Death of a Valentine - M. C. Beaton [40]
“Anyone in particular?”
“Harry Massie, the English teacher.”
“Is he still teaching at the school?”
“Last I heard.”
Outside the town hall, Hamish sighed. “Another suspect. Let’s see this English teacher.”
“What about Iona?” asked Josie. “She must have borne a grudge against Annie.”
“I haven’t forgotten her,” said Hamish. “But she doesnae seem the type to know how to put together a sophisticated bomb.”
Harry Massie was a tall, rangy man in his late thirties. He had thick brown hair, a beaky nose, and a small mouth. He was wearing corduroy trousers and a well-worn Harris tweed jacket over a checked shirt open at the neck.
“We want to ask you about Annie Fleming,” said Hamish.
Josie got an inner glow. Hamish was beginning to say we.
“Poor girl. Any idea who did it?”
“Not as yet. I must ask you this: Did Annie Fleming make a pass at you?”
“By all that’s holy, someone who doesn’t think she was a saint. Yes, she did.”
“Explain what happened.”
The classroom smelled of chalk, sweat, and dust. Outside the wind howled and screeched.
Harry leaned on his desk. “Annie was very good at English. Then she started waiting in the classroom until the others had left, asking me questions. I began to feel uneasy because other members of the staff began to tease me about being seen alone with Annie. So I told her that if she had any questions, to put them in writing and leave them on my desk and not to stay behind in the classroom. I was very firm with her. I held the door open for her and she…she stuck her tongue in my ear.
“I told her I would report her and she laughed and said who would ever believe me and if I didn’t keep my mouth shut she would report me for having tried to rape her. I felt nothing but relief when she left the school for good.”
“Who’s the chemistry teacher here?”
“Sol Queen. But I hardly think…”
“Where can we find him?” asked Hamish.
Harry glanced at his watch. “He’ll be in the staff room having a break. I’ll take you along.”
Various teachers were standing at an open window in the staff room, smoking and braving the gale that was blowing in.
“Sol,” said Harry. “The police want a word with you.”
An elderly teacher turned around. He had sparse grey hair and thick glasses. “We can’t talk here,” he said. “Come outside.”
Josie and Hamish followed him into the corridor. “What is it?” he asked, peering myopically up at Hamish. Hamish thought that Annie could hardly have made a pass at this elderly gentleman, so he asked instead, “Is there anyone you can think of who might have the expertise to make a letter bomb?”
“Funnily enough, I’ve thought of that. But I cannot think of anyone at all—apart from me. I mean, I would know which chemicals to use, but I would not know how to install the fuse. That takes a lot of sophisticated knowledge.”
Hamish had a sudden idea. “Do you have computer classes in the school?”
“No. We were supposed to get them, but there is so much else needing to be done here. The roof’s in need of repair and it would mean finding extra money over the cost of the computers to hire another teacher.”
Hamish thanked him and then, as they walked towards the entrance, he phoned Jimmy. “Did forensics go through Annie’s computer?”
“She didnae have one,” said Jimmy. “Her father says that computers are the instruments o’ the devil. They searched the one at the wildlife place but nothing but business on it.”
Hamish rang off. “I can’t think of any young person who didn’t use the Internet,” he said. “There’s that new Internet café, just off the main street. Let’s try there.”
The Internet café was run by a Pole, Lech Nowak, and the place was full of Polish accents as other immigrants e-mailed home.
Hamish asked whether Annie Fleming had ever used the café. “The girl that was murdered? No, she never came in here,” said Lech.
Another possible lead gone, thought Hamish gloomily.
The café sold snacks, so Hamish suggested they should both eat something. He hoped his pets were all right back at the police station. He was worried that the hit man might call