The School of English Murder (6 page)

It didn’t take long for Jenn to confirm herself as the common little bitch Amiss had already spotted her for. It was a relief to him when he realised she was also stupid. After five days of grinding work he would have been incapable of trying to pump someone who might be clever enough to spot what he was at. After he had listened for the best part of half an hour to boastful accounts of how great she’d been as a travel agent, courier, croupier and God knows what else, he interrupted. ‘Hey, Jenn. This is great. I’m really enjoying myself. Why don’t you let me buy you a meal. Let’s celebrate my becoming your colleague.’

‘No funny business now,’ she said delicately.

‘Wouldn’t dare, Jenn,’ he said, with his best attempt at a rueful snigger, ‘I’d say you’re well able to look after yourself. Hey, come on. What about it?’

‘Oh, all right. Why not? We’re only young once.’

Amiss tried to imagine what Jenn saw in herself that made her unsurprised that he would be craving the privilege — on
his
wages — of taking her out. Probably her admittedly impressive tits.

On the stated grounds of convenience and the actual grounds of economy, Amiss tried to steer them towards a curry house, but Jenn outsmarted him. The ‘little place’ she liked that stayed open late was able to find them a table at midnight, and he saw with a sinking heart that dinner for two was going to cost him two days’ pay. At this rate he’d never be able to afford to visit Rachel.

In for a penny. He ordered lavishly. Jenn looked at him admiringly. ‘What’s a big spender like you doing in a dump like the school?’

Amiss looked shocked. ‘Trying out a new career. I think I might like it.’

‘Well, it’s a funny place to start. Why didn’t you try one of the proper places?’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘Oh, they wouldn’t have me. Most of them expect you to be educated.’

‘You seem pretty educated to me.’

She tittered. ‘In life, maybe. Not in langwidge. But that doesn’t matter at the Knightsbridge. Those wogs are getting it so cheap they can’t afford to go anywhere else.’

Their overpriced starters arrived. Jenn tucked into her whitebait with gusto. Amiss, who always had a problem with their little eyes, alternated his gaze between his own soup and his guest’s face.

‘I’d have thought a lively girl like you would find it a bit dull.’

‘Well, nothing’s dull with Rich around.’

‘Really? I haven’t had a chance to get to know him yet. Good friend of yours, is he?’

‘You insinuating something?’ She seemed simultaneously pleased and insulted.

‘Nope. I meant friend.’

‘Yep. That’s all it is. Not that I’d necessarily mind a bit of you know…’ and she dug him in the ribs. Amiss realised that all that free drink was at last having its effect.

‘Like older men, do you?’

‘Sometimes. If they’re like Rich. ’Scuse me.’ She darted off towards the Ladies.

Amiss had five minutes to himself, long enough to ponder deeply over the revelation that Rich could be attractive to a twenty-five-year-old woman. He felt the faint irritation of a nice-looking young man that a pretty young woman could fancy a hideous dwarf nearly thirty years his senior.

She teetered back slightly unsteadily. Her fresh make-up had been applied with more optimism than accuracy. The waiter arrived at the table simultaneously, and the next few minutes were taken up with a particularly irritating carry on about how she wished she’d ordered his
gigot
rather than her seafood platter. When that was resolved she remembered what she had been clearly burning to say when she returned to the table.

‘Mind you, I like young ones too — if they’re fun.’

‘Been many of those around the school?’

‘You’re joking. I’ve been here a year and you’re the first bit of talent there’s been.’

‘Sounds as if you’re a choosy one.’

‘Bighead. No, you should’ve seen them. God! Well, you know Ned. And then there were a couple of women — Cath’s still here. She’s a stuck-up bitch.’

‘No other men?’

‘Oh yeh. There was a young spotty one and an old geezer who got done for indecent exposure in Hyde Park. And Gavs is still here — much good he is.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, he’s you know,’ and she treated Amiss to a poor imitation of a camp gesture. She paused for thought. ‘Oh, yeah. ’Course there was Wally. Was he well-named!’ She fell into a fit of merriment.

‘Who was Wally?’

‘He was the sort of deputy principal. Here for years. Before Rich came. He went and electrocuted himself in the language lab.’

‘Good God. When? How?’

‘Oh, only about a month or two back. And it happened ’cos he was an old idiot. Always showing off. “Let me demonstrate this, Jenn.” “No, no, Jenn. Not that way. This way.” Used to get his rocks off showing how clever he was about everything. Sort of fella if you said you was going to Green Park by the Piccadilly line, he’d want to sit you down to tell you why you should go by the Victoria line instead. Pain in the butt.’

‘So what did he do in the language lab?’

‘Search me. Mucked around with some wires. Anyway what do you want to know about him for? He’s dead.’

‘Well, it was the language lab I was concerned about. I don’t want to end up electrocuted.’

‘Oh, you never have to use it with the wogs. It’s only for the beautiful people.’

‘You must feel at home with them.’ Amiss was finding it increasingly exhausting to be sufficiently flirtatious to keep her happy while not storing up future trouble. ‘Is it because of them you haven’t done another glamorous job like the ones you were telling me about in the pub?’

‘Well, it’s fairly glamorous with the beautiful people. You get round a bit. That’s why I took the job when Rich suggested it. I don’t have to do much with your lot.’

Amiss was encouraged to hear her slur her words slightly. He helped her to some more wine. ‘Get on well with them then?’

‘Some of ’em. But some of ’em’s right bastards and bitches.’

Amiss was finding all this maddeningly imprecise. ‘What is it you do with them?’

‘That’d be telling.’ She looked at him coquettishly.

There was nothing for it. She was clearly a lady who drove a hard bargain.

‘Pudding?’ he asked, through clenched teeth. ‘Coffee? Brandy? And then I’ll take you home.’

8

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^
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The normally serious-minded Pooley was shaking with laughter. ‘And then?’

‘The taxi-driver intervened. Said he wasn’t having that sort of carry-on in the back of his cab. That gave me a breather to light a cigarette and interpose it between us. Whether he knew she was sexually assaulting me or thought I was attacking her I’ve no idea. I was too embarrassed to ask after we’d decanted her.’

‘You mean you didn’t go in with her? You cad.’

‘I don’t think I’d enjoy being raped.’

Pooley looked solemn again. ‘It’s a bit worrying, though, Robert.’

‘What in particular?’

‘Isn’t she going to feel rejected? And doesn’t that bode ill?’

‘I suppose in my shoes you’d have sacrificed your body for the cause. I always knew the police were corrupt.’

‘No, no, seriously, have you thought how you’ll handle it? After all, if she’s that thick with Rogers she could get you fired.’

‘All in hand, all in hand, dear boy. What’s for dinner?’

‘Roast beef.’

‘Lead me to it. And don’t fret. I’ve already sorted things out. I rang her up this afternoon.’

‘And?’

‘She was a bit reserved. Of course I’d no way of knowing what she remembered, but I decided to assume everything. “Jenn,” I said, “help, I’ve a confession to make.” Spun her a line about how I was terrified my fiancée would find out — she being madly jealous. I had been unable to resist Jenn’s charms and had behaved like a swine in not telling her I was an engaged man. Only mitigating factor that I had resisted temptation, almost overwhelming though it was. Very hard to be well-behaved with someone so madly attractive around. I’d have to keep well away, etc. etc. etc’

‘Excellent. Lovely face-saving job. Mind you, she won’t leave you alone until she has her way with you.’

‘I hope I’ll have finished with the school before that happens. I don’t want to get
AIDS
.’

‘Gets around, does she?’

‘If my deductions are correct, part of her job with the beautiful people is as a highish-class tart.’

Pooley’s eyes gleamed. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere. Come on into the kitchen and let’s get stuck into dinner. And you won’t mind, will you, if I take notes?’

‘Definitely a fifteen-cigarette problem,’ remarked Amiss, stretched sensuously while rocking gently in Pooley’s favourite chair. He watched with interest as his host flicked through his copious notes, highlighting parts with the help of two different coloured markers and putting large question marks in the margin.

‘What did you say?’ Pooley looked up.

‘I said it was a fifteen-cigarette problem.’

‘Oh, stop being an idiot, Robert.’

‘Well, I’m bored. Come on. Let’s see you put the tips of your fingers together and run through all the evidence.’

Pooley smiled. ‘In the manner of whom?’

‘Umm. Holmes? No. You’re not a drug-addict. Poirot? No. Too Belgian. Lord Peter Wimsey? Too languid. I can’t play this game, Ellis. I hardly ever read crime novels.’ He paused for a moment, clearly in deep thought. ‘Ah! I have it!’

‘Who is it?’

‘Miss Marple.’

Pooley threw a cushion which caught Amiss unawares and spilled his drink over his sweater. ‘Serves you right,’ said Pooley. ‘The trouble with you is not just that your humour is infantile — but you bring your associates down with you to nursery level.’

‘Well, it’s one form of egalitarianism. All right, I’ll be sensible for a while.’

‘Good.’ Pooley got up and embarked on his customary walk up and down his Persian rug. ‘Right. I’m putting together what I’ve had from my mate in Central as well as what you’ve picked up during the last week from Ned and Jenn. Interrupt if anything germane comes to mind that I haven’t mentioned. Now let’s start with what we definitely know.

‘The Knightsbridge School of English has been in existence for twelve years. Ned Nurse set it up by himself when he inherited the house from an aunt. Up to then he’d been employed at a series of schools round Tottenham Court Road. They were all much alike, usually a few rooms above a shop. Clientele attracted by fly-sheets in the street. The students were generally over-crowded and badly taught but in no position to argue. They were usually desperate to acquire very cheaply the basic English necessary to survive.’

‘Tarts and waiters, in fact.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Poor sods.’

‘And that’s how Ned felt about them too.’

‘Yes. I didn’t tell you that he described to me a horrid experience he’d had a year or two before his aunt died. He’d gone to work one morning to find the place closed down. No information, just a locked door. He told the students to come back the next day and tried to find out what had happened. Turned out the school’s owners had done a midnight flit with the term’s fees. Ned had to break the news to a hundred or so students and he said it broke his heart. Lots of them were in tears.’

‘Right. So when he decided to set up his own school it wasn’t to make money: he wanted to perform a public service.’

‘More or less. And also earn a reasonable income for doing the only thing he could do. Clearly he’d been exploited too. My guess is that what Jenn described as “proper” schools wouldn’t have looked at the poor old devil. He’s intelligent, and I think he’s possibly not a bad teacher, but he’s too batty and messy-looking to put in front of discerning punters.’

‘This is where it gets hazy,’ said Pooley. ‘We know how and why he started up on his own, but we don’t know what happened then.’

‘My strong guess, and I’ve nothing to go on beyond the odd throwaway remark, is that for several years he made just enough to cover his overheads, pay one other full-time teacher and some part-timers, and scrape a living himself. “Of course before dear Rich we didn’t have so many, dear boy, not so many.” I interpreted this as meaning that Rich has been responsible for student overcrowding in the prefabs. Not that Ned would have intended to give that impression. As you’ll have gathered, he’s so passionately loyal that he wouldn’t allow himself to see the truth if it reflected in any way on dear Rich.’

‘He didn’t just mean that Rich had brought in the beautiful people?’

‘Don’t think so. My impression is that pre-Rich the house was used for just slightly better-off students who could pay a bit more for the privilege of studying in groups of eight rather than twenty.’

Pooley stopped pacing, sat down and poured himself a modest brandy. ‘Now from what we can gather, Rich arrived about three years ago, but we don’t know from where, and was quickly taken into partnership — to the disgruntlement of Wally Armstrong, who had been working with Ned for some years.’

‘I don’t know anything about that. It’s way before Jenn’s time.’

‘Central got this from one of Wally’s kids. It was very vague. The junior Armstrongs didn’t seem much interested in their dad.’

‘So Wally presumably had it in for Rich rather than vice versa.’

‘Well, yes. Although you reported Jenn as saying Wally was always trying to muscle in on the scene in the house.’

‘Rich would hardly have knocked him off for being a bore at their cocktail parties.’

‘Well, hardly. But it might have involved more than that. He sounds like the kind of man who could be an awful nuisance.’

‘Whatever Rich is,’ said Amiss, ‘I really don’t see him as the kind of raving psychopath that murders someone rather than sacking him. But then I’ve a vested interest in believing that.’

Pooley was up and pacing again. ‘Christ, Ellis, don’t you ever relax?’

‘Later, later. Now Rich starts to attract a totally new kind of business and a kind of apartheid grows up between house and garden.’

‘You’re not kidding. I’m surprised us wog-teachers aren’t required to use the garden entrance along with the students. I think Rich really
would
murder one of them if they turned up in the house except at the time appointed.’