Read Online Maxwell's Inspection by M.J. Trow - Free Book Online

went about their business. Henry Hall was an Inspector too, a Detective Chief Inspector to be precise. There was talk of an imminent Superintendency, but for the moment, the paperwork and the PR would have to wait. Here he was on this hot, sticky afternoon, still staring into the eyes of a dead man. Hall had been the wrong side of forty for some time now. He was as bland in his way as Legs Diamond and wore a suit of nearly the same colour. Except Henry Hall knew what he was doing and no one could second guess what was going on behind those curiously blank spectacle lenses. DS Jacquie Carpenter stood across the room, resting her bum against a table she knew had already been dusted by SOCO. The cameras still popped in the shaded office and the blinds were fully drawn againstprying eyes.
    â€˜Only a matter of time, I suppose,’ DCI Hall said, still looking at the corpse.
    â€˜Sir?’ Jacquie was poised in mid-note, waiting for her chief’s words of wisdom.
    â€˜Before a murder was committed right under Peter Maxwell’s nose.’
    Jacquie didn’t respond. She’d been here before, between the rock that was Henry Hall and the hard place that was Peter Maxwell. Her career had been on the line more than once, her loyalties divided, her heart and her warrant card both on her sleeve.
    â€˜Who found the body?’
    She checked the notebook. ‘A Miss Paula Freeling, another of the Ofsted team.’
    â€˜Time?’
    â€˜Shortly after the Fire Drill. That was at nine forty. Must have been nine fifty-five, fifty-six.’
    Hall turned to Jacquie for the first time. ‘She any use?’
    Jacquie knew Henry Hall. In his three piece suit, with his bland, gold-rimmed specs and with his inability to smile, he came across as a hard, taciturn bastard. But underneath that was a loving family man, even more grateful now, no doubt, that he’d sent his boys to Harperwell down the road. There’d been sneers about the private sector behind his back, but Henry Hall’s back was broad. If they’d invented a private police force, he’d have been part of it.
    â€˜Still in shock,’ Jacquie told him. ‘She’s in the school nurse’s office.’
    â€˜Where are the others?’
    â€˜In the Head’s office. Their number two has taken over – er – SallyMeninger.’
    Hall looked askance. ‘Surely, they’re not going ahead with the inspection?’
    Jacquie shrugged. ‘I’m not sure they know what to do,’ she said. ‘I expect Leighford High will go down in the Guinness Book of Records as the first school to kill an inspector.’
    Hall looked over the rims of his glasses at her. ‘So what have we got? Twelve hundred suspects?’ He was hoping against hope it couldn’t be that many.
    â€˜Year Eleven and Thirteen are in the clear,’ she said, straight-faced. ‘They’re off on study leave or officially left. That only leaves eight hundred.’ It was worthy of Peter Maxwell.
    â€˜Wonderful,’ said Hall, unmoved by levity in any form, given the situation. He dragged himself to his feet, crouching down on an eyelevel with the dead man’s desk. ‘Barbecue skewer,’ he said. ‘Seasonal weapon, that. Single thrust through the throat.’ He took in the position of the dead man’s hands. ‘No struggle. Not even a reaction. That means it was a) unexpected and b) fast. Professional. Neat.’ He stood up, already looking beyond the dead man. ‘Where does that door go?’
    â€˜Er … next door, I think, guv,’ she followed his gaze. ‘To another classroom.’
    â€˜Whose?’
    â€˜Um,’ Jacquie was flicking through her notebook. ‘I don’t know,’ she confessed.
    Hall tapped the desk with fidgety fingers, then turned his back on the dead man; he didn’t think he’d object, all things considered. ‘Right, Jacquie. Finish up here.