Markham thought back to the afternoon’s agonizing interview and Noakes’s tenderness with that wreck of a human being. He only wished the DS’s detractors could have witnessed his infinite patience and the way he coaxed a tearful smile from the bewildered woman whose daughter was forever frozen in time for her as a toddler. Afterwards, with hands clenched, Noakes had said, ‘That poor lass drew the short straw all right, guv. But we’ll see the bastard doesn’t get away wi’ it.’
‘Whoever killed her, we’ll get them Noakesy,’ Markham had replied.
But now he felt at a loss. The dead woman felt like an enigma, unknowable.
Suddenly, he experienced an unnerving flashback to the autopsy room and the moment he’d had to contemplate Rebecca Shawcross’s remote white beauty, before Dimples Davidson set to work with his Stryker. Afterwards, having skipped lunch, he sat queasily watching the pathologist and Noakes chomp their way through cheese baguettes while mulling the forensic implications.
‘It would have been over very quickly, Markham,’ Davidson said, observing the DI’s downcast expression. ‘Hardly enough time even to be afraid.’
‘That garrotte was pulled so tight she was nearly decapitated,’ put in Noakes ghoulishly.
‘She would’ve been unconscious within seconds,’ the doctor insisted, raising his voice to drown out Noakes. ‘Taken by surprise and then — finito. No defence wounds or signs of a struggle. She never saw it coming.’
‘Likely someone she knew then?’ the DS mumbled through a mouthful of cheese and pickle.
‘Man or woman?’ Noakes enquired.
‘Could’ve been either. With the girl being caught off guard, it wouldn’t have required a massive amount of strength.’
Just overpowering hatred, Markham reflected grimly. With an effort, he dragged himself back to the present.
‘Any ripples at school?’ he asked carefully, gently stroking Olivia’s long red hair. ‘Anything contentious . . . ?’
‘Rebecca was very popular with the sixth form,’ Olivia answered. ‘But then, she did a lot of work on school drama productions — Guys and Dolls last year, that kind of thing . . . really threw herself into it.’
‘True,’ Sullivan concurred. ‘The kids respected her for that.’
‘Any, er, liaisons with other staff?’
‘She was friendly with Leo Cartwright in drama, but I don’t know if it went further than that.’ Sullivan’s tone was guarded. ‘I mean, God knows at Hope, it’s such a goldfish bowl. Good luck to anyone who gets it on without the whole bloody place knowing.’
Remembering the way the world had fallen down about Matthew Sullivan’s ears during the Hope Academy murder investigation, Markham couldn’t blame him for wishing to shield his colleagues from intrusive police enquiries.
‘I want to pay a visit, Mat,’ he said quietly. ‘Nothing too heavy, I promise. Just a quick word with this Leo Cartwright and an invitation to folk to let us know if they remember anything. Something they didn’t notice at the time, perhaps . . . something which only struck them as being odd in hindsight.’
‘Just like old times.’ But neither Sullivan nor Olivia looked thrilled at the prospect.
Sullivan roused himself. ‘Don’t worry, Gil, I’ll square it with Doctor Abernathy and our “executive head”.’
Markham grinned. He knew Sullivan had the unworldly Abernathy eating out of his hand. And he had every confidence in his friend’s ability to deal with the higher echelons.
‘Will Noakes be coming, too?’
Olivia burst out laughing at the resigned expression on Sullivan’s face. ‘Better buckle on that Kevlar vest. George doesn’t have much time for “leftie liberals” like you!’
‘Oh, I think I’ll just about pass muster,’ her friend said wryly. ‘Don’t forget I play centre-back for the Bromgrove Wanderers, so much will be forgiven.’ He gave a theatrical shudder at the thought of Noakes’s likely response to the earnestly PC senior leadership team. ‘It’s the rest of ’em I feel sorry for.’
‘Don’t worry, Mat, I’ll keep him under control,’ Markham laughed. ‘Tomorrow morning suit you? Elevenish?’
‘Fine.’ Sullivan frowned. ‘What about the students?’
‘Find me a few form reps, prefects, kids she taught . . . basically anyone she was close to. Get whoever’s responsible for safeguarding and child protection onside — that way there’s no comeback.’
And with that, the talk passed to other things.
* * *
Outside the shadows lengthened and, in the ancient graveyard, the cypresses stirred and whispered restlessly as if full of secrets they could share if they would.
3. Auld Lang Syne
‘Phew, it’s gonna be a scorcher today, guv,’ Noakes grunted as he and Markham stood in the car park at Hope Academy eyeing up the dreary sixties architecture, which strongly resembled that of a Soviet Gulag. ‘Can’t think why they make kids do GCSEs an’ A levels when the weather’s like this.’ He kicked a pebble wrathfully. ‘Our Nat said it ruined her chance of getting decent grades.’
Reflecting that Natalie’s less than stellar academic attainment was more likely to have been affected by her discovery of what passed for Bromgrove’s nightlife than any meteorological factor, the DI smiled sympathetically. ‘Well, Hope’s hardly a fun factory at the best of times.’
The two men lingered, lost in thought as they recalled the horrific murder investigation they had worked on previously, and the web of sexual intrigue and festering secrets they’d uncovered at the heart of Hope Academy. In addition to discovering the mutilated body of the first victim, Olivia had been closely bound up in what followed. Now that she was back in school doing what she loved, Markham prayed her professional equilibrium would not be undermined by further unsavoury discoveries connected with her colleagues. After Matthew Sullivan had left them the previous evening, he’d realized just how troubled she was at the prospect.
‘You don’t think this has anything to do with school do you, Gil?’ she’d asked him.
Markham had been reluctant to alarm her but met her eyes steadily.
‘Well, given that the community centre houses Hope’s sixth-form study annexe,
