In the Light of Madness (10 page)

“We’ve got some partial footprints in this mossy earth, but so far no evidence of tyre tracks. The victim either walked here or she was carried,” he said, preparing to take a plaster cast of the various partial footprints.

A reflective and intense atmosphere shrouded the macabre scene, as two officers brought the dead girl down and placed her in a body bag. It began drizzling, so the team moved fast to preserve the scene as much as possible by bagging and tagging findings. The body bag was placed in the black van and driven away, leaving the shadow of a ghost hanging from the tree.

“Door to door enquiries are being organised; and I suppose this means another visit to that bloody school,” Lennox said, rubbing his hands together to fight the cold.

Wednesday called the station to advise them that they were heading to Markham Hall. With a sinking feeling, she knew it was going to be another long day trying to piece together the story unfolding before them.

As Lennox pulled up outside the school, they were aware of a frisson of excitement coursing through the students who were hanging around the entrance. Their identity was no longer a secret so the students knew something else was going on.

The receptionist looked resigned and picked up the receiver as they approached.

“This really is bad timing, Detectives. I have a meeting in fifteen minutes,” said Cleveland, looking rather unkempt.

“We apologise, sir, but this is important.”

“Isn’t it always,” he mumbled as he led them to his office.

His desk was littered with papers, and peeking out from under a file was an electric shaver. Cleveland caught them looking at it.

“I got up a bit late this morning,” he said, shoving the shaver into his top drawer.

“Another one of your students has been found dead this morning. Her name is Claudia Edwards,” said Lennox.

Cleveland visibly shook and dropped into his leather chair, his sweaty palms gripping the arms.

“Now sir, we have two dead students and one missing, all from your school. There seems to be a disturbing pattern immerging, which all leads back to here. Do you have anything to say?”

He sat muted by his state of confusion and shock, his eyes focused on his hands. After a few minutes he replied. “This is a most unfortunate string of events. Any teenagers living locally will naturally attend this establishment. So it’s no coincidence, it’s just fact.”

He pushed himself upright in his chair, suddenly pumped up by defiance. “I can assure you that there is nothing sinister going on at this school.”

“Where were you last night?” asked Wednesday, undeterred.

“Me? I was at home all evening,” he replied as his gaze drifted towards the window.

“Can anyone corroborate that?”

“No, I live alone. You can’t possibly think I have anything to do with all this?”

“We have to keep an open mind. Nothing is ruled out during an investigation.”

Cleveland ran his hand over his bristly chin, making a rasping noise.

Lennox spoke again. “Was Claudia in the same form as Tom and Darren?”

Cleveland checked his computer and nodded.

“So that would be Mr Pollock,” said Wednesday, checking her notebook.

“I suppose you’ll want to see him now?”

“That would be useful. It will also give you time to shave before your meeting,” replied Lennox with an ill-hidden smirk on his face.

Walking out of the office, Wednesday dug her elbow into Lennox’s ribs. “No need to antagonize him. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be spending quite a bit of time here.”

“Well, I don’t think he’s as innocent as he proclaims to be.”

They arrived at Mr Pollock’s form room to find him once again hunched over his desk, sifting through a pile of papers. They tapped on the door.

“Is it important, I’ve got some marking to finish,” he called out as he glanced in their direction.

“Someone else who was too busy last night to get things done,” whispered Lennox, as he leant into her. He got a gentle waft of her vanilla and burnt sugar scent.

“I’m sorry, Mr Pollock. We’ve come with some more bad news. And we’d like to ask you a few questions,” Wednesday said calmly.

Pollock hurriedly pushed the papers together and looked at them from underneath his bushy eyebrows. The corners of his mouth twitched as they approached him.

“Claudia Edwards was found dead this morning.”

Pollock’s eyes blinked rapidly. “I somehow knew something bad would happen to her one day.”

They gazed at him and waited for him to expand on his statement.

“She was quite flirtatious with the boys, you know, wearing her kilt too short, flicking her hair over her shoulders and giggling at the stupid things boys said. I often thought she’d be the first in the class to get pregnant.”

No chance of that now, thought Wednesday.

“Did she have a boyfriend?”

“She had a few on the go according to the gossip.”

“We’ll need their names and to talk to them.”

“You can interview them in the room next door. That class is on a museum trip today.”

Wednesday and Lennox watched the students file in and take their seats, still talking to one another and immune to their presence. As Colin Pollock called out the names Ralph, Tony, and James, the rest of the class jeered and whistled as the three red faced boys rose up to join the detectives. Lennox fetched Cleveland to join them.

Wednesday and Lennox sat opposite the boys, the smell of tobacco seeping from their blazers. It was exactly that repulsive smell that made Wednesday desire to give up.

“We understand you’re all friends of Claudia Edmonds,” Lennox said.

The boys nodded whilst nudging one another and suppressing giggles. Cleveland glared at them from a corner of the room.

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“Yesterday, in class,” replied the lanky blond boy, Ralph, who slouched in his seat at the end of the table.

“Did any of you see her last night?”

The boys scuffed their shoes on the floor, eyes firmly cast down. Lennox repeated the question and this time the boy with severe acne on his forehead replied.

“We were supposed to meet up with her last night, but . . .” he stopped as he was punched on the arm by the boy with the angular face.

“But what?” asked Lennox, staring at them.

“Why, what’s she saying about us?”

Lennox fixed his stare on them. “This is serious. We can meet up with your parents at the station if you prefer.”

The lanky boy swiftly sat upright with a look of panic on his face.

“We didn’t see her in the end,” he said in a shaky voice.

“Come on lads, give us the whole story. Did you go round for some fun, but she refused, is that it?”

“No,” said Ralph, slamming his palms on the table and glaring at Lennox.

Cleveland growled Ralph’s name but Wednesday raised her hand to him.

“Well then, tell us what happened.”

James and Tony turned to Ralph and widened their eyes. Taking his cue, he inhaled deeply before speaking.

“Claudia said her parents were away, and that if we went around at seven, we could have some fun.” The boy flushed before continuing. “Anyway, we were all there, ringing on the doorbell but she wasn’t in.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“Pissed off. She’d led us on all day at school and then backed down. Sign of a true bitch.”

“Typical teasing cow,” muttered Tony.

“Do you think she was in the house but not letting you in?”

“Of course she was. Where else would she be?”

“What makes you so sure if you didn’t see her?”

“We don’t know for sure. No lights were on, but we guessed she was hiding upstairs or something.”

James yawned loudly and began shifting his feet around on the floor so that the soles of his shoes made squeaking sounds.

“How long did you wait outside for?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged, “about ten minutes I suppose, then we went back to mine.” Ralph shoved his hands in his trouser pockets.

“Can your parents verify that?”

“No, they weren’t in. That’s why we went back there. My dad has a stash of beer, so we had a bottle each and played on the Xbox.”

Lenox sat back in his chair. “We’ll need you to make statements at the station in the presence of your parents.”

The boys looked at one another before James spoke.

“What, because we had a beer?” The three of them sniggered openly. “Our parents won’t care about that.” They slapped each other on the back.

“No boys,” said Wednesday, standing up to stretch her legs. “It’s more serious than that. Now if you’re telling the truth, you have nothing to worry about.”

A look of alarm spread across the boys’ faces, and the acne on Tony’s face flushed a violent puce. Ralph’s face drained of colour as he wound his school tie around his fingers.

Lennox stood up to join Wednesday. “Leave your names, addresses, and phone numbers on that sheet, then you can go back to class.”

As they were walking out of the school, Wednesday’s mobile rang and she was informed that Claudia’s parents had been informed of their daughter’s death by the Met officers and they were now at home. The family liaison officer was already there.

“Let’s smoke before this one,” she said, sensing every muscle in her body tightening.

Lennox reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered packet of cigarettes, from which they both took one. “This is an unpleasant one,” he said before lighting up.

Wednesday lit hers and took in a deep drag before answering. “The violence of her death will be impossible to conceal in this place. Gossip spreads like oil on water,” she replied, letting the smoke swirl out of her mouth with every word.

They pulled up outside a sizable detached property, and saw Janice Parker’s car outside. A black convertible BMW sat outside the garage.

The hefty brass lion-head door knocker made an impressive and apt sound of doom as Lennox swung it. Seconds later, a tall elegant man opened the door.

“You’d better come in,” Greg Edwards said.

He led them into the lounge where a statuesque woman in grey cashmere stood with her arm draped across the black marble mantelpiece. She was the epitome of allure.

Mrs Lucinda Edwards looked right through them as though they were apparitions in a nightmare. But once Wednesday starting talking about the crime, she fainted. She crumpled onto the sheepskin rug, in almost slow motion. Tension and pain crackled through the air. The doctor was called out, and Greg Edwards poured himself a brandy. Parker went to the kitchen to make some tea whilst the claws of bereavement and death took a stranglehold on the house.

Lucinda Edwards was now lying on the sofa being attended to by her overly attentive doctor, who prescribed Valium to aid her through the shock.

“Would it be possible to talk to Mrs Edwards before she takes the medication, we know this is unspeakably hard, but we need to move fast,” asked Wednesday.

The doctor looked towards his patient and she responded by nodding weakly.

“Do you often leave your daughter alone?” asked Wednesday.

Before Lucinda Edwards could speak, her husband answered.

“She is . . . was almost sixteen, there’s no law against it.” He stood rigidly in the bay window, warming his brandy before sipping it. His stance was defensive as he stared at Wednesday.