Tup and Stern and the Skipping Rope Scandal Tupin's Stone Mystery.
Written by S.
D.
Hudson.
Performed by Stephanie Poppins.
Chapter 9 Tup Stern stood in the doorway of St Ethelburg's science lab,
Letting her eyes travel slowly over the room before she moved another step.
Early morning light slanted through the tall windows,
Catching the dust suspended above the workbenches.
There was a smell of chalk dust and stale chemicals.
She checked the windows,
Tall and arched with frames painted so many times over the decades,
They no longer quite closed flush.
The benches ran in long rows across the room,
Scarred with decades of scorch marks,
Ink stains and the carved initials of pupils long since grown and gone.
Each seat had its own gas tap.
And at the end of the room,
A deep sink sat,
Its enamel worn away where the many girls had leaned over the years.
Tuppence wanted to find something.
She wanted to see something that might exonerate the head of department.
Alice Weed was coming for him that morning.
She had made up her mind it was him.
Responsible for the death of Malcolm Marshall.
Everyone said she'd been very proactive as far as asking questions when.
.
.
And it was her footprint next to the vault Tuppence had discovered.
But Tuppence knew Alice Weed was barking up the wrong tree.
All that investigating.
And yet that woman had still come to the wrong conclusion.
At least Martin Boners believed her now,
When she told him Alice Weed was a plant,
Sent by Inspector Tryhard to catch him out.
To her relief,
Martin seemed to find that funny.
Jealousy was never a good look in a man,
He said.
Then he'd given her the heads up about the impending arrest.
That was nice of him.
Tuppence checked the head of department's desk,
Which ran raised on a low platform,
Dominated by a huge slate blackboard.
Beside it an ancient Bunsen burner collection sat in a wooden crate,
Mismatched and dented,
Along with tripods and gauze mats gone brown with scorching.
This room was suspended in time,
Equal parts classroom and museum.
But it appeared to hold no information about lavender distillation other than that.
Tuppence knew this was now going to be a waste of a morning.
Weed would swoop in with tryhard and practically frogmarch her into forming the theory that the head of science had committed the murder.
But Weed's instincts were about as reliable as a Bunsen burner with a cracked valve.
All noise and no real fire.
It was up to Tuppence to prove her wrong.
And there she was.
Battle axe of the term,
Along with Inspector Tryhard walking through the door.
Him looking much more flustered than she was.
Tuppence?
" he said with a smile.
Inspector.
Tuppence replied.
We have come to arrest the head of the science department for the murder of Malcolm Marshall.
But why?
What evidence do you have?
He's the only one with the access to the equipment.
The distillation of lavender.
And he's strong enough to strangle a man and he's left-handed.
Top and side.
And his motive.
We're working on that.
But it's all over now.
You don't need to worry your pretty little head about it anymore.
Then walking straight past her with a very smug looking Alice Weed,
Inspector Tryhard continued to the back corridor.
We're in Satt,
The Head of Department's office.
Tuppence couldn't believe it.
She promised herself she'd rule out the head of department,
If only to have the satisfaction of proving Alice Weed wrong again.
But how could she do it?
A gaze dropped to the floor beside the desk,
To his pair of boots tucked half under it.
She crouched and checked.
Yes,
They were size 11s.
But that wasn't exactly a rare shoe size,
Was it?
Half the men in this building probably wore it.
She looked at the distillation rig standing against the back wall,
Its glass coils catching the light.
Yes,
It could produce something like the concentrated lavender oil found in the victim.
But it could also just be what it looked like.
Equipment a chemistry teacher needed for his actual job.
Then there was the strength argument.
He was strong.
He did haul crates in from the delivery van every week.
But half the staff could probably manage that.
Alice Weed just wanted a strangler with visible muscle because it made her tidy story.
Not because it made any sense whatsoever.
Tuppence straightened up,
Unconvinced.
The killer was still walking free.
In the conversation she'd had with Martin,
She promised she had a strong lead and a very good idea of who was really responsible.
And she meant that.
It was now just a case of getting all her ducks in the row.
To make sure she could produce a solid conviction.
And that is what she would do.
It was time to focus on Alfred Moss the caretaker.
Or rather Reginald Frimley.
What a name!
Hmm,
His niece said Marshall had an argument with Dunforth,
The other PE teacher.
But that had all come to nothing.
So why had she lied?
And the fact he was swanning around the school like nothing was going on,
Dad was suspicious too.
According to Bart he was left-handed and he had size 11 feet.
He also had his own keys to the gym.
And Bart mentioned he was giving Sharon Stanning the eye.
But of course he was the one she didn't pay any mind to.
There was always the annoying question of modus operandi.
Why would he leave Malcolm Marshall naked?
And motive?
Why commit the murder in the first place?
As for the timeline.
.
.
He told Bart he'd taken a sleeping tablet on the night of the murder.
But still all fingers pointed to him.
Her gut pointed to him.
And hadn't Sharon Stanning said Malcolm told her he'd discovered something?
Maybe he discovered something about the caretaker.
Why was he using a different name?
It was time to visit the archives and get some answers.
There were just too many questions around the man.
Making her way out,
Tuppence noticed the latest wall display.
The Science Department loved a wall display.
They're looking for the photo montage from the latest experiment.
Was the caretaker's niece,
The very one that Bart said was a very bright spark.
She was standing front and centre,
A star of the term.
But behind her,
A big poster entitled STEAM DISTILLATION PROJECT was pinned to the blue room divider.
Uh-huh.
She said with a smile.
This was another tick in her little black book.
Things for Tup and Stern were really starting to add up.
We've got some serious investigating to do,
Bart,
If we're going to get the head of science off the hook,
" said Tuppence as they made their way to Mrs Fenwick's office.
Keen to acquire the key to the archive cupboard,
Only she was privy to.
.
.
Tuppence had now updated Bart with everything that had gone on in the science department and was desperate to move forward with the Alfred Moss investigation.
Or Reginald Frimley,
Whatever he happened to be calling himself that day.
The archive cupboard lived behind the library,
Sealed off by a door with a very loud squeak.
Tubbins had hidden there once to dodge a fire drill.
That remained,
In her own private hall of fame,
One of her highest achievements.
The room itself was barely bigger than a cupboard.
It was windowless and lit up by a single flickering strip light.
Its metal shelves sagged under decades of box files,
And its walls looked desperately in need of a coat of paint.
But in spite of this.
.
.
There was the lovely smell of old paper.
Tuppence loved the smell of old paper.
With the help of Bart,
They worked their way through dusty logbooks and war-era files,
Hunting for anything that might just explain why Alfred Moss had changed his name.
And how significant this was to the murder investigation of Malcolm Marshall.
And there underneath,
Many files in a leather-bound ledger labelled Admissions Book.
With the cover cracked and softened with age,
The ink faded to the colour of weak tea.
Two names stood out.
Agnes Frimley and Reginald Frimley.
Evacuated from London.
Bound for St.
Ethelburg's Special Independent School Steeplebloodstead Yorkshire Tuppence looked at Bart,
And Bart looked at Tuppence.
This is it.
She said.
This is who Alfred Moss really is.
And I get the feeling.
This is the reason he committed the murder.
