Hell Hath No Fury (21 page)

D
etective Sergeant Paddy Hardcastle left Benbury Secondary School feeling satisfied yet mystified by what he had found out. The headmaster had been most helpful. He had introduced him to Mr Perks, the head of history, an elderly man on the point of retirement, who had been a teacher at the school for over twenty-five years. Mr Perks had been able to give him a great deal of useful information about the four men who had been murdered.

As he entered Benbury Police Station, Paddy didn't go straight to the CID office, but made his way to the canteen. Although he'd already had a coffee during his visit to Benbury Secondary School, he wanted time to sit and think about what he had learned before passing the information on to Inspector Morgan.

It irked him that he had to hand over the information he had gleaned to someone else and let them make the decisions as to what action should be taken. With his qualifications, and length of service, he should have been made up to inspector, and then he would be the one in charge of this investigation, he thought irritably.

It was all very well Inspector Ruth Morgan talking about team spirit, but she would be the one to receive all the accolades when they solved the case!

Not that there had been much success so far, but he was quietly confident that with the new evidence he'd just collected it would only be a matter of time before the culprit was apprehended.

Inspector Morgan was a nice enough person, quite attractive in a way, but she wasn't local, and as someone born and bred in Benbury he felt he had a greater empathy with the people who lived in the town than she did.

And it was all very well Superintendent James Wilson having a man to man talk with him about giving her his full support, and saying that he was relying on him to help her to settle in, but
he
wasn't the one who had been cheated out of his rightful promotion. Without his local knowledge, inspector or not, she'd get nowhere!

He wouldn't have minded if Inspector Morgan had been a little more friendly. He knew she was new to her rank, new to the police force if it came to that, but she didn't have to make it quite so obvious that she was his superior. Some of the inspectors he'd worked with before were as matey as you like when they were out in the car. They'd laugh and crack a joke, exchange gossip, and even share a packet of fish and chips with you. They knew you'd not let them down in front of the super, or when you were doing interviews. They knew they could rely on you to show the correct deference, call them sir, and all that sort of thing, when it was appropriate to do so.

Ruth Morgan acted more like a headmistress than a colleague. It was as if because she wasn't in uniform, with an insignia on her shoulder to show her rank, she constantly had to impress on him that she was his superior.

He wondered if she was a feminist. Or a lesbian, even, the way she sat so prim and straight in the squad car as if she was afraid that if their knees touched, or his hand brushed against hers, he might suddenly rape her.

If she was more relaxed, if her mouth was less hard and grim, and her dark eyes lost that suspicious look whenever he spoke to her, she might be quite attractive. It would certainly make working together a whole lot easier!

He collected a cup of coffee from the machine and was making his way across the room to find a window seat when he pulled up short. He couldn't believe his eyes. Detective Inspector Ruth Morgan was sitting in the canteen, drinking coffee! She was on her own, staring into space as though deep in thought, and for a moment he thought of edging quietly away, hoping she hadn't seen him. How was he going to explain away the fact that he was taking time off to drink coffee when she was probably on tenterhooks waiting to find out if his visit to the school had drummed up any new evidence?

He grinned to himself. She was there drinking coffee herself, wasn't she? Perhaps she was human after all and under that frozen exterior she was a normal warm-blooded woman.

Now was the time to find out!

‘When you weren't in your office I wondered if I would find you in here, ma'am,' he greeted her, setting his cup down on the table. ‘Can I get you a refill?'

When she hesitated, he said quickly, ‘I can tell you what I've found out this afternoon while we drink our coffee, if you like.'

Again she hesitated, biting down on her lower lip before finally nodding in agreement.

‘I take it your visit was worthwhile,' she commented as he set the steaming mug of coffee down in front of her.

‘Yes, it was. The head was most cooperative, but equally important there was a teacher there who had taught all four of the murder victims.'

‘Really!'

‘He remembered them quite well. It seems all four of them managed to get A-level passes. Out of a class of fifteen there were only six pupils that year who managed to achieve this . . .'

‘Six? And four of them are dead . . .' Ruth's voice trailed away.

Paddy took a gulp of his coffee. He was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking. In fact, he'd been thinking much the same himself ever since he'd left the school.

‘Could he remember the names of the other two pupils?'

‘Not offhand, but he's promised to let me have the list.'

‘When?' Her tone was sharp, impatient.

‘Today if he can find it. All the old records are stored in the basement. He promised to send the janitor down there to unearth it . . .'

‘Sergeant Hardcastle!'

Their conversation was interrupted by a uniformed constable. ‘There's a Mr Perks asking for you at the front desk. He said he spoke to you earlier today. He says it's important.'

‘I'll be right out!' Paddy drained the last of his coffee. ‘Perks is the history teacher I was telling you about. He's probably brought that list along.'

Ruth stood up. ‘Would you mind if I had a word with him?'

Her manner was more conciliatory than it had been since they'd met, so he nodded. ‘Of course! I'll bring him along to your office.'

Mr Perks was a thin upright man in his early sixties with iron grey hair and dark bushy eyebrows that framed a pair of intense dark eyes. Dressed in a slate blue suit, light blue shirt with a shiny white collar, and wearing a royal blue tie that exactly matched the handkerchief peeping out of the breast pocket of his jacket, he looked both academic and formidable.

He greeted Sergeant Hardcastle effusively and at once launched into a description of the contents of the package he was carrying. For a moment he looked irritated when Paddy interrupted his flow of words in order to introduce him to Ruth.

‘DI Morgan is in charge of the case,' Paddy explained, emphasizing the word ‘Inspector'.

‘Oh, I see!' Mr Perks looked a little taken aback. ‘Then I had better go back to the beginning and start again . . . unless you have already relayed the information I gave you earlier today?'

‘Sergeant Hardcastle has told me the basic facts,' Ruth told him, ‘but I'd like to hear it all again . . . in your own words.'

‘Right! All four of the men who have been killed over the past few weeks were once pupils in the same class at Benbury Secondary School.'

‘How many were there taking their A-levels, Mr Perks?'

‘Only fifteen. Most of the pupils left once they had their O-levels. And out of those fifteen who remained there were only six who passed their A-levels. The four men who've been killed and two other pupils.'

‘Do you think it at all possible that there's some link?'

Mr Perks looked from Sergeant Hardcastle to Inspector Morgan and back again. ‘I have no idea!' He regarded them from over the top of his glasses. ‘That is for you to decide. Perhaps this will help.' He drew the package he had placed on the table nearer to him and began to unwrap it.

Paddy moved closer, and side by side with Ruth, bent over the table to examine the register that Mr Perks was unwrapping.

In a typical schoolmasterish way, Mr Perks displayed the list of pupils who had formed the A-level class of 1977. With slow deliberation he pointed out the names of the four victims: Moorhouse, Franklin, Patterson and Jackson.

Then he pointed to two other names: Gould and Flynn.

‘Those two were also A-level achievers,' he informed DI Morgan and DS Hardcastle as he peered at them again from over the top of his glasses.

Ruth and Paddy exchanged glances and it was obvious to both of them that their thoughts were running on parallel lines.

‘Gould and Flynn will have to be found, questioned and warned,' Ruth told Mr Perks. ‘We might even consider offering them some form of protection.'

‘Yes, I thought that might be the case, which is why I have brought along a couple of school photographs, taken on the last day of term,' Mr Perks stated.

Rather like a conjuror producing a rabbit from an empty hat, he produced two framed photographs. ‘This one is a group of the entire class. The other one is of the six achievers.'

‘A photograph showing the remaining two . . .' breathed Ruth in disbelief. This was more than she dared dream about. At last, some concrete evidence to lay before Superintendent Wilson.

The photographs had been taken sixteen years earlier, and her immediate elation was slightly dampened when she gazed at the youthful faces of the six who had passed their A-levels. ‘Moorhouse, Franklin, Patterson, Jackson . . .' She spoke the names out loud as her finger moved over the photograph identifying each one. Then she stopped in surprise. ‘Mr Perks, one of these is a girl!'

‘Yes. That's right. Maureen Flynn. She was the star pupil that year. She achieved the highest results of them all,' Mr Perks stated.

‘Did she go on to university?'

Mr Perks shook his head. ‘Not as far as I know, but I can't be certain. Her family left Benbury shortly afterwards, and I'm afraid I have no idea what happened to her.'

‘And the other boy?'

‘Aah. Now, his name was Gould. Simon Gould. He became involved with cars and motor racing.' He scowled. ‘Silly young fool! He had an excellent brain . . . leastways, he did before the accident.'

‘Accident?' Ruth asked.

‘Yes, he was involved in a serious smash on one of the race tracks. It made headline news at the time. There was something about the car being faulty, and if I remember correctly he sued either the company he worked for, or the manufacturers, for a colossal amount of compensation.'

‘And what happened to him after that?'

‘I'm not sure,' Mr Perks said.

‘I remember the case. The papers were full of it at the time,' Paddy said thoughtfully. ‘He was in hospital for months, wasn't he?'

‘For about three months, I believe.'

‘I remember reading about his fight for compensation. As you say, he got a very substantial sum, and I think someone told me he bought a garage.'

‘In Benbury?' Ruth asked.

‘No, not locally. He felt very sensitive about the fact that he was facially disfigured and moved away from Benbury. He wanted to start afresh where no one would know him.'

‘He always was very headstrong,' Mr Perks commented disapprovingly.

‘Maureen Flynn and Simon Gould,' Ruth murmured thoughtfully. She smiled at Mr Perks. ‘You have been most helpful. Would you mind if we kept these items? I promise you we'll take great care of them,' she added quickly as she saw the look of hesitation on his lined face.

‘And you will be sure to return them afterwards? They are part of the school archives, you see. The head was rather reluctant for me to bring them here. He didn't really approve of them being removed from the school premises.'

‘We quite understand. We'll take the greatest care of them and return them to you as soon as our enquiries are completed.

Ruth left Paddy to see Mr Perks out. When he returned to the office he found she was still studying the photograph of the six Benbury Secondary School students.

‘Perhaps we should have a blow-up of Gould and the girl circulated,' he suggested.

She looked doubtful. ‘Would it help? These pictures were taken sixteen years ago. Neither of them will look the same now. Gould certainly won't bear much resemblance to this picture, not after his car accident.'

‘Someone might remember them as they were, and come forward, and tell us where they are today.'

‘That's possible, I suppose. The only thing is if we do circulate these pictures, and one of them is the murderer, they'll know right away that we are on to them.'

‘That's true!'

She frowned. ‘I have a gut feeling that it's the girl, Maureen Flynn, who is involved in some way.'

‘You mean she might be the murderer?'

‘The few clues we have point to it being a woman.'

Paddy looked dubious. ‘The red car and the parking ticket could belong to a man or woman.'

‘Forensic said they thought that the trainer was a woman's because of the size.'

‘It might account for the strange sexual deviation attached to all the murders,' Paddy mused.

‘And the methods used in each case.'

‘You mean the surprise attacks so that the victim had no opportunity of defending himself?'

‘Precisely! After all, as you said, a woman probably wouldn't have the physical strength to overpower a man.'

For the first time since they had started the investigation Ruth felt they were getting somewhere. ‘Maureen Flynn was the one who achieved top A-level results that year,' she pointed out. ‘That must have made her feel special, equal to the five boys.'

‘Do you mean she was jealous of them?' queried Paddy, unable to see which way her argument was going.

‘Not jealous. She knew she was as good as them. No, I think her feelings went deeper than that . . .'

‘You mean you think she was in love with one of them, and he rejected her, and now, all these years later, she is taking some sort of revenge?'