Be a falling leaf

The shock of greenery had surprised him. Spring's rain had forced the fresh foliage suddenly and its vivid greenness, seen from the motorway behind a hovering kestrel, had imprinted itself on his mind.

'What have we got then, Elliott?' barked Tallyforth, entering the boardroom of Æthelfleda High School in Tamworth, where the fingerprinters, the police photographer and the Mercian Police Force's forensic scientist Jake Clifford were busy at work.

Detective Sergeant Georgina Elliott, always and inevitably known as George, who was standing by the window overlooking the school's playing fields, looked up from her notebook.

'Hubert Stanton.' She indicated the body in the plastic bodybag stretched out on the floor. 'OFSTED Registered Inspector in charge of the inspection of Æthelfleda High School. Aged between fifty-five and sixty I would say. Found dead, slumped in that chair over there by the table at seven o'clock this morning.'

Tallyforth gazed blankly at the upright wooden chair and then around the sparsely-furnished room with its plain wallpapered walls, then turned towards Jake Clifford.

'Cause of death?' he demanded.

'Couldn't tell you that, Chief Inspector Tallyforth,' replied Clifford, a short dapper man in a green lightweight suit. 'Too early to say. No obvious wounding. No gunshots. No abrasions. No sign of a struggle. Just possible it was natural causes. You know, heart attack or something. He was considerably overweight. But I'll have to examine his stomach back at the lab. and find his medical history before I can give you an answer. It could be poisoning. I've taken the contents of that coffee pot from over there.'

He pointed to the coffee-making machine on a side-table at the back of the room with its now-empty coffee jug.

'Had he been drinking from that? Was there a cup?' continued Tallyforth.

Clifford sighed.

'Yes to both questions,' he replied. 'I've taken that as well. Obviously. Now I must get off, Tallyforth. I need to get into his stomach, if you know what I mean.'

'One minute, please,' said Tallyforth. 'Let the dog see the bone.'

He moved across the room to where the body lay and pulled back the plastic sheet to see the dead man's face.

'They call them Reggies, don't they?' he mused. 'Registered Inspectors. Call them Reggies. Reminds me of Reginald Maudling. You wouldn't remember him though, would you, Elliott? Before your time. Used to be Chancellor of the Exchequer. Ted Heath's government I think it was.'

He placed the plastic sheeting back over the face of the dead man and signalled that he had seen enough. George Elliott watched him expressionlessly. She was used to his history lessons.

Jake Clifford gestured to the two police officers, who had been standing at the door of the room, that the body could now be removed. Taking an end each, they lifted it between them and left the room, followed by Clifford himself.

'So, Elliott, what else do we know? Who found him?'

She consulted her notebook briefly to remind herself of a name.

'The body was discovered at seven o'clock this morning by the school's premises manager, Gideon Lashley, who was opening up the school buildings and saw that there was still a light on in this room. When he came to investigate, he found Stanton dead in that chair,' she reported.

'Wouldn't he have seen the light last night?' Tallyforth interjected.

'Apparently Stanton had arranged with the school that he would be working late here and that he was not to be disturbed. It seems he had a key to the room and to the exit door on this side of the building,' she said. 'So Lashley claims that he had no reason to suspect anything unusual at this side of the school. He did his rounds as usual at ten o'clock last night, after the evening classes had all gone, and then went for his usual pint.'

'And the light was on then?' quizzed Tallyforth.

'Yes, sir. But he had been told to expect that and not to disturb the inspectors.'

George Elliott paused and watched Tallyforth as he prowled around the room.

'What about this laptop computer?' he asked, pointing at the slim black Toshiba computer that sat closed on the table in front of where Hubert Stanton had been found.

'Haven't done anything with that yet, sir,' replied Elliott. 'Presumably it's what Stanton was writing his report about the school on. Thought it best to wait till someone from the computer side had a good look at it.'

'Fingerprints?' asked Tallyforth.

'Done, sir,' she answered.

'You're technologically minded, Elliott. Can you work these things?'

'I have some knowledge, sir,' she began. 'But I'm no expert.'

'Try it,' he ordered. 'Just try it. Is there some way you can find the most recent thing that was written on there?'

George Elliott sat down in the chair recently occupied by Hubert Stanton, opened up the computer and got into its system. As luck would have it, there was a facility for discovering the most recent documents produced. She ran the cursor down to the topmost of these, which was labelled Æthelfleda Report: L&M, and clicked the mouse. Immediately a section of text appeared on the screen with the heading 'Leadership and Management'. She skim-read it quickly.

'Looks fairly technical,' she said, looking up at Tallyforth. 'Details about the school's management systems, how they work, some suggestions for improved communications, that sort of thing.'

'Does it look finished?' asked Tallyforth.

'Near as,' she answered, peering closely at the screen. 'One or two typos and there's a bit of a gap after the third paragraph with just the beginning of a sentence, which reads 'The headteacher and deputy headteacher......' Presumably there was something else to go in there. But otherwise, I'd say this reads like a fairly final draft. What had you got in mind, sir?'

'Nothing in particular. Just curious,' he said, turning away as a knock came on the door and a head appeared round its edge.

'Yes?' snapped Tallyforth.

'Sorry, Chief Inspector,' said the newcomer who now joined them in the room. 'Brian Pickevance. Headteacher. Dreadful thing that's happened. I've tried to keep the lid on everything but I need your advice about closing the school and about notifying the parents. What am I to say?'

Pickevance was a tall, slightly stooping man with rugged but careworn looks. He had grey-black curly hair and a grey moustache, and eyebrows that were permanently arched behind horn-rimmed glasses. He also had the beginnings of a stomach bulge.

'Sorry, Mr Pickevance,' said Tallyforth. 'Didn't mean to be rude. Are the children still here then?'

'Yes, I felt it best to carry on,' replied Pickevance. 'I was here within five minutes of Gideon Lashley calling me first thing this morning. It was me who called the ambulance and the police. I couldn't believe it. He was such a forceful, forthright character. We had a long conversation about the school yesterday afternoon and he said he would most likely be working late on his report. He was very complimentary about what we are trying to do here.'

'What time did you last see him then, sir,' asked Tallyforth.

Pickevance looked up at the ceiling and did some rapid calculations.

'Must have been about fourish,' he replied. 'I know he had a full team meeting at four-fifteen, so yes, I'm fairly sure that he left my office at about four o'clock yesterday afternoon.'

'And you didn't see him again?' quizzed Tallyforth.

'Not until this morning, after Gideon called me. I was here at about seven- fifteen. I felt his pulse and checked his breathing, as Gideon had already done. Then I dialled nine nine nine.'

George Elliott was taking notes.

'And are there other inspectors involved in this inspection?' asked Tallyforth. 'Surely Stanton wasn't on his own?'

'Oh, yes, there was a team of ten of them altogether,' replied Pickevance. 'But most of them left last night. I also telephoned Stanton's deputy, William Reynolds, at the hotel where most of them were staying, just after I phoned the police. I explained that we had found the body and that the police and ambulance were on their way and we agreed to postpone the last part of the inspection until next week. Except for the feedbacks to the English, maths and science departments, which were scheduled for this morning and which had to go ahead because those inspectors are due somewhere else next week. So we found them another room temporarily, my deputy's office actually, and those feedbacks have now taken place. Those inspectors are still, I believe, on the premises, together with William Reynolds who has taken charge temporarily. I believe he has been in touch with OFSTED about what has to be done now.'

'So do your staff know about Stanton's death?' asked Tallyforth.

'I told them first thing this morning,' replied Pickevance. 'After discussing the matter with my deputy, I felt it best that they should be told. It's been an anxious enough week already, Chief Inspector, with this OFSTED inspection. I've operated from the start of the whole process on the basis that staff must be kept informed about everything, because fear of the unknown is the greatest cause of anxiety.'

'But you haven't yet told the children?'

'We call them students here,' he answered. 'No, not yet. I wanted your advice on this matter. Obviously the students will know there is something going on because of the police and ambulance presence, but fortunately this part of the school premises is rather segregated from the main buildings. Which is why, of course, I put the inspection team in here for the week. Should I close the school at lunch time? Should I inform the students of what has happened? Should I send a letter home to their parents?'

'Are your staff very traumatised by what's happened?' queried Tallyforth.

'I would say they have been more traumatised by the experience of the inspection itself,' said Pickevance. 'They look absolutely shattered. Some more than others, inevitably, I suppose. Few of them will have had much to do with Hubert Stanton, so I don't think there will be much personal feeling there.'

'In that case, I suggest that you carry on as normal, until the end of the afternoon.'

'No letter home?' asked Pickevance, arching his eyebrows even more than usual.

'We will advise you over the weekend, sir,' said Tallyforth, turning away from the headteacher. 'We don't yet know the cause of death. If it was natural causes, then we have no problem. If, on the other hand, it was not, then we are almost certainly dealing with murder. I think for the moment, it's best to keep quiet as far as the public is concerned.'

'Murder!' squealed Pickevance. 'But how.....? And when....?'

'Sir, at the moment we don't know what caused Stanton's death,' replied Tallyforth. 'But we have to consider all possible angles. Now, can you keep the children away from this part of the school for another hour, while we finish in here? And then I'd like to talk to you further, if I may. Is that possible?'

'Yes, of course, Chief Inspector,' said the chastened Pickevance. 'I'll be in my office all afternoon. I'd kept myself free deliberately because we were to be receiving our oral feedback this afternoon.'

'Good! Then I'll see you later, sir,' said Tallyforth, turning away from Pickevance and moving across the room thoughtfully. 'Oh, is it possible for me to see this William Reynolds character?'

'Of course! Shall I send him across? He's in my deputy's office now.'

'If you wouldn't mind, sir. That would be very helpful.'

Brian Pickevance, headteacher of Æthelfleda High School, turned briskly on his heel and departed. He was followed almost immediately by the police photographer and the two police fingerprinters

Tallyforth and George Elliott were now the only people in the room. Tallyforth paced around the table, scratching the back of his neck. Elliott was checking her notes.

'What d'you think, Elliott?'

'Sir?'

'Pickevance? Any feelings?'

'Not my type, sir,' she smiled.

'But whose type is he?' asked Tallyforth.

'Sir?'

'Probably nothing. Interesting you should say he was not your type though,' he said. 'Suggests you recognise he is somebody's type. Bit of a charmer, would you say?'

'I would say definite traces, sir,' she grinned again. 'But that sort of thing doesn't work on me.'

'No! We know that!'

She looked hard at him, thought about responding, but in the end decided against it. Not worth it. They'd had spats in the past but he always pulled rank and made her feel small.

'Do you smell something wrong, Elliott?'

'Yes, sir,' she said. 'It doesn't add up that an apparently fit man should just die like that. My brother's a deputy head of a school in Portsmouth and his school was inspected last year. These inspections cause massive stress on a school, particularly when the school has problems. If there is anything wrong, these OFSTED people will pick it up and it gets highlighted publicly. And that can have a huge and negative impact on the school's future, particularly on the headteacher's future. There's a few who have been forced out as a result of bad inspection reports.'

'So you think Pickevance killed Stanton because he was going to write a bad report on the school?' he queried, largely in jest, as she knew from the lop-sided grin on his face.

'Not saying that, sir,' she replied tartly. 'And that bit of the report that I got on the laptop computer was quite complimentary. So we don't know that the school was going to receive a bad report. All I'm saying is the effect a bad inspection report can have on a school.'

'And you're saying that you don''t trust Pickevance?'

'Did I say that, sir?' she sounded surprised.

'No, you didn't,' he said. 'But you have indicated that there was something about his attempted charm that didn't appeal to you. Woman's intuition, Elliott. Always worth listening to. What's the time?'

She grimaced then glanced at her white Swatch watch.

'Eleven thirty, sir.'

'Right, we'll talk to this Reynolds character, then we'll need to interview some of the staff of the school. This premises manager Lashley, the deputy head, anyone else who was in the school yesterday evening. And, of course, Pickevance. I think I need to speak with him. Don't want him trying his charms on you again, do we?'

She pulled a face at him.

* * * * *

William Reynolds was a tall, thin, distinguished-looking man in his early fifties, with a monkish tonsure and a short goatee beard. He was wearing a dark, pin-striped suit and a rather loud red tie when he came into the boardroom some short time later to join Elliott and Tallyforth, who were both now sitting at the long walnut table.

'Good day to you, Chief Inspector. Good day to you too, Sergeant,' he said as he entered the room. His voice was thin and reedy, rather like his person. 'You wanted to talk to me about Hubert's death.'

'Yes, sir,' began Tallyforth, gazing at Reynolds who sat himself on the opposite side of the table. 'We need to know everything about yesterday evening when I believe you had an inspection team meeting. What time did that conclude, sir? And was Hubert Stanton working alone here last night or was anyone else here with him till late?'

William Reynolds cleared his throat.

'Chief Inspector, I must tell you at the outset that Hubert Stanton was not the easiest of persons to work with. He had a deep sarcasm in his tone that rarely disappeared. He made enemies more easily than he made friends. He was very bitter about the destruction of Her Majesty's Inspectorate, a body which he always claimed it had been a privilege to belong to, as he did for fifteen years, before Kenneth Clarke introduced this OFSTED business. But he had a brilliant, incisive mind and his judgement was absolutely first-class. This was the twelfth OFSTED inspection we had done together and I have never known him get one wrong. He knew schools inside out. He could smell their distinctive smell as soon as he walked through the front doors. And he was never wrong. Believe me, I've seen the look of astonishment on the faces of headteachers and governing bodies when he has read them some part of his report into an aspect of their school they thought was buried deep and impossible for an outsider to dig up.'

'And yesterday evening, sir?' prompted Tallyforth.

'I was coming to that, Chief Inspector,' replied Reynolds, rather waspishly. 'But I needed you to know something about Hubert first of all. I would be surprised if you didn't find in your inquiries that a significant number of people might have wished him dead.'

'Sir?' Tallyforth raised an eyebrow quizzically.

'I assume that you suspect he was killed, Chief Inspector,' came the response. 'Otherwise why would you be here? If Hubert had died of what used to be known as natural causes, I doubt if they would have sent someone of chief inspector rank, don't you? Anyway, Hubert was perfectly healthy. I've known him well for the past eight years and I've never known him to have a day's illness or time off work. He was notorious for the amount of work he could undertake, he was voracious. He could manage on as little sleep as that Thatcher woman used to claim. What was it? Three hours a night? Something like that.'

'We have no way of knowing how he died, sir,' replied Tallyforth, looking sharply at George Elliott who sat beside him taking notes but who caught his glance out of the corner of her eye. 'Not until we get a report from the forensic laboratory. But it is one distinct possibility, yes. We're here because Hubert Stanton's death occurred in suspicious and unusual circumstances. I don't suppose you have had any of your inspectors die on you mid-inspection before, have you, sir? Let along your Reggie?'

'Quite correct, Chief Inspector. Quite correct,' said Reynolds. 'Most unusual. And most distressing. Hubert was a good friend as well as an outstanding professional colleague.'

'So, last night, sir,' Tallyforth tried again.

'Ah, yes. Our team meeting yesterday evening,' Reynolds began,' was somewhat difficult, I have to admit. You see, there had been a number of growing suspicions all week that there was something not quite right about this school. Hubert sensed it on our first visit but it took some time to find out what it was.'

'And?'

Reynolds gave Tallyforth a brief perfunctory look, as if to tell him to be patient. He was used to conducting interrogations of teachers, not to being interrogated himself. He liked to control the agenda of two-way conversations.

'It was the management. The headteacher, to be precise. He was one of this modern type who's been on all these management courses and picked up all the latest jargon about flat management structures and downsizing and empowering the workforce. But it wasn't just that. That's not unusual in itself these days. No, what was particularly unusual was that a lot of the senior staff had lost faith in him, even those who he'd appointed some years ago and who had believed in the things he was promoting. But it took until yesterday evening to have that confirmed. At our briefing yesterday morning, Hubert asked all of the team to make informal inquiries from their respective heads of department in the school about their confidence in the direction the school was taking for the future. Some of my colleagues were unhappy about being asked to do this but it was at our meeting last night that it emerged that a good two thirds of those heads of department had expressed considerable reservations. And in every case, the head's name was mentioned.'

'Any particular reason, sir?'

'Oh, yes, one very powerful reason,' Reynolds answered, looking Tallyforth squarely in the eye. 'They did not like the influence exerted on Brian Pickevance by his deputy, Ms. Pearl Bowen.'

'Did that surprise you?' asked Tallyforth, again looking sideways at George Elliott.

'No, it did not. Ms. Bowen is a woman of strong views,' replied William Reynolds. 'It may or may not be her views that the heads of department are unhappy about. What concerns them most, however, is the reason why her views exert such an influence on Brian Pickevance.'

'And what is that reason, sir?' asked Tallyforth a little wearily, as he listened to William Reynolds's long narrative.

'Quite simple, Chief Inspector,' Reynolds smirked. 'They are having an affair!'

Tallyforth looked across at Reynolds and saw the smirk.

'Is that of some educational significance, sir? Does that make it impossible to run a school? Or is OFSTED on some kind of government-inspired moral crusade in the nation's schools?'

The smirk froze on Reynolds's face.

'It was our collective view that, whatever one's moral stance, the school could not function properly given that circumstance to which I have just alluded. It was therefore incumbent upon us to draw attention to this in our report of the inspection of Æthelfleda High School,' he said.

'You were going to state in your report that the headteacher and his deputy were having it off with each other?' Tallyforth asked incredulously.

'We would not have put it so crudely, Chief Inspector,' replied Reynolds. 'We would have merely pointed out that the close working relationship enjoyed by the headteacher and deputy headteacher jeopardised the fuller involvement of middle management in the school's development. I believe the majority of the readers of the report would have understood what was meant and would have acted accordingly.'

Tallyforth looked across at George Elliott, who returned his gaze. They both knew now what that missing sentence in the report on the laptop computer would have been.

'And that was discussed at your meeting last night?' Tallyforth queried.

'Yes. As a matter of fact, it was virtually the last item we discussed because it obviously was going to feed into one of our key issues for the school to address. As I said earlier, there was not total unanimity on this issue initially but Hubert carefully steered the meeting to ensure he got everyone's agreement eventually. The meeting finished shortly afterwards, at about eight o'clock.'

'And what happened then, sir?'

'What normally happens. The team packed up their bits and pieces and either headed back to the hotel for dinner or set off to their homes. I stayed for a quick word with Hubert, who had decided he wanted to forego dinner in order to stay here and write the draft of the main findings and key issues of the report. He planned to eat later,' Reynolds said.

'Was that unusual?' queried Tallyforth.

'A little,' replied Reynolds. 'Hubert normally does, sorry did, such work after dinner but he felt that this was a particularly tricky report to write and he wanted a clear head. I have known him do that before when the situation warranted it.'

'And what time did you personally leave, sir?'

'I would say just after eight-fifteen, Chief Inspector,' came the reply. 'I was certainly back at the hotel by eight-thirty, because I telephoned my wife before dinner, which we ate at nine.'

Tallyforth sat back, looking briefly across at George Elliott who was frantically scribbling away.

'Thank you very much, sir,' he said. 'You've been most helpful. I'd be grateful if you could let my sergeant have the details of all of the inspection team before you go. I assume you are leaving today?'

William Reynolds stood up.

'Yes, I'm going later this afternoon. I have to contact OFSTED to find out what has to be done and presumably I will have to return next week to report to the school in some fashion. I don't suppose it will be possible for me to take Hubert's computer, will it?

'Not just at present, sir, no,' said George Elliott. 'Afraid we have to keep it for a while.'

'Any idea when I might be able to get at it?' Reynolds asked. 'I cannot give any kind of report without the information that's stored on that machine.'

'I think if you phoned us on Monday, sir, we might be able to tell you,' replied George Elliott. 'That's the best we can do.'

'Thank you, Sergeant. Thank you, Chief Inspector. No doubt we'll be in touch in the near future. Please let me know as soon as you know the cause of poor Hubert's death.'

And William Reynolds left them.