Some particular evil, p.21
Some Particular Evil, page 21
Was there a note of triumph in her voice?
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I think you know exactly what I mean. I shall miss my job, which I think I’ve done to a reasonable standard. I shall miss the children and some of the staff, but I won’t miss your pompous and irritating manner. Good night, Mr Nicholson.’
Laurel quickly moved away from the door, ran down the stairs and hid under the staircase. There was the firm tread of Miss Piff as she marched away into her office and the bang of Nicholson’s door as he slammed it shut.
Should she talk to Dorothy? Did she know something about Nicholson she should tell Frank, or was she so furious she wanted to needle him? She knocked on Miss Piff’s office door.
‘Are you all right, Miss Piff – Dorothy?’
Miss Piff was searching through one of the drawers in her desk, and turned round abruptly. ‘Oh, Laurel. I thought for a moment it was Mr Nicholson coming to apologise.’
‘What happened?’
‘I’ve been sacked. I’m absolutely furious. If he’d come to apologise I wouldn’t have accepted it. I don’t need to work, I don’t need the piffling amount he pays me, but I enjoyed being with the children, I’m a good organiser and I like responsibility. Not that there would have been a job here much longer.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The governors are meeting tomorrow morning; I know the chairman personally, he’s a church warden. They’re thinking of closing the school down. I’m sorry for you and all the other staff, and the children and their parents. It’ll be difficult to place them in other schools when the autumn term is just about to start.’
Laurel had felt sorry for Dorothy, now she felt sorry for herself. She’d be without a job. What would she do? Get another teaching job, obviously. Where? The thought of searching for a new post didn’t appeal to her. Perhaps she’d look for something outside teaching. What? ‘Gosh! That’s drastic, isn’t it?’
‘They’ll probably pay the staff until the end of the autumn term, that’s what the chairman said. I wouldn’t normally reveal all these details, but having been treated like a criminal by the headmaster, I don’t care if I am being indiscreet. Although, I’d be grateful if you didn’t tell the other staff.’ She sighed. ‘I’m afraid I’m behaving badly. I’ve got an awful sore throat and I can’t find my reading glasses. I don’t like wearing these bifocals in bed; I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep and break them.’
Time to make a confession? ‘Dorothy, I’m afraid I’ve also behaved badly. I followed you when you left the meeting. I was worried what Mr Nicholson might do and I listened at the door. If you know something about him that might have a bearing on these cases I think you ought to see Inspector Diamond straight away.’
Dorothy looked at her over her bifocals. ‘Laurel Bowman! Are you turning into a sleuth? I read in one of your references you solved several school crimes.’ She sighed and blew her nose. ‘None of us envisaged crimes like the ones we’ve been faced with.’ She sat wearily down on her seat and put her elbows on the desk. ‘I can’t face any more. I’m going home, taking a Beecham’s capsule and having an early night. I haven’t much to tell, if the truth be known. I was so angry with him I wanted to make him as annoyed as I felt.’
Laurel’s hopes sagged. ‘Can I ask you what it was?’
‘And you’ll tell Inspector Diamond?’ There was a wry twist to her lips.
‘If you want me to.’
‘Yes, you might as well, and then I won’t have to speak to him tomorrow. Before Mr Nicholson married I was sure he was having an affair with Matron, Toni Habershon. In fact I know they were lovers. I never mentioned it to anyone. I think Toni was very much in love with him; I think she still is.’
Philip and Toni? Was that why Toni was so antagonistic towards her? Did she see her as a rival? But she’d just said she wasn’t worried by me. Now that Philip was a widower did she hope to once more become his lover? A shaft of ice straightened her backbone. Had Toni killed Susan? Was she so obsessed with Philip that she would murder to get him back?
‘Why are you so sure they were lovers, Dorothy?’
Dorothy took off her glasses and wiped her forehead with a handkerchief. ‘I saw them once, in the ruins of the leper hospital. Need I say more?’
Yes, she did need to say more. ‘They were kissing?’
‘My dear, I didn’t know you were so naïve. He had her up against one of the standing walls and he was giving her a good rogering!’
Laurel gasped, fighting an urge not to laugh.
‘There, I’ve shocked you. I was an officer in the WRAF during the war, from 1940 to ’45 – you can’t tell me anything about human nature and there aren’t any crude words I haven’t heard. I don’t normally use them myself; Emily would be offended.’
‘Dorothy Piff. Fantastic.’
Dorothy nodded and smiled. ‘After I saw them I kept my eyes open. They went away for weekends during the holidays and odd days in term time. She was devastated when he came back after that summer holiday and he was married. I think it’d been cooling off on his part before then. I felt sorry for her, she was besotted.’
Laurel looked at Dorothy with new eyes. She saw her in a blue uniform, her cap at a racy angle, her shoes gleaming with polish and bull, standing in the mess with her friends downing gin and tonics. ‘Thanks for telling me, Dorothy. I’ll go and talk to Inspector Diamond.’
‘I’m going home now. I’ll have to come in and clear away my things. It might not be tomorrow – it depends how I feel. Come and see me, dear. I know you’d have made a splendid senior mistress, you would have done the school well.’
‘Thank you, Dorothy.’
‘If they do close the school and you don’t want to stay on the site, you’re very welcome to come to Greyfriars House and stay with us until you decide what to do. We’d love to have you.’ Dorothy’s apple-cheeks bunched in a warm smile and she held out her hand.
Laurel took it in hers; the warmth and kindness of Dorothy’s offer made her throat tighten. ‘Thank you. I want to stay in the cottage until everything is cleared up. But afterwards I’ll be glad to leave. I’m not sure if I’ll want to stay in the area, but if I do, I’d be grateful to stay with friends.’
‘Take care, my dear. Two people have been killed and poor Mabel attacked. Never forget that.’
22
Frank waited until all the staff and the constables had left the music room, then he looked at Elderkin. ‘Took a bit of a risk, didn’t I?’
‘I’m sorry, Frank, but I don’t think it was wise to give them so much information, you’ve put them in a right tizzy.’
Frank leant back in his chair until it tipped and he was balancing on the back legs. ‘That was the idea.’
‘You certainly like to live dangerously, and if you’re not careful you’ll go arse over tit and fall off the platform.’
Frank laughed and righted his chair.
‘So what’s next? We can’t do much more tonight,’ Elderkin yawned.
‘You go home, Stuart. I’ll wait for Laurel; I think she wanted to make sure Miss Piff was all right. Nicholson looked as though he might strangle … I better rephrase that … give her the sack.’
Elderkin frowned. ‘If he does the man’s a fool. Dorothy told Mabel what she earns. Those two are good friends, known each other for years. There’s no side to Dorothy Piff. He’ll never get someone to work the hours she does for that amount. She’s no need to work, you know: she and her sister are well off. They come from a wealthy family, there’ve been Piffs living in Greyfriars House for over three hundred years. Shame neither of them married. She’s a good sort is Dorothy Piff; Mabel says she’s no snob – helped lots of people in the area, all on the quiet.’
‘Yes, I like Dorothy Piff: got a very efficient but friendly way with her.’
Elderkin nodded in agreement. ‘She was in the WRAF in the war – officer. Did well, I believe. Mabel said she’d a young man who was in the Air Force. Don’t know what happened to him.’
A constable put his head round the door. ‘Mr McFall would like to have a word with you, sir.’
Frank raised his eyebrows. ‘Has the seed I sowed begun to germinate?’
‘Might have turned to chaff.’
‘Thank you for your confidence in me, Stuart. Want to stay and find out?’
‘Might as well; nothing much on the telly. Only The Virginian, and I’m not too keen on cowboys.’
Frank shook his head. ‘Good. Show Mr McFall in, Constable.’
Jim McFall walked in and stood in the centre of the room, as if uncertain where to go. Frank came down from the platform, followed by Elderkin, who gestured to the front row of seats. Elderkin arranged three chairs so he and Frank were facing him.
‘You have something to tell us, Mr McFall?’ Elderkin asked.
McFall took a deep breath, as if he needed the extra oxygen to get the words out. ‘Ay, I have. Let me say, straight away, that I don’t like the polis, I don’t like talking to the polis and normally I wouldn’t tell you anything I didn’t have to.’ After that speech he seemed to relax slightly, as though he’d unburdened his conscious.
Frank was silent.
McFall continued, ‘I’ve nothing against you personally,’ he nodded to Frank, ‘or against you, Sergeant Elderkin, but I’m wary of having any more to do with the polis than I have to.’
‘I’m glad about that, Mr McFall. I was beginning to get a complex,’ Frank said.
‘Well you seem better than the usual copper, at least you’ve got a sense of humour. Some of you bastards are right sadists.’
Elderkin was starting to wriggle in his seat.
Better change the topic or he might have to arrest Elderkin for grievous bodily harm. ‘If you distrust and dislike the police so much then your reason for wanting to talk to us must be important,’ Frank said.
McFall bit his lip and slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t know if it is or isn’t, but I have to admit I could have told you this sooner, but I never liked Mrs Nicholson and I didn’t care to help you find her killer. But when you said poor, wee Felicity had been murdered, chopped up and flung in the sea, my blood boiled. She was a nice young girl. Whoever did that to her – I’d like to see to him myself.’
Frank could believe it: McFall’s eyes were bulging, the veins on his forehead standing out against his red face. ‘I’m glad you decided to help us. Please go on.’
McFall leant forward. ‘I better tell you something about myself first. I was born in Glasgow and lived there, one way or another,’ he grimaced, ‘all my life before I came here. I was a ship-worker and I played football part-time for Glasgow Rangers, never made the first team. I was married, good-looking girl, but flighty. I found her in bed with another man; he managed to get out minus his trews, but I saw red and … I strangled her.’
Elderkin’s body tensed as he leant towards McFall. ‘How long did you serve?’
‘Ten years for manslaughter, the last two in an open prison in Norfolk. The previous headmaster was on the prison parole board and he offered to take me on as a groundsman when my sentence was finished. I came here in 1960. I don’t know if he told Mr Nicholson about me; I didn’t ask.’
‘Did anyone else know?’
‘The chairman of governors, he knows, but apart from him I’m not sure. No one mentioned it to me. I think Miss Piff might know, she knows about most things.’
‘Did Susan Nicholson ask you about this – your time in prison?’
‘Ay, she did, the little bitch. She must have got into my flat somehow or perhaps there’s something in my records in the office. If it was my flat she must have read letters my mother sent me when I was in prison. She wrote asking me if I was being treated all right and she mentioned things about my wife’s family and how they were making trouble for her. I should have burnt them, but she passed on while I was in there. They were the last letters she wrote to me and I like to look at her handwriting.’
Frank could see it had taken a lot out of McFall to reveal so much of his life. His tall, wiry frame was hunched in the chair, his wrists sticking out of the sleeves of his check shirt, his large, bony hands clenched so tightly the knuckles looked as though they might split the skin.
‘When did Susan Nicholson approach you?’ Elderkin asked.
‘It was in December sometime, ay, just before we broke up for the Christmas holidays.’
‘That’s Christmas, 1969?’ Frank asked.
‘That’s right. She was killed the following Easter.’
‘What happened?’
McFall’s face expressed disgust. ‘She was a two-faced one, a right nasty woman. She came up to my flat one evening with a Christmas card from her and Mr Nicholson. I was quite touched; I don’t get too many cards as you can ken. I offered her a wee dram and we sat down all cosy. Then she came out with it.’ His face was once more suffused with blood at the memory of the visit.
‘She said she learned I’d killed my wife and had been in prison. She didn’t want to tell her husband, but she thought she must. She wondered if there was anything I could do to change her mind. I could’ne believe it. She sat there as cool as anything. I’ve met a few blackmailers where I’ve been and I’ve never taken to them. Aye, I’d have liked to’ve changed her mind all right: by knocking her head off.’ He stopped as he realised what he’d said. ‘I didn’t do her in, I swear to God. I served my time for taking a life and I swore I’d never go back to prison.’
‘As you obviously didn’t kill her on this occasion, what did you do?’ Frank asked.
‘I told her she’d get no money from me. The old headmaster and the chair of governors knew what I’d done. I didn’t know if her old man knew, but I threatened her with telling him and the governors she’d tried to blackmail me. I could see that frightened her.’
‘What happened next?’ asked Elderkin, obviously caught up in the story.
‘She said no one would believe me. I advised her to keep her mouth shut then.’
‘Did she ever mention it again?’
‘No. She avoided me like the plague, and I didn’t go out of my way to talk to her.’
‘Thank you for telling us this, Mr McFall. I’ll check your story with the chairman of governors, but apart from that there’s no need to make this public knowledge unless it has a bearing on the case. Is there anything else you’d like to say?’ Frank was sure there was more. Why was he so upset about Felicity?
McFall stared down at his hands, the knuckles still shining through the skin. He looked up at Frank. ‘You mentioned she’d nicked a school log book?’
Frank nodded. Was this the turning point?
‘I saw her writing in a book like that. It was one afternoon, I was marking some lines on the games pitch and I thought I saw someone in the ruins. One of the pupils having a smoke, I thought. I sneaked up quiet, well, you don’t get much amusement in this place, and I get a chuckle when I catch them at it. Though, sometimes I don’t grass on them. She didn’t see me. She was sitting on one of the stones, writing in this book, hunched up she was as though she didn’t want to be seen. I didn’t want to talk to her, so I crept away. What do you think she wrote in that book?’
‘If we knew that, Mr McFall, we might be closer to finding out who killed her. Have you any idea where that book might be?’ Frank asked.
McFall shook his head looking as though he wished he could help. ‘No, I don’t know. Do you think the murderer found it? That’s why she was killed? She’d written something about him? I’d like to see that book myself; I’d like to see what the bitch wrote about me.’ He didn’t move. It seemed he had more to say.
‘There’s something else, isn’t there? Something about Felicity?’ Frank asked softly, for McFall’s face was no longer suffused with blood but had returned to its grey pallor. He looked heart-broken.
‘Ay, poor wee Felicity. I’ve a daughter only a few years older. She was brought up by my parents-in-law after I was put away. They adopted her when she was two years old. I’d no contact with her until a few years ago; she wrote to me. We’ve met a few times, in the summer holidays. She’s the one bright star in my life.’ He pulled out a wallet from his jacket pocket and passed a photograph to Frank. ‘As you can see, she’s a skinny wee girl, pretty like her mother, but she’s got my hair, Well, my hair as it used to be. It looks better on her. Felicity reminded me of my daughter.’
The photograph showed a slim, red-headed young woman, smiling into the camera. Frank passed it to Elderkin.
‘She’s a lovely girl,’ Elderkin said, giving the photograph back to McFall, who placed it carefully into his wallet. ‘Did you ever talk with Felicity?’
‘Aye, just a few times. She didn’t like doing games. She was scared she’d damage her hands, especially playing hockey. Sometimes she’d hide in the ruins; I found her there once. I took her back to the games pavilion and made her tea on my primus stove. Och, she was a dear girl. Not a bit afraid of me, which some of the others are. She’d chat away about her music and how she dreamed of being a concert pianist. She promised to invite me to her first recital. Aye, we had a few nice chats.’
His face clouded, the happiness in his eyes faded. ‘The last time we talked must have been a day or two before she … was murdered. God, I can’t believe it. We were told she’d run off with a man. I couldn’t make it out, but that’s women for you, I thought. I trusted my wife until that day … I must admit I felt really disappointed in Felicity, she’d seemed like such an innocent girl. She wasn’t flirty, not aware of how pretty she was. Tch – If I’d known …’
Frank thought carefully before asking for more details. Here was someone who’d been close to Felicity. Had she said anything that gave a clue to her murderer? ‘Mr McFall, during that last conversation with Felicity can you think of anything that might be significant? The more you can remember the better. There might be something she said that means nothing to you, but it might be vital in our search for her murderer. Do you want to think this over? Perhaps write down everything you remember?’
