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‘Sir.’ The flick of the sergeant’s eyes over Warren’s shoulder and a slight smile heralded the return of DC Moray Ruskin.
‘I think I’m going to have to start carrying my own suits with me.’
Warren was amazed the poor lad could breathe, let alone move around.
‘Sorry, sir, he’s a bit bigger than most of the SOCOs that ride in the van.’ The technician accompanying Ruskin looked apologetic, as she handed Warren his own suit.
At six foot five and eighteen stone, Moray Ruskin wasn’t the biggest officer in Hertfordshire Constabulary, but he was certainly the largest detective in Middlesbury CID.
‘You can’t go in like that, Moray – as soon as you bend over you’ll tear it open and compromise the scene. Why don’t you see if you can get a list of everyone in the building at the moment, both teachers and support staff. Arrange with DS Hutchinson for them to have fingerprints and DNA taken and start organising interviews. I want to prioritise everyone who was in that meeting last night, but don’t let anyone else leave until I say so. I also want to talk to the school’s governors.’
Mustering as much dignity as he could, the Scotsman headed into the main reception area, towards the gaggle of upset-looking staff. Warren suppressed a sigh. It was his own fault; the lad was still a probationer and it had never even occurred to Warren that he’d need to carry a supply of bigger Tyvek suits than the usual large men’s size. Gary Hastings had been an experienced detective constable before Warren had even arrived at Middlesbury and so all the teething troubles had already been ironed out. It was going to take some time to get used to his replacement.
Warren slipped his own paper suit on quickly and efficiently, although as usual he needed to lean against the wall whilst manoeuvring the plastic booties over his shoes.
‘What have we got?’ asked Warren as he stood on the threshold of the late deputy head’s office.
Crime Scene Manager Andy Harrison’s portly shape and Yorkshire accent made him recognisable even in his protective suit.
‘The deceased was found where she’s lying now, face down on this desk. According to Mr Ball, the desk was as you see it, and is uncharacteristically messy. Obviously, a full post-mortem will be needed, but preliminary indications are strangulation, probably by some sort of rough rope. You can see that by the marks on her throat.’ He held up a handheld infra-red gun. ‘Her core temperature is down eight degrees. It’s not a very reliable indicator, as you know, but my gut feeling is that she was killed last night, rather than this morning.’
Warren looked around the room. The desk was a cheap, pine version, with a built-in set of three drawers by the occupant’s right knee. It had been positioned directly in front of the window, so that anyone working at it sat with their back to the door. In the centre of the room was a round wooden table flanked by two padded visitors’ chairs.
Jillian Gwinnett’s head rested barely an inch from the open laptop’s keyboard. An upturned pencil pot had scattered its contents across the rest of the desk, and a pile of papers had been knocked so that half were on the edge of the table, and the remainder on the floor beneath.
To the left of the room, and behind the victim, was an open archway. Warren walked across and looked into what seemed to be a narrow waiting room of sorts. Three hard-looking plastic chairs sat facing a wall adorned with a picture of Jesus and a pinboard covered in posters primarily dedicated to school rules. Four tall filing cabinets took up the remaining space. There was no natural light.
Harrison had followed him.
‘I reckon this probably used to be a classroom, and that was the stockroom. Now it’s a waiting area for naughty kids.’
‘Could the killer have hidden in here?’ asked Warren.
‘Quite possibly. There’s no sign of forced entry, of either the office door or the window. The door has an electronic lock on it.’
‘So either the killer was already in this little corner area waiting for her, they entered with her, or they came in through the door and surprised her?’
‘I can’t imagine that they were able to surprise her, unless the victim was deaf. The electronic lock makes a loud whirring noise and an electronic beep for good measure.’
‘So that means they either came in with her – and so she knew her killer – or they were already in here, waiting for her.’
‘We’ll use UV to see if we can find any footwear impressions to give us a clue where the killer stood, but I wouldn’t bank on it with this type of carpet.’
‘What about other points of entry?’
‘The office is self-contained, with no connecting doors. The windows are double-glazed and can only be opened a few inches. There’s no sign that they’ve been forced wider than they should be.’
‘And what about exiting?’
‘You use a swipe card to enter, but there’s a mechanical handle to exit for fire safety. The victim still has her card. Even assuming that there’s a log kept of entry and exit, it would be easy to either walk in with someone else, or have them open the door to let you in.’
‘Anything else?’
Harrison pointed to the desk.
‘The laptop is still switched on, but has powered down to hibernate mode. If Forensic IT can figure out when that happened, it might put some brackets around the time of death.’
Warren made another note.
‘Any idea where the killer was standing?’
‘Assuming she wasn’t moved post-mortem, I imagine the killer stood directly behind her. Again, we’ll use the UV to see if we can find any footwear impressions.’
‘Any sign of the murder weapon?’
‘No rope at the scene. The pathologist is due in the next half-hour. When the body’s gone, we can do a proper finger-printing and trace evidence collection. I’ll try and send you a preliminary report by the end of today.’
Warren recognised a dismissal when he heard one.
* * *
A murder inside a school, even out of hours, was the very definition of a major incident. There was no keeping it quiet; the first pupils were turned away by shellshocked staff – thus starting the social media rumour mill – before Warren had even been called.
By 9.30 a.m., local media had got wind that something big was happening at the school, and by 10 a.m., the first long-distance images showing the activity around the school’s main entrance were being shown on the national 24-hour news channels. Nobody had released any information to the press yet, but that didn’t stop theories, ranging from a terrorist incident to a multiple shooting, being given airtime.
In the briefing room at Middlesbury CID, Warren was more interested in dealing with facts.
‘The deceased is Ms Jillian Gwinnet, fifty-three years old and the deputy head of Sacred Heart Catholic Academy. She’d been in that post eight years, and at the school for seventeen in total. Her main subject specialism was Religious Studies, which she still taught on a reduced timetable. She was the member of senior staff specifically in charge of staff recruitment and wellbeing and she also took the lead on the most serious pupil discipline issues as well as child protection and safeguarding. Apparently, Ms Gwinnett was the one that the kids feared being sent to.
‘Time of death is believed to be some time last night, rather than early this morning. She was unmarried and lived alone, so nobody reported her missing when she didn’t come home yesterday. We’re checking that with her neighbours.
‘She was last seen at about 6.30 p.m. by other colleagues, after a Senior Leadership Team meeting. They said that after the meeting concluded she went back to her office. By all accounts, she was the type of person who’d rather stay late than take marking home with her. Her car was still in its usual place when the last of her colleagues left, and appears to have been there overnight. We’re putting together a timeline at the moment.’
‘Any motives yet?’ asked DS David Hutchinson.
‘So far, nobody has a bad word to say about her, but it’s early days.’
Warren moved to the whiteboard.
‘First priority is interviewing all staff. That includes teachers, governors and support staff, both office and non-office based. I want to know where they were and what they were doing the previous day. Until we get a firmer time of death, we are assuming she was killed late evening, sometime after she left her meeting. Tony, I want you to take a lead on that. Organise a team from Welwyn and start doing preliminary interviews; see if you can get voluntary DNA and fingerprint samples. Flag anyone you are unhappy about for a further look. Liaise with Rachel to run names through the computer, and start generating Actions.’
‘Will do,’ replied DI Tony Sutton.
DS Rachel Pymm, the team’s officer in the case – the person responsible for organising all of the information flowing into the investigation – nodded her agreement, already making notes on her tablet computer.
‘It sounds as though CCTV at the school is limited, but let’s collect what we can. Can you also source footage from the local area and traffic video, Mags? See which registration plates were picked up on the ANPR cameras in the area. Pass it on to Rachel for cross-referencing against what the interviewees tell Tony.’
DS Mags Richardson was also jotting notes on a tablet device, although she was using a stylus. Her handwriting was clearly a lot neater than Warren’s. He’d had a go at using one and given up in frustration after half an hour, finding it took longer to correct the computer’s mistakes than it would have taken to handwrite his notes with a pen and notepad and then type them up.
‘The school is in a residential area, can you arrange for some door-knocking, Hutch? It was dark, and most folks probably had their curtains closed, but you never know.’
‘No problem.’ Hutchinson was a pen and paper man, like Warren, although his two-fingered typing was so slow he only transcribed his notes when he absolutely had to.
‘What about the pupils?’ asked Ruskin.
‘Interviewing all of them isn’t really practical. However, there will be a team of counsellors coming in later today to comfort pupils and staff. We will also be setting up a hotline for people to call with any information they might have, in confidence if necessary.’ Warren’s mouth twisted slightly. ‘My wife is a teacher and she says that schools run on caffeine and gossip. Hopefully, any useful information won’t be buried too deeply.’
He paused, before addressing his team.
‘Unless we find something very early on, this is going to be a big investigation. Middlesbury CID will be taking the lead as usual, and Detective Superintendent Grayson has already delegated the role of Senior Investigation Officer to me, with DI Sutton second-in-charge. DSI Grayson is down at headquarters organising extra bodies and support. He’ll likely spend most of his time at Welwyn, liaising with the chief officer team and the press. I don’t need to tell you how high profile this case is likely to be.’
Warren didn’t envy his boss that role; even for someone as political as John Grayson, the media interest would mean that the force’s every move would be subject to intense, not always flattering, scrutiny. Warren remembered all too well the fallout from the summer’s tumultuous events. He hoped they could wrap up the case quickly enough to prevent the brewing media storm from gaining too much energy.
* * *
Sacred Heart Catholic Academy’s Senior Leadership Team reflected the school’s relatively small size. With only six hundred pupils, plus a small sixth form, the school was run by one head teacher, one deputy head and two assistant heads, all of whom had been in attendance at the monthly late-night SLT meeting where Jillian Gwinnett had last been seen alive. Warren had decided to prioritise interviews with the SLT, along with the chair of the school’s governing body. To minimise collaboration between potential co-conspirators, the interviews were taking place simultaneously.
‘The SLT meets for about two hours every Wednesday after school during term-time. In addition, the first Monday of each month is an extended meeting for about three hours. Sometimes members of the governing body are invited to attend, although none of us were present yesterday evening.’
Father Jim Beresford was a vigorous looking man in his mid-sixties, with a shock of white hair. Chair of governors for the past nine years, he had been on the interview panel that had promoted Jillian Gwinnett to deputy head.
‘Just a formality, of course, but would you be able to tell me your whereabouts on Monday night, Father?’
‘I was in all night. I did some shopping that afternoon, then went home. I like to be prepared ahead of time, so I wrote the outline for next Sunday’s sermon. Then I read for a bit, watched the news and went to bed early.’
‘Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts?’
Beresford looked uncomfortable.
‘I’m very sorry, DCI Jones, but I’m afraid there isn’t anyone. I live alone, and I didn’t have any visitors that evening.’
Warren looked at the man appraisingly, before smiling politely.
‘Not to worry, Father, I’m sure we’ll be able to eliminate you from our inquiries easily enough. Now tell me about Ms Gwinnett.’
‘Jill was an exceptional teacher of Religious Studies. I had the pleasure of observing one of her A level lessons recently and it was inspiring. Before she took on her current role, she was a very successful year head, taking a cohort all the way through from joining in year seven to the best GCSE exam results we’ve ever had. However, I think it was in her role as a member of the Senior Leadership Team that she really excelled.’
‘I believe that she was appointed as deputy head at the same time as Noah Ball was brought in as head?’ said Warren.
Father Beresford’s mouth twisted slightly. ‘They were difficult days, DCI Jones. We had just been judged as “Requires Improvement” by OFSTED. A diocesan inspection the same year was also rather damning. It was decided that the school needed fresh leadership. The former head teacher Russell Leigh agreed to take early retirement along with the then deputy head, and most of the governing body stepped down.’
‘Except for you.’
Beresford smiled tightly. ‘I had only been in post for six months and had been moved in from a successful school in Stevenage; the verdicts from OFSTED and the diocese were disappointing but not a complete surprise. It was decided that I would oversee the transition to a new leadership team.’
‘I see.’
Warren decided to change tack slightly.
‘Tell me more about Ms Gwinnett. Help me understand her as a person.’
The priest was silent for a few seconds, before pushing air through his lips.
‘Jill was a very good leader. Very good. And she knew it. She and Noah Ball turned this school around in spectacular fashion and much of that was Jill’s doing.’
‘I imagine that such a major change of direction for a school was not without its… challenges.’
Beresford gave a sigh.
‘There were some who felt that the pace of change was too rapid, and not everyone agreed with the school’s new direction. Some staff chose to move on, whilst others eventually accepted that was how it needed to be.’
‘And what about Ms Gwinnett’s appointment as deputy head?’
‘Jill had already been a well-respected year head for several years at the school. She wasn’t a member of the SLT at the time of the inspections and so wasn’t held accountable for the school’s shortcomings. It was decided that her appointment as deputy head would provide much needed continuity, whilst the school adjusted to Noah Ball’s leadership. Largely speaking, I would say her appointment was met with approval by the school community.’
‘And what about more recently?’
Beresford paused. ‘This is not for public consumption, you understand?’
‘I can’t make any promises, but I will be as discreet as possible.’
‘In answer to your question, Noah Ball is nearing retirement. He’ll be sixty in nine months’ time. When that happens, Jill would have had a very good chance of being appointed his successor.’
‘I would have thought that such a position has to be opened up to a public interview?’
‘Of course. But the opinion of the governing body holds a lot of sway in these matters.’
Warren wasn’t sure what the relevance of the information was, but something told him it was important.
* * *
Matthew Waring was ambitious, that much was obvious. Barely seven years into his teaching career and he’d already had a stint as head of Geography, and eighteen months previously had been made an assistant head; all before his thirtieth birthday. He too had been present at Monday night’s SLT meeting, and was in interview suite two opposite DI Tony Sutton.
‘I last saw Jill a little after six-thirty. I went back to her office with her for a quick chat before leaving for the day.’
‘What time was that?’ asked Sutton.
‘About quarter to seven, I suppose, perhaps a little later.’
‘Did you leave immediately?’
‘No, I stopped by my office to pick up some marking and finish up some paperwork.’
‘How long would you say that took.’
‘Um, fifteen minutes maybe?’
‘Do you know who else was still in the building?’
