‘Did you see that?’
‘There’re some odd locals around here. Let’s get on.’
They reached a set of double doors and Matt noticed a bright-purple plastic rack, which was presumably for the kids’ scooters. It made him think of Amelia. Of last weekend when he and she took turns on her scooter, bombing down a hill near their new house. A hill that was way too steep but one that made them laugh like maniacs and hug each other at the end.
‘Oh …’ Larry touched the doors and paused. ‘You’re alright with blood, yeah?’
CHAPTER SIX
You could smell it in the air. That hanging, metallic odour. The tang of iron. It was impossible to miss the sight of it too, splashed near a small kids’ stage, on a wooden floor of the music room.
‘Watch your step,’ Larry said as they padded around the dark brown, flaking circle. They were both wearing elasticated blue overshoes wrapped around their own, looking like genie slippers. A couple of MC Hammer backing dancers, that’s what he and Larry were.
Matt looked down at the dried pool of blood. ‘I’m confused. The newspaper said she died in the store cupboard.’
‘She did, but the dog came rushing out when they opened the door. This is as far as it got. Some of the parents managed to stove its head in with a few chairs.’
‘Community spirit is alive and well …’ He crouched down and saw wisps of fine, thin, black fur sprouting from the thick, sticky floor. ‘Is all this blood from the dog?’
‘It’s a mixture. A lot came from the teaching assistant, Lauren Berkley,’ Larry said. ‘It tugged a chunk from her shoulder and bit a piece of it clean off. Thankfully it caught inside her shirt. Doctors managed to pull it out and stitch it back on.’
Matt felt the Caramac turn suddenly acidic in his gut. ‘That’s the storeroom, I take it? Where the body was?’
‘Correct. And don’t worry too much if you step on some of this blood. The testing’s all done. Cleaners are going to blitz the place once you’re done, anyway.’
The trail of reddish-brown paw prints led from the pool on the floor to the gap under the storeroom door. He could see wild and chaotic streaks in it, where the dog’s claws had frantically scraped and scampered.
The door had a sign saying Music Cupboard. It had some hand-drawn pictures in the corners. Guitars, bongo-drums, keyboards and a microphone. The images were too good and too meticulous for primary school level, so he knew the kids hadn’t done this. He wondered if Stephanie Ellis had drawn these herself. Pictured her with her big hair, sitting at home at her kitchen table late on a weekday. Sipping red wine with that big smile of hers. Taking great care, with pursed lips and multiple felt tips, to hand-draw all those tiny musical notes that floated on the waves from each instrument.
Larry went for the handle and pulled it back. Matt felt his chest tighten at the stench.
‘So … this is why I called you.’
Abattoir.
That was the word that came to mind once the door creaked back.
It looked like an abattoir with huge arches of blood sprayed up the back wall. A nauseous-looking pool soaked the far corner, thick enough to look black. She died there, he thought, as he stared at the corner. She died right there. Scattered among the blood were golden kazoos that had fallen from the shelves. They were sticky with it, tilted on their sides, like shipwrecks trapped in a thick sea.
‘Jesus.’ Matt cupped a hand over his nose and mouth.
‘I’ll get you a mask.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m fine. There’s just … so much of it.’
‘That’s cos the dog clipped right through her jugular. She’d have bled out in under a minute but obviously she … well, she thrashed about a bit.’ He pointed one of his stubby fingers up at the wall. One long jet had even reached the white tiles of the ceiling.
‘And you’re absolutely sure it was just a dog that did this? There were no other wounds on her?’
‘It looks like it’s just the dog, but I’m waiting for confirmation on that.’ Larry patted the phone in his pocket. ‘Till then, I’m keeping an open mind.’
‘This animal …’ Matt finally took his hand away from his mouth. Forcing himself into small shallow breaths. ‘The paper said it was her own pet? Sounds rather unusual.’
‘Oh, it’s rare but dogs do attack their owners. Put them under enough stress and they turn wild, but then … I guess that’s the same of humans, too.’ Larry sniffed. ‘Mrs Phillips wasn’t quite herself anyway, but hiding out in here seems to have sent the dog for a loop.’
Matt paused for a moment and took in one of the taller arches of blood. ‘What do you think she was hiding from?’
‘Life, maybe? The head teacher says she’d had a brief bout with depression last year. Maybe it came back.’
He paused for a second and thought of a fellow minister back in the day who woke up one Sunday morning and couldn’t get out of bed for church. He literally couldn’t shift his legs with the stress of it all.
‘But …’ Larry caught Matt’s eye, ‘if she was actually scared of something else … then I thought maybe you could tell me what it was.’
Matt shrugged. ‘And how on earth would I work that out?’
‘By reminding me what the hell those are …’
He blinked. Followed Larry’s gaze.
He turned, 180 degrees, and looked at the back of the storeroom door. The inside of it was plastered with sheets of A4 papers, hastily stuck with gaffer tape. The ones at the bottom were thoroughly splashed with blood.
‘According to the staff, these sheets weren’t there before,’ Larry said. ‘So it looks like she put them up, before she locked herself in. I recognise them but I need you to tell me exactly what they mean.’
Matt walked toward them
