Free The School of English Murder by Ruth Dudley Edwards Page B

was prepared to entertain as a very long shot the possibility that Nurse really had committed suicide. Layton was trying to work out how he could have been murdered. ‘Well, of course he could have been drugged,’ said Pooley.
    ‘That’s what I said to the inspector. He thought it a bit farfetched.’
    ‘Yes. But it’s also far-fetched that an experienced cyclist should act like that at the most dangerous roundabout in London.’
    ‘I said that too. And also suggested he might have been drunk. Anyway the PM’ll give us some of the answers. It took a lot of arguing, but eventually they agreed they’d ask for a full one, not just the routine.’
    ‘Any word on relatives, friends, all that sort of thing?’
    ‘Only Rich Rogers. There didn’t seem to be anyone else to tell. And apparently Rogers said there were no relatives. He’s supposed to be in an awful state.’
    ‘No chance it’s put on?’
    ‘Not according to North-West.’
    Pooley picked thoughtfully at his food. ‘I wanted to see you tonight anyway, Doug.’ And he gave him the gist of Amiss’s involvement to date.
    ‘I have to hand it to you, Ellis,’ laughed Layton. ‘It’s not many DCs have their own private dicks. Hope nothing nasty happens to him.’
    Pooley winced. ‘Don’t. I had a nightmare about that the other night.’
    ‘Well, he’s your mate. Now, what exactly does he want?’
    ‘Some data on how and why Rich Rogers got involved. More about Wally Armstrong’s history. Any scandal about any of them. There must be some people around who were associated with the school at the time we’re interested in.’
    ‘See what I can do.’
    There had been moments that day when Amiss heartily wished himself back in the prefabs. It had started badly; no sooner was he through the door than Jenn cornered him. ‘You goin’ to make it up to me that I’ve had to take your wogs? Jammy bastard, aren’t you? Only here a week and you’ve got Rich in your pocket.’
    Amiss’s well-bred sounds of deprecation were clearly getting him nowhere, so he changed tack abruptly. ‘Hey, girl. Less of that. You and me, we’re going to have a great time on these extra activities. Unless you prefer going out with Gavs, that is.’ He contorted his face into a wink that was clearly seen by the tall fair-haired man who at that moment emerged from the lounge.
    ‘Oh here’s Gavs now. Bob was just talkin’ about you,‘ said Jenn, smirking broadly and leaving them to it.
    ‘I won’t ask what you were saying about me. It’s probably one of Jenn’s wearisome little jokes. I’m Gavin Franklyn, known in this establishment as Gavs. I presume you’re Bob.’
    ‘Known outside this establishment as Robert Amiss.’ They shook hands.
    ‘Rich has never given me a satisfactory reason as to why we all have to shorten our names: even the dimmest of the punters is quite capable of managing two syllables. Now, business I’m afraid. Jenn’s told you about Ned?’
    Amiss froze. ‘No. What?’
    ‘What a heartless little bitch that girl is. Nothing exists outside her own nasty empty head. Ned was killed in a cycling accident last night.’
    ‘On his way home?’
    ‘So Rich said. Hyde Park Corner.’
    ‘I’m very sorry.’
    ‘Me too. He was a sweet if silly man. But of course the chief casualty is Rich. He rang me this morning and sounded very upset. Hopes to be in after lunch, but we’re not to count on it. He’s told me which of the punters you’re being given. Cath and I will look after the rest. It’s a relief to have you here, I may say; our groups have been much too large recently.’
    ‘I don’t know what to do with them. Rich promised to brief me this morning. All I’ve been told is to take them to lunch at the Tate Gallery.’
    ‘Oh, Lord.’ Gavs thought for a moment. ‘Tell you what. I videoed a programme last night that you can play them. You’ll find it gives plenty of opportunity for discussion. It’s about money and the fashion industry.’