Murder In School Read Online Free PDF

.’
    ‘Quite a history, buried away.’
    ‘But it’s the present you’re interested
in, Daniel.  I should cut to the chase rather than try out my lecture on
you.’
    Skelgill grins ruefully.  ‘That
depends where history ends and the present begins.’
    ‘Ever the philosopher, Daniel.’
    ‘I doubt that’s the term my Sergeant
would use for me, Jim.’
    ‘I’m sure you’re secretly admired.’
    Skelgill’s cheeks colour a little. 
He retreats to the invitation to discuss the present.  ‘Do you know much
about the school today?’
    The Professor shakes his head apologetically. 
‘I’m afraid not Daniel.  It wasn’t ever my remit – admissions
– so I didn’t have any direct association.  Of course, we had a few
Oakthwaite freshers coming up each year into our faculty.  Always well
presented, diligent, solid performers.  The ones that just missed out on
Oxbridge, I imagine.’
    ‘Did you ever visit the place?’
    ‘Sadly, no.  What I’ve assimilated down
the years is from local hearsay – folk who’ve worked there.  I’ve
always had the impression that they operate in a rather cult-like manner. 
Most of the masters live on site, I believe, and they like to keep their own company. 
I suppose when you have several hundred charges to occupy round-the-clock
during term times, you must run a pretty tight ship.  Being a closed
community facilitates that.’
    ‘Ever heard of a family named
Querrell?  The last one spent his life there, man and boy.’
    The Professor stirs the residue of milky
froth and chocolate flakes into the last dregs of his coffee.  ‘It rings a
very faint bell, Daniel.  Of course, it’s an unusual name.  Was there
one at Bosworth, now?  I’d have to look that up.  Querrell’s your
man?’
    ‘Was.  Drowned last week in what
appears to be a suicide.’
    ‘Appears?’
    Skelgill nods slowly.
    ‘I’ll put my thinking cap on.  You
know how these things can come back to you when you’re least expecting it.’
    ‘That’s my system, too.  At least,
it’s my excuse to go fishing.’
    ‘Quite reasonable, Daniel.  Complex
problems can’t be solved by rational thought.’
    ‘Just as well, in my case.  However,
if it’s any help he was born in nineteen forty-six.  Christian names
Edmund Donald.’
    ‘So the parents had a classical
education.  And a sense of humour.’
    ‘Come again?’
    ‘Querrell, Edmund Donald: initials QED.  Quod erat demonstrandum.   That which is proven.’
    Skelgill grins sheepishly.  ‘Over my
head, Jim.  My Latin starts and finishes at Esox lucius .’
    ‘And no better place to begin and end.’
    Skelgill smiles.  ‘I’d better let
you get back to finding out something about Mary.’
    As they rise the Professor asks, ‘How’s
your mother keeping these days?’
    ‘Ah – slowing down at bit. 
But still cycles over Honister every morning.’
    ‘I wish I could decline to such heights,
Daniel.  And I read about your latest fell-running exploits in The
Westmorland Gazette .  Like mother, like son.’
    ‘What – mad as hatters?’

8. THE GROUNDSMAN
     
    ‘Can you believe it, Guv – they’ve even
got a shooting academy!’
    ‘That would have been popular where you
went to school, eh Leyton?’
    ‘Too right, Guv.  It ran in a few
families round about our gaff.’  He scratches his head absently.  ‘They’re
all bang to rights now, of course.’
    ‘What is it, air rifles?’
    ‘No – clays, Guv.  Twelve-bore,
and four-tens for the juniors.’
    ‘They obviously blood them young, the
gentry.’
    ‘You’re spot on there, Guv. 
Apparently some of the sixth-formers are expert shots, national competition
standard.  Half a dozen of them stand to inherit shooting estates, mainly
up in Scotland – though there’s one beyond Brough.  They do gundog training
as well.  The groundsman’s got a couple of labs in a kennels round the
back of the school – says he used to be a keeper over Cockermouth
way.  Seemed