A Deadly Lesson Read online

  ‘Time of death is believed to be some time last night, rather than early this morning. She was unmarried and lived alone, so nobody reported her missing when she didn’t come home yesterday. We’re checking that with her neighbours.

  ‘She was last seen at about 6.30 p.m. by other colleagues, after a Senior Leadership Team meeting. They said that after the meeting concluded she went back to her office. By all accounts, she was the type of person who’d rather stay late than take marking home with her. Her car was still in its usual place when the last of her colleagues left, and appears to have been there overnight. We’re putting together a timeline at the moment.’

  ‘Any motives yet?’ asked DS David Hutchinson.

  ‘So far, nobody has a bad word to say about her, but it’s early days.’

  Warren moved to the whiteboard.

  ‘First priority is interviewing all staff. That includes teachers, governors and support staff, both office and non-office based. I want to know where they were and what they were doing the previous day. Until we get a firmer time of death, we are assuming she was killed late evening, sometime after she left her meeting. Tony, I want you to take a lead on that. Organise a team from Welwyn and start doing preliminary interviews; see if you can get voluntary DNA and fingerprint samples. Flag anyone you are unhappy about for a further look. Liaise with Rachel to run names through the computer, and start generating Actions.’

  ‘Will do,’ replied DI Tony Sutton.

  DS Rachel Pymm, the team’s officer in the case – the person responsible for organising all of the information flowing into the investigation – nodded her agreement, already making notes on her tablet computer.

  ‘It sounds as though CCTV at the school is limited, but let’s collect what we can. Can you also source footage from the local area and traffic video, Mags? See which registration plates were picked up on the ANPR cameras in the area. Pass it on to Rachel for cross-referencing against what the interviewees tell Tony.’

  DS Mags Richardson was also jotting notes on a tablet device, although she was using a stylus. Her handwriting was clearly a lot neater than Warren’s. He’d had a go at using one and given up in frustration after half an hour, finding it took longer to correct the computer’s mistakes than it would have taken to handwrite his notes with a pen and notepad and then type them up.

  ‘The school is in a residential area, can you arrange for some door-knocking, Hutch? It was dark, and most folks probably had their curtains closed, but you never know.’

  ‘No problem.’ Hutchinson was a pen and paper man, like Warren, although his two-fingered typing was so slow he only transcribed his notes when he absolutely had to.

  ‘What about the pupils?’ asked Ruskin.

  ‘Interviewing all of them isn’t really practical. However, there will be a team of counsellors coming in later today to comfort pupils and staff. We will also be setting up a hotline for people to call with any information they might have, in confidence if necessary.’ Warren’s mouth twisted slightly. ‘My wife is a teacher and she says that schools run on caffeine and gossip. Hopefully, any useful information won’t be buried too deeply.’

  He paused, before addressing his team.

  ‘Unless we find something very early on, this is going to be a big investigation. Middlesbury CID will be taking the lead as usual, and Detective Superintendent Grayson has already delegated the role of Senior Investigation Officer to me, with DI Sutton second-in-charge. DSI Grayson is down at headquarters organising extra bodies and support. He’ll likely spend most of his time at Welwyn, liaising with the chief officer team and the press. I don’t need to tell you how high profile this case is likely to be.’

  Warren didn’t envy his boss that role; even for someone as political as John Grayson, the media interest would mean that the force’s every move would be subject to intense, not always flattering, scrutiny. Warren remembered all too well the fallout from the summer’s tumultuous events. He hoped they could wrap up the case quickly enough to prevent the brewing media storm from gaining too much energy.

  * * *

  Sacred Heart Catholic Academy’s Senior Leadership Team reflected the school’s relatively small size. With only six hundred pupils, plus a small sixth form, the school was run by one head teacher, one deputy head and two assistant heads, all of whom had been in attendance at the monthly late-night SLT meeting where Jillian Gwinnett had last been seen alive. Warren had decided to prioritise interviews with the SLT, along with the chair of the school’s governing body. To minimise collaboration between potential co-conspirators, the interviews were taking place simultaneously.

  ‘The SLT meets for about two hours every Wednesday after school during term-time. In addition, the first Monday of each month is an extended meeting for about three hours. Sometimes members of the governing body are invited to attend, although none of us were present yesterday evening.’

  Father Jim Beresford was a vigorous looking man in his mid-sixties, with a shock of white hair. Chair of governors for the past nine years, he had been on the interview panel that had promoted Jillian Gwinnett to deputy head.

  ‘Just a formality, of course, but would you be able to tell me your whereabouts on Monday night, Father?’

  ‘I was in all night. I did some shopping that afternoon, then went home. I like to be prepared ahead of time, so I wrote the outline for next Sunday’s sermon. Then I read for a bit, watched the news and went to bed early.’

  ‘Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?’

  Beresford looked uncomfortable.

  ‘I’m very sorry, DCI Jones, but I’m afraid there isn’t anyone. I live alone, and I didn’t have any visitors that evening.’

  Warren looked at the man appraisingly, before smiling politely.

  ‘Not to worry, Father, I’m sure we’ll be able to eliminate you from our inquiries easily enough. Now tell me about Ms Gwinnett.’

  ‘Jill was an exceptional teacher of Religious Studies. I had the pleasure of observing one of her A level lessons recently and it was inspiring. Before she took on her current role, she was a very successful year head, taking a cohort all the way through from joining in year seven to the best GCSE exam results we’ve ever had. However, I think it was in her role as a member of the Senior Leadership Team that she really excelled.’

  ‘I believe that she was appointed as deputy head at the same time as Noah Ball was brought in as head?’ said Warren.

  Father Beresford’s mouth twisted slightly. ‘They were difficult days, DCI Jones. We had just been judged as “Requires Improvement” by OFSTED. A diocesan inspection the same year was also rather damning. It was decided that the school needed fresh leadership. The former head teacher Russell Leigh agreed to take early retirement along with the then deputy head, and most of the governing body stepped down.’

  ‘Except for you.’

  Beresford smiled tightly. ‘I had only been in post for six months and had been moved in from a successful school in Stevenage; the verdicts from OFSTED and the diocese were disappointing but not a complete surprise. It was decided that I would oversee the transition to a new leadership team.’

  ‘I see.’

  Warren decided to change tack slightly.

  ‘Tell me more about Ms Gwinnett. Help me understand her as a person.’

  The priest was silent for a few seconds, before pushing air through his lips.

  ‘Jill was a very good leader. Very good. And she knew it. She and Noah Ball turned this school around in spectacular fashion and much of that was Jill’s doing.’

  ‘I imagine that such a major change of direction for a school was not without its… challenges.’

  Beresford gave a sigh.

  ‘There were some who felt that the pace of change was too rapid, and not everyone agreed with the school’s new direction. Some staff chose to move on, whilst others eventually accepted that was how it needed to be.’

  ‘And what about Ms Gwinnett’s appointment as deputy head?’
r />   ‘Jill had already been a well-respected year head for several years at the school. She wasn’t a member of the SLT at the time of the inspections and so wasn’t held accountable for the school’s shortcomings. It was decided that her appointment as deputy head would provide much needed continuity, whilst the school adjusted to Noah Ball’s leadership. Largely speaking, I would say her appointment was met with approval by the school community.’

  ‘And what about more recently?’

  Beresford paused. ‘This is not for public consumption, you understand?’

  ‘I can’t make any promises, but I will be as discreet as possible.’

  ‘In answer to your question, Noah Ball is nearing retirement. He’ll be sixty in nine months’ time. When that happens, Jill would have had a very good chance of being appointed his successor.’

  ‘I would have thought that such a position has to be opened up to a public interview?’

  ‘Of course. But the opinion of the governing body holds a lot of sway in these matters.’

  Warren wasn’t sure what the relevance of the information was, but something told him it was important.

  * * *

  Matthew Waring was ambitious, that much was obvious. Barely seven years into his teaching career and he’d already had a stint as head of Geography, and eighteen months previously had been made an assistant head; all before his thirtieth birthday. He too had been present at Monday night’s SLT meeting, and was in interview suite two opposite DI Tony Sutton.

  ‘I last saw Jill a little after six-thirty. I went back to her office with her for a quick chat before leaving for the day.’

  ‘What time was that?’ asked Sutton.

  ‘About quarter to seven, I suppose, perhaps a little later.’

  ‘Did you leave immediately?’

  ‘No, I stopped by my office to pick up some marking and finish up some paperwork.’

  ‘How long would you say that took.’

  ‘Um, fifteen minutes maybe?’

  ‘Do you know who else was still in the building?’

  ‘Not really, I guess some of the site team were probably still around. I didn’t see if anyone else from SLT went back to their office or if they all left immediately.’

  ‘What about the car park? Were there any other cars still parked there?’ asked Moray Ruskin. The murder of Jillian Gwinnett was the first homicide case to be handled by Middlesbury CID since the probationer had been assigned to the unit full-time. Tony Sutton had been appointed as Ruskin’s mentor and so far he was pleased with the young DC’s instincts.

  Waring thought for a moment. ‘None that I saw, but the Geography department is at the other end of the school, so I park in the PE car park; everyone else is up on the main site.’

  Ruskin jotted down his reply. Sutton said nothing, letting the silence stretch out. Waring stared back.

  ‘OK, thank you for your help, Mr Waring, we’ll call you if there is anything else we need.’ Sutton clicked off the recorder.

  The door snicked closed behind the departing teacher.

  Ruskin looked over at Sutton.

  ‘He’s lying.’

  * * *

  ‘Cause of death was strangulation.’ Professor Ryan Jordan showed Warren a series of glossy photographs. ‘You can see the petechial haemorrhaging on the eyeballs, and the hyoid bone in the throat is broken.’ He swiped to the next photograph. ‘She was strangled with hemp rope approximately one and a half centimetres in diameter; you can see superficial scratching from the fibres.’

  The photographs were far from the goriest images that Warren had seen, nevertheless he was glad that he’d already eaten his lunch. He found his appetite tended to disappear otherwise. At least Jordan hadn’t insisted on inviting him down to watch the procedure.

  ‘You can tell from the way in which the bruising extends around most of the circumference of her throat that the rope was looped and dropped over her head. There are burst blood vessels on the top of both shoulders, suggesting that the killer pushed down on them to increase leverage. I identified some loose textile fibres that might have been transferred by her killer.’

  ‘Any sign of sexual assault?’

  ‘None. Her clothing was apparently undisturbed and I’ve done a full internal examination.’

  ‘Any ideas about time of death?’

  ‘It’s a pretty poor measure, as you know, but the drop in her core temperature is consistent with her dying late yesterday evening, rather than early this morning. Stomach contents revealed the remains of pasta and tomato sauce, which she is reported to have had for lunch, and what appears to be some sort of fruit cake and some grapes, which matches the catering order for the meeting she attended after school. Again, the degree of digestion supports the idea that she died late evening.

  ‘I’m awaiting blood toxicology tests, but so far I see no evidence that she was drugged or had consumed alcohol recently.’

  * * *

  The first twenty-four hours in a homicide investigation are known as the ‘golden hours’. Based on her apparent time of death, the inquiry into Jillian Gwinnett’s murder would soon be entering its second day. The victim had lain undiscovered for anything up to twelve hours, giving her killer valuable time to hide evidence, and so Warren and his team were already playing catch-up. Therefore, Warren decided to call a late-evening briefing. Most of his team had already been on shift for twelve hours, but they were still bright-eyed and full of energy, coffee and adrenaline keeping fatigue at bay. It couldn’t last in the long-term, of course. After the initial flurry of activity, if the killer wasn’t apprehended, by necessity the investigation would soon settle down into a more sustainable routine.

  ‘Tony, why don’t you kick off?’

  Sutton smoothed his rumpled shirt and ran a hand through his greying hair. He’d already been on shift for some hours when the initial call had come in and even coffee was starting to lose its effect.

  ‘First of all, technology is not on our side. Many of the school’s CCTV cameras are broken, awaiting the start of the new financial year before they can be repaired. The school has a swipe card system, but it’s a very basic one. Staff members’ cards are divided into groups depending on which doors they have permission to open and at what time, but the cards themselves don’t have any identifying information. The SLT group for example have full access, including out of hours, but normal teaching staff and admin can’t come on site before 7 a.m. and can’t re-enter after 5 p.m.

  ‘Individual internal door locks remember the last time they were opened, but not by whom. For fire safety, most doors can be opened manually by pressing a release button or using a mechanical handle on the inside, so there’s no log of when people exit. The main external doors do log entries but only record basic information, such as what group of card was used. And staff routinely come in and out in groups.’

  ‘Well, we wouldn’t want to make it too easy for an experienced detective such as yourself, Tony. What have we got so far?’ asked Warren.

  ‘We’ve accounted for most staff’s whereabouts. Aside from the site team and the SLT, most staff were long gone by the time the meeting was finished. The school is typically locked up by six or six-thirty, but pretty much everyone had left by five-thirty. The school is on an energy-saving drive and they turn the heating off at three-thirty after the kids go home. Apparently, the building is old and draughty, and this time of year it gets decidedly chilly within an hour or so. Most staff take their marking home or log on to the school network remotely.’

  ‘What about the SLT? I can’t imagine them sitting around in coats and scarves in their after-school meeting,’ asked Warren.

  ‘The school has bought a number of portable oil-filled electric radiators that can be used to heat individual rooms and offices. It works out cheaper than keeping the heating on.’

  ‘Did Gwinnett have one?’ asked Hutchinson.

  ‘Yes, but it wasn’t switched on,’ said Sutton.

  ‘Which suggests that sh
e wasn’t expecting to stay too late that evening,’ noted Warren.

  ‘Or her killer was worried about the school’s electricity bill,’ said Rachel Pymm, only half joking.

  ‘So all of the teaching staff, except for the SLT, were gone by five-thirty?’

  ‘Almost all. The majority of staff drive or lift-share, so we’re cross-referencing the times they claim to have left with ANPR cameras. Three members of staff said they used public transport, we’re also checking them out. The only person unaccounted for so far is Giles Sanders, the head of Science. He says he walked home. He also claims not to have left until 6 p.m. I guess he must have kept his coat on.’

  ‘Any CCTV?’

  Mags Richardson shook her head.

  ‘Nothing. The camera above the main entrance has been broken for weeks. Depending on his route home, he might pass by a local newsagent whose camera covers a few metres of the pavement outside her shop, but it’s unlikely.’

  ‘OK, let’s put him on the list for a follow-up interview. If we’re still struggling to rule him out, we’ll raise a warrant to track down his phone’s movements. Anything from the door-to-door, Hutch?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Hutchinson. ‘As you said it was dark by 5 p.m. so even those who were home yesterday evening had their curtains closed.’

  ‘What about non-teaching staff?’

  Sutton flicked over his notepad.

  ‘There were four cleaners on duty Monday. To keep costs down, they start cleaning at 2 p.m. in unused classrooms and the canteen and then knock-off at 5 p.m. They have all undergone criminal record checks, obviously, and they wear ID badges, but don’t have swipe card access. They sign in and out of the visitors’ log, and the receptionist remembers seeing them leave.’

  ‘How do they clean locked offices then?’ asked Ruskin.