take the occasional class
in the event of illness.  The usual stuff of the Deputy Head.’

‘It sounds like Mr Goodman gets off lightly.’

‘Oh, I think you’ll find he’s kept
adequately busy, Inspector.  What with corporate strategy and our gamut of
outward facing matters.’

‘So, like the Head’s, your acquaintance
with Mr Querrell has been relatively short-lived.’

Dr Snyder seems to approve of this
statement.  He leans forward and places his large hands flat on the
desktop, extending their long fingers as though he is in the habit of playing
piano.  ‘Quite, Inspector.  I honestly hardly knew the man.  He
kept very much to himself.’

‘Presumably you had some interaction with
him over routine work matters?  As you said, timetables and so on.’

Dr Snyder shrugs languidly.  He
casts a glance across the two detectives.  ‘Rather curiously, gentlemen, Querrell
operated in his own little anachronistic bubble.  He managed our programme
of outdoor activities – something that has evidently been running like
clockwork in the same way for many years, decades I believe.  And by
tradition he looked after the first-form for team sports – that’s the eleven-year-olds,
our intake group – nothing much required in the way of technical
expertise.’

‘But he reported to you?’

‘I think, Inspector, if you had asked Querrell,
he would have asserted he reported to nobody.’

Again Dr Snyder leaves any further explanation
hanging in the ether.  He bridges his chin on the back of his intertwined
fingers.

Skelgill says, ‘Sir, you say his activities
ran like clockwork.  So there was nothing troubling in his job that might
have prompted him to take his own life?’

Dr Snyder shakes his head. 
‘Apparently not, Inspector.’

Skelgill persists, ‘Is it possible he
owed money?’

‘I doubt very much he had any
debts.  He spent most of his time here at the school, and there’s little
to lavish one’s salary upon in the tuck shop.’

‘These days there’s online gambling, that
sort of thing?’

‘I have no reason to suspect that,
Inspector.  It would have been entirely out of character.  Besides, our
security settings prevent access to undesirable websites.  Though of
course you’re welcome to examine his computer.’

‘Well, that might be helpful, sir.’ 

‘I shouldn’t hold your breath, Inspector. 
It was a devil of a job even to induce him to reply to an email.  If you
wanted an immediate response it was better to send a small boy with a handwritten
note.  He preferred what he referred to as the foolproof methods.’

Skelgill raises his eyebrows empathetically. 
‘If nothing else, sir, we might find some contact details of friends who could
assist us.’

‘I’m sure your fellow officers would have
looked last week.’  Ostentatiously he consults his wristwatch. 
‘However, I could meet you down at the gatehouse in exactly one hour.  I
have an appointment imminently.’

‘That’s fine, sir – we have another
of your colleagues scheduled to see next.’

Dr Snyder rises, perhaps with a
triumphant glint in the shadows of his hooded eyes.  His willingness to provide
access to Querrell’s computer could be interpreted as an unexpected
demonstration of openness.  He takes long loping strides to the door, and
holds it sufficiently ajar for Skelgill and DS Leyton to exit.  Just as
they are doing so, Skelgill pauses and points to his temple as though he’s just
remembered something.

‘Oh, one other thing, Dr Snyder.’

‘Aha?’

‘The Sergeant in our licensing section
asked me to double-check a point concerning the recent shotgun re-certification
– to save a trip out here from Penrith, you understand?’

‘Certainly, Inspector.’  Dr Snyder’s
sombre features darken once again.

‘There’s a box on our computer form for nominated
key-holders – in the event of an emergency.  We just have you listed
at the moment – but there’s a query marked against it.  I think the visiting
officer may have omitted to note down whether there is anyone else.’

‘Well, Inspector, I can confirm that I am
the sole key-holder.’  He jangles a pocket concealed somewhere beneath the
extensive folds of his academic gown.  ‘The key and others of similar importance
are kept on or very near my person at all times.’

‘Excellent, sir.  That sounds very
sensible.  I’ll report that back and there’ll be no need to trouble you
further about it.’