Page 78 of The Chapel of Bones

‘I’ll see to it,’ Wesley said. He reached over and tapped a few keys, bringing up the police report on Carla Gadson’s death. He’d scanned it before, but now her death had taken on a new significance and he wanted to know more details.

On 12 February 2011, seventeen-year-old Carla Gadson was cleaning out the tiger’s enclosure. Normally the animal was kept safely in a barred-off section while cleaning was taking place, but on this occasion, it was able to wander in to where Carla was working. In addition, it hadn’t been fed, so the girl never stood a chance. According to the report, there was nobody around to render assistance. She didn’t return to the office, and by the time her father, Jacob Gadson, went to check where she was, it was too late. A note was later found in Carla’s bedroom, and the inquest brought in a verdict of suicide and criticised the safety regime at the zoo. It was closed down immediately and only reopened to the public after Mr Gadson senior died and his elder son, Dale, took the place over.

‘What do you think, Wes?’ said Gerry, who was peering over his shoulder. ‘What if it wasn’t suicide and the locking mechanism was tampered with deliberately?’

‘Surely the cage would have been examined. The inquest was told that the place was closed to the public at the time of the accident and the only people on the premises apart from Tina were Jacob Gadson, who was in the office dealing with paperwork, and Carla’s brother, described as a student.’

‘Dale?’

‘No. He was out of the country at the time, travelling around the States. This was Dale’s younger half-brother, Jon, who was a year older than Carla. He said he’d been studying that morning before he’d started helping out with the animals. At the time of the accident he’d been feeding the chimpanzees. He was wearing headphones, so he didn’t hear any screams.’

Gerry raised his eyebrows. ‘And the chimps couldn’t corroborate his evidence. Think he was lying?’

Wesley thought for a moment. ‘There was no hint of that in any of the reports, but . . . Strange that Dale was put in the lions’ cage like that. Could it be symbolic?’

‘He was away at the time of Carla’s death, so surely he couldn’t be blamed in any way.’

‘There’s more,’ said Wesley, bringing up some press reports. He read out a headline: ‘ “Girl mourning lost pet takes her own life by walking into tiger’s cage”. It more or less echoes the police report. The gate that was supposed to keep the tiger out of the main enclosure malfunctioned somehow. The article adds that it was Jon who was supposed to be cleaning out the tiger, but he was seeing to the chimps so Carla offered to do it.’

‘So if it was deliberate, Jon could have been the target? Can you find any details about the suicide note?’

Wesley returned to the official report. ‘It said she couldn’t go on living after the death of her beloved dog and that she intended to take her own life in a way nobody could ignore. It added that her stepmother, Tina, should take the blame, and not Rajah – that was the tiger’s name. The report adds that Jon admitted that he’d forgotten to feed the tiger earlier. Played the idle adolescent card.’

Gerry raised his eyebrows.

Wesley hesitated for a moment, thinking the unthinkable. ‘What if Carla and Jon planned it between them? If they wereclose and Carla really wanted to end her life, she might have persuaded him to help her.’

‘Surely he’d have tried to stop her,’ said Gerry, as though he found the idea distasteful.

‘He might not have thought like us,’ said Wesley. ‘He might have seen things differently and done what his sister asked.’

Before Gerry could say anything, there was a swift knock on the door and Trish burst into the office.

‘The university has sent over a revised list. This one includes students who dropped out early in their course. Do you want to see it?’

‘Might as well.’ Wesley thanked her and took the list, but before he had a chance to look at it, Trish spoke again.

‘Charles Lanson’s downstairs in the interview room, sir.’

‘Good,’ said Gerry as Wesley shoved the new list into the folder with the other papers. ‘We might get somewhere at last.’

44

Charles Lanson didn’t look like a murderer. But then in Wesley’s experience, few murderers did. Most, he’d found, turned out to be rather pathetic creatures once they reached the interview room. But that couldn’t be said of Lanson either. All in all, Wesley’s impression of him was that he was an ordinary middle-aged man, average height, average build, with a slightly receding hairline. He was dressed in a denim shirt and chinos and he looked perplexed.

‘I don’t really know how I can help you,’ he said with an anxious frown. ‘The officers who picked me up told me it was something to do with a murder inquiry.’

‘That’s right,’ said Wesley, who’d taken the seat opposite. ‘This is just a chat really. Ever called yourself Carlo Lanzani?’

‘No. Of course not. Why?’

‘Is the name Carlo Lanzani familiar?’

The man shook his head. ‘No. Why should it be? Look, I’m a history teacher, married with two kids and a mortgage. And as far as I know, I haven’t broken any laws – unless you count the parking ticket I got last year.’

Wesley looked at Gerry. They’d already checked out Lanson’s background and it seemed he was telling the truth – about that, at least. But the coincidence of the name needed more investigation.

‘We came across your name on a list of students who studied history at Morbay University when Dr Aleric Donnal was working there.’