‘Glad to hear it.’
‘Is there anything else?’
Banks glanced at Gerry. ‘We’re trying to get a general sense of what Chris Myers is like,’ she said. ‘What kind of boy he is. We were thinking this would be a good place to start.’
Bowen’s tone changed when he spoke to Gerry, much as his facial expression did when he looked at her. Definitely something there, thought Banks.
‘On the whole I’d say he’s pretty normal,’ Bowen said.
‘Good at sports?’
‘Reasonably. He’s not much of a rugby player, but then, neither was I. If I had to pick his sport, I’d opt for tennis. Not Wimbledon quality, mind you, but definitely passable.’
‘And academically?’
‘He’s bright. Could apply himself more, but that’s hard when you’re eighteen and your hormones are raging. Terrible time in life to be doing exams, I’d have thought.’
Gerry laughed. ‘At least there are no girls here to distract him.’
‘Yes,’ said Bowen. ‘I thought that was rather a pity when I first came, but I suppose I’ve got used to it by now. I’m still not sure it’s entirely healthy, but I doubt it does any lasting harm. After all, Myers is a day boy, so what he gets up to when he goes home is out of our control. No doubt there are parties and girls.’
‘Does he have a girlfriend?’ Banks asked.
‘I have no idea about his private life,’ said Bowen. ‘I should imagine he’s much like any other young lad in that respect.’
‘Is he gay?’
‘Not to my knowledge. But you’d really have to ask him that question.’
‘Is he headed for Oxford?’ Gerry asked, picking up the questioning again.
‘It depends. He has an offer, but it’s contingent on his getting three A*s. He’ll have to buck his ideas up a bit for that result, and he doesn’t have much time left.’
‘So all in all, you’d say Chris Myers was a well-balanced boy, pretty typical for his age, maybe brighter than most, and with a promising future ahead of him?’
‘That would just about cover it,’ said Bowen.
‘You sound a little hesitant there,’ said Banks. ‘After all, you’ve just given the lad a glowing reference.’
‘Actually, those were your words.’
‘But you agreed,’ Banks said.
‘Up to a point. I mean, nobody’s perfect. Chris can be disobedient. He sometimes talks back to teachers, plays truant on occasion and, well, there was that drugs incident, even if it did take place out of school.’
‘What about bullying?’ Banks asked.
‘It happens. I won’t deny it. But we try and nip it in the bud if we can.’
‘Myers?’
Bowen shook his head. ‘No. Chris is neither a bully nor the victim of bullying.’
‘What about dishonesty? Plagiarism, cheating in exams, that sort of thing. What do you think of him morally?’
‘That’s a lot of questions,’ said Bowen. ‘As far as I know, he’s neither a cheat nor a plagiarist. My staff and I are quite aware that students can purchase essays over the Internet, for example, so we’re always on the lookout for anything that seems inauthentic. But I think you would be aware of it yourself, if you were a teacher. It’s usually not difficult to tell if the work a student presents isn’t his own. Chris has a perfectly fluent, though somewhat pedestrian, writing style. His spelling is usually correct — though that may well be due to a good spellcheck programme — and he is not without original ideas. I’m not making out he’s a genius or anything, but he has a good mind when he decides to use it.’ Bowen smiled to himself. ‘You might say that laziness is one of his less admirable attributes. But he usually gets the work done and does it well. Otherwise, there would be no possibility of his taking a place at Oxford.’ He put his hands palms down on the desk and half stood. ‘And there,’ he announced, ‘I have to leave things. I have a class in fifteen minutes, and it wouldn’t do for the head to be late.’
Banks and Gerry stood and thanked him for his time. At the door, Gerry paused. ‘I got the impression when you endorsed the superintendent’s summary of Christopher’s character, that you weren’t entirely comfortable with it. Was there something he omitted? Something he got wrong?’
‘You’re very perceptive, DC Masterson,’ Bowen said, then to Banks, ‘You’d better watch her. She’ll go far.’
‘Oh, I know,’ said Banks. ‘Private school education. Cambridge. Chief constable next stop. I have no doubts.’
Bowen looked at Gerry again and raised an eyebrow. ‘Indeed. I’m even more impressed.’
Gerry blushed and struggled for composure. ‘Is there anything to it?’ she asked. ‘Did we miss something?’
Bowen sat down again, rather heavily this time. ‘I’m probably speaking out of turn here,’ he said, ‘though I’m fully aware there’s no binding confidentiality agreement between teachers and students. It’s not so much Chris who worries me, as much as the company he keeps.’
‘Anyone in particular?’ asked Banks.
‘Jason Bartlett. They’re very close friends. Chris gives him a lift to and from school, as Jason doesn’t own a car, and the public transport situation is horrendous. And Jason, of course, is nowhere near as bright as Christopher.’
‘What’s the problem?’ Banks asked.
‘Nothing specific. Just that I think Jason is becoming a bad influence. I know the boy has had problems at home. His sister... Terrible business. And that has really affected his exam prospects. There’s another slightly worrying aspect to his development, too. You know we have a school magazine? No? Well, we do. Not so long ago Jason Bartlett submitted an article for publication. It was rejected, and I was urged to read a copy by the editor. To put it in a nutshell, it was a scurrilous, racist diatribe. Against foreigners in general, but mostly against the more visible groups. Claiming they’re no better than animals and are all sexual predators. Giving examples like Rochdale and Rotherham. You may or may not know it, but we have a rather large percentage of foreign students here at St Botolph’s, and such an article would have been most offensive or upsetting had they seen it.’
‘I see,’ said Banks. ‘Have there been any incidents involving Bartlett and his views? Has he been involved in any propagation of hate literature, for example?’
‘Not that I know of,’ said Bowen. ‘And I think I would know.’
‘Any specific targets? Names?’
‘No. The article was the first I knew of it, and it was general in scope. You could see the influence of certain far-right views. English Defence League, UKIP, Yaxley-Lennon, that sort of thing. Second-hand ideas. Not something we encourage around here, as you might imagine. It was also unexpected. According to his form master and other teachers, he’s very quiet in class.’
‘Has Myers ever echoed any of these ideas?’
‘No. Not as far as I know. Not in public, at any rate.’
‘Can I see a copy of the article?’
‘You can take it with you,’ said Bowen, going over to his filing cabinet and rummaging around until he found what he was looking for. He handed it to Banks.
Banks nodded. ‘Thank you, Mr Bowen. You’ve been most helpful. We’ll let you get to your class now.’
On the way back to the car, Gerry said, ‘You didn’t have to tell him that, guv. About me going to a private school. And Cambridge.’
‘You shouldn’t be afraid to blow your own trumpet, Gerry. After all, it’ll be your main occupation should you ever rise to the heady rank of chief constable. Besides, I think you made an impression there. Much longer and I guarantee the good headmaster would have asked for your telephone number.’
Gerry didn’t do or say anything, but Banks could tell she wanted to nudge him hard with her elbow.