2. The Headmaster’s Office

The investigation begins

“Let me get this straight: you know the deceased do you, Sergeant?” asked his DI..

“Aye, ma’am, and you would too if you’d been at our nick for more than a few weeks,” replied Dave, “and we’ve had him banged up in our cells a time or two as well. He’s a hard nut who’s trying to make out he’s everyone’s friend, and he even stood as in independent in the last local elections. He’s got his supporters all right. But by the looks of him it’s more than me who doesn’t give a fig for him!”

“But what would he be doing here?” she asked, vaguely questioning the thin air.

“His kid’s here, and he takes after his dad. A bully. At least, that’s what our Joanne says, and she reckons to be a good judge of that sort of toe-rag.”

“So you’re proud of her?”

The DS smiled at her. “Any father would be,” he boasted, “she’s got a heart of gold and a brain that really works.”

Detective Inspector Sheila McFyffe smiled at him. “Then that looks good for the future, but look Dave, do you see what I see? That knife or blade or whatever it is, how it’s not quite right…?”

The DS peered at the craftwork knife that was clearly sticking out of the blooded chest of the dead man.

“I see what you mean,” e muttered, “shall I?”

Sheila McFyffe nodded. “Put your gloves on and be careful,” she advised.

Dave pulled a pair of forensic gloves from one pocket and carefully pulled them onto his hands. Then he bent down and gently removed the knife from where is was sitting in a much larger hole on the dead man’s chest. It came away without the least trouble.

“So it wasn’t the murder weapon,” he breathed.

“We need to get the forensic gang here, and quickly,” decided Sheila, “And we’d be best advised to see the head of the school. Do you know his or her name?”

“It’s a his,” relied the DS, “I’ve seen him a few times, on parents evenings and so on. Joanne thinks the sun shines out of his wherever it is suns shines from,”

“Rear end,” smiled the DI, “and his name?”

“Sorry, guv, Mr Lincoln. Gerald, I believe. Runs a tight ship. Kids do well when they leave here, which looks good for my Joanne.”

“Then come on. Leave the late lamented to sleep the day away and let’s go in search of your Mr Lincoln.”

Both officers were only too willing to leave the depressing atmosphere in the cellar and its dead guardian, and at the top of the steps they bumped into caretaker Eric Foster who was hovering near the cellar door.

“We’re going to tape this off,” the DI said to him, “and until we do, can I ask you to stop absolutely everyone from putting as much as one foot on the steps leading down​? And where might we find Mr Lincoln?”

“Er... yes, I’ll do that. And the headmaster’s been here a few minutes and asked if he could see you as soon as possible. He’s in his office, which is down that way, on the right.” Mr Foster pointed towards a cluster of small rooms used as offices.

“And the cleaner who found the deceased… is she still around?”

“Elaine Scooch. She’s in the staff room with a fresh brew. It fair shook her up unexpectedly coming on a horror scene lie that. I’’ve not seen her like that before.”

“Good man,” smiled the officer, and she led her sergeant in the direction that Mr Poster had indicated. A trickle of children showed that the school day was starting.

“This is going to take some organising, Dave,” she said quietly, “Or half the local kids will end up with blood on their shoes! Get some uniform here, will you? Tell Stowelli it’s important. Lay it on. It’s a matter of life and death. His.”

Dave grinned at her and reached for his radio. “Will do,” he murmured.

Mr Lincoln was in his office, sitting at a highly polished desk and looking as if he wouldn’t move a muscle until the police officers who had arrived before he did were able to talk to him.

“This is dreadful officers,” he said after they introduced themselves, “please take a seat. Mr Foster explained that a dead person has been discovered in our cellar. I can’t believe it! I mean, nobody except for him and his maintenance staff go down there! And maybe a few of the older children on an errand for their teachers. Odds and ends are kept down there, you know.”

“And dead bodies,” muttered the DS, making his DI frown and shake her head. “It’s not a joke, sergeant,” she said

“We found this one, sticking out of the dead man’s chest,” explained the DI, and she produced a plastic bag containing the tool Dave had plucked from the dead man. “This, for instance, is used in arts and crafts,” she said.

“Is that blood on it?” sighed the Headmaster, “is it the murder weapon? It belongs to the school, for goodness sake! We use that and a few like it for craftwork by the older children. And that, you say, killed our interloper?”

DI McFyffy shook her head. “Not this thing,” she said, “It was left loose in a wound that something considerably bigger had made. This little thing couldn’t have killed him! But something did, and we need to find it as quickly as we can. Meanwhile, it might help if all your children were kept well away from cellar and the area around it?”

“Of course! We’ll herd them in the hall and show a film to keep therm occupied. It’s be educational so we won’t be failing in our remit. Excuse me while I sort that out for you.. Please wait here.”

And Mr Lincoln bustled out of his office and went to give instructions to the secretary, in an adjacent office.

“A nice enough man,” murmured the DI, “not like one or two headmasters I remember from too many years ago.

The DS nodded. “He’s well liked,” he said, “Joanne says…”

© Peter Rogerson 03.01.25