room.
“May we begin?’ he said in a voice so conversational that Dalziel imagined he was being addressed directly despite the fact that Landor had half-turned his back on him. But he quickly realized that the principal was addressing his staff. Evidently in these circles you didn’t shout or ring a bell to bring a meeting to order, you merely spoke to those nearest you and by some aural osmosis the message eventually reached the other end of the room.
Thank you,’ said Landor. ‘ this is not a formal meeting so there will be no minutes either read, or taken. But as far as possible I suggest we stick to our usual modes of procedure. Most of you will know, by sight at least, Superintendent Dalziel. He has kindly agreed to come along today to put us in the picture, as it were. Everyone here will be aware of the double set of tragic circumstances which have necessitated his presence in the college. However, it is often difficult to separate truth from rumour and the better informed we are, the better informed the student body will be. Superintendent Dalziel.”
Dalziel stood up heavily and viewed his audience. Up until this moment he had had no real idea of what he was going to say. Now, faced by this polite blank of faces, he reacted to their common denominator (bloody clever bastards, all of ‘, he thought mockingly) by selecting a role Pascoe would have recognized with an inward groan. The blunt, unsubtle policeman.
“I’ll be brief,’ he said. ‘ things first. The remains found in the college garden on Wednesday have been identified as those of Miss. Girling, the former principal of this college. We are treating it as a case of murder.” He paused. One or two shifted slightly in their chairs. Miss. Disney’s face was a mask of stoically-borne grief.
“Yesterday, Thursday, the naked body of a student, Anita Sewell, was found in the dunes by the golf course. She had died of asphyxiation as a result of having her face forced down into the sand some time late on Wednesday night or early Thursday morning. She had not been sexually assaulted. This too we are treating as murder.” He paused again. Now there was a general shifting of position. Several cigarettes were lit. Halfdane leaned over to Henry Saltecombe and said something. The older man nodded vigorously. A man recognized from Pascoe’s description as George Dunbar was smiling faintly with the complacent look of one to whom this was all very old stuff. He couldn’t spot Fallowfield at all, but the pretty woman sitting between Marion Cargo and Halfdane (triumphantly?) was possibly Pascoe’s old mate.
Miss. Disney opened her mouth to speak. He let the first syllable get out, then continued, overriding her without a glance in her direction.
“I’ve told you nothing you won’t read in the newspapers. Probably have read already. But it’s often useful to have it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”
A slight ripple of laughter.
“You’re the people who ought to know. You’re the ones who can reassure the students here.”
“You haven’t really given us much to reassure them with, Superintendent.’ It was Halfdane. ‘ don’t you propose to talk to them direct? After all, they’re just as important as we in this institution.
Perhaps more so.”
A couple of mutters of agreement. More indignant snorts.
“I can’t talk to them all at once. Not without turning it into a rally.
In any case, you’re the ones who are paid to talk to these youngsters.
You’re their teachers.”
Halfdane started up again indignantly, but Dunbar beat him to it.
Tell me, when did you find out it was Miss. Girling in the garden?” This was confirmed on Wednesday evening,’ said Dalziel. ‘?”
“I just wondered how half the college seemed to have this information on Wednesday afternoon?”
Dalziel nodded for the want of anything else to do.
“You mean, staff?”
“I mean students.”
There was a confirmatory murmur from half a dozen places in the room.
“You surprise me,’ said Dalziel. ‘ Miss. Girling died nearly six years ago, I should have thought it unlikely that any student could have known anything about it.”
The implications of the stress were caught immediately, but Dalziel was not impressed by this display of sharpness of wit. Anyone with half a mind must have realized days earlier that he’d be interested in the old- established members of staff.
Landor obviously decided he must take back control of the meeting.
“Thank you, Superintendent. I know we will all assist you in every way we can. What is important I think is that we carry on as normal, and I know that you will be eager to assist us in this.” “Of course,’ said Dalziel, still standing. ‘ our work comes first.
Let’s be clear about that. Disruption of your work is unfortunate.
Disruption of mine amounts to obstruction of the law.”
Again the raised eyebrows bit, the exchange of glances, the pursing of lips. Henry Saltecombe stood up waving his pipe apologetically, scattering warm embers over his neighbours.
“One question,’ he said. ‘ you think these two dreadful businesses are connected in any way? Or is it merely some terrible coincidence?” Pascoe had asked this. Dalziel wondered how he was getting on at the airport. Even if he got nowhere, he’d get there thoroughly. He would probably have made a damn sight better job of this side of the business as well. He might have some understanding of these people. Dalziel tried not to despise them because that could easily lead to underestimation of ability (criminal, of course), and misinterpretation of motive. But six months’ holiday a year and a working life centred on reading books… I The scientists he could go along with to some extent, but surely someone, some day, was going to sort out the rest!
“As a policeman, I distrust coincidence,’ he replied.
“And I, as a historian,’ said Saltecombe. Those about him smiled. He must have made a funny, thought Dalziel.
The woman who might be Pascoe’s friend now rose with a suddenness that suggested she had been hurled by a spring through a stage trapdoor.
“What I’d like to know is how we’re expected to maintain hard fought-for personal relationships with our students in an allegedly democratic institution when we permit the civil authorities to so blatantly take control of our decision-making. I would remind the principal that his loyalties ought to be to the college and its members,’ she rattled out at a great rate, then sat down as abruptly as she had risen.
Miss. Disney swelled visibly, as though someone was pumping air into her body through some inimaginable orifice, but she took too long about it and it was Miss. Scotby who stood up, arrow-straight, and spoke first.
“I would suggest that Miss. Soper thinks less about personal relationships and more about pastoral responsibilities.”
The sat down. Dalziel did not have the faintest idea whether this was a match-winning riposte or not. There was a small outbreak of probably ironic applause from the back of the room. Ellie Soper rolled her eyes upwards in mock despair.
Landor rose.
“Yes, I agree there are one or two purely internal and academic matters we ought to discuss, but I see no reason to keep Superintendent Dalziel from his very important duties.”
He wants me out, thought Dalziel. Before they get too rude. Perhaps he thinks I’m sensitive!
The thought pleased him and he smiled benevolently at the staff who were obviously sitting in tense expectation of the hand-to-hand fighting which seemed likely to follow his departure.
“It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Landor,’ he said. ‘, I can find my own way back. Good day to you all. Ladies. Gentlemen.”
It might be interesting to hear what they say, he thought as he closed the door behind him. But it’d only have curiosity value. He rarely questioned his own powers of perception, but he now admitted he’d probably have difficulty in taking in whatever the hell it was they were going on about. They seemed to treat words as things of power, not as tools. They could get stuffed. He had work to do.
A girl started walking by his side as he descended the stairs. He glanced sideways at her. Long hair, sallow skin, hive-shaped breasts inadequately supported under a darned grey sweater.
“I want a word with you,’ she said casually.
