Murder In School by Bruce Beckham Page A

away to find its easterly course.
    ‘Don't depress me, Jones.  It’s bad
enough to think I’ve got twelve hours inside this aluminium tube breathing
recycled microbes.’  He sits back in the chair and gazes at a
cheongsam-clad stewardess who totters past with a tray of small white
face-towels.  ‘Though it has its compensations.’
    DS Jones gives him a playful nudge of her
elbow.  ‘So that’s why you booked Singapore , Guv.’
    ‘Don’t blame me – the Chief’s
office made all the arrangements.  I just worked out we could get there
and back without needing a hotel.’
    ‘Talk about a flying visit.’
    Skelgill shrugs.  ‘We can use the
Police Club as a base – you’ll be able to change there.  They’ll
have showers and wifi and whatever we need.’
    DS Jones shakes her head.  ‘I still
don’t know how you pulled it off, Guv.’
    ‘Natural charm.’
    ‘Guv – no one charms the Chief.’
    ‘Well, I guess I’m on a roll.’
    ‘There has to be something, surely
– for her to approve the budget for flights?  And to get DI Smart to
spare me.’
    ‘She must think so.’  Skelgill,
impassive, nods slowly.  ‘Which is more than I do.’
    DS Jones looks at him questioningly. 
‘Come on, Guv – you must at least have a hunch?’
    ‘Jones, you know me – I have more hunches
than Nostradamus – but that doesn’t mean a thing.’
    ‘Guv – do you mean Quasimodo?’
    ‘Maybe.’
    ‘Surely he only had one?’
    ‘You’re getting picky now.’
    ‘But we’re tailing Goodman –
meanwhile there’s been another death at the school.’
    Skelgill shrugs.  ‘The suicides
could be incidental.  What if the second is a total coincidence, and the
Chief used the first purely as an excuse for us to poke our noses in?’
    DS Jones puts her hands together
prayer-fashion and brings her index fingers up to her lips.  She frowns
and after a moment’s contemplation says, ‘So there’s some bigger picture in
which Goodman could figure?’
    ‘Maybe.’
    ‘Only maybe , Guv?’
    ‘Yeah – whatever.  Look
– this is a chance to strike while the iron’s hot – at least as far
as Goodman’s concerned.  If we’re wrong, nothing’s lost.  Except a
few quid on flights.’
    ‘I’m worried we won’t see anything
incriminating, Guv – it seems a bit of a long-shot just to try to observe
him.’
    ‘Don’t worry, Jones, I’ve got a plan for
that.’
    DS Jones shakes her head.  While he
has told her she has been conscripted because – unlike DS Leyton, or
Skelgill himself – she won’t be recognised by Mr Goodman, she knows sufficient
of Skelgill to suspect strongly that something unorthodox is afoot.
    ‘Does the Chief know about this plan,
Guv?’
    ‘She knows enough.’
    ‘Guv...’  DS Jones sounds insistent.
    ‘Listen – she forked out for the
trip, didn’t she?  She has faith in me.  Don’t worry about it. 
I’ll tell you more when we arrive.  Once we get the lie of the land.’
    DS Jones stoically shakes her head. 
‘And DI Smart’s going to be livid.’
    Skelgill glowers.  ‘The Chief said
she’d deal with Smart.  She wants the details of this trip kept under
wraps.  Even Leyton’s supposed to think we’re in London.’
    DS Jones nods pensively.
    Skelgill reaches forward and lifts a menu
card from a flap in the seat pocket.  ‘When do the drinks come?’
    ‘Dunno, Guv – I’ve never been on a
long-haul flight before.’
    ‘Me neither – but, look at this
– Singapore Sling – when in Rome, eh?  Better give that
a go.’
    DS Jones grins.  ‘Okay – so I
know what to order with my sparkling water.’
    ‘Alcohol ‘till touchdown, black coffee
thereafter.’
    ‘I only hope we can sleep, Guv – I’m
playing catch-up as it is.’
    Skelgill shrugs, as if it were no concern
of his.
    ‘That was a bit of a late night,
Guv.’  DS Jones’s tone is somewhat tentative.
    Skelgill is staring at the menu card. 
‘What did you tell Smart?’
    Now her voice