Tubman's stern and the body in the broom cupboard.
A Toppenstern mystery.
Written by S.
D.
Hudson Performed by Stephanie Poppins.
Music by John Miles Carter Chapter 5 Tubman Stern hurried past the sixth form common room where somebody had pinned a Spice Girls poster to the notice board.
She smiled.
Ginger had lost an eye to a drawing pin,
But Baby Spice was holding up well.
She went down the back stairs in her platform boots,
One hand on the rail,
The other clutching her little black board.
It would soon be winter and she was back in her tweeds.
With a pink ruffle collar,
A pleated tartan skirt and a pair of opaque black tights that had seen her through an Ofsted inspection and a flood in the English department.
Through the landing window,
The pennines rolled away in the drizzle,
Bracken brown and dotted with deer.
In the distance,
A tractor bounced along the lane towards Staple Bloodstead,
Trailing a murder of crows.
And somewhere beyond the church spire,
The village hall was advertising a harvest supper,
Hot pot and raffle.
Tuppence had already been told twice she was on the raffle.
That,
She thought to herself.
Is what we're defending.
Hot pot and a tombola.
Heaven help us.
Down she went,
Into the basement,
Where she promised somewhat earlier she'd meet Inspector Tryhard.
It was a long,
Low,
Windowless space,
Last fashionable in 1974.
He'd pushed a trestle table into the middle and set two chairs either side.
There was a jug of water in a box of tissues.
Presumably in case of confessions.
A radiator wheezed somewhere in the corner,
And above it a faded poster urged everyone to just say no.
Detective Inspector Tryhard was already settled,
With his notebook open.
As Tuppence approached his pen clicked and he tugged his tie so hard,
She did her best not to chuckle.
This man needed all the blood to his brain he could get.
Toppins Inspector!
Nigel,
Please.
He was wearing the brown suit he'd worn at every crime scene since Tuppence had met him.
A beige mac was folded over the chair behind him and the flat cap which he'd so far never seen him without was sitting next to it.
He stood up quickly.
He always did.
It was one of the few things about him that Tuppence could honestly say she didn't mind.
I do hope I haven't kept you.
Not at all,
Not at all,
I was just.
.
.
Reviewing.
He gestured vaguely at his notebook and then the table.
Tuppence winced.
His brute aftershave was back with a vengeance.
Maybe he thought she liked it.
A little birdie tells me you have a parrot,
He began.
I don't know whether you know this,
But I'm a bit of a bird fancier myself.
You don't say.
How funny all mythology should bring us together like this.
That and the occasional murder.
Quite.
Now,
Shall we get to brass tacks?
Tubbins felt a sudden warmth towards the man.
Straight talk was definitely more her thing.
She settled into the opposite chair and took out her little black book.
Placing it on the table between them,
She compared the two.
His was scraggly,
Dog-eared,
Moth-eaten.
Hers was leather-bound,
Pristine.
You've been busy,
Toppence.
She smiled knowingly.
I've taken statements from the staff,
All of them,
For what they're worth.
I thought it might save you some time.
That's very thoughtful.
And I also thought it might be nice if we compared notes before anyone else does.
Tuppence did not say Miss Weed.
She didn't have to.
The name hovered between them,
Then folded its arms and sat down like its troll-like owner.
Clearing his throat,
The inspector said.
My deputy has been most helpful.
I'm sure she has.
She has a very organized mind.
She has a very organised spreadsheet,
" said Tuppence.
I'm not sure the two are the same thing.
For a moment,
The inspector looked like he might actually smile.
Then he straightened his pen against the edge of his notebook,
Picked it up again and straightened it again,
Which in Tuppence's experience was what a man did when he'd been told what to think and was trying very hard to remember how to do it for himself.
Right then,
He blurted out,
Where would you like to begin?
Tuppence paused.
She knew he was relying on her to divulge the secrets of her little black book.
Well,
The time of death,
I've yet to establish that.
He batted his ball straight back to him.
She needed facts too,
And theirs was a transactional relationship at best.
The pathologist puts it in the very late hours of Monday evening.
Which fits!
Mr Carter was alive at seven.
He nearly ran me over in the Tesco's car park.
Oh yes,
The Tesco's incident.
Try Hard folded over a screwed piece of paper and began writing with a chewed up biro.
Tuppence noticed his ears were now a very dark pink.
Mr Boners mentioned he was there with you.
He's a very thorough man.
The pink spray from try hards ears to the rest of his face.
They both studied the table like they were watching the last ten minutes of Blind Dates.
The Inspector and Martin Bonus were at best love rivals,
At worst enemies.
Like chalk and cheese,
Bonus was more forthright,
Confident and self-assured,
And Tryhard was less adequate in every other way.
But he's trying his best,
Bless him.
Thought tuppence.
So,
Cause of death,
She said quickly,
Rescuing them both.
I'm guessing blood loss from the dagger?
A single wound to the neck.
Deep.
Upward angle.
Upward?
So the antagonist was shorter than him then?
It would seem so.
The inspector tapped his pen against his notebook.
The weapon,
As you know,
Was a genuine one.
Old,
Quite old.
It went off to the lab,
But there were no prints on it.
The handle was white.
Or the perpetrator was gloved.
Oh,
So it happens.
No one wipes the handle in a hurry and stops to coil the fairy lights.
She flipped open her book again.
Did anyone mention the lights,
Inspector?
Yes,
The lights.
There was a tangle of fairy lights on the top shelf of that cupboard.
They'd been left over from the nativity.
When I saw the body,
They were coiled neatly on the floor.
Not knocked,
Not trampled.
They were moved.
Someone put them out of the way on purpose so they could get at the shelf.
Rub the mind.
The inspector wrote lights in his notebook.
He underlined it,
Then crossed it out and wrote it again.
And the daffodil,
" said Tuppence.
Ah,
Yes,
The daffodil.
Miss Weed thought that might be a prank.
A prank?
The student prank.
Perhaps connected to the school production,
She suggested the young people might have been involved.
He cleared his throat.
She was particularly keen we look at Callum Carter and the Marsh girl,
Er,
Jada.
Tuppence closed her eyes and opened them again.
Callum kill his father.
These might be disaffected children,
Nigel,
But they're not murderers.
Mr Bonus takes very good care of them.
They have no reason to jeopardise that.
And as for the daffodil,
That's not a prank.
It was out of season.
No child would know where to get such a thing,
Would they?
As far as I know,
Nothing blooms indoors in this school in October,
And certainly nothing grows in the broom cupboard.
Someone grew that flower,
Carried it in.
And then dropped it on the way.
They forgot to pick it up.
And what's more,
They know enough about flowers to grow them out of season.
Perhaps they were bringing it to the victim.
This tells us something about them,
Doesn't it?
That the killer likes flowers.
It tells us the victim might.
Who would give Mr.
Carter a daffodil.
By all accounts,
He wasn't a very nice man.
Hmm,
That's the question.
Tuppence tapped the page as she looked at the inspector.
He was still smiling for when she called him Nigel.
Let's consider the timing of it all.
The cupboard was locked at four o'clock by Mrs Fenwick.
That means someone unlocked it after four.
With a key.
As far as I know.
Mrs Fennick has the only key apart from Mr Carter Martin said he lent him his master set when he was waiting for his copies to be sent from Lord Heffingway The expression on the inspector's face changed once again.
Was it that she called Mr.
Boners Martin?
Or did he have something else on his mind?
The keys,
He said suddenly,
Were not found on the body.
Not in his pockets!
Not in his pockets,
Nor in his house,
Nor in his car,
Nor anywhere.
The master set's gone.
Overhead there was renewed shuffling and chattering.
It was the end of morning lessons and a return to the staff room.
The bell was going it outside to thunder of 300 plus pairs of shoes hit the gravel as pupils moved across from the teaching block to the canteen.
Somewhere in the distance,
More than a dozen Tamagotchis fired up and a couple of teachers' pages went off.
So the killer doesn't need to break in,
Tubman said slowly.
They had a key.
Either they took Mr.
Carter's,
Or they saw him in there to begin with,
And then they took the set with them.
Unless Carter lost them.
Well,
That's unlikely seeing as it's his job.
There are a lot of the keys,
They're very bulky,
They're not easy to lose.
Perhaps he gave them to someone to open the cupboard for him.
Yes.
Outside the door came the unmistakable sound of sharp little heels.
Click,
Click,
Click.
Inspector Tryhard shut his notebook so fast it made a noise like a gunshot.
This was Alice Weed coming to disturb them and it looked like he was keeping things from her.
Interesting,
Thought Tuppence.
Then seeing the door about to open,
Try hard change tack once again.
Now there's the pressing matter of the unsupervised miner,
He said,
Sitting upright.
More of a major matter,
Smiled Tuppence.
Miss Stern,
I'm not sure it's right to joke at times like this.
Right,
Sorry.
I believe he's being taken under Mr.
Bonus's wing.
And there we are with the birds again.
The door opened and there stood not just Alice Weed but to Tubmancy's surprise Bartholomew Bowman come to rescue her.
Tuppence shot him a save-me-I'm-drowning look,
And he stepped in with a smile and a buttered scone.
Lady Levenson's Inspector?
The inspector eyed the plump flower-dusted offering.
It had risen to perfection and it was still warm.
It smelled delicious.
Any cream?
Jam?
Asked Bart.
Rumour has it in the village you're partial to a bit of cream tea.
Everyone has their weaknesses,
Mr.
Bowman.
It seems so,
" Bart replied,
Winking at Tuppence.
Alice Weed,
Meanwhile,
Stood on the threshold in a teal power suit with shoulder pads you could have landed a helicopter on.
Tuppence stayed.
Her brooch was the colour of a watsit,
And her purple hair backcombed to a height that defied gravity and any sense of fashion whatsoever.
Tuppence Stern was all for originality.
But Alice Weed was the antithesis of that.
A bit like an economics teacher who wears pink socks,
She thought to herself.
I brought my folder with me,
Inspector,
" she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Tubbins looked at the lever arch folder bristling with coloured tabs like a hedgehog that had gone into project management.
I thought we agreed 45 minutes.
The inspector pressed.
His covert deputy stared at Tuppence.
I didn't realise Mrs.
Stone was down here with you.
I thought you said ten.
It's Miss,
" said Tubman,
Standing up.
For the third time this morning,
I might add,
Have you lost your memory,
Miss Weed,
Or should I send my name to you on a spreadsheet so you can file it under things I desperately need to remember?
Try Hard shot up from his chair so fast he'd let out a strangled squeak.
Miss Wade?
Weed's eyes travelled from the water jug to Tubbins' little black book,
Still sitting on the table.
I've compiled a timeline,
Inspector.
I think you'll find it clarifies matters considerably.
Ever prepared,
Tuppence added acerbically.
Ah,
You too,
Said Bart,
Unwilling for this to go any further.
A little rivalry between staff was one thing,
But Tuppence's hate for this woman had been growing steadily since she discovered her in Bonas' apartment the night following the death of Malcolm Marshall.
And Bart thought she did have a point.
Weed had been taking steps to antagonise her ever since.
Ignoring everyone,
Ms.
Zweed placed her folder on the table,
Opened it at a tap marked Urgent,
And slid it across towards Tryhard with a lacquered fingernail.
Callum Carter was heard on Friday in the corridor outside the science block telling his father,
And I quote,
I'll kill you,
Dad.
There are two weaknesses to that.
And the boy has been,
Shall we say,
Emotionally unregulated for weeks.
He's only just 16,
Said Tuppence,
With no mother and a father that was doing a terrible job of taking her place.
This is Stern.
At this try hard step forward.
Is there a reason you keep calling her Mrs Weed?
Tuppence stepped a little closer to her ally and they both stared misweed down.
He might be an old stick in the mud,
Thought Tuppence,
But he's willing to back me up,
And that means a lot to someone who's had more than a fair share of disloyalty.
Bart,
Meanwhile,
Thought,
Has taken the wind out of her sails.
It wasn't in anyone's interest not to support Tup and Stern.
Tup and Stern always supported everyone else.
I've got a lot on my mind,
Protested Miss Weed.
A man is dead and Lord Heffingway's made it very clear to me the board expects swift resolution.
She let the name drop onto the table like a gavel.
I'd hate for it to be said this investigation was,
Shall we say,
Sentimental.
Try Hard pulled the folder towards him and looked at Tuppence.
It would be remiss,
He said,
Not to have a conversation with the boy,
I suppose.
Inspector,
Protested Tuppence.
He's only just lost his father.
An informal chat will give it tuppence this afternoon with a responsible adult present.
I'll sit in,
" said Weed instantly.
Over my dead body,
Said Tubbens.
Bart smiled.
Tuppence had been in steeplebloodstead a long while.
Nothing was about to happen to her.
Plonking try-hard scone in front of him,
He said.
Appens is very good with the kids.
But Mr Bowman,
This is confidential,
Moaned Weed.
And let me just say,
I couldn't help but overhear when you were talking about the dagger.
The temperature in the old prefix common room dropped by several degrees.
Mr Bowman,
Said Tryhard,
This is a matter of ongoing.
.
.
Only I've seen it before.
Bart interrupted.
Not the real thing,
Obviously.
Well,
Not the dead man thing,
That is.
Dame Ethelberg's dagger.
In the founder's gallery,
Third floor,
Glass case next to the lost property cupboard,
Every year seven gets told it's cursed apparently,
And they dare each other to touch the case.
I've seen them doing it,
Worse than gladiators it is.
That's a ceremonial replica,
" said Miss Weed.
It's insured,
Alarmed and inspected.
That gallery is personally inspected regularly by me.
Diligent woman you are,
Swiped Tuppence.
For one second,
Weed's mouth opened without anything coming out of it.
It was the first time Tubbins had ever seen it happen,
And she made a mental note to add that to her little black book.
It seemed in St.
Ethelburg's,
More than one person knew more than one thing about what was going on behind the scenes.
