Aftershock

Twelve

‘I’m sorry about the hour, Mrs Brown,’ said Becky Stallings.

A volley sounded in her ear.

‘Yes, I appreciate that it’s only half past four in Boston.’

The voice on the line did not sound mollified.

‘Yes, I know you’re on holiday and, no, I’m not a market researcher. I’m a police officer.’ Pause. ‘Yes, I said police officer, Detective Inspector Stallings, from Edinburgh. First of all, can you confirm that I am speaking with Mrs Grace Brown, the principal of Mary Erskine School?. . I am. Good. I was given this number by your school administrator, but you can’t be too careful.’

‘I suppose not,’ the drowsy voice replied. ‘Now that you have interrupted my sleep, what can I do for you? Has there been an incident at the school?’ A note of concern crept in. ‘Has something happened to one of the kids?’

‘No, to both questions,’ Stallings told her. ‘I want to talk to you about one of your teachers, Miss Dean. I believe she’s in your art department.’

‘Sugar? Yes, that’s right. What’s up?’

‘When did you see her last?’

‘The day before school broke up. That would make it the Thursday before last. I remember that, because she didn’t turn up on the Friday. Our last morning assembly of the session is a big event. All the staff are expected to be there, but Sugar wasn’t. I asked her department head whether she had called in, and he said that she hadn’t. I meant to call her myself, to see if she was sick, but the day got filled up, and it slipped my mind.’

‘Did she have any history of absenteeism?’

‘No, not at all. She was an exemplary staff member, but having been brought up in a teaching household, you’d expect that. Now, why have you woken me up to ask me this?’

‘Because the body of a young woman was found yesterday morning, in woods near Murrayfield golf course.’

Stallings heard a gasp. ‘Sugar?’

‘We don’t know. But the body had been there for some time; it would be consistent with the date you’re talking about.’

‘The school will give you a photograph; we have one on file.’

‘That won’t be enough, Mrs Brown.’

‘Oh, God!’

‘Let’s not jump to conclusions,’ said Stallings. ‘At the moment we’re trying to contact Miss Dean’s parents in the hope that she’s with them.’

‘She won’t be,’ the woman told her. ‘Sugar was planning to go to the South of France to paint. She told me that she had rented an apartment in a place called Collioure.’

‘Was she going alone?’

‘She didn’t tell me, but I suspect not.’

‘Why?’

‘She was friendly with a young man; she called him her apprentice. He was a pupil at our companion school Stewart’s-Melville. I use the past tense because he left at the end of term.’

‘She was in a relationship with a pupil? Is that allowed?’

‘Of course not, but it wasn’t regarded as a relationship. The boy is a very promising painter, and Sugar was giving him spare-time tuition, with the full knowledge of his parents and with my approval. However, I did hear that they were seeing a lot of each other.’

‘Did you do anything about it?’

‘I had a gentle word with her. She wasn’t upset. She told me, “Mrs Brown, I promise you that I’m not breaking any rules with Davis, nor will I.” Those were her very words.’

‘Davis?’

‘Davis Colledge, with a “d”. That’s his name. Very good-looking young man; and he didn’t have a girlfriend, hence the gossip.’

‘If it was only gossip, what makes you think they were planning to go off together?’

‘The way that she said it. I may be wrong but I took her to be implying that once he was no longer a pupil …’

‘There would be no rules to break?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Where can we find this young man?’

‘You don’t think he’d anything to …’

Stallings cut her off. ‘Until we identify the dead woman I’m not thinking anything, but if it is Sugar, we’re going to need to speak to him.’

‘In that case, you’ll have to contact the school, either directly or through the Merchant Company. I believe that Davis was a boarder.’

‘They do that?’

‘Of course, Inspector; so do we. We have a mix of day pupils and boarders.’

‘I see. Thank you, Mrs Brown. That’s all I need to ask you. Again, I’m sorry to have disturbed your holiday. I’ll let you get back to sleep now.’

‘Fat chance. Look, Inspector, you will let me know, won’t you, one way or another, once you identify this poor woman?’

‘Yes, I promise. ’Bye for now.’ She hung up and turned to Jack McGurk. We need an address,’ she told him. ‘Lad named Davis Colledge. . with a “d”. Until the week before last he was a pupil at Mary Erskine’s partner school.’

‘I’m on to it,’ the sergeant replied.

She turned to Haddock; he was standing solemnly by her desk, as if he had been waiting for her to finish. ‘Sauce?’

‘I’ve just spoken to John Dean, Sugar’s dad. He and his wife were at the shops when I called earlier; that’s why there was no reply. His understanding is that Sugar’s in France. In a place called …’

‘Collioure?’

‘That’s it, ma’am.’

‘When did they see her last?’

‘The last day of term, when she left to walk to work. He and Mrs Dean are both primary-school teachers; he’s a headmaster. They both finished at lunchtime that day, and headed straight up to Appin. As they understood it, Sugar was flying to Perpignan next morning.’

‘But they haven’t heard from her since?’

‘No.’

She looked at him. ‘Did you tell him why you were calling?’

‘I had to. He didn’t buy “routine enquiries” for a second. He and his wife are heading home straight away.’

‘Okay, Sauce, that’s well done. Breaking news like that is tough for me, and I’m longer in the tooth than you are.’

‘There’s something else, ma’am. Once we had got past that I asked him if there was anything in Sugar’s medical record that would help us eliminate her. He said she had her appendix out when she was ten, and broke her left arm falling off her bike when she was fifteen.’ The young detective constable frowned. ‘I’ve just checked the post-mortem report. It’s her, no doubt about it.’