‘What? Now?’

  ‘You heard, let’s go and find out. Where would it be stored?’

  ‘Well, in the shed with all the other fertilisers and such. There’s a cabinet sunk in the floor.’

  ‘Come on then,’ and Flynn moved towards the door.

  ‘Oh very well,’ the Bursar said.

  They followed Glen East outside, and he walked over to a golf buggy.

  ‘Really?’ said Flynn.

  ‘Really. The gardener’s buildings are a way away. You can always walk if you’d prefer, and Mabel and I will meet you there.’

  Mabel smiled and motioned for Flynn to climb aboard, which he did. Although he still thought it was rather pretentious.

  By the time they arrived, Flynn was actually glad of the ride. The Bursar hadn’t been wrong when he had said the building was a way away.

  ‘Here we are.’

  Glen East pulled up by a large shed, about the size of a double garage. Getting out of the buggy and then pulling a bunch of keys from his pocket, which were kept on a chain, he selected one and opened the shed for Mabel and Flynn.

  ‘Be careful, Mabel,’ the Bursar said, ‘there’s some hazardous equipment in here.’

  Indeed there was, Flynn saw. There were strimmers, chain saws, spades, forks and other equipment such as leaf blowers. Underneath one of the benches was a square metal plate with a padlock on a hasp, which poked up from the plate. But it was no longer a deterrent, for the padlock had been broken off and the lid left open. Inside was a ripped and now empty packet of rat poison.

  ‘Don’t touch anything,’ admonished Flynn. ‘Let’s leave the shed and I’ll phone Jerome to come and dust for fingerprints.’

  Flynn was rather relieved that they’d found the potential source of the strychnine poisoning, but he knew he was still a few steps behind the killer. He could only hope there wouldn’t be any other murders before Flynn could identify the culprit.

  18

  The next day, Flynn couldn’t bear to wait any longer and turned up at the lab where Floyd was examining the empty packet of rat poison.

  ‘Oh, hello, Flynn.’ Jerome looked surprised to see the detective.

  ‘Jerome,’ acknowledged Flynn. ‘I was just wondering… have you drawn any conclusions about the rat poison packet yet?’

  ‘And good morning to you too. I’m fine thanks for asking.’

  Flynn had never understood the need for polite conversation. If he had something to say, he just said it. He shrugged.

  ‘As it happens, I have,’ continued Jerome. ‘The examination of the residue of the granules left in the packet, confirm that the rat poison does indeed contain strychnine.’

  ‘So, this is highly likely to be the murder weapon then,’ said Flynn. ‘We think it was administered in liquid. Have you got the empty glass that was found on Mr Thomas’ desk?’.

  ‘Ah yes, I have it here. I’m afraid I’ve not got round to it yet.’ Jerome must have seen Flynn’s face, for he quickly said, ‘But rest assured I’ll do it now.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Flynn, wishing that the glass had been processed sooner, which would have given him a lead earlier. With a couple of days delay, the killer had had plenty of time to dispose of the poison and Flynn stomped out of the lab in a very bad mood indeed.

  He was making his way through the carpark when he got a call on his mobile, from the digital technicians in Plymouth.

  ‘Ah, Flynn, glad I’ve caught you. The lads here have found a hidden file on Carl Thomas’ computer, which is illuminating to say the least.’

  ‘Will it move the case forward do you think?’ Flynn said eagerly.

  ‘It won’t just move it forward; it’ll blow it out of the water.’

  ‘Thank goodness, good news at last. Please email me a copy of the file straight away.’

  ‘Already done. You’ll enjoy this one, trust me.’

  Flynn hoped the technician from Plymouth was correct. Because, let’s face it, Flynn had precious little to go on as things stood.

  19

  Once ensconced in the CID office at the top of Muddlebay Police Station, Flynn downloaded the file from Plymouth and found he was looking at what read like a diary. The first entry was dated six months earlier.

  MARCH

  On that fateful day, I slowly regained consciousness and winced as the sunlight blinded me. Putting a hand across my eyes, I blinked several times then looked at my watch. Which was still on my wrist. That was unusual, as I normally placed it on the bedside cabinet.

  I squinted until I could read the dial and was shocked to find it was already 7.30 am. I sat bolt upright. My God, I’d slept in. I should be at school in just 30 minutes and I had no idea where I was, or why I was there. I saw my reflection in a mirrored wardrobe at the end of the bed. A flash of memory caught the image of a couple locked in a passionate embrace on the very bed I had been sleeping in. The man looked like me and the woman… well she was a stunner!

  I groaned and held my head in my hands. What the hell had I done? Where was I? And what day was it?

  Finding a TV remote on the cabinet, I flicked the power button. A cheesy newsreader told me it was 7.30 am on Saturday morning. I sank back on the pillows, relief flooding through my body. I wasn’t late for school. It was the weekend. Thanking God for small mercies, I swung my legs out of the bed. As I stood, I wondered where my companion had disappeared to and walked over to what I perceived to be the bathroom door and opened it. There was no one there. The small cubicle had a shower stall, toilet, and a mirror over a washbasin. Scrawled across the mirror in red lipstick were the words, CALL ME, with a mobile phone number underneath.

  Staggering back into the bedroom I found a brochure advertising the pub I’d met her at last night. So, it seemed we’d stayed overnight there. That hadn’t been the plan at all, but still, judging by my headache and the tenderness of my body, I’d bloody well enjoyed myself. And why shouldn’t I, I thought belligerently. I never got to have any fun. But it looked like my luck had just changed and if that were the case, I was determined to ride the wave for as long as I could.

  APRIL

  And so we started to meet in local hotels. Trying not to be seen by anyone from school or, of course, my wife.

  To be honest I’m starting to have second thoughts about this affair. Cheryl has started to get clingy. But on the other hand that’s okay, as it feels good to be wanted for once. She’s nothing like the block of ice that is my wife.

  As with most couples, the closer we got the more we told each other our history. And by all accounts she’d had a rough time. She’d been treated really badly by her ex-husband, who was controlling and handy with his fists. Unable to take any more, she’d fled the matrimonial home and was taken in by a woman’s refuge.

  ‘But I don’t feel frightened with you,’ she’d said. ‘You’re solid and dependable and I just know you’ll be good to me, not hurt me or discard me.’

  ‘Never,’ I whispered as I pulled her to me once more.

  And I believed it. At the time.

  20

  Flynn couldn’t keep this to himself any longer. He telephoned Mabel, printed out two copies of the diary and rushed over to her house.

  ‘What on earth is the matter, Flynn?’ Mabel asked as she opened the door to him.

  ‘You need to read this with me,’ he gabbled. ‘From a hidden file on Carl Thomas’ computer. I reckon this could be why he was killed.’

  ‘In that case, I think we need a cup of tea.’

  ‘Nothing stronger?’ asked Flynn.

  ‘Absolutely not. I’ll hazard a guess that we’ll need to keep our wits about us.’

  MAY

  I found myself getting deeper and deeper into the clandestine relationship. Until Cheryl wanted to get me away from my wife.

  ‘But sweetheart,’ I protested. ‘It’s not going to be easy to leave and it’s not going to be quick.’

  ‘Why ever not? Is it because you don’t want to?’ she’d sulked.

  ‘No, no, of course not sweetheart.’ I tried to reassure her. ‘It’s just that if I’m not married then I could lose my job. It’s a requirement of the school. They only want married couples, that way the wife can work for the school in an unpaid capacity.’

  ‘But that’s wonderful,’ she breathed. ‘Yes, yes, I will marry you,’ she declared.

  I wondered how the hell I’d got there? A marriage proposal? That hadn’t been my intention at all. But my worries were dispelled by the ministrations of my very capable mistress.

  For a couple of weeks our affair progressed unfettered. The early summer weather was warm meaning we could meet outdoors. And I must confess to becoming quite besotted with Cheryl once again. But then my ardour cooled, and the precariousness of my situation began to weigh heavily on me. Without a wife, I’d lose my job. Without a job I’d lose my home and my elderly parents would no doubt disown me. No matter which way I looked at it, I had far more to lose than Cheryl did. I started to not answer every phone call, not to give in to her every demand. I pleaded to be left alone during exam time. But she didn’t leave me alone. The more I tried to disentangle myself from the relationship, the more she became obsessed with me and determined the affair wouldn’t end.

  She persistently asked me to meet her and when I did, it was at hotels where unbeknown to me, she had booked a room. I didn’t want to stay and told her I was leaving and going home, but she said she had a stash of pills with her and if I didn’t stay, she’d take them and commit suicide. Her suicide note would detail, of course, our affair and my role in it.

  So I reluctantly did as she asked and stayed the night with her. I have to confess that my flesh was weak, and I didn’t need much seducing.

  21

  ‘I don’t know about you, Flynn,’ said Mabel. ‘But I need a cuppa. This one is stone cold,’ she touched the teapot.

  ‘Um? Yes, thanks, Mabel,’ and Flynn put down his printout and followed her into the kitchen.

  ‘What do you make of all this?’ he asked her.

  ‘Hard to say,’ she said.

  Flynn frowned. ‘Why? He was a philanderer pure and simple.’

  ‘Philanderer? That’s a very outdated expression. Next you’ll be calling him a cad!’

  ‘Alright, but it strikes me he wasn’t a very nice person.’

  ‘If it’s all true,’ said Mabel warming the pot and then spooning in leaf tea.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Well, you can’t believe everything you read, you know. It’s only one side of the story, remember. We haven’t had Cheryl’s take on the affair.

  ‘If Cheryl is her real name.’

  ‘That’s a good point. Now take this tray through for me and let’s carry on reading. I must admit to finding it all rather intriguing!’

  ‘Yes, but I suspect it’s going to take a darker turn,’ said Flynn as he picked up the tray and followed Mabel back into the dining room.

  22

  With the cold light of day came the guilt. I repeated to Cheryl that the affair was over the next morning and left her crying on the bed. I felt bad about it, of course I did, but I just had too much to lose.

  But Cheryl didn’t leave without a fight. She started phoning my mobile. When I didn’t answer, she sent texts saying that if I didn’t answer when she called, she’d start ringing on my home phone and speak to my wife.

  So, of course, the next time she rang, I answered. I once more repeated that I didn’t want anything to do with her, that I loved my wife and my job and that was the end of it. I was sorry if I’d hurt her and that it was all my fault. I then pleaded with her to stop calling, to forget all about me.

  JUNE

  But that wasn’t the end of it at all. Cheryl then started to stalk me at my home. I would regularly see her standing watching me from across the street. I ignored her and would shut the curtains, hoping she’d give up soon when there was nothing to say.

  No such luck. She called at the house while I was at work, pretending that she was from a lottery that had been set up to help a local animal charity. My wife bought some tickets and I walked in to find her in my kitchen, chatting with my wife and enjoying a cup of coffee.

  As she left, she whispered to me that she was pregnant, so I’d better meet her that night at a local pub, which of course I did.

  I spent a frantic two days trying to decide what to do. I found it difficult to sleep. I would roam the house in the wee hours, or toss and turn in bed without sleeping, becoming more and more morose. Eventually when my wife confronted me and asked if I was having an affair, I broke down and confessed.

  Talking about it was so liberating. In hindsight I should have been more understanding about my wife’s reaction. Instead, I railroaded her, I guess. I just couldn’t wait to get it all out. To tell her everything. To unburden myself. But what I failed to see at the time was that my wife was taking on my burden.

  After talking to my wife, I felt I had no option but to meet Cheryl. And so an assignation was arranged for the next evening. From the outset she was clingy. She kept telling me how much she missed me and needed me, especially now. She insisted she was pregnant although she didn’t look it. Once again, she refused to have an abortion and hissed that I needed to take responsibility for what I’d done and look after her and the child.

  Her final words were that if I didn’t, she’d tell my wife.

  I was left shaken by the whole ordeal. In truth I didn’t know what to do for the best. Which way to turn. I was increasingly glad I’d confided in my wife.

  23

  Mabel threw her printout across the table.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Flynn asked, not really wanting to know but feeling he should ask.

  ‘Well, I ask you, what a weak man. The way he talks about ‘unburdening’ himself. Glad that his wife was able to be his strength. What about her?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘Did he not stop to think about what he was doing to her?’

  Flynn mulled that over. ‘I can see how you’d think that.’

  ‘Flynn!’ Mabel admonished. ‘Are you for real?’

  Flynn had to mull that over as well. He was clearly not saying the right thing but was at a loss to know what that was. In the end he said, ‘I’m sorry, Mabel, but I can only go with the facts. Emotion has no place in this investigation.’

  ‘Well, I beg to differ, Flynn,’ Mabel said. ‘Emotion is at the heart of this investigation. Rage, jealousy, indignation, envy, distrust. A three-way relationship never ends well.’

  She stood.

  ‘Where are you going? Not more tea, surely!’ Flynn already felt he was awash with the stuff.

  ‘No, this requires something stronger. I know you don’t drink wine, but can I get you a beer? I’ve a couple of bottles of real ale from a local brewery.’

  ‘Yes please,’ Flynn readily agreed.

  As Mabel left the room, Flynn once more fell to musing on the case. Is that what was missing for him? Was it really the emotional angle as Mabel insisted?

  But Flynn no longer knew, so he turned once again to the printout and began reading…

  Over the next couple of weeks or so, my wife and I both saw Cheryl stalking us individually and together. We never knew when and where she would strike. We saw her while we were out shopping, in the bank, in cafes and restaurants. She appeared to have nothing else to do but to follow us. I saw her at the school gates and once in the grounds watching a football match. In the end my wife and I were both nervous wrecks. We finally felt we had no choice but to leave the area. Cheryl was never going to leave us alone. She’d always be in the background, keeping us hanging like marionettes, always able to pull our strings when we least expected it.

  As a result, I managed to get another job at a public school with a cottage in the grounds included in the package. The pay wasn’t as good, but at least it was hundreds of miles away from HER. And so with great relief we moved, and both hoped that was the end of the matter.

  We had just a couple of months of peace when we were able to put down roots and start to enjoy our life once again. Until one day, I glimpsed Cheryl during a parent’s event. At least I thought it was her and at once I was plunged back into the hell that she made my life.

  ‘Is that it?’ asked Mabel.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ said Flynn, throwing the papers back on the table. ‘Phew, that was heavy stuff. How awful for them.’

  ‘Awful!’ exclaimed Mabel. ‘It was all his fault. If he hadn’t strayed, then who knows? He might still be alive.’

  ‘So we think this Cheryl killed him?’

  ‘It’s looking that way,’ said Mabel.

  ‘But there’s no evidence. In fact we don’t even know who this Cheryl is, or what she looks like. If he saw the woman here – who on earth is she? Is she part of the staff? One of the parents?’

  ‘Mind you it’s narrowed the pool of suspects,’ said Mabel.

  ‘Really? Narrowed, or expanded? And that’s always supposing you believe his musings.’

  ‘Pardon?’ said Mabel.

  ‘This outpouring, diary, call it what you will, could be anything. A book plot maybe?’

  ‘We need to talk to his wife,’ said Mabel.

  ‘And there’s no time like first thing tomorrow,’ said Flynn.

  24

  When they arrived at the cottage, Mrs Thomas was as brittle as ever. So much so that Flynn was concerned for her health.

  ‘It’s because she lives on her nerves,’ whispered Mabel. Although Flynn had no idea what that meant, he could see that Mrs Thomas was constantly wringing her hands and appeared short of breath.

  Mrs Thomas sat at Mabel’s insistence where she proceeded to burst into tears. In between sobs she confessed that her husband had been having an affair. She didn’t know he’d written a diary, but from what Flynn and Mabel had told her, the whole thing was true.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6