Cherringham--A Lesson in Murder (3 page)

“It’s very exclusive,” said Sarah. “And weekends and holidays, the girls tend to go into Oxford or down to London on their time off. Not much in a little village like Cherringham for them.”

“Don’t want to mix with the yokels, huh?”

“I suppose some of the parents might feel like that,” said Sarah. “As for the kids … look at Chloe. She can’t wait to be off to the big city!”

“Right. You never thought of sending Chloe there?”

“Forty thousand a year? I don’t think so, Jack.”

“Whoa — that’s sixty thousand dollars. Parents have got to be serious players, huh?”

“Oh yes,” said Sarah. “Politicians, oil execs, pop stars, Far Eastern government officials, you name it …”

“Hence the call to us — and not the police. Discretion’s the word?”

“Exactly. They’ll only talk in person about … whatever it was.”

Then Jack brought up something they had discussed.

A slight change in how they did their detective work. Now with so many cases solved …

“We going to charge them a fee?”

“I think so — don’t you? The school can certainly afford it.”

“You bet,” said Jack. “Usual split between the local charities?”

Some months back, over a long and pleasurable dinner at the Old Pig on Cherringham High Street, Jack and Sarah had drawn up a list of suitable good causes that could benefit from their sleuthing.

“Hmm, maybe. Though I was thinking … Chloe’s school’s fundraising for a new sports track.”

“Okay,” said Jack. “Lion’s share to them — kinda like that. The Robin Hood principle, rich kids to poor kids huh?”

“Exactly. Hey — better slow down a bit, Jack — the entrance is along here somewhere.”

Jack dropped down a gear, enjoying the manual, so different from the automatics back in NYC.

This … was driving.

“Of course, we’ll have to deliver,” he said.

“When haven’t we?” said Sarah.

“True,” said Jack. “But most times when we get involved in a case, we know what the deal is. This time …”

“Like I said — when they called, they definitely didn’t want the police looking into it. Had to be in person — and in the strictest confidence.”

Jack slowed. Ahead he could see a discreet sign by a turning: Cherringham Hall School for Girls, Main Entrance.

He indicated and turned. The perfectly tarmacked road dipped down through woods of oak and chestnut, eventually emerging into broad open meadows.

“Wow,” said Jack. “Quite the public school.”

Below, in the valley, among gentle pastures dotted with trees, lay the most beautiful English country house he’d ever seen. Behind it he could see sports fields, tennis courts, accommodation blocks, all carefully landscaped so as not to spoil the view of the house.

“Sarah — whatever you were thinking of charging — add a zero … I mean, of course, a
nought
at the end, huh? In fact, add two noughts.”

*

Jack parked in the visitors’ car park at the back of the main house and put the top up on the Sprite. He’d hardly finished before a smartly dressed young woman came over.

“Ms. Edwards? Mr. Brennan?” she said, offering her hand to them both. “I’m Fliss Groves, the headmaster’s secretary. We spoke on the phone. Do follow me.”

Sarah watched the woman turn sharply on her heels and head back into the building at a clipped pace. She grabbed her briefcase from the car and looked at Jack.

He winked at her: “You heard what the lady said. It’s the headmaster’s study for us … pronto!”

She smiled, then hurried to catch up.

As she crossed the threshold into the school building the smells took her right back to her own school days.

From the age of seven to eleven she’d been at a girls’ boarding school near London. Her father had been in the RAF then, stationed overseas, and it was just the done thing to send the kids home to be educated.

She’d hated it — so lonely for her, and when her dad retired and the family moved to Cherringham, she’d been overjoyed to be going to a normal day school — albeit one with two thousand pupils.

Now, looking around the grand entrance hall here, with its two sweeping staircases and tall portraits of pupils past, nothing could be more different from Cherringham Comprehensive.

She and Jack followed the briskly moving Ms. Groves through an archway down a corridor to a door with the word ‘Headmaster’ etched on it in gold leaf. She tapped gently on the door and entered, beckoning Sarah and Jack to follow.

“Your guests from the village, Gavin,” she said, before leaving and shutting the door behind her.

Sarah took in the huge room, filled with light from massive windows. And less an office, more furnished like a country house sitting room: three large sofas around a low table in front of a log fire. A desk, more modern portraits on the book-lined walls. Oak floors with thick Turkish rugs.

And standing with his back to the window, a tall figure who now stepped forward to greet them both.

“Sarah — Jack — yes?” he said. “I’m Gavin Ward. Welcome to Cherringham Hall.”

He shook Sarah’s hand and she warmed to him immediately. Relaxed, in his forties, she guessed, and with an ex-military air she recognised from so many of her father’s friends.

“I do
so
appreciate you coming out here at such short notice — weekend too, awful of me to presume …”

“Your secretary made it clear that you had a serious problem, Mr. Ward.” said Sarah.

“Gavin, please,” said the Head. “We’re all on first name terms here.”

He gestured to the sofas and Sarah sat. She watched Jack take the sofa opposite. No accident, she knew from past experience: it was important they had eye contact in these first interviews.

As if they could silently signal when it was a good time for a different line of questioning, like a ball being passed.

“There’s coffee on its way,” said Gavin. “In the meantime, let me tell you what’s been going on.” He took a breath. “What happened.”

Sarah watched him carefully. Behind the urbane smile of his introduction, she could see that he was under some strain.

“Perhaps you will then be able to tell me if you can help us,” he continued.

Sarah took out her notepad and pen. Gavin looked at them both in turn, and then began.

“It all started about a month ago …”

“A month. Four terrible weeks. And Jack, Sarah — what I am about to tell you must remain in the strictest confidence. The reputation and security of Cherringham Hall is at stake. More than a century, shaping young girls’ lives—”

Sarah watched Jack raise a hand, and the headmaster seemed to pick up on the fact that he didn’t need to launch into a speech about the long and glorious history of the school and its alumni.

“That goes without saying, Gavin. Sarah and I only want to help your school with whatever the matter is.”

Gavin smiled, nodded. “That is indeed what I have heard about you. Very discreet! Lady Repton was singing your praises.”

“Great lady,” Jack said. He looked over at Sarah.

One of those moments when the ball was being passed.

Sarah ran with it. “Oh — I did mention to your secretary, that although we don’t take a fee for our services, we do suggest a donation to—”

Gavin clapped his hands together. “Of course.” He reached over to his gigantic dark wood desk and picked up an envelope. “I hope you’ll find this appropriate.”

He handed Sarah the envelope.

No need to open it,
she thought.

Considering this plush environment, no doubt it was more than adequate.

“Right then,” said Jack. “Perhaps you can give us the details?”

Sarah watched Gavin leaned forward, as if having a conspiratorial chat.

“At first, they seemed like pranks. A fire alarm set off, one whole house evacuated in the middle of the night, even had the local fire brigade turn up. That’s the kind of thing some of the more spirited — um — antic girls would do.”

“Sure. Sounds like it,” Jack said.

Despite what was sitting in the envelope, Sarah was beginning to wonder if there was anything here for them to investigate at all.

“Then, there was the food incident …”

“Food?” Sarah asked.

Gavin nodded. “One dinner, and everyone who had the potato dauphinoise fell ill. Really … ill. And trust me, our kitchen is pristine, absolute highest marks for cleanliness, food preparation.”

“You think someone slipped something into the dauphinoise?”

Gavin raised his hands. “How else?” He took a deep breath as if stealing himself. “Then there were the cars …”

“Hmm?”

“Three of the staff’s cars were vandalised. Tyres slashed. Some of our best people! We kept that quiet, of course. But now I was getting rather worried.”

“You could have called the police on that one,” Jack said.

“When we didn’t know who or why? With all the support our parents have for this institution? I mean, what if it had been one of the girls?”

“A Cherringham Hall girl?”

Gavin leaned back. “Over the years, we have had our more difficult students. We’re not immune to the vagaries of our society today. Usually they are dealt with … one way, or the other.”

Kicked out,
Sarah guessed, no matter how much money Mum and Dad had.

“But this most recent incident, from yesterday. I think — when you hear — you’ll understand why we called you. Frightening, really.”

Sarah sensed that the headmaster was reluctant to even tell them what had happened.

“It happened in the pool …” he began.

*

When Gavin stopped, Sarah saw Jack look over.

Probably making sure my head isn’t spinning after that grisly tale.

“Wow,” Jack said. “The other things — guess they are all serious enough. But that, those girls, the floating rats. Yikes …”

“
Exactly
. I have had to speak personally to each and every one of the girls’ parents, to reassure them that we would spare no expense in finding out how such a thing could have happened.”

No expense.

Yes, Sarah guessed, whatever cheque sat in the envelope it would be for a significant sum.

But when Gavin Ward stopped, he looked from Sarah, then to Jack.

“I’m sure now you’ll understand why I called you. So tell me, what do the two of you make of this? Does any of it make any sense?”

And Jack nodded, reached out for his cup of coffee. He took a slow sip.

The man likes his thinking time.

Then he slowly put the cup down.

“Tell me, Gavin … does anyone have a grudge against the school?”

Too quickly — Sarah thought — Gavin shook his head.

“Impossible. I mean, we provide the very finest education, and the absolute best guidance onto and into University. We’re such a … friendly school. I can’t imagine anyone having what you call a ‘grudge’.”

Another nod from Jack. “Because it seems to me, with all the events you have told us about … well, there is escalation there. Each one, a bit worse. And despite what you said, it sounds a lot like someone sending Cherringham Hall a message.”

Gavin leaned close again.

“A message? What kind of message, for God’s sake?”

It felt like that to Sarah as well.

Someone wasn’t happy. And all the incidents were exactly what would happen if someone had it in for the exclusive school.

“The message?” Jack finally said. “Not sure. I think that’s why you called us, yes? To find out. And if you give Sarah and me some time to discuss, I think we might begin.”

Gavin nodded.

“Of course. I’ll tend to things outside. You can chat here. If you need anything, the button on my desk summons Fliss.”

As Gavin stood up, Sarah said: “We’ll do our best.”

Jack stood as well. “You have a fine school here, Gavin. So — I’d really like to find out why someone means it harm.”

Sarah looked at Jack.

The word —
harm.
Interesting. Hinting that already Jack suspected there were secrets, maybe things the headmaster omitted.

Hinting that as much as he needed their help, they might not get everything from Gavin Ward that they could use.

We’ve been here before. People holding things back.

Gavin took both their hands at the same time, a polished smile back on his face. “Good to hear. So — I’ll leave you to your … plans.”

And then he walked out of the enormous room, leaving them alone.

*

“Well — what do you think?” Sarah asked Jack.

He rubbed his chin. “I can understand why he didn’t call the police. His type … ex-army you guess?”

“Could be.”

“They like to ‘manage’ things. With us on the payroll he’s probably hoping to do just that.”

“You don’t trust him?” she said.

“Let’s say I don’t necessarily buy all his assurances that he can think of no one who would want to hurt the school. If I’m right, we’ll have to deal with that. Eventually.”

“But for now?”

“Need to speak to people, notepads out, right?”

“Never leave home without it.”

He grinned at that. “I’d like to take a look at the pool.”

“Scene of the crime.”

“Always the best place to start.”

“So why don’t I have a word with the girl?” said Sarah. “The one who led the Minnows into the pool.”“She has to be rattled,” Jack said.

Sarah took a breath. “And you know all that talk about a grudge …”

“Yup?”

“When I get home, I’ll see what I can find buried online.”

“Along with the ranks of explorers, scientists, politicians, and generally amazing women … all from Cherringham Hall.”

“Just might find some alumni who didn’t love this place.”

“Good. Let’s go tell Gavin.” Another grin. “Make sure he knows he’s getting his money’s worth …”

Jack followed Fliss Groves through the main hall and out onto the gravel drive which encircled the school building.

A light rain was beginning to fall and he wished he’d grabbed his coat from the Sprite. But the prim Ms. Groves didn’t look like someone who liked to be kept waiting so he marched on alongside her.