CUT DEAD: A DI Charlotte Savage Novel. Mark Sennen

and Calter arrived. Children ran round the outside of a playing field practising for a relay race while teachers arranged chairs in a row at the edge. A voice croaked ‘one-two, one-two’ from a dodgy PA and a couple of parents arranged snacks on a trestle table. A handwritten sign gave prices: a cup of tea and a fairy cake for fifty pence.

      In the school office the administrator seemed reluctant to give out any details about Mrs Glastone even after she had verified Savage’s credentials by calling Crownhill station.

      ‘Carol’s had a rough time of it,’ she said as she led them through to the next-door room. ‘I think you’d better speak to Mrs Cartwright. Mind you she’ll not have more than ten minutes. It’s our Olympics today.’

      Savage was thinking of Jamie’s own sports day, coming up in a few weeks’ time. She hoped she’d be able to attend. Missing her children’s red letter days always pained her and, as she had told Pete many times when he’d been away from home, once they were gone they were gone.

      Jenny Cartwright, a smart woman in her thirties who looked like she should be running a quoted company rather than a school, introduced herself as the Head of Teaching and Learning.

      ‘We’re an academy, see? A number of small schools in a federation. We pool resources and expertise. Share our experiences. There’s an executive head who runs everything across the federation.’

      To Savage the set-up sounded like the sort of rubbish which could well find its way into the police force. But then again maybe it already had. The senior management were as removed from the day-to-day issues of policing as Jenny Cartwright’s boss was from dealing with a six-year-old who’d stumbled in the playground.

      ‘Carol Glastone,’ Savage said. ‘She’s a teaching assistant here, correct?’

      ‘Carol’s great. Really involved. Treats the school like family. She should be here this afternoon, actually.’ Jenny raised a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, has something happened to her?’

      ‘No. We spoke to Carol this morning. We just wanted to confirm whether she was working last year around the twenty-first of June.’

      ‘She’s had quite a bit of time off recently. I’m sure we can check.’

      Jenny got up from her desk and went through to the admin area. A couple of minutes later she was back with a large hardback record book.

      ‘As I say, she was ill at the start of this year, fell down the stairs at home and broke an arm, but last year …’ Jenny paused, fingers turning pages in the book. ‘Of course! Yes, she was working all through that week.’

      ‘You sure? There can be no mistake?’

      ‘No.’ Jenny closed the book. ‘Might I know why you’re asking? Is it for an alibi of some kind?’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Savage said. ‘I can’t disclose that. What time does Carol usually work to … I mean, does she stay on at the end of the school day?’

      ‘She might if there is a staff meeting or something. For instance today many of us will stay behind afterwards clearing up. Usually we’ll be out of here by four.’

      Savage nodded and turned to Calter. The DC made a mark in her notebook and then looked up at Savage as if to say ‘I told you so.’

      ‘OK, thank you, Jenny.’ Savage stood up and offered a hand.

      ‘But …’ Jenny glanced at Calter and then back to Savage. ‘I thought you might … perhaps …’

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘The husband. He … I don’t know how to say it. Maybe I’m being silly, Carol’s life is really none of my business, is it?’

      ‘This kind of thing is all of our business. I can tell you we’re aware of Carol’s domestic issues, but we can’t do anything until she makes a complaint.’

      ‘So the alibi wasn’t for Carol. It was for him.’