Murder Most Unladylike: A Wells and Wong Mystery (23 page)

But Daisy, for all her changes in the past few weeks, was still Daisy, and her mad plans were as mad as ever.

‘Yes, but how?’ I asked.

‘Wait,’ said Daisy. ‘I’m thinking of a plan.’

Then, outside the main San door, we heard voices.

‘Come on!’ hissed Daisy. ‘Let’s go and see who it is!’

As soon as we went out of our little room onto the small San landing, where Minny’s examination room and all the sickrooms open out into, we could hear that it was two policemen. The one guarding San must have been joined by another, and they were talking.

‘. . . having a meeting now,’ said the first policeman as we crept up to the closed main door to the corridor and pressed our ears against it to listen. ‘The chief’s idea. Wants to get her to confess.’

‘Trust him to go for drama,’ said the other. ‘Nice touch, though, I admit. Where are they?’

‘That music room, down the other end of the school. I’m off there now as reinforcement. You ought to come.’

‘Don’t I wish I could!’ said our policeman. ‘But I’m on nanny duty. Little madams can’t get hurt – his orders.’

Daisy flushed with annoyance. ‘All right,’ she said to me. ‘An excellent plan has just come into my brain. Wait here.’

She turned and ran into the other San sick room, and came back a moment later dragging a small shrimp behind her. It was Binny.

‘What are you doing here?’ I asked.

‘Got a bad stomach,’ said Binny. Daisy glared at her. ‘Not really – I just wanted to get out of Latin.’

‘Don’t I know it,’ said Daisy. ‘And if you want me to keep mum for you, there’s something I need you to do.’

‘What?’ asked Binny.

‘When I tell you,’ said Daisy, ‘I want you to
scream
.’

8

The landing outside San had gone quiet. The other policeman must have gone off to the meeting in the music room. ‘Ready?’ whispered Daisy. We were crouching just behind the door. Binny, positioned in the very middle of the San hallway, nodded.

‘Three, two, one,’ whispered Daisy. ‘Scream!’

Binny screamed.

It sounded like an express train howling through a tunnel. There was a yell of shock from the policeman out on the landing, and then he came bursting through the door, leaving it wide open and the landing beyond clear.

With Binny’s screams still ringing in our ears, Daisy and I ran for it.

We scurried along the corridor towards Music Wing, but just as we were coming to the end of Library corridor I looked behind us and saw the one sight I was hoping like anything that we would avoid.

Miss Griffin was following us.

Daisy clutched my arm in panic, and I clutched at Daisy – and at that moment Miss Griffin realized that she had been seen. The most awful expression came over her face, a
pounce
like a cat on two mice, and she began to stride purposefully towards us.

‘Quick!’ hissed Daisy. ‘RUN!’

And, ignoring all the rules of Deepdean, we ran like hares down New Wing corridor.

I have never been so terrified in my life. I remember galloping along in a sweating awful panic, hearing our feet on the marble tiles – and behind them, the
click
,
click
,
click
of Miss Griffin’s shoes as she came after us. My heart was burning and hammering in my chest and my ankle throbbed along with it.

‘Girls!’ called Miss Griffin after us. ‘Come here at once! I want to talk to you! You are missing lessons without permission!’

‘Ignore her!’ panted Daisy.

I did not need to be told twice.

But then we turned the corner into Music Wing and almost crashed into Inspector Priestley.

He was standing in the hallway, a sheaf of papers in his large hands, and at that moment he seemed like the Angel Gabriel or one of the godlike Inspectors from Daisy’s novels, descended to earth to save our souls.

‘Help!’ gasped Daisy, gesturing behind us. ‘Miss Griffin!’

The Inspector acted at once.

‘Quick!’ he said. ‘In there!’ And he ushered us – or rather, almost shoved us – through the open door of the small music room, before slamming it shut.

He was only just in time. As we leaned against each other, panting as quietly as we could, I heard the clicking of Miss Griffin’s shoes once again. They hurried closer and closer – and then stopped. She must have seen the Inspector, I thought.

‘Ah, Miss Griffin,’ Inspector Priestley said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world that they should meet there. ‘You’re just in time for our meeting.’

‘What meeting?’ asked Miss Griffin, sounding extremely ungracious.

‘Didn’t my sergeant let you know? I’m terribly sorry. I’ve asked several of the mistresses to meet me here to discuss some developments in the case. In fact, now that you’ve arrived, we can begin. They’re all waiting for you in the music room.’

‘Inspector, I am busy. I am looking for two of my pupils. You didn’t see two girls pass by here just now, did you?’

I tensed up.

‘Ah yes, I did,’ said the Inspector. ‘They went out of North Entrance in a terrible hurry, I think you’ve lost them. At least you still have the meeting to console you.’

There was a pause.

‘Oh, very well, then,’ said Miss Griffin, with bad grace.

I breathed a very quiet sigh of relief.

There was the sound of a door opening and closing, silence outside in the hallway and voices next door to us.

Now, Daisy and I had been shoved into the small music room. It is separate from the big music room, but the two rooms connect by a door, covered with a heavy velvet curtain on the big music room side. Between the door and the curtain there’s a narrow little space – just big enough for two girl detectives to squeeze into.

I do wonder whether the Inspector had planned on us listening in. It may have just been a nice coincidence – he never said anything about it to us afterwards – but all the same, Daisy and I opened the connecting door, and slipped in behind the curtain. So we heard exactly what went on at Inspector Priestley’s meeting.

9

Daisy and I positioned ourselves one at each end of the curtain, so that we could peep round it into the room beyond. I squashed my cheek against the shivery-cold stone of the alcove wall and had a splendid view of the music room – with its high, white ceiling, and long, curved picture window that looks out onto the lawns and pond. The tall, severe policeman from Old Entrance was backed up against the far wall, looking official, and several hard classroom chairs had been set out in a semicircle facing the big window. Miss Lappet, Miss Hopkins, The One, Miss Parker and Mamzelle were sitting uncomfortably in these chairs, and standing in front of them just like a master in front of his form, was Inspector Priestley. Miss Griffin was still being ushered into an empty chair by Rogers, the spotty policeman. She looked put out, and he looked frankly terrified of her. I didn’t blame him.

‘Is all this strictly necessary?’ snapped Miss Griffin. ‘I do have a school to run, you know.’

‘I am quite aware of that,’ said the Inspector. ‘However, it could not be avoided. I do promise that I’ll try to take up as little of your time as I can.

‘Now, I have called this meeting because of certain developments in my investigation of the death of Miss Tennyson. But I have been made aware that this is not the only unfortunate event Deepdean has suffered recently. You are currently missing your Science mistress, are you not?’

I saw Miss Parker’s shoulders shake. I felt a surge of pity for her – she must have been nearly frantic with worry about Miss Bell.

‘I am not sure
missing
is the correct word,’ said Miss Griffin acidly. ‘I received Miss Bell’s resignation on my desk last Tuesday morning in the proper manner. She has left the school, and I wish her good luck. Surely that has no bearing on Miss Tennyson’s unfortunate suicide?’

The Inspector sighed. ‘I am afraid,’ he said, ‘that the whereabouts of Miss Bell have a great deal to do with this investigation. I am also afraid that those whereabouts are no longer in any doubt. Miss Bell did not resign last Monday at all. Nor did she leave school grounds of her own volition.’

‘What do you mean?’ cried Miss Parker.

‘I mean,’ said the Inspector, ‘that this afternoon my men discovered a body in Oakeshott Woods; a body that exactly matches the description I have of Miss Bell.’

Miss Parker made a noise that sounded like all the air rushing out of a balloon. Her face had gone red and her mouth was open and gaping fishily, and she clutched at the sides of her chair until her knuckles went red and white in strips.

‘The discovery means that this is now a murder inquiry, and you are the suspects.’

Beside me, Daisy made an appreciative noise. I could tell that she was enjoying the Inspector’s sense of theatre.

‘I’m afraid, Inspector, that you must be mistaken,’ said Miss Griffin calmly.

‘I’m afraid that I am not,’ said the Inspector, who was just as calm.

Miss Parker’s voice, when she spoke, came choking out of her in odd little bursts. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, she can’t be – we argued, I was going to tell her I was sorry – she can’t be dead before I’ve told her how sorry I am!’

Oh, poor Miss Parker
, I thought. Daisy sniffed. She did not sound sympathetic.

The Inspector was carrying on. ‘The murderer must have been someone who knew her writing well enough to forge a resignation letter, and who had access to Miss Griffin’s desk – in short, it must have been one of the six of you.’

‘But this is preposterous!’ exclaimed Miss Lappet. She was slurring her words again. ‘You have not the smallest bit of evidence against any of us.’

‘On the contrary,’ said the Inspector. ‘I have plenty. There is a bloodstain on the Gym floor and another one on the Gym cupboard’s trolley. The disused tunnel under the school bears signs of recent use, including footprints matching Miss Tennyson’s shoes, and there is a bloodstain and moss from Oakeshott Woods on Miss Tennyson’s abandoned car. I can say with confidence that Miss Tennyson played a part in Miss Bell’s death and the disposal of her body. But she did not do it alone.’

I could feel the atmosphere change in the music room, and despite myself I shivered.

‘Miss Tennyson’s death at first appeared to be a suicide, but certain details did not make sense. There were signs of a struggle, and the body had been rearranged after death. Therefore I deduce that Miss Tennyson’s accomplice returned and killed her. Someone in this room is the murderer of
two
women.’

10

‘But why do you think one of us did it?’ asked Miss Lappet, in a brief moment of clarity. ‘It might be anyone.’

‘Yes, exactly,’ said Miss Hopkins, scandalized. ‘Besides, people like us simply don’t do that sort of thing.’

‘All of you were at school during Monday evening,’ the Inspector explained. ‘And all of you had a reason to wish Miss Bell dead.’

‘Nonsense!’ cried Mamzelle suddenly. ‘Not
I
, surely! I had no hatred for Mees Bell.’

‘Ah, well, that may be true. But you
do
have a secret, don’t you?’ said the Inspector.

‘Whatever do you mean?’ asked Mamzelle. Her chin had gone up, and her face was pale. Behind the curtain, Daisy pinched me in excitement. Whatever did the Inspector mean? Had we missed something else?

‘This afternoon I wired the school in France you give as your reference, and they wired back to say that they had never heard of you. In fact, the French do not seem to have any official records of you at all. You aren’t Estelle Renauld, are you?’

Behind the curtain I gasped, and Daisy kicked me on the ankle so hard that when I inspected it afterwards I could still see the print of her shoe. All the other staff stared up at Mamzelle in shock. She looked round at them and suddenly burst out laughing.

‘The things one will do to get a job,’ she said, in a very different accent to her ordinary French one. ‘It seemed such a little deception when compared to the reward.’

‘You
aren’t French
?’ shrieked Miss Hopkins.

‘I’m from Leicester,’ said Mamzelle. ‘Down on the official records as Stella Higgins, if you must know. I trained as a Science mistress, but there were no jobs going for a grammar-school girl from Leicester. Then I read about this position. I speak French, after all. My mother was from Toulouse. I thought, why not have a go? It was the sort of place I’d dreamed about teaching at all my life, but I knew I’d never get there as Stella Higgins. So I made a little alteration to my records – taking my mother’s maiden name, and changing the spelling of my first name. One of my mother’s cousins rewrote my reference so that it came from a school in Provence, and I became Mademoiselle Renauld. But if you think that Miss Bell found out, and I killed her to shut her up, you’re quite wrong. I had nothing to do with her death, or Miss Tennyson’s – I might have changed my name to get a job, but I’d never
kill
anyone to keep it. And if I’m dismissed for this – well, you’re fools. You must admit, I’ve been good at my job.’

That must have been what Mamzelle was doing when Sophie heard her in the music practice room, I thought. Practising her accent! It had only been a very small mystery, but it was lovely to have it solved.

‘Good heavens,’ said Miss Hopkins faintly.

‘Well,’ snapped Miss Griffin. ‘We’ll deal with this later.’

Inspector Priestley nodded. ‘Thank you for clearing that up,’ he said to Mamzelle. ‘For the moment I shall assume that you are innocent – or rather, that you are guilty of nothing more serious than identity fraud – and move on with the problem of who killed Miss Bell and Miss Tennyson.’

Everyone went very quiet again.

‘I didn’t do it,’ said Miss Parker at last. ‘I swear I didn’t. Joan and I argued horribly that evening but that’s all. I didn’t want to tell anyone that we’d had another row – I was embarrassed, so I’ve been lying about exactly when I left school that day. I was here until nearly six, but I swear I had nothing to do with her being
murdered
. And I thought Joan was alive until just now – didn’t I?’ she asked The One pleadingly, turning to look at him with huge staring eyes.