A Room Full of Killers by Michael Wood (spanish books to read .TXT) 📕

‘That’s why I live in.’

‘How long have you worked here?’

‘About three years.’

‘So why Starling House?’

‘There was a job vacancy and I needed one. Simple.’

‘What did you do before coming here?’ Rory asked.

‘Quantity surveyor.’

‘Bit of a difference.’

‘I went on a course after I was made redundant. If you’ve got a degree you’re halfway to being a tutor. It’s not rocket science.’

‘How do you get on with the boys here?’ Sian asked.

Call Me Fred crossed and uncrossed his legs and adjusted himself to be more comfortable. He was too tall for the plastic seat he was perched on. ‘I teach them. That’s it. I don’t have to get on with them.’

‘Are they well behaved?’

‘Some of them.’

‘But not all?’

‘Well, of course not. You know what boys are like.’

‘I don’t, actually,’ Rory said. ‘What are boys like?’

‘Well, some of them want to learn; some of them don’t.’

‘So they misbehave?’

‘Some of them do.’

‘Are you strict?’

‘You have to be, don’t you? If they see you as weak they’ll take the piss and walk all over you.’

‘Is there any inmate in particular who has taken the piss lately?’ Rory asked.

Sian noticed Fred’s hands were twitching.

‘Not to my knowledge. They all try it on at least once.’

‘Did you speak to Ryan Asher on Monday?’

‘Yes.’

‘What about?’

‘We talked about how academic he was, what lessons he enjoyed, what books he liked to read.’

‘What did you think of him?’

‘He was quiet, nervous. They all are when they first arrive. He seemed like a bright kid. He took a numeracy test which he passed with flying colours.’

‘Are they usually so bright?’ Rory asked.

‘Who?’

‘Killers?’

‘I can’t speak for all of them, obviously, but the ones I’ve taught have limited brain power.’

‘So you’re saying they have below-average intelligence?’

‘Yes.’

‘Interesting.’

Sian could see what Rory was doing: compiling more data for his personal investigation. ‘Were you shocked to hear he’d been killed?’ she quickly asked, regaining control of the interview.

‘Of course I was. We don’t have any trouble here which is surprising when you think about it.’

‘Where were you on Monday night?’

‘I was in bed. I had a bit of a headache so I went to bed early and watched a few episodes of Frasier.’

‘No one can verify that I take it.’

‘Nope,’ he smiled, or grinned.

‘OK. Thank you for your time,’ Sian said with a forced smile.

‘What’s it like to work here?’ Rory asked as Fred stood up to leave the room.

‘I like it. The staff are pleasant, and the majority of the boys I’ve taught over the years have been a pleasure to teach.’

They waited until he had left the room and his giant footsteps could no longer be heard before they spoke.

‘The staff aren’t pleasant at all,’ Rory said once he knew Call Me Fred was out of earshot. ‘Have you seen them? They’re all miserable buggers. I don’t think I’ve seen one of them smile yet. Apart from him. I wonder if he’s had that smile stapled on.’

‘What was that all about?’ Sian said quietly.

‘What?’

‘Questioning about the intelligence levels of killers.’

‘I was interested,’ he shrugged.

‘We’re not here to look into brain patterns of killers, Rory. You need to focus on these interviews, understand?’ she said, raising her voice slightly.

‘Sorry,’ he said, head down. ‘So what did you think of Fred?’

‘I didn’t like him. There’s something oily about him.’

‘Probably the stuff he puts on what’s left of his hair,’ Rory sniggered.

‘No it’s not that. He comes across as a touchy-feely kind of bloke.’

‘You think he’s messing with some of the boys?’

‘He probably isn’t, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was.’

‘It’s not like you to make snap judgements, Sian. You’re spending too much time with Aaron.’

‘Hmm,’ she replied, deep in thought. ‘Make a note to run a check on him, Rory. There’s something there and I can’t put my finger on it.’

Richard Grover was next to be interviewed after Call Me Fred. He slumped down in the plastic chair in the staffroom. It creaked under his heavy frame. His breathing was laboured as if he had walked up several flights of stairs, even though they were on the ground floor. In his forties, Richard Grover was grossly overweight. His eyes were almost lost in the rolls of fat on his face, and he didn’t so much as sit on the chair than perch. His pea green uniform strained at the seams.

‘How long have you worked here, Richard?’ Sian asked.

‘Let’s see. I was at Greggs from 2000 until 2003,’ he said to himself, looking up at the ceiling as if the answer was written there. ‘Then I was at Gunstones for a while until my operation. I was off for a while with that. I’d say about four years maybe.’

‘OK. Do you live on the premises?’

‘We all do. I only live in Derby. It’s not far away but I don’t like driving at night – with my eyes – so I stay here on shift days.’

‘What’s your relationship like with the other staff?’

He looked taken aback by that question. ‘It’s fine. We get along OK. Have a chat and a laugh.’

‘Have there ever been any problems with staff?’

‘In what way?’

‘Any disciplinary matters, maybe?’

‘Who’s been talking?’ he asked defensively.

‘Nobody. Why do you ask?’ Sian asked, sitting forward on her chair, suddenly interested.

‘It’s just … no … nothing.’

‘Go on,’ prompted Rory.

‘Look, just because she’s my cousin it doesn’t mean I’m responsible for her, does it?’

‘Sorry, because who’s your cousin?’

‘Elly Caine.’

‘Who’s Elly Caine?’ Sian looked down at her list of all the staff members. There was no mention of an Elly Caine there.

‘She used to work here.’

‘When?’

‘About a year or so ago. She wasn’t here long.’

‘And what happened to her?’

‘She was … told to leave,’ he replied, choosing his words carefully.

‘Why?’

‘Look, it’s got nothing to do with me. I wasn’t even on shift. You should speak to Mrs Moloney.’

‘I’m asking you, Richard,’ Sian raised her voice. ‘You’ve just said you’re family. I’m guessing you discussed it at some point.’

Richard’s eyes travelled around the room. The expression on his face showed he was debating whether to reveal all or act dumb.