Chalk Dust & Broomsticks, Chapter 32

Inspector Stanhope returns to the school to look for clues and Althea's memory comes back.

Pins and Needles

The atmosphere within the red-brick walls of Primrose Primary had shifted from the usual scent of floor wax and pencil shavings to something far more clinical and cold. The forensic team, moving like white-suited ghosts through the corridors, had turned Althea’s office upside down..

“Wait a minute sir,” said Knight, touching his chin. “This is Althea’s new office, isn’t it? Back when Alex first went missing, Althea was in her old office, in the junior half of the building. It was before the new Administration block was built.”

“Dammit, you’re right, Knight, " the Inspector looked thoughtful, "Mrs. Catchpole mentioned something about seeing Althea dragging a large black sack across the playground on the night of the staff Christmas party. Most of the staff had gone home by then and it was very dark. We must get the team over there post haste.”

Althea’s old office had been converted to a store room once the new Administration block was completed and it was during this thorough, more aggressive sweep that the Luminol finally spoke. Faint, jagged sprays of blue light bloomed across the wainscoting behind where Althea’s old desk had been although it was necessary to remove new shelving, boxes of books and a cupboard first to get to it. Blood stains that had been meticulously scrubbed but not entirely erased were brought to light

A chilling discovery lay waiting for them in the confines of the boiler house.

Inspector Stanhope stood in the flickering orange light of the furnace room, his shadow stretched long and thin against the soot-stained walls. Beside him, P.C. Knight looked pale, his gaze fixed on the evidence bags laid out on a metal workbench. Among a heap of grey, gritty ash, far more than a week’s worth of coal would produce, lay several tiny, metallic glints. They were misshapen, scorched by intense heat, but unmistakably artificial.

"This needs much deeper investigation, Knight," Stanhope said, his voice echoing in the vaulted space. He used a pair of tweezers to nudge one of the silver-grey fragments. "They look like small pieces of amalgam. Specifically, dental amalgam."

Knight swallowed hard. "Tooth fillings, sir?"

"Precisely. And tooth fillings don't melt away at the same temperature as bone or tissue," Stanhope replied grimly. "We have to increase the parameters of our search. We need to scour every inch of these premises, the crawl spaces, the old coal chutes, the loft voids. We have to face the very real possibility that the missing Alex never actually left the school grounds."

“Or… “ pointed out Knight, it may not be Alex. At this moment, it could be anybody’s body!”

The Inspector turned away from the workbench, his jaw set. For weeks, the Alex case had been treated as a 'missing person' scenario, a runner, a person who had simply walked out on her life, but that narrative had felt thin from the start. It had gone on for far too long, stagnant and suffocating, and Stanhope’s patience had finally evaporated.

He thought of the staff room, where Alex’s colleagues and friends had been suspiciously tight-lipped. He had not had much luck there, but then they didn’t really know Alex. Alex had been seen to come and go, but she had not befriended anyone in particular, except Althea. There had been a wall of silence, a collective shrugging of shoulders. Every time he had questioned Althea, she had offered him the same cool, practised mask of concern. Then, of course, she’d been attacked and after that her memory had defeated her.

However, the boiler house didn't lie. The ash and the silver fragments told a story that the living refused to voice. Stanhope’s instincts, honed by decades of dealing with the darker side of human nature, were now firmly anchored to the school itself. The answers weren't in a suitcase on a train or in a new life abroad; they were buried right here, hidden in plain sight beneath the feet of playing children.

"Someone went to great lengths to make a body disappear," Stanhope whispered, more to himself than to Knight. "but they forgot that the smallest things, a few drops of blood, a bit of metal, are often the loudest witnesses."

+++

Althea Gardner was back home. Home was a penthouse apartment in the centre of Langwich. At least, it was called a penthouse apartment on the Estate agent’s blurb when she took it on, but it would only be a temporary arrangement. Althea Gardner didn’t do ‘permanent’. Everything in her life was transitional. That applied to people as well as places. On her return from hospital, the first thing she did was walk around her flat and check that everything was as she left it. It was so good to be back in her familiar surroundings again that she allowed a smile to spread on her face. Her memory returned, she just had to build up her stamina so that she could return to work. Life in the hospital had been so hectic that she wallowed in the seclusion of her own four walls.

Sorting through a mountain of junk mail, she looked for anything promising. Near the bottom of the pile was one letter with instantly recognizable handwriting: Alex's squiggly hand, addressed to "Althea." Turning the envelope over, Althea felt her heart beat faster.

It couldn't be? Alex, my friend, I miss you.

The Ka of Alex Simmons had worked hard to pen the letter. Slowly, she had twisted herself around the pen, willing it to mark the paper, using the power of light she absorbed from the sun. After such a violent death, Alex had not been able to break the thread with earth. Her physical body was gone, burned in the incinerator by Gerald, but her soul was still wandering. She existed as a strip of light, a sidewinder in the physical realm, still filled with feeling. She was learning to exist as a Ka, and when she had the strength, she would take her revenge.

+++

Maternal Secrets

Nick Blunt's wife, Gina, was at the maternity hospital for a routine maternity appointment, feeling nervous yet excited. After all the disappointments and tests, she finally had something real to look forward to.

"What are you thinking about, darling?" asked Gina, noticing how far away Nick was.

"I was just thinking how long a road we've travelled to get this far," he replied.

Gina smiled. Now that her achievement (the pregnancy) was almost complete, her need for the gorgeous Geoff had receded. What Nick had been unable to give her, Geoff had supplied with ease. Nick must never know how close she was to his friend.

It was a long wait, but when the nurse called her name, Gina went willingly for her examination and when she came out, she smiled at Nick and the look in her eyes told him that all was well, so far.

+++

The Missing Weapon

Mrs. Catchpole was spending time in the school, helping the children with handicrafts, something she did every Thursday afternoon. She settled herself on a small chair beside them, pulling out the tools necessary. The boys and girls appreciated her visits very much. They liked it when she settled herself on an undersized chair beside them and opened her knitting bag, always full of yarn with interesting textures. She also kept some very small knitting needles in there, just right for little hands to work with. The needles were all bright colours with nobbly ends, useful to stop the stitches from falling off. Patiently she showed her small group of students how to make stitches appear on the needles; how to knit and how to purl and how to count the rows so that they would know when to stop knitting and cast off.

Dora brought her a cup of tea.

"I hear her memory is returning?" Mrs. Catchpole asked, referring to Althea.

"So, so. Apparently, Shirley said something to her that caused a response."

"And what was that I wonder?"

Just then, Sally, one of the children, tugged on Mrs. Catchpole's sleeve: "Miss, I've dropped a stitch. Please can you pick it up for me?"
Mrs. Catchpole winked at Dora and directed the children to crawl around the room looking for the stitch.

“Miss, miss, is this it?” asked Penny, picking up a scrap of wool that was stuck to the chair leg?”

“No, Penny. That’s not it, keep looking.”

The children were enjoying scrabbling about on the floor, looking for the stitch, but it wasn’t long before Ann banged her head on one of the chairs and started to cry.

“O.k. children, that’s enough. Back on your seats now please. May I suggest that Sally might find the dropped stitch if she looks at the knitting on her needle? Look Sally, here it is, further down the piece of work. Let me show you how to pick it up. Gather round children and you can all watch and learn how to do it.”

"Do you need any help tidying Althea's room?" Mrs. Catchpole asked Dora, never one to miss an opportunity to snoop in the Head Teacher's study.
"Yes, if you like. That would be good. How about when the knitting group is over?"

+++

Later, Dora walked purposefully into the headteacher’s room. A pleasant smell of polish filled the air. She was dusting the ornaments on the tables. She paused at one of the statuettes, giving it extra attention.

"I thought she had two of these," she murmured.

"What's that, dear?" Mrs. Catchpole entered the room.

"I said, I thought Althea had two of these?"

Mrs. Catchpole looked around the room. "Well, if she did, it doesn't seem to be here now."

"I wonder where it is then?" pondered Dora, looking around the spot near the shower where Althea was attacked.

+++