Dying Truth

by Angela Marsons

Kim had the feeling that Saffie could have been talking about anyone.

  ‘Did you know that your sister was a self-harmer?’

  This time, genuine surprise shaped her face, telling Kim the shock at the poetry admission had been false. She caught the flash of annoyance that followed the shock.

  ‘She cut herself,’ Kim added.

  ‘I probably shouldn’t be surprised,’ she said.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Sometimes she did like to grab all the attention,’ Saffie said.

  Except she hadn’t done it anywhere that someone could see, Kim thought to herself, so she wasn’t grabbing anyone’s attention, or even trying to.

  ‘Did she ever talk to you about it?’

  ‘No, Inspector, she didn’t,’ Saffie said impatiently.

  ‘But you’re her—’

  ‘Officer, I think you should know that my sister didn’t like me very much.’

  Kim found herself taken aback by the frank admission.

  ‘Any particular reason?’ she asked.

  ‘I got bored of asking, to be honest with you. Just like my parents, I couldn’t reach her either.’

  So, had everyone just given up? Kim wondered. Had no one tried to find a way to reach her?

  ‘I’ve asked about friends and you say she had very few—’

  ‘No, I said she had none,’ Saffie clarified.

  ‘So, what about enemies?’ Kim asked.

  ‘I’m not sure why you’re asking that, but I would assume not. Just as she failed to interact positively I’m reasonably sure she failed to interact negatively.’

  Kim sat back in her chair. ‘I’m starting to get a picture here of a young teenage girl largely ignored by everyone to the point of invisibility.’

  Kim thought about the pile of ironing in her spare room at home. She had ignored it for so long she didn’t even see it any more.

  ‘If that’s how it was then that’s exactly how she wanted it,’ Saffie answered, glancing at her watch.

  Kim really had little else to ask her at this point.

  ‘Okay, Saffie, thank you for your time, and if we need anything further we’ll come and find you.’

  ‘I’ll be here,’ she answered.

  Kim tipped her head. ‘You don’t plan on going home to spend time with your parents?’

  ‘No, Inspector. They’ll be fine. They have each other.’

  Again, there was no emotion. Just statement of fact.

  Saffie nodded at them both and then left the room.

  Kim heard voices on the other side of the door before Principal Thorpe’s head appeared. He dangled his set of keys.

  ‘Are you finished for the evening, only we lock this room…’

  ‘Of course,’ Kim said, standing. It was almost six.

  ‘Strange, don’t you think, that she hasn’t chosen to go home at a time like this, Principal Thorpe?’

  He smiled with sadness and a hint of pride.

  ‘We tried to insist but she wouldn’t hear of it. She didn’t want to let us down.’

  Kim was confused. ‘How would going home and grieving for her sister in any way be letting you or the school down?’

  ‘Saturday night, Inspector, is our annual gala night, and Saffron Winters is the star of the show.’

  Twenty

  Despite having little to report Kim found herself knocking on Woody’s door at ten minutes to seven, as instructed.

  The day had been frustrating and had not proven as fruitful as she’d hoped. And now she had to admit that she’d been wrong to ask for the murder announcement to be delayed. It had earned her nothing.

  ‘Sir, I don’t have a great deal to tell you,’ she said, taking the seat he pointed to.

  He nodded for her to continue.

  ‘We’ve spoken to Sadie’s friends, teachers, her sister and the picture that’s emerging is of a lonely, emotional young girl who appeared to have retreated from everyone around her. She was not a mean kid and had no issues with anyone.’

  ‘Well, clearly she did judging by those injuries,’ he said, nodding towards his computer screen. Obviously he had studied the post-mortem report.

  ‘Nothing that stands out,’ she clarified.

  ‘No suspects at all?’ he asked, frowning.

  A picture of Saffie floated into her head but she shook it away. ‘No, sir.’

  ‘You hesitated,’ he said, narrowing his gaze.

  ‘Her sister is a bit strange is all. They didn’t get on, which is nothing unusual. I’d be stretching to call her a person of interest.’

  ‘So, what next?’ he asked, picking up his pen and rolling it between his fingers.

  ‘We’ll regroup in the morning before the press conference and then I’ll announce Sadie’s death as murder,’ she said.

  Woody shook his head. ‘No, you won’t.’

  She made no effort to hide her surprise. Normally Woody pushed her to deal more with the press.

  ‘Won’t what?’ she queried. ‘Announce it as murder or take the press conference.’

  ‘Neither,’ he answered.

  ‘Sir, we need to announce it. We’ve found no clear motive for the murder of Sadie Winters. No forensics to try and match. How do we know other kids are not at risk? I appreciate you giving me the day to find out, but we really now have to be fair to the parents who may want to remove their children from the school.’

  ‘Murder is not to be mentioned by us, do you understand, Stone?’

  ‘No, sir, I don’t,’ she replied. ‘Please explain why we are going to risk the lives of more children by not being honest about Sadie’s death.’

  ‘I will not explain my decisions to you,’ he roared.

  ‘But are they yours?’ she asked, unable to stop the words shooting out of her mouth.

  He stared at her for a long minute. ‘That’ll be all, Stone,’ he said, shortly.

  ‘Sir, I really must protest. We cannot put more children—’

  ‘I said, that’ll be all. Now get out.’

  She headed for the door and even though she knew she had already said too much she turned back for one last attempt to voice her argument.

  But her boss had already picked up the phone.

  Twenty-One

  The cards filed into the candle room one by one, their shoes shuffling along the bare concrete. Casual dress but no trainers. Always shoes.

  The dark space beneath the bell tower had been the meeting room of the Spades since 1949 and now had a single light bulb in the centre of the fifteen foot square space. It wasn’t switched on. Instead the room was lit by a tall candelabra in each corner, casting willowy shadows around the room. It was tradition.

  The Joker waited until all the cards stood behind their chairs at the round table, the King to his right and the Jack to his left. His own chair stood before the framed black Spade sewn together from pieces of the graduation gowns of the first eleven cards back in the early fifties.

  He sat, and the others followed.

  This was an unscheduled late-night meeting. There was an empty chair. One card was missing and that was the reason they were there.

  But that would wait for a short while.

  ‘You all know that Sadie Winters is dead?’ asked the Joker, gravely.

  He watched as they all nodded in turn. As was customary, a card did not speak unless spoken to directly.

  ‘Is there anyone here who knows anything about the incident?’ he asked, looking around the circle.

  Heads shook in the negative.

  The Joker held the gaze of the King for a second longer. A couple of cards had clashed with Sadie Winters, but the King had been closer than most.

  The King shook his head.

  ‘Spades don’t take the law into their own hands,’ said the Joker, to ensure they all understood. ‘Punishments are discussed and agreed,’ he said, nodding towards the empty chair.

  ‘There is one amongst us that does not adhere to the rules.’

  They all nodded and
understood the reason for the empty chair.

  Six had not been invited.

  ‘Which one of you explained the rules?’

  Every head turned towards Seven.

  ‘And did you tell him about Lewis Millward?’ the Joker asked.

  Seven nodded.

  ‘Speak,’ he instructed. It had been a direct question.

  ‘Yes,’ Seven answered.

  Lewis Millward’s experience served as a cautionary tale that had been handed down for the last twelve years. Lewis had been fourteen years old when offered the Ace of Spades at roughly the same time one of his buddies had been invited into the Clubs.

  Lewis had felt he could choose which rules he would follow and which rules he would not and continued to spend time with his former friend. Despite warnings from the Joker and all other cards he had continued to flout the rules.

  One night he had been removed from his bed and taken to the shower block and placed beneath a stream of freezing cold water to recite the rules until he fully understood them. Only once his lips had begun turning blue was he allowed to get out and dry off.

  Finally, he got it.

  Spades and Clubs didn’t mix.

  The importance of the rules was made clear to every card from the moment they were invited to join.

  ‘Recite them to me, Seven,’ the Joker instructed.

  Seven shifted uncomfortably. His humiliation would ensure that he drummed the rules into the next new recruit.

  The Joker said the words in his head as Seven recited them.

  ‘Respect the suit and its cards beyond all others.

  Keep the secrets of the suit and all its cards.

  Once a Spade, always a Spade.

  Always be ready to help a fellow card.

  Never aid a Club suit card.’

  And that was the one they would discuss today.

  ‘Six helped a Club with his chemistry homework.’

  A low murmur travelled around the table.

  As was tradition, the person who had explained the rules was responsible for the punishment.

  The responsible card raised his head. He understood.

  ‘Okay, Seven, you know what you have to do.’

  Twenty-Two

  ‘So, who’s up first?’ Kim asked, stepping into the squad room.

  ‘I’ll start, boss,’ Stacey said. ‘Went through the witness statements as you asked.’ She shook her head. ‘Cor find anyone who actually saw her on the roof.’

  Kim frowned. How the hell was that even possible?

  ‘Did you track all the statements?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, boss,’ Stacey said standing up and moving over to the spare desk.

  The statements had been laid out in vertical lines overlapping each other, like playing cards in the game of patience.

  ‘First and longest line are the people who state who actually told them either by phone or in person. The second line are the ones that heard about it from shouting in the hallway, and the third line are people who cor remember how they found out.’

  ‘Damn it,’ Kim said, unable to comprehend that they could not track it to the original source. She was sure that had been the work of the murderer.

  ‘Anything else?’ she asked.

  ‘Just started getting some background on the adults. Sadie’s parents are obviously well-heeled.’

  ‘Two girls at a private school for thirty-five grand a year. I’d have thought so,’ Dawson observed.

  The detective constable slid back into her seat and tapped a few keys.

  ‘Laurence Winters was born into the illustrious Winters family that specialise in manufacturing medical equipment. There’s been a Winters child at Heathcrest since Laurence’s great-grandfather was sent there during the War.

  ‘And Hannah Winters?’

  ‘A bit more colourful. Hannah Winters descends from the Sheldon line, a blue blood family who can be traced back to the 1400s. Lots of titles but not a pot to piss in. Made their money from horse breeding and racing, until Hannah’s grandfather lost a coveted race and in a fit of madness shot every horse and then himself.

  ‘Left with crippling debts, Hannah’s father sold off every property they owned and managed to keep enough back for Hannah to go to Heathcrest with the single directive of—’

  ‘Finding a rich husband,’ Kim finished.

  And she’d certainly done that, she thought.

  ‘Anything else?’ Kim asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ Stacey said with a look of glee. ‘But give me chance. There’s some real saucy stuff goes on behind these rich and powerful doors.’

  Kim raised one eyebrow at her colleague.

  She wondered idly if Stacey felt she’d been backtracked slightly. On their last major case, she’d been paired up with Dawson and both had done an outstanding job of uncovering a network of slave labour. Kim been allowed additional manpower and had seconded Austin Penn, from Travis’s team; but she knew that Woody wouldn’t sanction that again, and anyway, Kim needed someone with Stacey’s data skills on this one.

  From the look on her face, Kim was reassured that Stacey wasn’t taking it too badly at all.

  ‘Kev, anything from Sadie’s friends?’

  ‘Not a lot. The girl doesn’t seem to have had many friends, to be honest. She certainly was a loner.’

  ‘What did you turn up from her room?’ Kim asked.

  He shook his head. ‘A big fat nothing, boss. No writings, no doodles, no backpack; in fact, nothing personal at all. The drawers were pretty much emptied.’

  ‘Someone got there first?’ she asked.

  ‘I’d say so. Something there that someone didn’t want us to find.’

  ‘Hmm…’ Kim said thoughtfully, wondering who would want to hide Sadie’s personal effects from them.

  ‘Any boyfriend?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing so far. Seems like a decent enough kid but not what you’d call outgoing.’

  ‘Okay, Kev. Doesn’t seem like we’re going to find out much more there, so if you move over to—’

  ‘Boss, do you mind if I keep at it for a bit? There’re just a couple of things I want to tie up. I heard something about secret societies at Heathcrest yesterday. Packs of cards or something. Not sure exactly what that means but it might be connected.’

  It was on the tip of Kim’s tongue to refuse his request and put him on data mining and background checking with Stacey, but if she trusted anything about Dawson it was his instinct.

  ‘Okay, one more day and if you get nothing…’

  ‘Got it, boss,’ he said.

  ‘Okay, so we found out pretty much the same as Kev about Sadie’s social interaction or lack of it. We also discovered from Keats that Sadie had a history of self-harming, and that her older sister Saffie knew nothing about it.’

  ‘Sister didn’t seem to know anything about anything to do with her younger sister,’ Bryant offered.

  ‘Not really unusual though, is it?’ Dawson asked. ‘Looks like they were complete opposites, and who wants their awkward younger sister around them when they’re sixteen years old?’

  Kim agreed that he had a point, but it had seemed as though they were speaking to Saffie about a complete stranger.

  ‘Any reason why she hasn’t gone home?’ Stacey asked.

  ‘Practising for a gala at the end of the week. Star of the show with a piano solo.’

  ‘Stiff upper lip and all that,’ Stacey said.

  Something like that, Kim thought as she glanced around the room and chose her first victim. She had twenty minutes until Woody’s press conference.

  ‘Okay, Dawson, you’re up. Step into my office,’ she said, nodding towards the bowl.

  He looked at his two colleagues for a clue.

  ‘Who did I piss off this time?’ he asked.

  ‘Me, if you don’t get moving,’ she said, standing in the doorway.

  He stepped in and she closed the door behind him.

  Twenty-Three

  ‘Jesus,
Dawson, lighten up,’ Kim said, placing his appraisal form between the two of them.

  Seeing what it was they were about to discuss seemed to do little to reduce his trepidation.

  She had quickly glanced over it once she’d found it underneath a bike magazine in her second drawer down.

  ‘So, I see you’ve marked yourself five out of five on ability, attendance, work quality and… just about every subject, really?’ she said, perusing the whole form.

  He grinned. ‘Gotta aim high, boss,’ he said.

  She took a moment to read through the criteria in detail.

  ‘Yeah, nice try but no banana, Kev. You’re not gonna get a five for leadership, meeting deadlines or teamwork, and you can rethink the organisational skills score. Getting Stacey to do it for you doesn’t count.’

  She crossed out the fives and entered a score of four in each box. She turned the page over and back again as though looking for something.

  ‘Hmmm… not sure where to put this,’ she said, frowning.

  ‘What’s that, boss?’

  ‘Your refusal to listen to my instruction regarding press appeals. I’m looking for the appropriate box.’

  He raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘It was one time, boss, and I learned from it.’

  Oh yes, he’d learned from it all right. When he’d watched the rest of the team, herself included, stay late into the night ringing back every pointless lead they’d received after she’d told him that was exactly what she knew would happen.

  ‘You took the bullet on that one, eh, boss?’ he acknowledged.

  Yes, she had told Woody that it was her that had made the press appeal instead of letting on that Dawson had been tricked by a junior reporter. Which she was sure would come up in her next appraisal. Woody hadn’t bought it for a minute.

  ‘Which brings us on to areas of improvement,’ she said. ‘And I see you’ve left that box blank.’

  ‘I think I’m doing good, boss,’ he said, refusing to give an inch.

  Kim opened her hands expressively. ‘Well, how about we swap seats then and you—’

  ‘I ain’t doing that good,’ he said, fighting a smile.