Written To Death (Alex Warren Murder Mysteries Book 3) Page 11

  Sanjay looked despondent, “So we're no further ahead.”

  “I wouldn't go that far,” Alex said. “It gives us confirmation of some of our suspicions. The murderer was either involved in magic or stage-work or had some link to it to be able to identify and get their hands on the murder weapon. They only had a limited window of opportunity as well. They've come up with their plan at some point after learning about the play, but not only that, they'd have also needed to know about the type of knife being used for the act to be able to arrange the copy. Graeme will have been aware first as he ordered the props. However, anyone else would only have learned about the mechanism, and known how to copy it, once he'd told them what it was or shown the ones he'd purchased. It doesn't give them much time to have put it all together.”

  “There's something else which bothers me,” Sanjay continued. “The murderer must have gone to an awful lot of effort to set this all up, but he'd have absolutely no certainty that it would work. Sheila could have turned away from the knife instead of into it. Bert might have realised the knife was wrong before using it, or he may not have lunged with sufficient strength to harm, let alone kill, Sheila. There are so many things that could have gone wrong.”

  “You're right. Perhaps the intention may not have been to kill her, maybe only to cause injury or even just to frighten her,” Alex speculated. “Has anything come out of the other interviews?”

  “Not a lot. They mostly say the same things. Everyone who saw the stabbing has the same story. All the members of the writers' group confirm that Graeme brought the knives to their last meeting and explained in detail how they worked. They've all known the plot of the play for weeks. The teachers and admin staff at the school were all told the play was going on, but none of them admit to having been told any more. Some of them, your pal Brian Phelps among them, were quite indignant about the writers bringing blades onto the premises and particularly without giving advance warning. Unlike many of the comprehensives across the country, they're proud that they haven't had a serious problem with knives in the school before and they want to keep it that way. None of them admit to seeing any of the blades or knowing they were going to be used.”

  “Now give me some good news,” Alex pleaded.

  “I'm afraid it's in short supply. The embossing on the knives was the only really bright spot and you've put that into perspective. We can start making enquiries with theatre groups and conjuring clubs and, of course, any suppliers we can find. We want to see if they have any knives unaccounted for or else any information about who might own them, but that's pretty much it.

  “Wait a minute, I just thought, you weren't about when the update on the M.E. report came through, were you?”

  Alex looked perplexed. “No, was there something unexpected?”

  “Kind of, although it's probably irrelevant to the murder. Duffie found an abnormality with Sheila Armstrong's brain. He ran a scan and found a large tumour. He spoke to her G.P. and confirmed that it had been diagnosed. It was considered inoperable by her oncologist. More precisely, the percentages of success were too low to make it a realistic option.”

  “Was the diagnosis terminal?”

  “It was, but there was no indication of whether it might have been weeks or years. She was able to continue as normal and was having regular check-ups. She was on medication but the doctor knew she also dabbled with recreational drugs. She reckoned she didn't have a lot to lose and said she wanted to make the most of her time.”

  “Do you think that may also explain some of her erratic behaviour?” Alex enquired.

  “I asked the same question. Nobody has any idea.”

  Alex took the files back to his room to pore over the reports until it was time to leave.

  Chapter 12

  Exactly on schedule, Alex arrived at the house to collect his sons. They were both ready and waiting with Helen too preoccupied talking on the phone to delay their departure.

  The boys quickly left the house and closed the door. Craig, the eldest jumped into the front while Andrew opened the back door; all this time Jake, their Labrador, was barking and jumping up at the lounge window.

  “Sorry about the rushed plans,” Alex started. “I'd hoped to see you as soon as I came back from holiday and I've brought back a couple of things for each of you, but I was dragged into an investigation as soon as my plane landed, so I haven't had a moment. Sandra's been really busy too,” he added as an afterthought.

  “Are you involved in the incident at our school?” Craig asked. “One of my pals was standing outside, on the evening after it happened, and he said he thought he recognised you arriving.”

  “I do have some involvement, but as you'd expect, I can't tell you anything about it.”

  “We were all sent home early on Monday and everything was still a bit chaotic yesterday morning. Other than what's been on the news, nobody will tell us anything,” Craig continued.

  “They can't tell you what they don't know,” Alex replied. “It's a police investigation, and as such, it has to be kept confidential. The school staff have no idea what's actually going on. No, I'm being a bit harsh. They know what's happened because some of them were present before we arrived, but we don't keep them informed of developments.”

  “What developments have there been?” Andrew persisted.

  Alex smiled but said nothing.

  “A number of the staff seemed really upset,” Craig said, “and of course, we've been given all the regurgitated lectures on the dangers of carrying knives in case someone gets hurt. It's as if they think we're all stupid. After all, we're not still at primary school. Saying things like don't carry a sharp stick or sharpen your pencil too much in case you or someone else accidentally falls and knocks their eye out.

  “I mean to say, how often have you come across someone losing an eye because they've fallen onto a pencil?”

  Alex looked over questioningly.

  “Alright, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit,” Craig replied to the unasked question.

  “A bit?” Andrew added.

  “You shut up,” Craig yelled at his younger brother.

  “Okay, just calm down and be kind to each other,” Alex commanded. “We're almost there. Let's have a nice pleasant evening together: the two of you, Sandra and me.”

  A few minutes later they were all seated in the flat. Alex and Sandra produced three packages, the first they handed to Craig. He ripped open the outer wrapping and unfolded sheets of white tissue paper to reveal a fist-sized, grey-coloured rock, a line drawn down the middle. As he held it in his hand, it fell apart into two halves bisected where the line had appeared to be. His jaw dropped in surprise as each half revealed what looked like a cave filled with amethyst crystals.

  “It's a geode and it's beautiful,” he exclaimed, turning the pieces over and over in his hands for closer inspection. “This will take pride of place in my rock collection.”

  Andrew looked expectantly before being handled the second package. Unlike his brother, he carefully removed the outer sticky tape to unwrap the gift paper undamaged. He too removed tissue paper to reveal a highly polished, slate-black plate about twenty-five centimetres in circumference which had embedded fossils.

  His eyes widened. “They're orthocera,” he said excitedly. “It's a type of ammonite.”

  “We were told it was baculites,” Alex said. “Is that different?”

  “Not very,” Andrew replied, knowledgeably. “Both are cephalopods and they look similar but baculites are from the Cretaceous period around the time of some of the dinosaurs whereas orthocera are much older, back in the Ordovician times, that's about three hundred million years earlier,” he added smugly.

  “Dork,” Craig mouthed and was met by a stern expression from Alex.

  “We have something else for you,” Sandra interrupted to change the subject. She lifted the third parcel, a polythene bag, and extracted two blue T shirts, handing one to each boy. As they pulled them open they saw the letters “L'I
NDEP” spelled out vertically in white. In tandem, their brows furrowed, awaiting an explanation.

  “We thought you might like them,” Sandra stated.

  “But Dad, I thought you were against Scottish Independence?” Craig questioned.

  “Wrong on two counts,” Alex answered. “First of all, the message on these T shirts has nothing whatsoever to do with Scotland and its politics. The message is 'L'Indep' and they are distributed by and to promote L'Independent, the regional newspaper. It's only a coincidence that their colours are blue and white, the same as the Scottish flag.

  “On the second count, I'm not actually against Scottish Independence, but it's true to say I do have many reservations, as I expect any thinking person should when there's so many uncertainties.”

  “What do you mean?” Andrew asked.

  “With this upcoming referendum, there's been too much information passed about, too many claims and counterclaims, but little in the way of clear facts. One side is as bad as the other. Both setting out to rubbish each other. There's no doubt Scotland has substantial assets, not just oil but exports of whisky and salmon, but what about the liabilities, and is there political capability? A large percentage of the population have a benefit culture engrained in them, sometimes where three generations of the same family have never worked. There's uncertainty over Europe, will Scotland be admitted to the EC and what about NATO? There's no doubt Spain would oppose because they don't want Catalonia and the Basque Territory to follow the example. What would happen about currency, would we keep the pound, would we even want to? Will we inherit a share of the National Debt? What will it cost to set up a completely independent civil service? None of these questions have been properly answered by either the Yes Campaign or Better Together, and without having a clear idea of the answers, how are we meant to make a decision?”

  “So, are you not going to vote?” Craig asked.

  “For me, that's not an option either. I treasure the fact that we live in a democratic country which holds honest and free elections with every adult having a say. I consider it my duty to exercise my vote. It's my opinion that I have an obligation to become as well informed as I can and then to make a decision. It may not be easy and maybe I won't decide correctly, but it's something I believe I have to do.”

  “Surely your one vote won't make any difference?” Craig asked.

  “Not on its own, no. But if everyone thought that way then we wouldn't have a democracy.”

  “Why should it only be adults who vote?” Andrew asked.

  “It's a difficult question, but a line has to be drawn somewhere because, to be democratic, each person should have only one vote and it would be too easy for adults to influence how their children voted.”

  “In this referendum, for the first time, the voting age has been lowered to sixteen,” Craig stated.

  “I suppose that's fair. In Scotland, you can get married at sixteen, so why shouldn't you be allowed to vote?” Sandra contributed.

  “Yeah, but the effect of a vote can last for a very long time while most marriages these days are short term arrangements,” Alex said. He was about to make an even more flippant remark when he thought better of it, considering how the boys had been affected by his divorce from their mother, together with the risk of him down-valuing his proposal to Sandra.

  “Listen, enough of this for now,” he continued. “Sandra and I have some really important news to tell you.”

  “What, more important than the future of our country?” Andrew challenged.

  “We'll let you be the judges,” Alex countered. “How would you feel about having a little brother or sister?”

  “What? What do you mean?” Andrew asked.

  “What we're telling you is that you're going to have a new brother or sister. Sandra's expecting a baby.”

  Craig's head turned back and forward, looking in turn from Alex to Sandra's face and then her belly.

  “Eeeu,” Andrew said. “That means you've been doing it. Are you not too old?” he continued staring at his father.

  “Don't be stupid,” Craig admonished, punching Andrew on the arm. “People have sex at all ages.”

  “Craig's correct,” Alex agreed. “In fact, Charlie Chaplin became a father when he was over seventy years of age.”

  “Who's Charlie Chaplin?” Andrew asked.

  Alex shook his head in despair wondering whether it was worth the effort to explain, but he needn't have worried.

  “Never mind Chaplin, did you hear the story about the eighty-year-old man who married an eighteen-year-old girl?” Craig asked. “Before the wedding, he went to see his friend, a doctor, to ask for advice. The doctor told him the best advice he could give was for him to take in a young attractive lodger. A few months later, he met the doctor and joyously told him that his wife was pregnant. 'Ah, you took my advice about the lodger.' the friend asked. 'Yes,' he replied, 'and I've got her pregnant too.' ”

  “Very funny,” Alex said. “Now if we can get back to reality.”

  “I'm just thinking how unfair it was for you to have lectured me about safe sex when I started going out with my girlfriend,” Craig accosted. “It seems like you could do with taking some of your own advice. Just consider, how would you have reacted if I'd come home to tell you that Jenny was pregnant?”

  “It's not the same thing, we're adults,” Alex defended. “You're still a teenager. You have your whole life ahead of you with all its opportunities. It would be a mistake to restrict your potential by starting a family so young.”

  “And how will it affect Sandra's job opportunities to have a career break. She's only just won her promotion. What will it mean for her to stop work to have a baby?” Craig retorted.

  Alex's face reddened, realising the truth in Craig's words and not too certain how to handle the situation until Sandra took over. “Your father and I care very deeply for each other and we've decided to make our future together.” Alex looked up relieved not only at being rescued but even more so by Sandra's declared statement.

  “But Jenny and I are happy together too.”

  “Maybe, but are you ready to commit your entire future?”

  Craig thought for a second and then decided to change tack. “Will Jenny and I get to babysit?”

  “I don't see why not, when the time is right. I take it you two are still an item?” Sandra asked.

  “Yes, we've been going out for months now and it would appear we've got a clearer understanding than you two about contraception,” he added with a grin.

  Realising his son had previously denied that his relationship had progressed to such an intimate level, Alex was immediately aware of the significance of the statement. However, he knew now was not the time to question him further. Besides, given his own situation, he was too embarrassed to answer.

  The moment was broken by Andrew. “So, are you going to get married?” he asked.

  “We haven't decided yet about a number of things, but be assured you'll be one of the first to be told,” Alex answered.

  “What will Mum say? Have you told her yet?” Craig asked.

  “It's really got nothing whatsoever to do with your mum,” Alex defended. “I've not said anything to her yet as I wanted you both to know first, but I'm planning to talk to her when I take you home, later.”

  Being a school-night, Alex didn't want to keep the boys out too late. A couple of hours later, he dropped them back home. Instead of driving off, he followed them up the path and rang the bell, even though the boys had keys and let themselves in.

  “Can I have word with you?” he asked, when Helen came to the door.

  “Yes, of course,” she ushered him into the lounge. “Is there a problem? Come and sit down. I'll put the kettle on.”

  “There isn't a problem. Don't bother with tea, I won't take long,” Alex said, while lowering himself into an armchair. Helen sat on the couch next to Colin, her partner, and looked enquiringly.

  “I've some news to tell you. I've al
ready said to the boys, but I wanted to tell you myself.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Sandra's expecting. Craig and Andrew are going to have a baby brother or sister,” he said without preamble.

  A dazed expression came across Helen's face. “And you're keeping it?”

  “Of course.”

  She froze for a few moments before jumping to her feet. “How could you do this to the boys? How could you do this to me? It's madness, it's cruel. It can't be allowed to happen. I won't let it.”

  In response, Alex quickly stood, his face reddened as his blood pressure rose. He made a supreme effort trying to keep his words dispassionate. “What are you talking about? This has absolutely nothing to do with you. Yes, it's relevant to the boys because they'll have a new sibling, but it won't affect them in a bad way. I won't treat them any different to the way I've always done.”

  Colin grasped Helen's arm, holding her back. “He's right. Why are you getting so upset?”

  She pushed him away. “Why are you taking his side?” she challenged, then she darted from the room while slamming the door, tears already wetting her cheeks.

  “I think I'd better leave,” Alex said.

  “Yes, probably a good idea. She'll get over it. I reckon she's just a bit shocked by your news. She'll no doubt be really embarrassed when it all sinks in,” Colin said.

  Alex nodded and quietly let himself out of the front door. He sat in his car breathing deeply, trying to seek an explanation for Helen's reaction and making no attempt to turn the ignition. He'd expected her to be surprised, but her reaction was wild and unreasonable. He'd seen her act strangely many times before, although not recently, and he was stunned. Trying to rationalise her behaviour, he realised the news was unfortunately timed, with Helen now reaching a stage where childbirth was beyond her. Although she hadn't wanted more children after Andrew's birth, the choice had been hers. Sandra had certainly made a good decision allowing Alex to pass on the news alone. Nevertheless, he needed to warn her, to avoid her being upset or hurt if she suffered the sharp edge of Helen's tongue.