Read The School of English Murder Online
Authors: Ruth Dudley Edwards
Tags: #Suspense, #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Large Type Books
Amiss looked around the nasty waiting-room and thought of the years Rich was going to spend amid ugliness. He let out a heavy sigh. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘but only if you call me Robert in future. I’ve never forgiven you for making me Bob.’
He chuckled. ‘Mean of me. Used to do that to everyone. It was revenge really. I hated being called Rich but got saddled with it early on.’
‘OK, Richard, shoot.’
‘I had a picnic that Sunday. I was always a bit nervous in case someone came into the school unexpectedly, but only Ned and Wally had keys and I discouraged weekend work. Also, of course, I always put the snib on the lock. It happened just once that Ned tried to come in on a Sunday and couldn’t get in, but it was easy to convince him that he hadn’t done the right thing with the keys.
‘It was a frightful piece of bad luck that we should be holding a picnic on perhaps the only Sunday that Wally Armstrong decided to come in. It was an even more frightful piece of bad luck that I had left the snib off the lock. Wally had come in to see if he could fix the language laboratory. He wanted to spend the afternoon worrying away at it and then in the morning he’d be able to give a superior smile and say, “You can cancel the electrician. I did it yesterday.”
‘What happened was that he came in, saw possessions strewn around and heard noises in the garden. Anyone else would have come out to see what was going on. Not Wally. He loved to get information that other people didn’t know he had.
‘Everyone thinks you can’t see into the loggia from the house. But Wally knew something no one else did. He went upstairs to the walk-in cupboard on the third floor, brought in a chair and looked through the small high window which gives a perfect vantage point if you don’t mind the discomfort. Wally didn’t. He stayed long enough to view me dispensing cocaine and a couple of students having a screw to the great applause of the others: it was a rather raunchy group that week. Then he went home.
‘I got back from an exhausting day and had this call from Wally about dreadful happenings that were out of keeping with the distinguished traditions of the Knightsbridge School.
‘He was dripping crocodile tears. So sorry he’d witnessed it: the last thing he wanted to do was to put the school in jeopardy. But having said that, he was a man for whom integrity was all and he took a very strong line on drugs and orgies. He’d like to talk things over with me before he spoke to Ned and/or the police.
‘I knew just what was going on. For one thing he was mad with envy. He was one of those people who never has fun and never looks for it but always resents not having it. One of the reasons he disliked me so much was that I enjoyed life a lot. He’d have had a sweet revenge by telling Ned he had been wrong about me, and that what was necessary was to get rid of me and take him into partnership. Wally really had a hankering to deal with the BPs and believed he’d have done it just as well if not better than me.
‘What I couldn’t bear was the thought of how broken-hearted Ned would be. He’d have forgiven me, oh yes, because he was that kind of person, but he’d have been devastated. He took a very simple line against drugs. And the public sex bit he’d have found distressing. Over and above, he’d have been deeply disappointed, though it wouldn’t have stopped him loving me. But I couldn’t stand the thought of his being so hurt.
‘Wally wanted to come over and talk, but I told him my mother was with me. He said if I wanted to see him before he saw Ned it would have to be before nine the following morning. I suggested eight, got in at seven and fixed the wiring. As you know, I’m very practical, and this was easy. I stayed in the lab until he arrived, saying when he did that I thought I nearly had it, but didn’t think I’d got it quite right. That made him forget everything else. Within seconds he had moved in purposefully and within minutes he was dead. I skipped out before it happened. I wouldn’t have been up to watching. Cowardice again.
‘It’s interesting, isn’t it, that I committed both murders because Ned was such a lovely person. The first time I was determined to preserve his innocence ; the second time I felt I had to take revenge on someone worthless who destroyed such goodness.’
Amiss found it impossible to think of anything to say.
‘And yet, I was probably wrong about Ned. I should have had more courage and more trust in him. He’d have known from the ancient Greeks about all kinds of depravity: mine was very small beer. I’d forgotten too how unshockable really good people can be. And of course if Wally hadn’t worked me into such a panic I’d probably have calmed down and called his bluff.’
‘I’m sorry, Richard,’ said Amiss. ‘I’m really very very sorry.’
‘Thank you, dear boy. You’re very kind. Funny. When we met first I thought you were a bit of a shit.’
‘I felt the same way about you.’
‘Now you find I’m not a shit, just a murderer. I must say, Robert, you’re a very charitable fellow.’ He chuckled.
And to the bewilderment of the warder, who came in to give them a five-minute warning, they both fell into hysterical laughter.
EPILOGUE
Saturday evening at the Miltons was a huge success. Pooley’s nervousness evaporated within a very short time of arrival and by the end of the meal he no longer felt like a spare man, but like one of a united group.
When the meal had been demolished, they moved with their coffee and brandy into the living-room.
‘Can we wrap this up?’ asked Ann Milton as she sat down. ‘You know how I like things to be tidy.’
‘Things intellectual,’ remarked her husband. ‘If you look around you, you’ll note she doesn’t mean things domestic’
Ann ignored him. ‘Right, I think I’ve got all this straight. Ahmed killed Ned at the behest of Sven and Cath; an as yet unidentified Arab killed Ahmed, almost certainly at Sven’s behest; and Rich killed Cath. Seems like rather a lot of murderers.’
‘Might be even more,’ said Pooley. ‘We still don’t know what happened to Wally Armstrong.’
‘Let’s forget Wally Armstrong,’ said Milton. ‘We have to write him off. There’s simply no hard evidence.’
Amiss opened his mouth and closed it again.
‘All right,’ said Ann. ‘Now let’s look at justice. Cath and Ahmed have given an eye for an eye; Rich will get life imprisonment for Cath’s death; and Sven and his hired hand get off scot free.’
‘Up to a point,’ said Milton. ‘I doubt if we’ll ever catch Ahmed’s assassin. He had plenty of time to leave the country. And Rich’s evidence isn’t good enough to have Sven Bjorgsson extradited. But he doesn’t get off scot free, Ann. Although he admitted next to nothing, he couldn’t deny the affair with Cath. His wife says she’s leaving him and the Swedish police will keep a very close eye on him from now on. His legitimate and illegitimate business will suffer greatly.’
‘Poor old Rich,’ said Rachel. ‘Will he really get life?’
‘Yes,’ said Milton. ‘But he might get out in seven years or so. The premeditation was slight and the provocation severe. How’s he getting on anyway, Robert? You haven’t told us about yesterday. What did you talk about?’
‘The past and the future,’ said Amiss slowly.
They all looked at him curiously. ‘Something happened, didn’t it?’ asked Rachel. ‘Something that’s hard to talk about.’
Amiss said nothing. After a moment Pooley leant forward and touched his hand. ‘Robert, we started this together. Don’t you think I deserve to be in on the finish?’
Amiss looked round all four of them. ‘I’ll tell you only on the condition that you tell nobody. This is off the record. In other words, anyone who quotes me is betraying our friendship.’
‘You’re certainly making yourself clear,’ said Milton. ‘I agree. Anyone not?’
No one did and in silence they listened to the story of the murder of Wally.
When it was over, Milton reached for the brandy and refilled their glasses. ‘I’m glad I haven’t heard about Wally Armstrong being murdered,’ he said. ‘I might find it difficult to pursue his murderer with much enthusiasm.’
‘Me too,’ said Pooley.
‘Except for Ned Nurse,’ said Ann, ‘the victims seem worse than the murderers.’
‘Nonsense, Ann,’ said Milton. ‘Half the victims were murderers — and vice versa, of course.’
‘I haven’t finished about yesterday,’ said Amiss.
‘Uh, oh,’ said Rachel. ‘I know that tone of voice and it presages trouble. What else is there? Tell me quickly.’
‘He wants me to adopt Plutarch.’
‘Oh, Jesus!’
‘And I agreed.’
‘Oh, Christ!’
‘Because I didn’t know how to say no.’
‘The story of your life, Robert,’ said Rachel.
‘He says she’s quite old — about fourteen. So it won’t be for long. He wanted to pay me to do it — even offered me a diamond tie-pin, but of course I refused.’
‘Of course,’ said Rachel. ‘The very idea of a man of your wealth accepting such an offer.’
‘It’s the Judas business.’
‘So Judas, he gets thirty pieces of silver. Robert, he gets a cat.’ Amiss looked at her miserably. She leaned over and kissed him. ‘I’m sure I’ll learn to love her. She sounds divine.’
‘What’ll you do now, Robert?’ asked Ann.
‘Register for the dole, I expect.’
‘Will you get it this time?’ asked Pooley.
‘Ah, interesting theological question here. Have I still to work through my twenty-six week suspension for leaving the Civil Service without good reason? Or can I get the dole immediately because the school closed down through no fault of mine?’
‘Sorry, Robert,’ said Pooley. ‘It
was
your fault. If you hadn’t thought of the foreign coins, we mightn’t have nailed Rich and the school would still be open.’
‘My God, you’re absolutely right. Don’t tell the benefit office, will you?’
‘Be serious for a moment,’ said Milton. ‘What are you really going to do?’
‘I’ll tell you what he’s going to do,’ said Rachel, ‘and he’s going to do it before that beastly cat moves in and before either of you gets another bright idea. He’s going to enrol on Monday for a training course in assertiveness.’
They all looked at Amiss. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘If you say so.’
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R
UTH
D
UDLEY
E
DWARDS
was born in Dublin but now lives in London. After a period of teaching and academic research, she worked in telecommunications and then the Civil Service. Since 1979 she has been a freelance writer. Her two previous Robert Amiss mysteries are
The Saint Valentine’s Day Murders
and
Corridors of Death
, which was shortlisted for the John Creasey Award for Best First Crime Novel of the Year:
—«»—«»—«»—
[scanned anonymously in a galaxy far far away]
[A 3S Release— v1, html]
[May 05, 2007]
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