An Unfortunate Christmas Murder, page 7
‘I can’t…’ Mrs Smith hissed through gritted teeth. ‘You don’t understand…’
‘Then make us understand,’ Margery pleaded. ‘For all we know you did put that stage together. There’s certainly nothing to prove you didn’t.’
‘I don’t have to explain myself to you.’ They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
Margery thought about the mysteriously missing tools and her conversation with Officer Thomas. ‘Do you have a key for the storeroom on the second floor, Mrs Smith?’
‘I do.’ Mrs Smith nodded, her mouth wrinkling in disgust. ‘You couldn’t pay me to set foot in there though, too much dust.’
‘Who looks after the keys?’ Margery asked. ‘The headmaster?’
‘I’d assume so,’ Mrs Smith said agreeably. ‘It’s probably in his office, he keeps records of all sorts of things like that since the caretaker left. He has it all on his computer, but he writes the backups down in red notepads, you can’t miss them. Very organised, like me. That’s why we were such a good match.’ She looked away wistfully.
Margery sat back in her chair, deep in thought. That sounded easy enough to look for. She wondered if they could sneakily look for a red notepad on the next tea trolley run. They wouldn’t be getting involved in the police case as such, just helping it along. She looked over at Mrs Smith, who was staring down into the empty wine glass as though if she glared at it long enough it would refill.
‘We saw a man outside the hall yesterday when we were practising,’ Margery said without thinking.
‘Oh?’ Mrs Smith leaned forward in genuine interest. ‘Who was it?’
‘No idea.’ Margery shrugged, deciding they had nothing to lose. ‘But they dropped something.’
She reached over and took the strange velvet pouch out of her handbag and put it down on the table in front of Mrs Smith, whose eyes widened at the sight of it.
‘Good Lord,’ she said. ‘You say a man dropped this? Are you sure? Not a woman?’
Margery nodded. ‘Do you know who the man could have been, Mrs Smith?’
‘No.’ Mrs Smith reached out and traced the lettering on the bag with her fingers. ‘This definitely doesn’t belong to a man.’
‘So, you know who it belongs to?’
‘I do.’ Mrs Smith smiled at them both so weakly that the corners of her lips barely moved. ‘Of course, you both know Mrs Blossom.’
‘Who?’ Margery and Clementine asked in unison.
‘Mrs Blossom!’ Mrs Smith said again with even more emphasis, looking at them both in turn, eyebrows raised. They stared back at her. Margery felt herself shrugging.
Clementine took the bag from the table and inspected it again. She had the same blank look on her face that Margery was sure was on her own.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Mrs Smith said, pointing to the bag in Clementine’s fingers. ‘Mrs Blossom, head of the drama department at Ittonvale school! My arch nemesis?’
They shook their heads again.
‘The evillest woman in the world? No?’ She shook her head at them. ‘Ittonvale school must be involved in this somehow.’
‘Even if that’s true, what reason could she have to interfere at Summerview?’ Margery could not make heads nor tails of what Mrs Smith was trying to insinuate. ‘It’s just a bag? It surely doesn’t mean anything?’
‘The initials.’ Mrs Smith spoke in a hushed tone Margery had never heard from the woman before, in all their years of working together. ‘This bag doesn’t exactly belong to Mrs Blossom.’
‘What do you mean now?’ Clementine said, the exasperation clear in her voice. ‘You just said it did!’
‘No… I said I knew whose it was.’ Mrs Smith looked around the pub to check that no one else was listening in uninvited. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘The bag belongs to Mrs Ada Bones.’
They stared at her glumly.
‘Who?’ Clementine finally asked. Mrs Smith must have realised that they had no background knowledge about anything she was talking about.
‘Mrs Blossom’s dog.’ She sighed. ‘Don’t ask about the name.’
‘Why is it called that?’ Clementine asked in bafflement.
‘I said don’t ask.’ Mrs Smith sighed again. ‘Look, are you going to help me or not?’
‘I don’t think we can,’ Margery said. ‘Not without knowing your alibi.’
Mrs Smith put her fingers to her temples and rubbed her face.
‘We’ve known each other a long time, Margery,’ Mrs Smith said finally, in a hushed whisper so quiet that Margery and Clementine had to lean in closer to hear her. ‘Do you really think I could have done this? I’d never do anything to ruin the reputation of the school and more than that, Elizabeth Large wasn’t just my colleague, she was my friend. Just like I thought you were.’
She stood up so dramatically that the chair almost fell backward as she grabbed for her handbag and swished away, leaving Margery and Clementine in shocked silence.
Chapter Seven
Margery found it hard to drag herself out of bed the next morning. Typically, she didn’t mind going to work on a Friday; the majority of the cleaning rota and paperwork had been done by Thursday afternoon and Fridays were usually a more relaxed workday. Today was different. The weather was cold, the coffee Clementine made her was even colder, and the atmosphere in the small kitchen canteen was even frostier after Mrs Winkle the school receptionist arrived to invite them to a special school assembly.
The dinner ladies gathered at the back as they always did; the hall was even more of a squish than usual because of the stage. They were almost the last ones there. Mr Barrow had brought the school CD player out of his office and placed it on the stage, while he waited with his hands folded neatly together for the remaining classes to sit down. It was playing a cacophony of noise, which Margery knew was unmistakably last year’s recorder club charity Christmas CD. Her heart sank as they listened to the very warbly version of Jingle Bells and she realised exactly what this particular assembly must be about. Her dread was confirmed by the look on the faces of the teaching staff across from them. Mr Barrow jumped up out of his seat as the particularly awful version of Silent Night started, and turned the volume down.
‘Thank you all for joining me at such short notice. I am afraid to say that this is going to be a very serious assembly indeed.’ He addressed the children and staff gathered and then paused and cleared his throat, looking over for a moment at the empty spot where Mrs Smith would be sitting if she hadn’t been suspended. ‘Unfortunately, I have some extremely bad news which some of you may have heard bits and pieces of already. I feel it’s very important that you all know what has happened.’ He paused again as if not wanting to say what he had gathered them to say. ‘Now, as you all will know by now, our music teacher Mrs Large was badly injured at the beginning of the week and unfortunately, during the early hours of this morning she passed away.’
A collective gasp of horror vibrated around the room. Clementine grasped for Margery’s hand and squeezed it. Margery was gobsmacked. She had never truly considered that Mrs Large wouldn’t make it. Not really.
Mr Barrow smoothed his black tie solemnly and then continued. ‘I know that this must be a shock for everyone, and I want you all to know that you will be able to have discussion sessions with your teachers when we all return to class after the assembly. Also, Mrs Wiggins is on standby if anyone would like to talk to the school counsellor. Please do not feel silly for asking questions or needing to talk, that’s what we staff are here for, to support you.’
Margery looked around the hall at the teachers lining the walls. She caught sight of Mr Daniels in her eyeline. His face was almost grey, as he slumped back against the wall.
‘Mrs Large was an asset to this school and a huge part of our school family, and she will be dreadfully missed.’ Mr Barrow fiddled with his tie again. ‘Nothing we can do will ever be able to replace her, but all we can do is remember her and all she did for the school. The choir outings and recorder club trips to France, all her work with the drama lessons and concerts, and how fantastic a teacher she was.’
He looked at something written on his hand in smudged biro. ‘Mr Large has asked that any donations go to the ICU unit at Ittonvale Hospital, and they can be given to your teachers to be left in Mrs Large’s office on her desk please. Also, we will be holding a candle lighting ceremony out in the playground at three p.m. today.’ He nodded to Mr Evans the PE teacher, who was sitting by several boxes of tealights. ‘Now, please join me in a minute’s silence for Mrs Large.’
* * *
The kitchen team returned to the canteen in a sour and grim mood. Margery felt sick. When Caroline had died it had been upsetting, of course it had, but this was so much worse. For one, Caroline had been so, so much older and so much eviller than Mrs Large could ever have dreamed of being. Before she had died, Margery was certain that not many of the teenage students could have known the miserable elderly lady who slung Friday’s stingy chip portions to them, but everyone had known Mrs Large and most had liked her, by all accounts. It was as though the whole school were mourning together now as one. Margery started the collection for the hospital among the dinner ladies, wondering again about Officer Thomas’s question a few nights ago. Could Mrs Large have had an enemy? Margery couldn’t think of anyone who could have disliked her enough to do such a thing.
‘Can’t we do something more?’ Clementine asked, as she boiled the peas for lunchtime. ‘Something else to raise money for them. What about if we sell her favourite lunch or something? Put all the profit towards that.’
‘That’s a good idea, Clem.’ Margery nodded. ‘Though I don’t think she ate anything particular to my knowledge.’
‘She used to eat a cheese sandwich on brown bread and a satsuma every day,’ Seren piped up from where she was setting up the cold fridge for sandwiches. ‘Mrs Smith used to laugh at her about it in the staff room.’
That did sound like Mrs Smith. Margery had not heard a word since she had stormed away from them the night before. Good riddance, she thought. There was no need for that sort of thing in their lives at the moment.
‘A cheese sandwich it is.’ Margery nodded grimly. She got her special marker pens and began to fill in one of the little black boards they kept for labelling unusual cakes or special offers. She had to be quite careful with what they sold pre-packaged now with Natasha’s Law; another thing she was concerned about Benjamin being terrible at understanding. Gloria was right about him, as much as she did not want to admit it. She was going to have to keep an eye out for him becoming too much of a liability.
‘So, have you managed to find Sharon anything for Secret Santa yet, Karen?’ Margery heard Clementine ask. She turned her head to watch this exchange suspiciously.
‘I didn’t get Sharon,’ Karen said brightly. ‘And I know what you’re trying to do, Clem.’
‘No idea what you’re on about!’ Clementine retorted, but Margery watched her slip out the little notepad she kept in the back pocket of her kitchen trousers and scribble something on one of the pages. She sidled up to Margery, smirking. ‘I know that Karen hasn’t got Sharon because Seren has.’
‘How do you know…? No, I don’t want to get involved. Can you not try and ruin this for one year?’ Margery tried to sound firm, but she could not keep the smile out of her voice.
‘Tell me who you got,’ Clementine whispered. ‘So I can write it in my little book.’
‘No!’ Margery laughed. ‘I won’t, you’ll have to figure it out yourself.’
‘Oh, I will Margery! Don’t you worry about that!’ Clementine pottered off to finish what she had been doing. Margery shook her head. Seren wandered over with the sanitiser spray and cloth and cleared her throat.
‘I just wanted to tell you that I know about Mrs Smith asking you to help her,’ she said. Margery looked up in surprise. ‘And I understand why you don’t want to, but she does have a very valid alibi and I think you should reconsider.’
Seren looked terrified to be speaking so outspokenly; her hands were shaking as she sprayed the saladette fridge and began to clean it.
‘We can’t, Seren.’ Margery shook her head. ‘She won’t tell us the alibi, for one.’
‘Just think about it, please. For me?’ Seren pleaded. Margery sighed.
* * *
After she had cashed the till and they had cleared everything away, Margery counted the donations. They had raised over eighty pounds for Ittonvale Hospital; she felt a swell of pride at the kitchen team. Once the word had got out about the charity sandwich, they had had a queue of students and teachers so long that it snaked out of the canteen and into the corridor. She put the money into an envelope and then put the till back onto the dry store shelf before leaving and locking the door.
‘Ready, Clem?’ she asked the woman waiting for her in the kitchen. The other dinner ladies had already gone home for the day. They left together; Clementine waited for Margery to lock the kitchen door and then they walked through the canteen together and out through the corridor. Clementine took out her notebook.
‘So, I saw Gloria put a Lynx aftershave set into her locker this morning so obviously she has Ben for Secret Santa,’ Clementine said as they walked. ‘And I got Gloria so that’s ruled out…’
‘Clem, please!’ Margery laughed. ‘I’m not going to tell you who I got.’
‘Just give me a little hint, Margery, go on!’
Margery shook her head again; it felt like she had shaken it so much today that it might fall off at some point. ‘No, you’ll just have to continue your sleuthing.’
She had been expecting a queue again, but the doorway to Mrs Large’s office was empty. Inside, the desk was covered in similar envelopes to the one Margery was holding, along with a huge number of homemade cards the students had obviously been making. She checked her watch and realised that everyone must be at the candle lighting ceremony in the playground. She added their card to the top of the pile, where it slid down behind the desk.
‘Ooh, watch it, Margery,’ Clementine said, she ducked down to rummage under the desk for it. ‘God, there’s loads down here.’
Margery’s eye was drawn to the poster attached to the notice board above Mrs Large’s computer screen. It had the Ittonvale school logo on it. She reached out and unpinned it from the board to look at it closer, realising it was advertising Ittonvale school’s rendition of Grease from the last summer term.
From under the desk Clementine pulled out a recyclable shopping bag full of musical notation and one of plastic recorder parts which tipped all over the floor.
‘What on earth was this doing down there?’ she said, as the recorder parts rolled over the floor. Margery reached down to help her pick them up and scoop them into the bag. Her hand touched something that was not a recorder part and she pulled it back as if it had burned her.
‘What’s this, Clem?’ She breathed, looking down at the item that had rolled out along with everything else. She stuffed the poster into her handbag, unthinkingly. Clementine picked it up in puzzlement, turning it over to reveal the glittery pink number six stuck to the pair of pliers.
‘It’s one of the tools from the storeroom!’ She dropped the pliers on the floor with a thud. ‘We need to call the police.’
* * *
Officer Thomas arrived at the school quickly and soon Margery and Clementine were sitting next to him in the headmaster’s office, along with an extremely tired-looking Mr Barrow. The pair of pliers lay on the desk between them in a plastic evidence bag. Officer Thomas had left Symon overseeing the sweep of Mrs Large’s office.
‘I don’t understand, I thought you checked the office,’ Mr Barrow said. His tone was accusatory, but the circles under his eyes made him look defeated. ‘I thought you checked all of their offices.’
‘Whose?’ Clementine asked, her eyes widening. ‘Mrs Large’s?’
‘Mrs Large’s. Rose’s. Mine,’ Mr Barrow said, numbering them on his fingers. ‘They checked them all.’
‘Mr Daniels?’ Margery asked.
‘He doesn’t have one.’ The headmaster shrugged. ‘He’s always worked from the library apparently.’
‘We did check them,’ Officer Thomas said coolly.
‘Obviously not well enough.’ Mr Barrow glared at him. ‘So now you’re back in my school doing the job you should have done properly in the first place. Who put it there?’
‘That’s what we’re going to find out,’ Officer Thomas said. Mr Barrow gave him a scathing look.
‘If we found it after the room was searched it means that whoever put the stage up is still out there,’ Margery said. ‘It’s the perfect place to hide evidence, isn’t it?’
‘You seem to be very sure that it was placed there afterwards,’ Officer Thomas said and then looked over at Margery and Clementine. ‘For all we know one of you put it there, the perfect crime.’
Margery felt her mouth opening in surprise.
‘Us!’ Clementine cried. ‘Do you really think we’d have called you if we’d put it there? You gave Margery your number!’
Officer Thomas looked like he was going to answer her, but Mr Barrow cut him off.
‘You can’t be serious.’ He scoffed. ‘Why on earth would Margery and Clementine be involved in this? What’s their motive?’
‘They’ve been involved in things before,’ Officer Thomas said quietly.
‘Yes, but this all seems to revolve around the drama department,’ Mr Barrow said. ‘Not the kitchen staff.’
‘We can’t rule anyone or any department out,’ Officer Thomas said coldly. ‘Not until we’ve got to the bottom of this.’
‘You’d better get to the bottom of it.’ Mr Barrow gave him a hostile glare. ‘I’ve had to suspend my deputy head.’
Officer Symon tapped at the door of the office; it creaked open. ‘We haven’t found anything else, Officer Thomas, but the sergeant is asking to see you.’
