Under Pressure

4-1

Nathan kept one eye on Dr Dafydd Jones, the police medical examiner, as he looked over the body of Graham Banks, while the other roved around Open Spaces Activity Centre.

It was a scenic and attractive place, peaceful as well, though he supposed that wasn’t usually the case, not with it regularly being occupied by groups of schoolchildren. It was a shame that the peace and beauty of the place was going to be spoiled by a death that, regardless of what the cause was determined to be, would be remembered for some time to come.

The cracking of joints in less than perfect working order drew Nathan’s attention away from his surroundings and focused it fully on the large figure of Dafydd Jones, who was heaving himself to his feet. Not an easy task given how bulky he was.

“Have you put on even more weight since I last saw you?” Nathan asked, his tone was teasing, but it also carried a note of concern over his friend’s expanding waistline.

“It’s the wife,” Dafydd said as he stretched and twisted his upper body from side to side to ease the stiffness and aches brought on by squatting to examine Graham Banks. “She’s got it into her head that I’m going to run off with a younger woman, and she’s decided the best way to stop me doing that is to fatten me up until I physically can’t go anywhere, and no-one but her would be interested in me.”

“You could just not eat everything she cooks for you.”

Dafydd gave a short laugh. “If only it were that easy. Her cooking’s too good to pass up on, especially when she keeps making my favourite dishes.”

“Are you sure she’s not trying to kill you, death by food, so she can claim on the insurance?”

“Don’t think that hasn’t occurred to me. She’s feeding me up, but she’s on a diet. She’s never looked better.”

“Change your will,” Nathan advised, “before she does you in with a Yorkshire pudding or a steak, and make sure she knows. I don’t want to be the one called out to investigate when you finally explode from an excess of good food.”

“What a way to go though,” Dafydd said. “I’d pick it over this poor devil’s end.”

Nathan didn’t think any way of dying was good, or preferable to another. They were all to be avoided, if possible. He didn’t say as much though, instead he got down to business.

“How’d he die? Was it drowning?” That was his guess, but he knew there was every chance he was wrong, and that even if he was right, there was a variety of ways in which Graham Banks could have drowned. The least likely of which was that he had gone into the lake voluntarily and simply kept his head under the water until his lungs filled up.

“That’s what it appears to be right now. The post-mortem will confirm that, or not, but I suspect Lee will find the lungs filled with water, and it will be from the lake. He’ll need a sample from the area of the lake where he was found to run a comparison and confirm that. At first look it appears to be suicide or a tragic accident,” Dafydd said. “There are no obvious injuries or insults to the body, nothing indicative of an assault anyway, just a few scrapes and contusions.”

“Let’s hope for his parents’ sake that it turns out to be an accident of some kind,” Nathan said. “That would certainly be my guess at the moment. So far there’s nothing to suggest a reason for suicide. By all accounts, he’s a good athlete and student, popular, and well-liked by teachers and students. At least that’s what his teachers told me. My next step is to speak to his fellow pupils, see what they have to say about him.”

He had sent Burke ahead to begin that process, but he was sure there were plenty of pupils still to be questioned, and that was only the tip of the work created by Graham Banks’ death.

Keen to get on with things, he left Constable Peters to watch over the body until the coroner arrived to collect it and made for the activity centre’s main building.

**

Nathan found Burke in the office belonging to the owner and manager of Open Spaces, where he was finishing an interview with one of the two dozen pupils from Branchester Secondary School. He slipped into the office and settled quietly in the corner until the interview was done.

“What did Dafydd have to say?” Burke asked once the pupil he had been questioning left.

“At first look it appears that Graham Banks drowned, either by accident or through suicide,” Nathan said. “It needs confirming through post-mortem, but he found no obvious signs of foul play, so with a bit of luck we can wrap this up once the P.M. is done. How’s it going with the interviews?” He didn’t expect Burke to have come up with anything that would help the investigation, because he didn’t believe there was any need for an investigation. It was possible the post-mortem would reveal something that would change that, but he doubted it.

If it turned out there was something more to Graham Banks’ death than suicide or an accident, he knew where he would be looking first — at Steven Irish.

“Pretty standard so far,” Burke said. “I’ve got Constable Rawlings taking statements from the teachers and staff, should be simple enough for him, nothing he can’t handle, while I deal with the pupils. I’ve spoken to five so far. Four didn’t see Graham Banks after breakfast, and they all agree that he seemed just the same as usual; they described him as smart, top or near the top of most classes, easy to get on with, but preferred his own company, a very good athlete and sportsperson, but not all that keen on sports. He was popular with the girls, but he wasn’t seeing anyone and didn’t date much. He seems like a mass of contradictions we’re going to need to figure out. I’ve held off on speaking to his supposed best friend. I figured you’d want to be here when I do.”

Nathan nodded. “We’ll speak to him in a minute.” Outside his family, Graham Banks’ best friend was the person most likely to be able to tell them whether he was suicidal. “What about the fifth person you spoke to, what did they have to say?”

“She said the same as the others, but there was something about her. I’m sure she’s not telling all she knows. At one point she started to say that she saw Banks heading somewhere, but she stopped herself and tried to make out that she was mistaken or thinking of yesterday. I think she’s afraid of something or someone.”

“I guess we’ll have to speak to her again,” Nathan said. “We need to speak to Mr Irish as well. Your girl’s not the only one who hasn’t been telling all they know. We also need to speak to Graham Banks’ parents before anyone else does.”

There had been no sign of a reporter from The Herald yet, but he knew it was just a matter of time before one showed up. More surprising than that absence was the absence of Louise Orchard, the freelance journalist and former employee of The Herald who was also one of Nathan’s closest friends.

**

Apprehensively, Miles Winston knocked on the door of the manager’s office and slipped inside when he heard the invitation to enter. He was none too keen on the thought of being questioned by a couple of detectives. There was no reason for him to be nervous, he had done nothing wrong, but he felt the same nervousness whenever he had to speak to anyone in authority. For the sake of his friend, he swallowed his anxiety.

“Miles Winston?” Nathan asked of the youth. He had taken the manager’s chair, while Burke had assumed a position in the corner of the office, from where he could both observe and take notes.

“Uh huh.” Miles nodded, trying not to look as nervous as he felt as he approached the desk and took the seat he was gestured to. “Mrs Collins said you want to speak to me.”

“That’s right. There’s nothing to worry about,” Nathan said reassuringly. “As I’m sure you’ve realised, we’re talking to everyone regarding Graham Banks, whom I believe you are good friends with.”

Miles nodded. “He’s my best mate,” he said before adding, “They’re saying he killed himself, is that…”

“True?” Nathan finished the question when the teen’s voice tailed off before he could get the final word out. “We don’t know at this time,” he admitted, following his belief that honesty was nearly always the best policy when dealing with the friends and family of a deceased person. “The preliminary examination of your friend indicates that he drowned, but we don’t know how. I’m very sorry, I realise this must be very difficult for you.”

Miles nodded again, a quick, singular dip of his head that was all he felt able to do without losing control of the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He had never known anyone who had died before, and he didn’t know how to deal with it. He felt as though he was going to burst, either into tears or into a million pieces, he wasn’t sure which. All he was sure of was that he wanted his friend back.

As he sat there, waiting for the inspector to speak again, to ask the questions he had, he clenched his fists and his jaw against the pain and the loss that made him feel as though there was a gaping hole in his chest where his heart had been.

“He was more than just my best friend,” Miles managed to unclench his jaw enough to say. “He was like my brother. He’d do anything for me, and I’d do anything for him.”

“So, you’d say you knew him better than anyone else we could speak to.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we told each other everything. And he’d never have killed himself. It’s not the kind of person he is, was.”

“What kind of person was he?” Nathan asked.

“Great. The best,” Miles said. “You couldn’t ask for a better friend. He was smart, did really well in every class, but he never acted like he was smarter than anyone else, even though he was. He was always happy to help me with my homework. I’m not stupid, but I don’t know how I’d get through Maths without his help. It’s not just me he helps either. He’s not much of a people person — he gets on with everyone, but he always says he feels more comfortable on his own or with one or two friends — but he’ll help just about anyone if they ask him. He’s not just smart, he’s really good at sports. Doesn’t matter what it is, he can play it well. He got scouted for the Hawks last year, they reckoned he could be in their first team by now. They offered him a good deal but he turned them down, said he didn’t want to play professional football. He only plays occasionally for fun. It’s the same with rugby and cricket. He could turn professional in just about any sport he wanted to, but he wanted college. His dad was fuming when he turned down the Hawks.”