'She held briefings with the senior management team every morning. Ten minutes, on a timer, which she'd set. It would ring when the time was up and it didn't matter if someone was in the middle of a sentence, Ms Langley would simply walk out of the room. She liked to delegate responsibility.'
It was expressed as a negative quality rather than a positive one. Superintendent Reine would have agreed with Jessica Langley's methods though. It was what Horton should have done last night with the Mickey Johnson operation: delegate. But he was never one for sitting behind a desk, though it was a prerequisite of higher management. Maybe he was better off staying an inspector. Though he wasn't convinced he really wanted that.
'How did Ms Langley handle staff and parental matters?'
'She held a clinic for the staff every Tuesday between three and five p.m. and one for parents every Wednesday, between four thirty and six thirty p.m.'
So, last night, Thursday, was free. 'Do you know if she had any appointments arranged for yesterday after seven o'clock?'
'As I said, Inspector. I didn't keep her diary.'
More's the pity, he thought, and went in search of Cantelli.
Five
'If I'd known I was going to be wading through the battlefields of the Sir Wilberforce Cutler I would have worn my wellies,' Cantelli said, staring at his muddy brown shoes. 'These cost me nearly ten pounds, five years ago.'
'About time you had a new pair then.' Horton knew Cantelli's sense of humour well. The sergeant was a generous man who cared little about money and even less about the clothes he wore, preferring to spend it on his wife and children.
As Cantelli rubbed his shoes on a straggly bit of grass, trying to get the worst of the mud off, he said, 'The thieves took whatever they could lay their hands on: paint, cement bags, piping, you name it. The builders went off site at four p.m., so the manager has no idea what time the break-in took place. He's not a very happy bunny. Blames his bosses for skimping on security. Says it'll put the job back about a month, and it's the second break-in they've had in the last six weeks.'
Horton made a mental note to check back through the incident reports. Not that he thought it would give him a lead on Langley's murder, but it was a detail nevertheless, and in a murder case even the smallest of details could turn out to be relevant. Like that message on the betting slip.
'Did he know Jessica Langley?'
'No. Most of his dealings were with the building superintendent, who's the caretaker to you and me. Otherwise he deals with the architect direct, or Mrs Pentlow, the business manager. What about you?'
'Langley's photo checks out — unless she has a double — also a description of the clothes she was wearing yesterday. I've asked the deputy head to make a formal identification.'
'How did he take it?'
'Shocked. Horrified. Worried about the school. He didn't seem overly upset.' Then
Horton told Cantelli where Jessica Langley had lived.
'Well, I certainly didn't see anyone being murdered last night, or being dumped on a boat!'
'She might not have returned home after school.'
'Let's hope for our sake she didn't,' Cantelli replied with feeling, before sneezing. 'I think my cold's getting worse.'
'Well, see if you can contain it until after we've caught our killer.'
Taking out his handkerchief, Cantelli said, 'I hope that's bloody soon or I could end up with pneumonia.'
And I could do with catching our clever Dick murderer, thought Horton, as well as Mickey Johnson's partner in crime. Horton could just imagine the stick he'd get if it proved to be the case that Langley had been murdered in her apartment. Uckfield's scorn would be unbearable and Horton guessed he could kiss goodbye to any chances of promotion.
He glanced across at the men labouring on the building site and wondered for a moment what his life might have been like if he'd made a different career choice. For a brief time he had almost become a professional footballer until a motorbike accident had put paid to that. But the police service had always attracted him, or at least, he thought with a secret smile, Bernard, his foster father, had made him see that. 'It's like a family,' he had once said. 'You're on the inside and everyone else is on the outside. You look out for one another.' And, oh, how those magic words had touched a nerve. Horton had needed a family badly. Still did now that Catherine had chosen to ditch him. Cantelli broke through his thoughts. He was glad.
'Hey up, we've got company.'
Horton turned to see a short stout man with a goatee beard and a cross expression heading towards them on splayed feet.
'Can't you see this is a building site? You should be wearing hard hats,' he complained, pointing at his own bright yellow one.
Cantelli pulled out his warrant card.
The man glanced at it, looked surprised and then sheepish. 'Sorry, didn't know. You should still be wearing hard hats though. Neil Cyrus, assistant caretaker. Is it about the break-in last night? I've already spoken to some of your lot this morning.' He gulped as he finished speaking as if he couldn't quite suck enough air into his lungs.
A nervous mannerism, Horton guessed, which had become a habit. Horton recognized the name from the information that DC Walters had given to him earlier. Scrutinizing Cyrus, he tried to put an age on him yet found it difficult, he could have been anywhere between thirty and late forties. His pale brown eyes were like beads and set too close together.
Horton said, 'I understand you were on duty until ten o'clock last night.'
Cyrus looked slightly wary. 'Yes.'
'And you were here early this morning. That's a long working day.' But not as long as mine, thought Horton, wondering when he might be able to afford the luxury of sleep.
Cyrus's expression cleared. 'We do shifts, me and Bill Ashling. He's my boss. Yesterday I was on the late shift. Today I'm on the early shift, and Bill will come on duty at two o'clock, when I go off.'
Tom Edney had said that no one else had been on the school premises except Jessica Langley when he had left. He was wrong. Perhaps, though, he hadn't thought to include the assistant caretaker because, in Edney's estimation, Cyrus didn't count, it was his job to be on site. Had Edney discounted anyone else?
He said, 'Who was the last person to leave the school last night?'
'Ms Langley at seven fifteen p.m.'
'Was she alone?'
'Yes.' Cyrus looked surprised at the question. He removed his hat. Horton noticed the small beads of perspiration on his brow. Why so nervous, or was Cyrus like this with everyone?
'Can you tell me what she was wearing?'
'What's that got to do with the break-in?' Cyrus exclaimed, taken aback.
Horton said nothing. Cyrus flushed, then said, 'Her black trouser suit.'
'Trousers and jacket?'
'Yes, why?'
'Was she carrying anything?'
Cyrus frowned in thought. 'Her briefcase. She turned and waved to me before getting into her car. Is there anything wrong?'
Horton wondered if the briefcase could have contained a laptop computer. 'You saw her drive off?'
'Yes.' Cyrus shifted uneasily.
There was no reason why Cyrus shouldn't be telling the truth. Horton gave what he considered to be a reassuring smile except that it seemed to make Cyrus even more nervous. Interesting.
After a moment he said, waving a hand at the building site, 'What's this going to be then?'
