Cherringham--Last Train to London Read Online Free Page A

obvious.
    “And at any school function, everyone participating has got to be ‘in the system’. Any health issues, legal history, and all that. But with Mr Brendl, well, you know, he was an … institution.”
    She gave the pile on her desk a desultory push.
    “You mean you didn’t do any of the checks?” said Sarah, barely able to hide her astonishment. “None at all?”
    “I thought we had done – years ago. That’s what Mr Brendl thought too. So I sort of … forgot about it. And then yesterday I came in – and couldn’t find his file. And then I thought – oh maybe we didn’t? So now —”
    “You’re worried that something might come out and damage the school?” Sarah said.
    “Or my tenure here, at least. You may have guessed that there are plenty of people craving the position, and there have been reports before, papers not filed on time, silly things, you know.”
    Sarah could imagine the raptor-like Mrs Pynchon waiting in the wings to pounce on this office and put it right . She couldn’t quite believe that Mrs Harper had been so negligent – especially in this day and age. But to lose this head teacher … that would indeed be a great loss.
    “So, I don’t know. I thought of you two. If there was anything I should have known about dear Mr Brendl, anything that might cause problems now …”
    Again Jack looked at Sarah.
    Not at all what they expected.
    Mrs Harper looked from one to the other. Then Jack – as solid as an oak, with an answer that Sarah could have predicted – spoke. “I guess we could take a look.”
    Mrs Harper’s face lightened a bit. “Would you? I can’t thank you enough —”
    Jack smiled. “Don’t know what – if anything – we might find. But perhaps, if there was anything to be concerned about —”
    “You know what they say! Forewarned is forearmed.”
    “Exactly,” Jack said, still smiling.
    The meeting seemed over, with the two of them having a case … sort of. But then Mrs Harper leaned in close, lowering her voice.
    “One more thing. Mr Brendl’s stage, his puppets, his little van. They’re all still here. No next of kin – as far as I know. Eventually I imagine his estate – be that what it may – will go into probate. But perhaps best those things were returned. I don’t suppose —”
    “We could take them back?” Jack’s words had to be reassuring. “Not a problem.”
    He turned to Sarah. “Perhaps I can follow you in Mr Brendl’s van?” Then back to Mrs Harper. “You have the keys to his cottage?”
    A nod. “Yes. They were with his puppets. I had the caretaker load everything back into his van this morning. You’re sure you don’t mind?”
    Jack stood up.
    “Don’t even think about it. We’ll do it now. And if you think it’s okay, we’ll talk to Ms Reid. Just to be sure there are no surprises for you about Mr Brendl.”
    Mrs Harper took Jack’s right hand with both of hers and shook it hard.
    “Thank you. For me, for my school, for the children – what we have here is too precious to lose.”
    Sarah came to her. “And the village knows that,” she said.
    A bigger smile from the head, then: “Right then, to the car park and I can get you started.”
    At the door, Jack paused.
    “We saw Alan Rivers,” he said. “I guess he was asking questions about Saturday?”
    “Actually no,” Mrs Harper replied. “Different thing entirely. We had a break-in last night. Someone ransacked the food stores. Cakes, biscuits. Made a right mess.”
    “Some kind of silly dare, I suppose,” said Sarah.
    “End of term hijinks – which today of all days I could do without,” said the Head, for once unsmiling. “I wouldn’t normally get the police involved – but Mrs Pynchon insisted.”
    And Mrs Harper led them out of the office, past the oh-so-curious eyes of the assistant head, and through the now quiet halls of the school.
    Jack drove the puppet van, thinking it must be odd for people to watch it go by and instead of seeing