Baldwin .
‘I haven’t, but it’s how you interpret what you do know that matters.’
‘Go on,’ said Chard.
‘The killer was disturbed when he was carrying Isobel to the car. Who by?’
‘We don’t know,’ replied Baldwin.
‘Then let’s find out,’ said Dixon. ‘It’s the early hours of Sunday morning in a boarding school in Taunton and my guess is one or more boys were coming back from town with a takeaway . . .’
‘Oh, come on. What restaurant is open at that time of night?’
‘The Kentucky Fried. It’s open till 2 a.m. on a Saturday night. Everyone knows that. Or anyone who’s been to a boarding school in Taunton.’
‘Are you saying that pupils from this school have been going to the Kentucky Fried Chicken in East Reach in the early hours of Sunday morning?’ asked Hatton.
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘What the bloody hell’s Phillips playing at?’
‘It’s not his fault, Sir. They’ve been doing it for years. I used to meet some of them there . . .’
‘Go on, Dixon,’ said Chard.
‘I used to cycle down and come back with a rucksack full of the stuff so if they’d done the same, these boys, they’d have been carrying bags of it, possibly.’
‘And that’s what Phelps was writing in the mud?’
‘It’s worth a look at the CCTV, surely?’
‘Yes, it is,’ replied Chard.
‘If I’m right, we could have another problem,’ said Dixon.
‘What?’ asked Hatton.
‘It’s possible that the killer thinks these boys can identify him. Maybe that’s why he was after them last night . . .’
‘After them?’ exclaimed Hatton.
‘Possibly, and Phelps stepped in . . .’
‘You think Phelps intervened . . .’ Chard’s voice tailed off.
‘It’s one explanation of what we’ve got.’
Chard turned to Jane. ‘Get onto the KFC and get the footage.’
‘The quickest way would be for you to go to the police station, if you’d be able to watch the film and identify anyone, Sir?’ asked Dixon.
‘Of course,’ replied Hatton.
Jane left the room holding her phone to her ear.
‘I think you should know,’ continued Hatton, ‘there’s a meeting of the school governors on Tuesday afternoon. I’m proposing that we bring forward the end of term by one week. The carol service will take place this Thursday evening instead of next Thursday and then everyone goes home for Christmas on Friday morning. I don’t really see that we can do anything else.’
‘I understand, Sir,’ said Chard.
‘It may be that the governors will wish to postpone the start of next term too. Possibly until this whole sordid business is sort ed out.’
Chard nodded.
‘You’ve got four days, Nick,’ said Hatton.
Dixon nodded.
‘Where will I find Rowena Weatherly?’
Chapter Seven
J ane had telephoned ahead but still faced a two hour wait for the manager to arrive before she was able to get hold of the CCTV footage from the Kentucky Fried Chicken takeaway in East Reach. He had checked with his head office but once that formality was out of the way he was keen to help. The manager confirmed that pupils from all three of the Taunton boarding schools were regular customers , particularly at weekends. It had always been the same and was part of the reason why it was worthwhile for them to remain open late on a Saturday. Their CCTV retention policy required the footage to be kept for thirty days and so Jane was able to leave with two DVDs, one from the night Isobel was murdered and the other from the previous night.
A car had been sent to collect Mr Hatton from Brunel and Jane fast forwarded through the film while she waited for him in an interview room at Taunton Police Station. Dixon had been right. It showed a succession of teenage boys, most arriving on bicycles and some on foot. One was even in school uniform. Some bought a single meal while others filled rucksacks full of boxes and buckets.
Jane thought about a young Dixon abseiling out of the window at St Dunstan’s. She
‘I haven’t, but it’s how you interpret what you do know that matters.’
‘Go on,’ said Chard.
‘The killer was disturbed when he was carrying Isobel to the car. Who by?’
‘We don’t know,’ replied Baldwin.
‘Then let’s find out,’ said Dixon. ‘It’s the early hours of Sunday morning in a boarding school in Taunton and my guess is one or more boys were coming back from town with a takeaway . . .’
‘Oh, come on. What restaurant is open at that time of night?’
‘The Kentucky Fried. It’s open till 2 a.m. on a Saturday night. Everyone knows that. Or anyone who’s been to a boarding school in Taunton.’
‘Are you saying that pupils from this school have been going to the Kentucky Fried Chicken in East Reach in the early hours of Sunday morning?’ asked Hatton.
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘What the bloody hell’s Phillips playing at?’
‘It’s not his fault, Sir. They’ve been doing it for years. I used to meet some of them there . . .’
‘Go on, Dixon,’ said Chard.
‘I used to cycle down and come back with a rucksack full of the stuff so if they’d done the same, these boys, they’d have been carrying bags of it, possibly.’
‘And that’s what Phelps was writing in the mud?’
‘It’s worth a look at the CCTV, surely?’
‘Yes, it is,’ replied Chard.
‘If I’m right, we could have another problem,’ said Dixon.
‘What?’ asked Hatton.
‘It’s possible that the killer thinks these boys can identify him. Maybe that’s why he was after them last night . . .’
‘After them?’ exclaimed Hatton.
‘Possibly, and Phelps stepped in . . .’
‘You think Phelps intervened . . .’ Chard’s voice tailed off.
‘It’s one explanation of what we’ve got.’
Chard turned to Jane. ‘Get onto the KFC and get the footage.’
‘The quickest way would be for you to go to the police station, if you’d be able to watch the film and identify anyone, Sir?’ asked Dixon.
‘Of course,’ replied Hatton.
Jane left the room holding her phone to her ear.
‘I think you should know,’ continued Hatton, ‘there’s a meeting of the school governors on Tuesday afternoon. I’m proposing that we bring forward the end of term by one week. The carol service will take place this Thursday evening instead of next Thursday and then everyone goes home for Christmas on Friday morning. I don’t really see that we can do anything else.’
‘I understand, Sir,’ said Chard.
‘It may be that the governors will wish to postpone the start of next term too. Possibly until this whole sordid business is sort ed out.’
Chard nodded.
‘You’ve got four days, Nick,’ said Hatton.
Dixon nodded.
‘Where will I find Rowena Weatherly?’
Chapter Seven
J ane had telephoned ahead but still faced a two hour wait for the manager to arrive before she was able to get hold of the CCTV footage from the Kentucky Fried Chicken takeaway in East Reach. He had checked with his head office but once that formality was out of the way he was keen to help. The manager confirmed that pupils from all three of the Taunton boarding schools were regular customers , particularly at weekends. It had always been the same and was part of the reason why it was worthwhile for them to remain open late on a Saturday. Their CCTV retention policy required the footage to be kept for thirty days and so Jane was able to leave with two DVDs, one from the night Isobel was murdered and the other from the previous night.
A car had been sent to collect Mr Hatton from Brunel and Jane fast forwarded through the film while she waited for him in an interview room at Taunton Police Station. Dixon had been right. It showed a succession of teenage boys, most arriving on bicycles and some on foot. One was even in school uniform. Some bought a single meal while others filled rucksacks full of boxes and buckets.
Jane thought about a young Dixon abseiling out of the window at St Dunstan’s. She
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