A GRAVE DISTURBANCE an utterly gripping cozy crime mystery by GREENWOOD D.M

Author:GREENWOOD, D.M.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Ostara Classics Cozy Crime and Mysteries
Published: 2023-04-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven: Learning

On Monday morning, St Sylvester and St Andrew’s CE-Aided Primary School was more difficult to get into than Fordingham. It had a low fence round it and pretty cut-outs of trees on the windows which, in the nineteenth-century fashion, were set high in solid brick walls so that pupils couldn’t look out of them. It abutted the nineteenth-century church of St Sylvester’s but there was no sign of Father Tobias. It wasn’t clear to Lionel which bit of the wicket perimeter fence gave way into being a gate. Minute examination revealed a padlock attached to part of it but the padlock turned out to be locked. In the end he discovered a gap through which he was able to edge. From there, gay yellow footsteps painted on the tarmac of the playground took over, leading him round the side of the building and up a wall.

Lionel halted. He knew he couldn’t walk up walls. He looked closely. At the end of the trail of footsteps was a smiley face also painted in yellow below a notice which said, in a sudden leap into adult concepts, ‘Reception’. The arrow pointed round the next side of the building. The door when reached said ‘Welcome to St Sylvester and St Andrew’s CE-Aided Primary School’ in nice Microsoft 24-point Times New Roman alternating red and black letters along the inside of the glass.

Still there was no way through. There were a couple of new-looking locks and an entry phone which said in faded handwriting below it: ‘Please speak here.’ Lionel pressed the bell and waited for some considerable time. There was a clunking noise as the entry phone cleared its throat. Then a calm male voice said: ‘Orlando Groom, headteacher, here. Please state your name and business.’ Lionel had that one prepared. ‘Lionel Comfet, Giltchrist Diocesan Office, message from one of your governors, Mrs Susan Tye.’

The door buzzed and, before it had time to recant, Lionel pushed his way in. He felt a sense of achievement.

It was some time, he realized, since he’d been in a primary school. Did they make all the pupils do that, he wondered. Nothing like a bit of obstruction for bringing out youngsters’ mettle and making them value their education. He stood in the entrance hall. Tanks of fish, rubber plants, a couple of shelves of picture books, a frieze of dinosaurs and a plastic skeleton of the human frame were all neatly arranged round a low table with one or two infant-sized chairs which did not invite him to sit down. On the wall hung a wooden cross flanked by two modern ikons, one of St Sylvester, one of St Andrew.

‘Never a dull moment,’ said a cheerful voice behind him. ‘Orlando Groom,’ said the voice’s owner, grey-haired but seeming younger than his hair. His tread was springy, his physical movements, like those of a gymnast, as though he might at any minute spring on to his hands and juggle a ball with his feet.

‘Lionel Comfet,’ said Lionel.

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