Stephanie concentrated on the idea of the electric fence being the real murderer. Her first term at the big school had introduced her to the wonders of physics, with some basic experiments with electricity the high point so far. She had drawn diagrams and learnt new terms such as ‘resistance’ and ‘voltage’ and ‘conductor’. She knew that water helped the current to flow, and that human skin was providentially resistant to electricity. Gold, silver, copper and aluminium were all good conductors, especially when cold. She knew that ‘earthing’ was important, and along the way had been shown how to change an electric plug. She had found the whole subject fascinating, as had most of the rest of the class.
Thea was thinking along different lines, evidently. ‘It could have been one of the staff, of course. They’d have the opportunity and probably the means. And there’s likely to be plenty of motive as well. Blackwood doesn’t seem to have been the greatest employer, if his treatment of the Frowses is anything to go by.’
‘Mm,’ said Stephanie. ‘I wonder if he had bare feet?’
‘What?’
‘I think it makes the current stronger if you’re not wearing shoes. And if you’re wet, of course.’
‘I expect he had some warm, fleecy slippers on.’
They walked another hundred yards, the power of their thoughts slowing them to a crawl. Then Stephanie stopped dead. ‘We’ve got to go back,’ she said. ‘Or phone Mrs Gladwin. Or something.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The car battery,’ she said urgently. ‘They did it with the car battery.’
Chapter Twenty
Thea insisted that they should carry on home, and talk it over calmly before taking any action. But now they proceeded at a trot, arriving in Broad Campden barely ten minutes later. Stephanie kept trying to describe the process. ‘There are terminals, you see. And if you lie a piece of metal across them, and then hold that against someone’s heart, they’re likely to die.’
‘Okay, but—’ Thea floundered, ignorant of more than the absolute basics. ‘Are you really sure that’s right?’
‘We can check it on the Internet.’
‘But Steph – if you’re right, that looks terribly bad for Digby. Or Ant.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Stephanie. ‘But if it’s the truth …’
‘The truth can be terrible,’ said Thea softly. ‘I just wish you didn’t have to learn that so young.’
Stephanie’s impatience was almost painful. She wanted to confirm her theory and assure herself that she wasn’t being stupid. She remembered Timmy talking about the film The Green Mile which he had been outrageously allowed to watch at his friend Oliver’s house. He had talked about it obsessively for days afterwards, mostly to his sister, giving her a graphic description of the electrocution scene. Something about a wet sponge having to go on the top of the victim’s head, and the sadistic prison officer not providing it, so the whole thing would hurt more and take longer. Timmy had found it both terrifying and fascinating. ‘Hurry up,’ she urged her stepmother. ‘We’re almost home now.’
‘What’s the rush?’ puffed Thea. ‘I can’t go any faster.’
Stephanie couldn’t properly explain. It felt as if the ideas that were filling her mind would either evaporate or somehow overflow. She had to capture them calmly, organise them just as she’d been taught to write up her science experiments. There were so many potential obstacles – her father, the police and Digby himself. All or any of them might just laugh at her and dismiss everything she had to say.
But then they were in the house at last. Everything was calm and normal, and it seemed almost violent to burst in as they did, and start gabbling about Beverley and police and electrocution. Thea was of little help. Random comments emerged from her with no logical thread until Jessica physically gripped her shoulders and made her stop.
Drew was irritable. ‘We’ve only just got back ourselves,’ he said. ‘We’re all tired out. Can’t we just have a bit of peace for a while?’
It was much as Stephanie had feared. Thea had made it worse, behaving more like a child than a grown-up. She went over to Timmy, and sat with him in the window seat, leaving the adults to settle down, watching each face anxiously.
When salvation finally came, it was from another source entirely. The doorbell rang and there was Detective Sergeant Finch Graham, looking boyishly apprehensive. ‘DS Gladwin sent me,’ he said. ‘I’m to ask you a few questions.’
‘Who? Me?’ Thea asked foolishly.
‘Who else?’ sighed Drew. ‘Take him into the office, why don’t you?’
They were gone for only a few minutes when Thea reappeared and told Stephanie she should join them. ‘He wants to hear it from you,’ said Thea. ‘The stuff about electrodes or whatever it is.’
Stephanie sat down on a chair reserved for people arranging a funeral, while the detective took Drew’s place. Thea was next to her. Carefully she presented her theory, waiting for Finch to make notes as she went. At last he looked up at her. ‘That’s incredibly clever,’ he said. ‘I’m enormously impressed.’ Then he deflated her again. ‘But I don’t think it’ll do, you know. The problem is, you could turn almost anything into a lethal weapon if you really want to. Knitting needles, belts, lavatory cleaner, you name it. And as well as that, you can push a person under a train or off a roof or into a river. And you can make all those things look like an accident, with good planning.’
‘But—’ Stephanie had no idea what to say. She had been so certain.
Thea was indignant. ‘I thought you were going to take her seriously,’ she protested. ‘Now you’ve just made her feel silly.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘And I promise you it isn’t silly at all. We will have a look at those things you’re telling me about, of course. But without any actual evidence, they’re just bits of junk in a front yard.’
‘If they’re still there,’ said Thea darkly.
‘You’ll tell Mrs Gladwin, though, won’t you?’ begged Stephanie, with
