Raine Rossiter nodded, ‘At first it was thought he could do some handywork around the place to pay his way, but he was useless. Have you met him, Inspector?’
‘Not yet: he’s under sedation.’
‘Oh?’
‘He found Stella, with Rachel Sowton.’
She winced, ‘Then I’m afraid you won’t get much out of him for days.’
This wasn’t what Grey wanted to hear.
‘I’m sorry,’ she continued, ‘the way I talk about him you must think I hate him; but then how could anyone when they know his story.’
‘Our researcher is still tracing the file.’
‘Then I must tell you: he had a daughter, Eunice, who was murdered by her boyfriend. Well, I say murdered by him; he vanished that same night, went back up north we believe. He was a Scotsman, you see, though as unrepresentative of that happy race as he could be. Have you ever been to Edinburgh, Inspector?’
‘No, I can’t say I have.’
‘Do, when all this is over. Clear your head.’
He checked his watch, ‘I really must getting back to the station, but all that has left me with a couple of final questions: when Stella’s aunt willed her the flat, was there money attached?’
‘Yes, Inspector, rather a lot of it, though she continued to work for a number of years, up until about the time she thought of starting the Trust.’
‘Did anything happen sixteen years ago to prompt this?’
‘No; I think she just realised she wanted to slow down, work less, secure her future.’
‘By then she had the top floor flat?’
‘By then she had the top floor flat.’
‘And anything there I need to know about?’
‘You know, it’s not uncommon for people to move within buildings.’
‘How much of her money is left?’
‘She would have kept herself going a good few years yet.’
‘Even with Charlie Prove?’
‘Even with Charlie Prove.’
‘Then thank you, you’ve been very helpful. Oh, and tomorrow I think I’ll need the paperwork for Charlie’s flat transaction too.’
He left the paper on her desk for them to add to what they’d bring tomorrow. They shook hands; and as Grey left through the reception overheard Andrea still on the phone, though he had the impression not to Rachel Sowton.
Chapter 7 — Tudor Oak
It was getting dark by the time Sergeant Smith found herself driving to the large and somewhat historic building on the outskirts of town, her passenger the Inspector ruminating in the passenger seat,
‘The Tudor Oak Independent School? Nice name — reminds me of the Mary Rose. It can’t go all that way back though, can it?’
‘I’m not sure. The building’s old though, from what I remember driving past. The modern school’s been there well over a hundred years though; I think it used to be a convent or something before, and was used as a hospital during the First World War.’
‘The name might be a way to gain a bit of that history.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘So how much are you looking at so send a child there?’ Even as he asked he knew it was none of his business.
‘About the same as you’d pay to live at the Cedars.’
‘Free to those that can afford it…’ he couldn’t help but add. ‘And Brough’s serious, about wanting this for your kids?’
‘I don’t know, he has big ideas — you know Brough.’
At an edge of town so far out it was almost its own district and served by its own shops and set of amenities, they pulled in before an impressive building, the oldest parts of which Grey saw right away might well have been Tudor. It must have predated everything that now surrounded it, built entirely independently of the industrial development of the town and may have once had extensive gardens upon which it’s neighbours now sat.
‘A shame it’s so hemmed in,’ he said.
‘They must play sport somewhere else.’
That was a good point. The school buildings were made all the more dramatic at dusk by the placing in the ground of spotlights that shot up into the air to highlight the walls and windows with their exterior detailing.
‘Sarah told me a Miss Oven would be waiting for us in the Junior’s Hall.’
(Grey had, at the time these instruction were being relayed to Cori, being issuing some of his own, or rather asking if Inspector Glass, recently appointed head of their station’s uniformed contingent, could place a Constable as promised at the Cedars for the night.)
‘She said it was the smaller building to the left.’ The pair walked towards the only lit windows in that direction. As they did so, behind them a hundred rugby boots clattered over the road they had just pulled in off, their field of action obviously somewhere on the other side. Grey remembered how thankful every ex-schoolboy ought to be for there being no one in adult life with the power to commit you to two hours of that torture each week.
‘Here’s the Junior’s entrance,’ spotted Cori, her mind on more practical matters.
Miss Oven proved to be a genial and reliable host; not far off being Stella Dunbar’s contemporary and evidently as happy in her work as anyone had a right to be. They sat in the centre of the large lit room, its ceiling pointing steeply in the manner of a small chapel. The desks now grouped in little islands Grey guessed had once been in straight lines. At one end of the room uncurtained windows were full of night. The lady had provided tea and biscuits,
‘The school secretary asked me to stay behind for you once the after-school clubs had gone. I knew her you see, Stella. We were colleagues for many years, and I hope friends.’
‘The secretary told you why we were asking after her?’ Cori sensed the Inspector was leaving this to her.
‘Yes, yes it is very sad. But then we all have to go sometime.’
‘I’m afraid Stella’s death wasn’t a natural one.’
‘No, I don’t suppose it was if it brought you here.’
‘I’m afraid she was attacked. You’re not surprised?’
‘Not really, not when I stopped to think about it. The children went home a while ago, and I’ve been sat here with my thoughts of Stella flooding back after sixteen years.’
‘And what we’re you thinking?’
‘That she was a woman under a shadow, Sergeant, cursed with seriousness and unable to leave things alone or give others their head. She did much good, I’ll grant you, but she could be so tiring. No battle won would be enough for her, yet fail at the next task and all was lost. I expect you’re going to tell me that when it came down to it she couldn’t let a lad snatch her bag or a burglar take her precious things without fighting back… oh yes, the silver. Was that it?’’
‘We think it may have been a little more than that. When did you start at this school, Miss Oven? Was Stella already here?’
‘I don’t remember who was first or exactly when I started — I worked at several schools for a while — but we became firm friends, definitely by the time of the centenary: I remember the staff meal, and that was Nineteen Eighty-three.’
‘And what form would your friendship take?’
