Read Maxwell's Return Online

Authors: M J Trow

Tags: #blt, #_rt_yes, #_NB_fixed, #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #British Detectives, #Cozy

Maxwell's Return (31 page)

‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘I found some really good specimens at St Olave’s, when I did the PE club there. But after the first two didn’t pan out, I had to move on. I found April on the Esplanade. We got talking. She was a pretty little thing and she told me everything. God, that kid could talk. But she told me about her mum being some kind of maths genius or something. I thought I could do with some brains in the mix. Charlotte was up the spout, I didn’t count that kid. She’s all right to look at, but nothing special. She was kind of…’

‘Practice?’ Maxwell croaked.

‘Yes. I suppose you could say that. Practice, yes. So, April got pregnant, but I didn’t know. She hadn’t done the test when she was living here. I found out when her dippy mother came to visit you.’

‘How did you find that out? I don’t see much of you on my floor,’ Maxwell managed to gasp.

‘Somebody in the staff room remembered her from when she was at Leighford High. God, some of you are old! You’ve been there for ever!
Catch me staying in the same job for a lifetime. Anyway, somebody said she was some kind of maths whizz who had left to have a kid. Then when I heard you’d called your missus in to talk to April, I did a bit of digging and there you are! I found out all about what the little slag was planning to do. It’s amazing what people tell me when I want them to.’

Maxwell’s eyes rolled into his head and Baines brought his face in so they were inches apart and the Head of Sixth Form could feel the PE teacher’s breath on his cheek.

‘So, I went to April’s place. I knew where she lived; like I said, she told me everything. She just never shut up. I threw some gravel up at her window. Like a cheesy romance it was – she lapped it up. She came downstairs to let me in, but I grabbed her and got her into the car. She was whining she’d left her phone behind and I admit that was a bit of a facer, but it was too late by then. Never mind, it won’t make any difference at the end of the day.’

Whether it was the final cliché or the fact that Guy Morley’s breaths were now frighteningly far apart, Maxwell never knew. All he knew was that the time had come and he took it. He brought his head up sharply and rammed hard into Baines’ already broken nose. The man shrieked, throwing up both hands to clutch his face and the knife skittered under the table somewhere, out of reach.

Maxwell’s plan only half worked, because Baines fell forward, pressing hard on his already injured knee. Maxwell writhed with pain and
above his ruined face, Baines’ eyes were triumphant. He pressed again with all his weight. The pain was worse now than when the knee had first crashed into the wall and Maxwell’s chest hurt so much he couldn’t even summon up a groan, let alone a yell.

Then, suddenly, the weight had gone and Baines was the one who was yelling. The Head of Sixth Form could hardly believe his eyes. Sylvia Matthews was standing over him, like the Angel of Mons, if the Angel of Mons had ever held a PE teacher by the hair and slammed his head into a door jamb until he was unconscious. She looked at Maxwell and assessed him briefly as potentially walking wounded and turned to Guy, lying curled in the foetal position now and gasping with frightening intensity as if each breath might be his last.

‘Guy,’ he heard her murmur, ‘Guy, it’s Sylvia. You’re all right now, baby. I’m here. Look. I’ve put my hand over the hole in your side. It’s only a pneumothorax, Guy. Come on, darling, you’re all right now. Come on. Just breathe, poppet.’

Maxwell closed his eyes and managed a smile. He knew Sylvia would know the proper name for it. And if there was a woman in the whole wide world who could be relied upon to save the day, when Jacquie wasn’t handy, it was Sylv.

Maxwell felt Baines begin to stir and knew he had to get help and somehow he scrambled to his feet and half ran, half fell into the hall, into the arms of Jason Briggs and then, in quick succession, those of his wife.
He looked into her face and then his eyes flickered to the staircase, where two pairs of anxious eyes were looking down at him. He looked back at Jacquie and almost managed a smile.

‘What are you doing here?’ he muttered, passing out as she replied.

‘Oh, dear, Max,’ she said, holding him tight. ‘Now I’m going to have to kill you.’

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