PAUL GITSHAM started his career as a biologist, working in such exotic locales as Manchester and Toronto. After stints as the worlds most over-qualified receptionist and a spell making sure that international terrorists and other neer do wells hadnt opened a Junior Savings Account at a major UK bank (a job even less exciting than being a receptionist) he retrained as a Science teacher. He now spends his time passing on his bad habits and sloppy lab-skills to the next generation of enquiring minds.
Paul has always wanted to be a writer and his final report on leaving primary school predicted hed be the next Roald Dahl! For the sake of balance it should be pointed out that it also said hell never get anywhere in life if his handwriting doesnt improve. Over twenty-five years later and his handwriting is worse than ever but millions of children around the world love him.*
You can learn more about Pauls writing at www.paulgitsham.com or www.facebook.com/dcijones
*This is a lie, just ask any of the pupils he has taught.
Also by Paul Gitsham, featuring DCI Warren Jones
The Last Straw
No Smoke Without Fire
Blood is Thicker than Water (A DCI Warren Jones novella)
Silent as the Grave
A Case Gone Cold (A DCI Warren Jones novella)
The Common Enemy
A Deadly Lesson
A DCI Warren Jones Novella
Paul Gitsham
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
Copyright
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2019
Copyright © Paul Gitsham 2019
Paul Gitsham asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © January 2019 ISBN: 9780008314378
Contents
Cover
Author Bio
Praise for
Also by
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six
Acknowledgements
Dear Reader
Backads
About the Publisher
Welcome to the world Oscar!
Thats a good strong name, Ill have to use that one day.
Lots of love, Uncle Paul XX
Prologue
The rope bit deeply into her throat, the rough hemp abrading her skin. The surprise of the attack left her with no time to make more than a strangled gasp. She grabbed the rope, desperately tugging at it, but it was no use. Try as she might, she couldnt loosen it. By now, her vision was starting to fade, pinpricks of light exploding in front of her eyes like tiny supernovae in the night sky.
Giving up on the rope, she groped blindly across the desk, her flailing hand knocking a pot of stationery over. Picking up a pencil, she struck out wildly over her shoulder, hoping to catch her assailant somewhere significant. A muffled grunt suggested that she might have struck something delicate, but there was no let-up on the pressure on her throat.
Abandoning the pencil, she continued her desperate search. By now the only sound she could hear was the loud booming of her heart. Her vision had shrunk to a tiny tunnel and so she identified the stapler by touch rather than sight. Lifting it, she flipped it open, like she had a million times before. Was it even loaded? Too late to worry about that now, the whole world had turned black. She lifted the stapler, seeking her attackers hand. All she needed was a few seconds respite. Just a few seconds to fill her lungs with air. Just a few seconds
Day One
DCI Warren Jones leant on his car horn. Obligingly, the uniformed officer standing at the gate shooed the gaggle of school kids trying to see through the closed gates out of the way.
Ignoring the shouted questions from the nosy parkers, Warren pulled through the opening gates and into the school car park.
Three patrol cars sat parked in the visitors spaces, their blue lights flickering maddeningly out of phase. Beside them, a Scenes of Crime van straddled a disabled spot. Both its sliding side doors and rear doors were open, allowing glimpses of the stacked shelves of equipment stowed neatly within.
Get yourself suited and booted, Moray, Im going to have a word with the attending officer.
The bearded young DC unfolded his substantial bulk from the passenger seat and headed towards the van to find a paper suit, plastic booties and a hairnet.
Warren recognised the uniformed sergeant standing by the reception desk.
DCI Jones, this is Mr Ball, head teacher.
The man next to him was about sixty years old, Warren judged. With a slim build and thin spectacles, he looked more like an accountant than the highly regarded head teacher that he had heard his wife talking about. By all accounts, Noah Ball was a strict disciplinarian, whod led the struggling Sacred Heart Catholic Academy from Needing Improvement to an Outstanding OFSTED. At this moment, he was pale and shaken.
I believe that you found Ms Gwinnetts body? She was the schools deputy head, I understand?
The man nodded, before taking his glasses off and rubbing them vigorously with his tie.
I wonder if you would mind taking me through what happened?
Yes, of course. Despite his appearance, the mans voice was deep and steady. I arrived at about 7 a.m. and went immediately to my office.
How did you enter?
Through the fire exit at the end of the admin corridor. He held up the ID badge on the lanyard around his neck. The swipe cards of senior members of staff are programmed to allow us out-of-hours access.
And I assume that would include the victim, Ms Gwinnett?
Yes, her car was already parked in its usual spot. I just assumed that she had got in before me.
Is that normal?
Sometimes. As I said, we all have out-of-hours access.
Could she have been here all night?
I guess so. I didnt actually see her leave.
Warren made a note.
When did you find her body?
He took a shuddering breath.
About fifteen minutes after I came in. She was supposed to be hosting a re-admission interview mid-morning for a young man who got himself suspended last week. I wanted to go over the behaviour contract that we were going to insist that he and his parents sign. No big deal really, just dont swear at staff, do what hes asked to do first time and meet all deadlines He was starting to babble and Warren cleared his throat to refocus him.
Im sorry, please forgive me. Anyway, I knocked on her door. There was no answer and the privacy shutters were across. I assumed that shed gone to the bathroom or was off doing some photocopying, so I returned to my office, printed a copy of the contract and went to put it on her desk.
He paused.
I didnt see her at first, since the blinds were down and it was still quite dark. But then my eyes adjusted. He swallowed.
She was slumped forward on her desk. I called her name, but she didnt move. I think I already knew she was dead. I guess I assumed shed had a heart attack or something. I went to shake her and she sort of rolled over. Thats when I saw the colour of her face and the red welts across her throat. I checked her pulse well, you do, dont you? But I knew it was too late. Then I backed out and called the police.
Was anybody else in school at the time?
He shrugged. I saw Stanley Cruikshank, the deputy site manager walking across the car park. Hed just opened the main gates. But the side entrance to the building is open to the rest of the staff from 7 a.m. I know that some colleagues prefer to do their planning and photocopying first thing. Admin and finance usually come in between seven and seven-thirty.
Would you be able to find out who was in the building or on site during the last few hours?
He thought for a moment.
Not really. All staff use swipe cards to enter the buildings outside of 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., and to access the school site through the main gate at other times, but we dont log whose card is used. He grimaced slightly. The unions didnt like the idea that we could spy on staffs working hours, not to mention the expense. Besides which, colleagues routinely leave and enter the building together.
And once a person is inside the school building, can they move anywhere?
Pretty much. Some of the offices which contain sensitive information have locks restricted to certain swipe cards to stop unauthorised access, and there are keypads on the computer suites and the Science and Technology labs to stop students messing around in there when staff arent present.
What about Ms Gwinnetts office?
Her door lock is restricted to SLT swipe cards.
SLT being Senior Leadership Team?
Yes, sorry.
When did you last see Ms Gwinnett?
We had an SLT meeting yesterday evening. It finished about six-thirty and Jill headed back towards her office.
Was anybody else with her?
Ball shrugged. Sorry, I left immediately. I can give you the names of everyone else who was present at the meeting.
Thank you, that would be very helpful. Warren snapped his notebook closed and called over the sergeant whod greeted him at the door.
Can you escort Mr Ball outside and take a list of names from him. He smiled apologetically. Well be wanting a full statement later, of course. Im afraid that were going to have to ask for fingerprints and a DNA sample. Purely for exclusionary purposes. Warren looked carefully at the man as he made his request. Ball nodded his compliance he appeared more shocked than nervous at the request; no indication either way of his guilt, Warren decided.
Sir. The flick of the sergeants eyes over Warrens shoulder and a slight smile heralded the return of DC Moray Ruskin.
I think Im going to have to start carrying my own suits with me.
Warren was amazed the poor lad could breathe, let alone move around.
Sorry, sir, hes a bit bigger than most of the SOCOs that ride in the van. The technician accompanying Ruskin looked apologetic, as she handed Warren his own suit.
At six foot five and eighteen stone, Moray Ruskin wasnt the biggest officer in Hertfordshire Constabulary, but he was certainly the largest detective in Middlesbury CID.
You cant go in like that, Moray as soon as you bend over youll tear it open and compromise the scene. Why dont you see if you can get a list of everyone in the building at the moment, both teachers and support staff. Arrange with DS Hutchinson for them to have fingerprints and DNA taken and start organising interviews. I want to prioritise everyone who was in that meeting last night, but dont let anyone else leave until I say so. I also want to talk to the schools governors.
Mustering as much dignity as he could, the Scotsman headed into the main reception area, towards the gaggle of upset-looking staff. Warren suppressed a sigh. It was his own fault; the lad was still a probationer and it had never even occurred to Warren that hed need to carry a supply of bigger Tyvek suits than the usual large mens size. Gary Hastings had been an experienced detective constable before Warren had even arrived at Middlesbury and so all the teething troubles had already been ironed out. It was going to take some time to get used to his replacement.