‘But now,’ Mrs Thomas said, gasping for breath. ‘I’m agoraphobic, terrified to go out in case I meet the woman who ruined our lives. I simply don’t know what to do. If this woman killed Carl, will she come after me do you think? Oh, it’s all just too much. I can’t cope.’

  As Mrs Thomas began sobbing once more, Mabel took her upstairs and persuaded her to lie down. Then Mabel called the local GP who agreed to come over to see her.

  Returning to the front room, Mabel told Flynn, ‘I’ll stay here until the GP has been and a friend can come and take over from me. Oh, Flynn, the poor woman is terrified to be left on her own and I can’t for shame to let her down.’

  ‘Very well,’ Flynn agreed. ‘I’ll go back to the school. Ring me on my mobile when you’re ready to leave.’ Flynn moved into the hall. ‘Oh, and don’t forget, see what you can find out about the woman and the affair in the meantime. This could be an ideal opportunity for a quiet chat with her.’

  ‘You heartless thing,’ she said as she shooed Flynn out of the door.

  ‘No, I’m just pragmatic. It’s not a case of emotions but of facts. You’ll do well to remember that Mabel, if you’re to help with my investigations.’

  As Flynn walked back to the school, he had a thought, dug his mobile out of his jacket pocket and rang Elgin.

  When he answered, Flynn said, ‘Elgin, can you do me a favour, please?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look at the staff lists for Muddlebay Manor and flag up the people that have joined in, say, the last three, no make it six months.’

  ‘Must I, Met? I’ve a lot on.’

  ‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Elgin. This is a murder enquiry remember, which takes priority over lost cats and dogs.’

  ‘All right, all right.’ Elgin grumbled.

  ‘You can leave the findings on my desk in the CID office. I expect to be back in a couple of hours.’

  Unable to face the Headmistress, Flynn decided to go to the kitchen, as he felt the need for a good cuppa and maybe even a slice of cake. He could do with the welcoming warmth of the kitchen and the two Cookes had made him very welcome before. And in the dining room they would have a birds eye view, as it were, of the comings and goings of the teachers. Flynn wanted to know if any of them seemed intimate with Carl Thomas.

  He wasn’t yet ready to stop investigating, whilst Mabel tried to get any more information out of Mrs Thomas.

  25

  The two Cookes, indistinguishable from each other with their jolly faces and rotund middles around which were tied aprons, plied him with tea and lemon drizzle cake. Flynn learned that Mrs Cooke was the baker and Mr Cooke in charge of the meals, along with a small staff; A pot wash, a comi chef, and two front of house assistants.

  Once they’d served him, Mrs Cooke said, ‘Well, down to business. I guess you’re not here to sample the food?’

  Flynn had to smile. ‘No, you’re right. I wanted to talk about Carl Thomas. Did you see him at meals? Was he a regular? What was his,’ Flynn hesitated, then finished with, ‘demeanour?’

  Mr and Mrs Cooke chuckled.

  Taking the lead, Mr Cooke said, ‘We all thought Mr Thomas was one for the ladies. He would come strutting in, casting his eye around at the female staff.’

  ‘He’d only been here a few months, but he walked around like he owned the place. And bugger the rumours,’ said Mrs Cooke.

  ‘Rumours?’ Flynn mumbled with a mouthful of the most delicious lemon drizzle cake.

  Mrs Cooke nodded. ‘Yes, he was a rubbish teacher by all accounts, but we hear it is getting more and more difficult to find teachers in the public school system. Staff numbers are down, pupil numbers are down, the budgets are being slashed all over the place, including here in the kitchen. We’re expected to give the same good food and service but on a 20% cut in the budget. I ask you!’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed her husband. ‘The only time we have a decent budget is at parent do’s. Then, of course, we have to show off our talents. Provide ‘Masterchef’ stuff, you know?’

  Flynn nodded in agreement.

  Mrs Cooke said, ‘And now it’s back to toast and porridge for breakfast and cottage pie for lunch. It’s all very disheartening.’

  ‘I heard the teachers aren’t getting pay rises,’

  Mrs Cooke agreed, ‘The gardeners neither.’

  Mr Cooke said, ‘It’s all very sad. But still, we need to crack on, so if you’ll excuse us…’ and they both turned back to their mundane duties.

  26

  Taking the lead from the Cookes, after a final gulp of tea, Flynn strode out into the grounds to try to see the gardeners in action. Not having a clue where they were, or even where he was come to think of it, he followed the sound of motorized tools. He soon found two people; one cutting a hedge with a trimmer that comprised of a long thin saw with very ugly looking teeth and the other collecting up the cuttings.

  As the woman with the trimmer caught sight of Flynn, she turned off her machine, placed it on the floor and then turned to Flynn. A woman, with blond hair tied up in a headscarf and wearing a boiler suit, looked Flynn up and down. She scowled at him, but there was no disguising her attractiveness.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she called.

  Flynn brandished his ID and introduced himself, ‘DS Flynn Moran, Muddlebay Police.’

  ‘Ah yes, I heard you were around. It’s about Carl Thomas, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, that’s correct. Did you know him?’

  ‘Not to talk to, only by sight.’

  ‘Grumpy old sod,’ said her co-worker.

  ‘Can I have your names please?’

  ‘Sam London,’ he said, pushing shoulder length hair out of his eyes, with a hand that sported what looked like prison tattoos. LOVE on one hand and HATE on the other, along the backs of his fingers. Sam caught Flynn looking at his hands and quickly put them behind his back.

  ‘And I’m Natalia Birch,’ the woman called, pulling Flynn’s attention back to her.

  ‘Are you both permanent staff?’

  Natalia nodded, ‘Yes, for our sins.’

  ‘We keep trying to leave, but there’s precious little work out there for gardeners at the moment.’

  ‘And neither of us fancy setting up our own business.’

  ‘Are you two in a relationship by any chance?’

  Natalia laughed. ‘No, we’re not and that is rather an old-fashioned assumption, Mr Moran.’

  ‘DS Moran,’ Flynn corrected to try and hide his embarrassment.

  ‘Well, my wife would object,’ she said. ‘Suzi and I married last year, so no, DS Moran,’ she emphasized, ‘Sam and I are not in a relationship. No, I was not attracted to Carl Thomas, by virtue of the fact that I’m gay AND married. Sam here is not gay, his girlfriend, Clara, is hoping they’ll marry soon but Sam is worried about money and prospects. So now you have the facts perhaps you’d be so kind as to leave us alone to get on with our jobs.’

  Then Natalia pointedly turned her back on Flynn and once more fired up her hedge trimmer.

  Sam grinned, put his gloves back on and began to clear away the cuttings.

  Flynn mumbled something that was meant to be a goodbye and turned on his heel, walking back towards the school building, the breeze cooling his flaming cheeks. That was a lesson in not making assumptions, Flynn thought. A rookie mistake that was beneath him. But it was maybe an indication of how frustrated he was becoming with the lack of evidence and the increase in the number of suspects. As far as he was concerned being gay didn’t preclude Natalia from the investigation. She may have been pursued by Thomas who didn’t take her rejection, and her reason for it, seriously.

  And there was still the matter of the rat poison, which he’d forgotten to bring up and question them about.

  Turning back, he shouted, ‘One more thing. Rat poison.’

  Sam straightened and nudged Natalia, who shut down the trimmer once again.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘What is it now?’

  ‘Rat poison.’

  ‘What about it?’ asked Sam.

  ‘Have you ever used it?’

  ‘No, we’ve had no reason to. Why?’ Natalia wanted to know.

  Flynn ignored her question. ‘Is there any kept on the premises?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of,’ she said.

  ‘What about that place under the floor? Isn’t that for poisons?’ Sam said.

  ‘What? Oh, yes, I suppose so,’ Natalia replied. ‘But I’ve never had cause to go in there,’ she said, just a tad too quickly as far as Flynn was concerned.

  He nodded and thanked them, before turning away and walking back towards the school. Very illuminating, he thought. Natalia could well have motive and means. Motive because Carl Thomas wouldn’t take no for an answer, even though that answer was no because of Natalia’s sexual persuasion. Means because she was the gardener and had access to the rat poison that had been kept on the premises. The only fly in the ointment was opportunity. Had Natalia been able to poison Carl Thomas on that fateful night? Did she have an alibi?

  He’d talk to Fisher and Elgin when he returned to the station. He needed to fish out Natalia Birch’s statement.

  27

  Returning to Carl Thomas’ house, Flynn found that Mabel was now able to leave as a friend had turned up to sit with Mrs Thomas.

  Mabel had nothing new for him, though. She’d had precious little opportunity to talk to Mrs Thomas before the doctor arrived and once he’d administered a sedative, then Mrs Thomas had slipped into what they all hoped was a restorative sleep.

  ‘Come on then,’ Flynn said, ‘Let’s get back to the station, for a well-earned cuppa, while we look at the list Elgin has left for us.’

  ‘A list?’ asked Mabel.

  ‘Oh yes, sorry, I asked Elgin to detail employees at the school who have just joined the staff. Perhaps we can find Cheryl on the list somewhere.’

  There were six people who had joined the staff of Muddlebay Manor in the last few months. Three were men and three women, namely the gardener, Natalia Birch, a teacher named Susan Smith and a kitchen helper, Meena Kovac.

  The gardener had been interviewed, so they looked at the teacher.

  ‘She’s no good, Flynn,’ said Mabel. ‘It turns out she’s sixty-five and on a short term contract to cover maternity leave.’

  ‘Another one gone then,’ said Flynn after draining his teacup. ‘Okay so let’s look at the pot wash in the kitchen.’

  ‘Do you really think it could be her?’

  ‘Why not?’ said Flynn.

  ‘Well, she’s foreign, speaks very little English and is, well, a wall flower to say the least.’

  ‘Never say never, Mabel. We’ll go back to the school first thing in the morning.’

  ‘But tomorrow is Saturday!’

  ‘The school is still open on a Saturday, Mabel. It’s games, remember and there will be kitchen staff in. The boarders still need to be fed.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘Because I read the brochure, Mabel – didn’t you?

  As Flynn and Mabel arrived at Muddlebay Manor the next day, the car park was busy and filled with the noise of clattering boots. Football and rugby kits were worn on kids that ranged from short and skinny to older and muscle-bound. Parents chatted around open boots of their cars. Headscarves and Macintoshes the clothing of choice.

  ‘My goodness,’ said Mabel. ‘Who’d have thought it.’

  ‘Who indeed,’ said Flynn not without a slice of sarcasm.

  As he stood there, he had a flash back to his own school days, where he was always the kid not chosen for teams in games, debating groups, science projects. You name it, Flynn wasn’t chosen. He shook himself. Now was not the time to dwell on his own insecurities. He was a police officer, from the Metropolitan Police no less. Actually, Flynn admonished himself, that wasn’t strictly true. He preferred to think of himself as on secondment to Muddlebay, whereas ‘the powers that be’ preferred to get rid of him completely and pretend they’d never heard of him. He was invisible as far as the Met were concerned. A nonperson. Someone who had faded into the background.

  But then he spied a long table with flasks of hot drinks on them, jugs of juice and plates of biscuits, cakes and fruit. That shook him up. He had a job to do and one he was determined to do well. Something had caught his eye. It was someone turning away from the table and slipping away around nearby buildings. There had been an impression of a black uniform with a splash of white. Was that Meena? Flynn followed as quickly as he could without running, not wanting to upset anyone, particularly the Headmistress. The one person who could do his career even more damage if she put in a complaint about him.

  He left Mabel chatting to a small group of parents that she knew from the library and unobtrusively followed the person who he hoped was Meena.

  28

  Flynn thought of what he actually knew about Meena, which was precious little. An economic migrant who spoke little, supposedly because she had limited English. But was that true? Casting his mind back to his visits to the kitchen and chats with Mr and Mrs Cooke, he remembered that Meena had usually slipped out of the kitchen as Flynn walked in. According to the other kitchen staff, she had been seen listening at doors and windows. Her personal hygiene was questionable, and she was constantly being told to tie back her lank, greasy hair and place it in a hairnet.

  A shadow. Easily overlooked. Yet always in the background, listening.

  As Flynn rounded the games block, Meena had disappeared. There was only a lone parent walking towards him.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he called. ‘Have you just seen a waitress appearing from the direction of the car park?’

  ‘No, sorry,’ called the woman. ‘I’ve not seen anyone. Just been to the ladies…’ and with that she passed him with a whiff of perfume and a wobble of her high heels on the cobbles.

  Frustrated, Flynn went to kitchen to find Meena. He was told by Mrs Cooke that Meena was on duty but had not returned from the main quad.

  Flynn said, ‘I could swear I’d seen her leave there, or at least I thought I had. I may have done. I got the impression that it was her. Oh alright,’ he had to admit, ‘it could have been anyone. Will she come back here?’

  ‘Who knows? Maybe, maybe not. She should do. Doesn’t mean she will do.’

  ‘I’ll go looking. Could you please phone me if you see her? I really want to talk to her, but don’t let on. I don’t want to scare her off. Or at least make her more scared than she already is.’

  Flynn wandered around the quad and scanned the games field, but there was no sign of Meena.

  Dispirited, he returned to the kitchen.

  ‘Where does she live?’ Flynn asked. ‘There was no address on the information I was given.’

  ‘Do you know, I’m not sure,’ admitted Mrs Cooke.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. I don’t need to know. All of that stuff is handled by Human Resources.’

  Flynn sighed. ‘Does she have a car?’

  ‘Not that I’ve ever seen. She has a bike. I’ve seen her on that a few times.’

  ‘And you’re sure you don’t know if she lives in the village?’

  Mrs Cooke shrugged. ‘It’s not my problem,’ she reiterated. ‘HR deal with all that. As long as Meena turns up and does her job that’s all that matters to me. Everything else is just noise.’

  Flynn shook his head in exasperation. ‘It will be more than bloody noise if she turns out to be our killer!’ he shouted.

  That shut the cook up and allowed Flynn to moodily stomp out, frustrated beyond belief. He couldn’t check with HR until Monday, so there was nothing more to be done.

  29

  Flynn gathered up Mabel and the two of them went back to the station. He wanted to run Meena’s name through the police databases.

  As Mabel organized a cup of coffee, Flynn put Meena’s sketchy details into the computer.

  Mabel found him with his head in his hands. ‘Flynn, what on earth is the matter? Nothing can be that bad, surely?’

  ‘Yes, it is that bad, Mabel,’ he said. ‘We’ve got nothing on her. Meena. She is a non-person. There’s no work visa in her name. No application for residency. Nothing.’ He banged his fist on the desk. Flynn was beyond frustrated. But he couldn’t do anything until the early shift on Monday, when Meena was due on duty next and then later the school admin offices would open. That was his window of opportunity. His chance to grab Meena. He hadn’t dared go to the Headmistress over the weekend and rub her up the wrong way.

  And so, Operation Meena kicked off on Monday at 6 am. Fisher and Elgin weren’t happy. But Mabel was beyond excited. Flynn himself was worried, yet convinced he’d done all he could.

  ‘Remember, look out for her bicycle,’ Flynn said. ‘Or she could be on foot.’

  ‘From which direction will she be coming?’ asked Fisher.

  ‘Well, I don’t know do I,’ snapped Flynn. ‘If I had any information on her we wouldn’t be staking out a school at 6am would we?’

  ‘There’s someone coming,’ said Elgin over the radio.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Jogging over the sports field.’

  ‘Mind you,’ crackled the radio. ‘As she’s getting closer, she doesn’t look much like Meena.’

  ‘What is she like, then?’ asked Flynn.

  ‘Distinctive white hair, curvaceous figure, bit of a looker. Oh, hang on, she’s going to the bike store. Sorry it’s a false alarm, it’s not Meena, stand down everyone.’

  Partly relieved, partly cross, Flynn was having trouble coping with the uncertainty of it all.

  But then the radio crackled once more. ‘Met, Met, she’s on the run!’

  ‘What? Where? Fisher?’ Flynn couldn’t understand what on earth was going on.

 

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