Elementary Murder Page 20
‘Where has the boy been?’ Alice Walsh asked. ‘Has he said anything?’
Jane shook her head. ‘I have no idea. But at least he’s alive.’
‘Do the police know he’s there?’
Jane looked at Alice and nodded.
Richard Weston entered at that moment. ‘What’s this about the police? Haven’t we seen enough of them for one term?’
They all looked at him. It was only Friday that the man had been viciously attacked, and now he stood there with the same dignity and firmness he always showed at this time of day.
Nathaniel Edgar told him.
‘And do the police know?’ asked Weston, unaware that the question had already been asked.
Jane said, ‘We saw Detective Sergeant Brennan at the infirmary yesterday. He has arranged for a policeman to stay by the boy’s bedside.’
‘Good. Still, it’s strange that he hasn’t informed me in an official capacity.’
‘I think he presumed I would do so. The point is, the boy’s alive.’
‘I wasn’t talking about the boy’s survival,’ he said curtly.
Everyone looked at him in surprise.
‘I was talking about the boy’s arrest.’
‘Arrest?’ asked Miss Hardman. ‘What on earth for?’
‘For attempted arson. Miss Rodley, as teacher in charge of Standard 6, already knows as I have shown her the irrefutable evidence that he tried to burn the school down.’
‘Not irrefutable, Headmaster,’ she corrected him. ‘The evidence suggests his copybook was used to try to light a fire. We don’t know it was young Billy.’
He glared at her. ‘That young vandal will soon be under arrest. I intend to pursue his prosecution with all vigour. This is my school, and no one will attempt to burn it down and then sail away freely into the sunset.’
Leaving his staff with such an unlikely image, he clapped his hands together and said, with a nod in the direction of the raucous sounds emanating from the playground, ‘Now, I think it’s time we brought order to chaos, don’t you all agree?’
With that, he turned on his heel and left the staffroom.
When he got to the station that morning, the first thing Brennan did was to sit at his desk and place his leg on another chair. The deep cuts were healing right enough, but he’d made Ellen a promise to give the leg as much rest as he could, which included refraining from kicking down doors. She had spent the weekend applying a simple water dressing to the wounds on his calf. He remembered what his ma had told him years ago, when he got up to all manner of scrapes resulting in scratches of varying depth and severity:
‘Sure, there’s nothin’ quite the same as the natural powers o’ water. Ye can keep your ointments an’ the like. Water does the job well enough.’
So Ellen had taken some lint from their small medicine chest, soaked it in water and then applied it to the wound, making sure to cover the lint with a larger strip of oiled calico. When he’d announced his intention of going up to the infirmary to see how the boy was progressing, she’d pointed at the recently applied dressing and said, ‘If that develops gangrene and the leg drops off, don’t come running to me for sympathy.’
‘Wouldn’t be able to,’ he’d replied with a wink that turned into a frown when little Barry gave forth a loud scream.
‘What on earth’s the matter?’ Ellen had said, holding her sobbing son in her arms.
‘Don’t want Dad’s leg to drop off,’ he simpered.
‘Don’t worry,’ she’d responded quickly. ‘If it drops off I’ll be sure to catch it. Then I’ll just sew it back on.’
He was smiling at the memory when a voice broke the silence.
‘Feet up already, Sergeant?’
He placed his left leg on the floor and stood up as Captain Bell strolled into his office without knocking, something he often did. ‘Not quite, sir.’
He proceeded to explain where he went on Saturday and what he’d discovered.
‘The house is derelict, you say?’
‘Yes sir. Has been for a while, according to the fish hawker I spoke to. Said he’d heard someone crying. A child, probably.’
‘And the fool didn’t think to report it?’
‘No, sir. Thought it was a ghost.’
Captain Bell sneered, then said, ‘I gather from Constable Jaggery that the boy’s mother may be guilty of that heinous assault on the headmaster?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Does it follow then that she might have something to do with the two murders?’
‘Not really, sir.’
‘And why not? She attempts to kill one teacher and may have succeeded with the other. Not to mention the school inspector. It may be that she bears a grudge against all things educational.’
Brennan sighed. ‘I think it highly unlikely that a harridan like that should have the intelligence to persuade Miss Dorothea Gadsworth to meet her in an empty school. And the idea of Mr Henry Tollet being persuaded to meet her on a canal footpath …’
Captain Bell gave an embarrassed cough. ‘Quite so. Still, she must be brought to justice for the assault on Mr Weston.’
‘It might be difficult to prove it was her.’
‘Not difficult at all if she confesses.’
He forbore from pointing out how unlikely that would be.
With his customary advice to ‘bring this matter to its conclusion, Sergeant’, the chief constable left the office. No sooner had Brennan relaxed when the door burst open and a breathless Constable Jaggery came rushing in.
‘Is knocking on doors going out of fashion?’ Brennan asked.
‘No, Sergeant. His lordship told me you were in ’ere, like.’
‘Not really an explanation.’ Before Jaggery could attempt one, Brennan added, ‘What do you want me for?’
Jaggery took a few deep breaths to regain some sort of equilibrium. It was obvious the man wasn’t accustomed to haste. Then finally he said, ‘I was on me way to the infirmary, like you asked me to do. See ’ow the lad was.’
Brennan’s heart sank. ‘And?’
‘I met Constable Hardy on Wigan Lane comin’ this road an’ I says to ’im, “What you doin’ ’ere? Ain’t you supposed to be waitin’ on the ward watchin’ over the lad?” An’ guess what he says to me?’
‘Just spit it out.’
‘No, Sergeant. Not that. He says he was on his way to tell us. The lad’s fever’s dropped an’ he’s opened his eyes. Asked for a bacon butty.’
‘He’s what?’
The matron in charge of the ward was usually the one to inspire fear into her nurses. Her word was law and woe betide any shirkers. It was therefore a unique experience both for the matron and her acolytes when Detective Sergeant Brennan not only raised his voice at her but glowered in a most disrespectful manner.
She gave a slight cough to ensure her words betrayed no trace of what she was feeling at that moment. Constable Jaggery, however, standing by his sergeant’s side and observing the woman closely, could only thank the Lord that she wasn’t armed.
‘I shall repeat myself, Sergeant, only out of sympathy with your poverty of hearing.’
Brennan shifted his gaze from the stiffly erect figure of the matron to the empty hospital bed at the far end of the ward.
‘As I have already told you, the boy Kelly has left. He has not been discharged. He has left under his own volition.’
‘He was unconscious not an hour ago.’
‘That is incorrect. He was asleep an hour ago. There is a distinct clinical difference between the two states.’
‘One of my constables was given strict instructions to let me know when his condition changed.’
‘His condition changed during the night when he awoke briefly. Your constable was slumped in that chair beside the bed. As to whether he was unconscious or simply asleep we have no way of knowing as we didn’t examine him. We gave the boy a drink and he then slept. There was little point in disturbing your constable.’
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��But the boy is an important witness in a double murder case.’
The matron, regaining her equilibrium, sniffed and dismissed the small group of nurses who had seen fit to attend to patients nearest to the ward entrance, thus rendering it easier to eavesdrop. They scurried away.
Brennan took a deep breath. ‘And the lad had no clothing. The rags he was found in have surely been incinerated?’
‘Indeed they have. The ones who came for him this morning brought some clean clothes.’
‘Who came for him?’
Again she sniffed. ‘Do you think we’re in the habit of letting children loose without appropriate guardians?’
‘Perhaps I should repeat the question, Matron, out of sympathy with your poverty of hearing. Who came for him?’
A nurse sniggered a few yards away. The glare she got from Matron was a sore reminder of a coming retribution.
‘The boy’s parents. They came to see him yesterday – very briefly I might add – and returned this morning. When they saw he was awake, they wasted no time in dressing him and removing him. They were not the sort of people we like to see in such a place. That woman …’
But before she could express more fully what she thought of Edith Kelly, Brennan had whirled round and was marching through the door, oblivious now of the pain from his leg. Jaggery, who followed as quickly as he could in his wake, struggled to keep up with him as he made rapid strides along the corridor towards the entrance, where Constable Hardy was waiting in great trepidation.
‘Give me a reason not to put you on cell duty for a month!’ Brennan said when he found him standing by one of the portico pillars that marked the entrance to the infirmary.
‘Sorry, Sergeant. Only I was doin’ what I was told to do.’
‘Which was that, might I ask? Falling asleep on duty or deserting your post?’
‘No, Sergeant. Lettin’ you know he’d woke up.’
‘So you left him unguarded?’
‘No, Sergeant. Ward were full o’ nurses. I tried to find a lad to bring you a message only I couldn’t find one. So I thought I’d run down to the station, like.’
Brennan pursed his lips and hurried down the steps to the main courtyard of the infirmary. A couple of hackney carriages were waiting just inside the main gate, their cabbies making idle chat while they waited for business. Brennan hailed one and waited impatiently for it to turn and approach the steps. Jaggery fetched up beside him.
‘Where we off to, Sergeant?’
‘Diggle Street.’
Jaggery could see he was in no mood for further explanation. When Sergeant Brennan got in this state, it was best to keep quiet and let him deal with the thunderstorm in his head on his own.
As they clambered aboard the carriage, Brennan’s mind was indeed in turmoil. Young Billy Kelly could well have seen who was with Dorothea Gadsworth that Friday night. And he’d been so close to speaking to him and clearing things up quickly. Now, he’d slipped away, and he felt a wave of frustration overwhelm him. But he was also consumed with another thought.
Why would the Kellys be in such a hurry to get their son – their sick son – away from the infirmary, away from the police?
When they reached Diggle Street, Brennan asked the cab driver to wait. The two of them stood at the Kellys’ front step and Jaggery hammered his fist against the door. After a few moments, the door swung open and Tommy Kelly loomed in the doorway, his huge frame almost filling the gap. He took in Jaggery’s uniform and his lip curled.
‘What the bloody ’ell’s gooin’ on? What are thy doin’ ’ere agen?’
Brennan said, ‘Where’s the lad?’
‘What lad?’
‘Your Billy.’
Kelly sneered. ‘Nowt to do wi’ you lot. You lot couldn’t find your arse in a petty, let alone my lad. Bloody Sally Ann what found ’im, eh? That’s a soddin’ laugh an’ all.’
He was about to close the door when Jaggery stuck his foot in the gap.
Kelly glared down at the offending foot and said in a low growl, ‘If tha doesn’t shift that in one second I’ll brast thee.’
But Jaggery remained steadfast.
Kelly gave a roar and lunged at him with his huge fists flailing. Jaggery moved with surprising speed for one with so large a frame, ducking to his left and swinging his right hand upwards with such force that when it struck Kelly in the throat it stopped both his progress and his roar so completely that Brennan thought for a moment the man was dead. But then he staggered backwards, clutching his throat and whining like an injured dog. Jaggery helped him on his way, pushing him back into the small front room and onto an armchair that had definitely seen better days.
‘I see you haven’t lost your speed or power, Constable, when it comes to the art of pugilism.’
‘Aye,’ said Jaggery, rubbing his fist, ‘but me accuracy’s gone to buggery. I were aiming for his snout.’
Brennan moved into the kitchen at the rear of the house, then ran quickly upstairs to examine the two small bedrooms. When he came down he shook his head. ‘Not here,’ he said. ‘Neither son nor mother.’ He bent low on his haunches to gaze into the dulled eyes of Tommy Kelly, who was still holding his throat and making a hoarse rattling sound as he attempted to breathe through the bruised windpipe. Brennan wondered if this big moron had ever been treated like this in his life. Perhaps he should have warned him that his constable had been area boxing champion for a number of years.
‘Now then, Mr Kelly. I have some questions and I’d appreciate it very much if you answered them. Is that agreeable?’
Kelly’s face was purple with rage, but in his eyes there were traces of shock and fear, too. He gave a sharp nod and continued to rub his throat.
‘Good. And before you offer, no, we won’t have a cup of tea or a sugar butty.’
Brennan heard Jaggery snigger.
‘It’s your son Billy we need to talk to, you see?’
Another nod.
‘Can you tell us where he is?’
For the first time since the assault, he moved his hand from his throat and swallowed several times before trying to speak. When he finally managed to do so, his voice was hoarse and rasping.
‘He’s not ’ere.’
Brennan smiled. ‘I can see that. I didn’t ask you where he wasn’t, but where he was.’
After taking deep breaths and swallowing painfully several times, Kelly found he could speak more easily now. ‘You think I’d tell you lot? You’re after blamin’ ’im for tryin’ to burn that soddin’ shithole down.’
‘By “soddin’ shithole” I presume you mean George Street Elementary School? If so, let me assure you I have no intention of charging him with arson or even breaking and entering, which I’m sure he also did last Friday night.’
Kelly’s eyes narrowed. ‘But we got told yon ’eadmaster were after doin’ our Billy for it.’
Brennan looked askance at his constable. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Vicar.’
‘Which vicar?’
‘Reverend Pearl. Him an’ his fancy bit called round.’
‘Jane Rodley, the schoolteacher?’
‘Aye. Th’only one ’as ’ad any time for our Billy.’
‘What did they say?’
‘She’d ’eard th’eadmaster say my lad would be charged wi’ arson. She said it’d be best if we got some clothes an’ took ’im out of yon infirmary … put ’im out of ’arm’s way.’
‘Where did you take him?’
Kelly shifted in his chair. ‘Can’t tell thee.’
Brennan stood up. ‘Then I’m arresting you for kidnap and for aiding and abetting a fugitive. I’ll think of a few more charges once we get you down in the cells.’
Kelly shook his head. ‘Tha can arrest me all tha likes, but my lad is where you lot can’t touch ’im. In sanitary.’
Brennan took in the meaning of his words and the sudden flash of confidence that spread across his face. ‘You mean the vicar is sheltering him?’
Jaggery blinked and looked at the man as if his brain had been dislodged with the blow he’d suffered.
But Brennan understood. ‘You mean “sanctuary”?’
‘Aye, that’s it.’
‘Come on, Constable,’ said Brennan with a note of urgency, moving quickly to the front door, beyond which a small group of neighbours had gathered and were sharing a wealth of speculation.
‘We leavin’ ’im, Sergeant?’
‘We are indeed.’
‘So where are we off to?’
‘To church.’
Jaggery halted as Brennan climbed back into the carriage. ‘But you heard what that bugger said. His son’s claiming sanctuary.’
As he sat down inside the cab, Brennan said, ‘There’s no such thing, Constable. There hasn’t been for over three hundred years. For whatever reason, Reverend Pearl has told that lumbering fool back there a pack of lies. So let’s see exactly what the good vicar and his fiancée are up to, shall we?’ He called up to the driver. ‘St Catharine’s Church, cabbie. Fast as you can!’
Richard Weston felt as if everything he had built up over the last five years was rapidly crumbling before his eyes. Nathaniel Edgar’s drinking, his lateness and absences were bad enough, but despite the threats the man made against him, he had remained confident that the situation was under control, that he could ultimately ward off any danger to his reputation and carry on as normal.
But this …
He read the letter once more in the forlorn expectation that somehow the words would scramble themselves into something far removed from what they were currently saying:
Dear Mr Weston,
It is with great regret that I must tender my resignation today, with immediate effect. The last few years have been a delight and I wish you and the school every good wish for the future.
Miss Jane Rodley