Chapter 45 Chapter Forty-Four

Follow GPS (Global Positioning System) St. Augustus School outside the city.They drove on the highway for about 14 minutes, up over the ridge of a hill, down through a lush and fertile farmland, vast fields and beautiful houses lying quietly in the cradle of bushes. At the top of the hill a curtain of rain rose towards them, a yellow halo from the sunlight behind it.They could see the shower rushing across the valley, cars big and small driving straight in, into the rain, the bright raindrops hitting the roofs and hoods, splashing, washing the dust from them, and washing the pavement.Everything they saw thereafter seemed brighter.

The GPS guided them from the highway to winding country roads that twisted and turned according to the terrain, skirting the edge of a dense forest, round a hillock, brought them to a stone bridge, and then along a road. The winding road passed a simple farmhouse, and at the end a high red wall slowly emerged from the woods and gradually approached the roadside. The red wall is arc-shaped, and gradually converges to the gate, forming a wide circle. There are two arc-shaped gatehouses on both sides of the gate, and the black iron gate is wide open. "Damn it!" Harris swears as he turns into the driveway, and he's not one to swear.

Through the gate was a red gravel road, winding through a wood, then an immaculate lawn, and leading to a large, handsome house, not facing the gate, but leaning timidly to one side.The house had three floors, with a well-sized columned porch at the front, and it looked both grand and cozy.The house has been extended, but all the new buildings are grouped at the back so as not to spoil the view and overall perception of the house. The lawn in front of the house slopes down to the distance and meets a small arched bridge. The tennis court and playground are on the other side of the bridge. Harris stopped the car.With the gates closed and no other traffic, he looked around for a parking lot.Moreau saw a group of little boys coming across the bridge.They wore tracksuits and loose blue fleece jackets, and all of them were flushed, and some of their hair was soaked with sweat.The gym gear was too big for them the way they were teenagers: they trudged over obstacles, holding them high to their chins or shoulders.

"There must be a parking lot around here," Harris murmured, "unless there's another way to the playground." Now that the boys were closer to Moreau, she could see them chatting excitedly, hurrying so as not to be left behind.They took the path that slanted across the lawn to the entrance of a dressing room on the other side. "Kids are kids, aren't they?" Moreau said to himself.A boy who appeared to be younger ran from behind the car and hurried after the group of children.He passed Morrow and Harris, out of breath, with a pink face, swinging his little arms wildly to make himself go faster.Seeing that the last companion in front had entered the door, he chased after him, running even faster, kicking his feet high behind him, sending sand and stones flying.

The sole of the boy's sneakers has a pattern of three circles.Moreau jumped out of the car as fast as he could and shouted after him, "Child!" The boy turned and was still running, only slowed down and jogging backwards. "return." The boy didn't return, but stopped outside the locker room to talk to another boy at the door, who was scraping mud off the uppers of his shoes.The little boy yelled through the door, and out came a muscular woman in a red tracksuit with a whistle and a stopwatch around her neck. Morrow flashed his police badge. "We are from Strathclyde Police Station. Are these shoes part of their uniform?"

"yes." "Can we meet the principal, please?" The female teacher was a little surprised but didn't ask why, "I'll take you there." She led them through the locker room door. Harris and Morrow followed her down the corridor past the locker room.With downcast eyes, the teacher stopped at a door and yelled like a sergeant major, "McLennan!" A faint high voice answered: "Miss Louster?" "You are responsible for the next 10 minutes!" "OK." Miss Louster led them through the narrow staff corridor upstairs to the school secretary's office.From the beginning to the end, she showed great self-control. She never asked them the purpose of coming here, but just led the way dutifully until they were safely handed over to a lady in a brown top. Then she smiled slightly, Turned around and left.

The secretary asked them to wait in the corridor for a while.She closed the door, made a phone call, and a moment later led them down a long hallway with a black and white checkered floor to an office with a sign that read "Mr. Doyle --headmaster". The secretary knocked on the door, put his head in and said, the police are here. Wallis Doyle came to the door, shook their hands, introduced himself, checked their ID cards carefully, checked their photographs, and invited them into the office. The room smelled of air freshener and new carpet, and it was neatly furnished, with piles of papers and folders lining the window sills, but neatly stacked and everything seemed to be in its place.There’s even a waste recycling center in the corner, handmade from empty potato chip bins, with circular openings color-coded: one for newspapers, one for metal cans, one for glass.Every garbage collection box is very tidy, as if it has not been used, just put there for demonstration.

He was very polite, invited them to sit down in chairs, and asked if they would like some tea.They said no thanks.The secretary closed the door softly and left.He watched the secretary close the door, stood by the table, clasped his hands together, and said, "Welcome to St. Augustus," as if the parents of the students were sitting in front of him, "What can I do for you?" ?” "Yes, Mr. Doyle," said Morrow, "excuse me, is that Mr. Doyle, not Father Doyle?" "No, no," Morrow smiled at the thought, and he showed him the wedding ring on his hand. "It's Mr. Doyle."

"We want to ask Father Sholtham about being here on Tuesday." "About...?" He pricked up his ears. Harris looked at Morrow. "When did he get here, who did he talk to, when did he leave?" "Why do you ask these questions?" Moreau cleared his throat and said, "Because I want to know." They looked at each other, and Doyle's expression became serious.He let go of his folded hands, put them in his pockets, and leaned his butt against the desk, "Father Sholsam, who arrived at 12:35, came to the chapel and told the choir that the funds for the trip to Malawi had been settled." Already: A parent of a pupil agrees to make a donation equal to the total amount raised, with an additional £1,000 for every £1,000 they raise—”

"You're very sure about timing." "We expected him to arrive at 12 o'clock, but he was late, the bus was late." "Then what happened?" "We had some tea to celebrate and then he left, I saw him go out." "What do you think he looks like?" Doyle thought for a while, "It's okay, a little uncomfortable, I think it has something to do with his drinking, of course he must not be drunk at the time. He had a general anesthesia the first day, so he was not very comfortable, but he didn't smell alcohol Smell. I saw him again half an hour later, he was about to leave here to catch a bus, seemed fine."

"Wait," interjected Harris, "you saw him go out, and then half an hour later you saw him leave?" "Yes, go out from the blue room, on the first floor, and when I saw him again, he was on the road." Harris frowned, "Why is the time lagged by half an hour?" "There were very few buses. He must have waited in the hall downstairs for half an hour, and it was raining." "He did not accept the confession?" "No." "Who might he have spoken to while waiting there?" "No one." "Is it possible for no one to pass him?" "Ah, of course, very likely, it was exactly 1:15 in the afternoon, the free time before school, the children may come and go, but you may only encounter him if you specifically look for it, because the The place is not where the kids usually hang out. The playroom and dorms are on the other side of campus." Harris nodded. "You left him without seeing anyone with him or approaching him?" "No." "Confession..." Harris changed his sitting position, "It's not like when I was a child, now you can do confession anywhere..." Doyle said nothing, but smiled, confused, thinking the two policemen had come all the way to ask about the pastor. "But," Harris said, "if you can see the priest, it's still a confession, even if it's not in the confessional..." "Of course, in fact, this is a sacrament. As long as priests use the form of sacrament, they can accept confession anywhere. Nowadays, many priests like to be more casual, especially for relatively young people, don't they?" "It's not that stressful," Harris suggested. "Of course." Doyle looked at Harris suspiciously, and then at Morrow, not knowing what the two of them wanted to do. Morrow sat forward, "Monday afternoon, the day before, were any students missing from school?" He recalled, "No." "Is there any school going to Glasgow that day? A sporting event or a debate or something?" "No, can you tell me why you are here?" "Have you ever heard of Sarah Errol?" Doyle blinked, "No, there aren't any boys here with 'Errol' in their name. I could be wrong, now sometimes parents have different names, mothers...what the hell is it about? Sarah Who is Errol?" Morrow didn't like the principal, didn't like his attitude, didn't like the fact that he ran a private school, didn't like his office "as tidy as a minister's conscience", "Mr. Doyle, I don't think you are enough for me Honestly, you know who Sarah Errol is." He shrugged and said angrily, "Has she ever been to our school?" "Please don't ask your question until you have answered my question." Doyle couldn't tolerate different opinions, he sneered, sat down on the chair behind the table, and distanced himself from the two policemen. Morrow pointed to a recycling bin made out of potato chip boxes. "There were newspapers out there that covered the case in great detail, and I think you're just worried about the reputation of the school being answered publicly." Doyle looked guiltily, "I don't remember that case." "The uniforms that the boys wear," Harris said, "are they the same for every grade?" "yes." "Where did sneakers come from?" "What sneakers?" "Sneakers, those kids wear in gym class, black suede." "It's just normal sneakers, I don't know—" "Where did the kids get their school uniforms - was it a special store?" "No, it's from the Jenners." "In Edinburgh?" "Yes, but listen to me, every part of the school uniform can be mass-produced and sold to the public, only the school badge and evening dress are specially made for us. Anyone can buy those sneakers." "You're not actively helping us, Mr. Doyle." They sat in silence for a while, Morrow scanning the office, Harris staring at Doyle, who felt uncomfortable. He came up with a plan, stood up, "Okay, thanks again for coming, I'm going to check the class notes for the day to see who, if anyone, might have been to Glasgow, students are not allowed If you have a car, you can go to the local train station and check." "I know how to do my job." Moreau sat firmly in the chair. "I can check the records, but now I have to ask you to leave." Harris looked at Morrow, and Morrow looked at Doyle, making a deliberate decision: "I'll call you in three hours, and if I don't get the information I need or I don't think you're cooperative, I'll call you." Will wear uniform and lead a team back to search. Are you clear?" Doyle pointed to the door. Morrow stood up and Harris followed.Doyle tried to get around from behind the desk to open the door, but Morrow took the first step and opened the door himself, "We can find our way out by ourselves." "You're welcome." Doyle came out and locked the office door. In the quiet corridor, the sound of locking the door sounded very loud. He waved them to follow, silently leading them down a dark corridor, around the secretary's office, through a door into an oval central hall.The hall was cold and empty, with nothing but a gleaming mahogany grand piano and a white marble fireplace.Above is an oval balcony topped by a dome-shaped glass skylight. Doyle shook hands with them, avoiding each other's eyes, and directed them through a door to the top of a pair of short stairs that curve down one side of the wall to the building's main entrance .He stood on the balcony and watched them leave. Morrow closed the door behind him and heard it click shut.Their car was parked outside, and Harris took out the keys, "Shall we go back?" But Moreau stopped him. "Where's the chapel?" she said, looking back at the house in front of her. They walk away, look around, then walk 10 feet to the door of the locker room.The school chapel, just behind the changing rooms, was a tall golden barn-like building, receding slowly from the front, the red glass windows all tapered at the top, like the windows of a parish house.They stood there, looking at it, and Harris looked back to the main building's front entrance, looking for Doyle. "Let's go shopping," said Moreau. The annexes show a logical framework of time: the first and most dilapidated-looking buildings are immediately behind the main building, and are connected to the main building by a wooden corridor and a hall that seem It looked like it had been hastily erected during the war.A little farther away is the red brick building built in recent years. It looks like a classroom area. There is a game pool. There are large sliding windows on the metal frame. Folding in further behind is a white concrete building. , regular windows and uniform sky blue curtains give it a cheap hotel feel. Behind that building is the impressive new building, a series of corrugated steel rectangular buildings, like a container, two stories high, each floor is sprayed with different depths of white paint, a gray grid The stairs spiral up and around the building.Each unit has walls of windows, some with frosted glass, for privacy: but they can see that the lowest unit has a common room for teachers and students, five boys lounging in armchairs against the wall. There is a plasma TV and a dart board hanging from it.The upper, lower, left, and right rooms are classrooms, filled with colorful recycled plastic tables and chairs, relaxed and lively.On the second floor there was a boy sitting in a chair by the window, looking down at them and pointing. A door of the building the boy was in opened and a tall, thin man stepped out onto the upper hallway and called down, "Can I help you?" Harris responded: "Strathclyde Police Station," he showed his badge, "we've just seen Mr Doyle, just looking around." The teacher came back to the classroom, and they could see through the glass that he was telling the boys something, and then the children all stared out the window, and the boys at the back of the room ran to the window. Morrow and Harris stepped back to the side of the common room. They saw the notification there.A sign bolted to the side wall says: The buildings are constructed entirely from recycled materials, are zero-pollution, carbon-neutral, solar-powered, and were built with the kind donation of Mr. Lars Anderson. Morrow and Harris hurried around the front, past their car, and found the front door locked.Moreau tried to ring the doorbell, but could not hear the bell from inside. "The locker room," Harris said, heading back the way they had come. "We'll get lost," said Morrow, turning toward Harris, and that's when she saw him.A tall, about sixteen-year-old boy ran out from around the corner of the annexe, turning his head as if eagerly looking for someone.He stopped and looked at them.He was thin, with a short nose, round baby eyes, and a bald head with sun-tanned skin.Morrow had seen him in the classroom, with the gossip teacher.He ran to the window specifically to see them. "Hey, boy," said Moreau, "how do we get back in there again? We need to see Mr. Doyle." "You don't need to see Doyle," the boy gasped, "you came to see me."