‘We can’t prove she stole from the school office, any more than we can prove she smashed up the girls’ toilets – but we know she did both things. She could poison any class, and whenever a teacher had a nervous breakdown – and there’ve been a few of those – she took it as a personal triumph.’
‘In other words, despite what you said earlier, it’s a relief that she’s dead,’ Meadows said.
‘It’s a relief that she’ll no longer have such a disruptive influence on this school,’ the headmaster replied.
‘Was she in school yesterday?’ Meadows asked.
The headmaster consulted the register, which was lying on the desk. ‘She was here yesterday morning – though only because her social worker personally frogmarched her in – but she was missing at afternoon registration. So I would imagine that –’ he scanned the columns of the register – ‘yes, Polly Johnson and Lillian Beakes were absent, too.’
‘They would be her gang,’ Meadows said.
‘They would be her gang,’ the headmaster confirmed.
‘And are they in school today?’
The headmaster scanned more of the register’s columns. ‘Yes, by some miracle, they are.’
It wasn’t a miracle at all, Meadows thought. When you’re upset, there’s some comfort to be found in being in familiar places, even if they happen to be places you hate.
‘I’d like to see both girls,’ she said. ‘When would it be convenient to speak to them?’
‘Whenever you like,’ the headmaster said. ‘If you want to talk to them, it’s no problem at all. But getting them to talk back to you – well, that’s a different matter entirely.’
EIGHTEEN
The deputy headmaster’s name was Hughes, and an aura of disillusioned idealism clung to him like a thick and uncomfortable overcoat. When he arrived at the conference room, he was accompanied by two girls.
‘They look so much like Maggie Hudson that they could be her sisters,’ Crane thought.
But after a few seconds reflection, he realized that his first impression had been wrong, and that the girls had very little in common with Maggie in terms of either figure or bone structure. One of them – Polly Johnson – had quite delicate features, and could have been rather pretty if she’d made the effort. The other – Lillian Beakes – had a quirky face which, framed differently, could at least have been charming. But these two girls didn’t want to look either pretty or charming. With their rats-tail hair and permanent scowls, they wanted to look like Maggie, their leader.
‘Will the parents be attending this interview?’ Kate Meadows asked the deputy head.
Hughes shook his head. ‘We haven’t seen either set of parents since the girls were enrolled in this school. That’s right, isn’t it, Lil and Polly?’
‘They got better things to do with their time,’ replied Lillian Beakes, not even looking at him.
And Polly Johnson said nothing at all.
‘Well, take a seat, girls,’ Meadows said, in a jolly girl-guide leader sort of way. She waited until the girls had plopped themselves reluctantly into the seats opposite her, then turned to the deputy head, and gave him what Crane could only describe as an alluring smile. ‘I don’t really think it’s necessary for you to stay, Mr Hughes,’ she continued.
‘Aren’t I supposed to?’ the deputy asked.
‘Possibly – in theory,’ Meadows said, still smiling. ‘But a man like you must have many more important things to do – and if you don’t tell anybody you weren’t here, then I most certainly won’t.’
‘I’m not sure . . .’ Hughes began.
‘Of course, I’d be very disappointed if I didn’t get the chance to talk to you later,’ Meadows interrupted him. ‘I’m certain there’s a great deal I could learn from you. Do you think it might be possible for us to meet over a coffee – or perhaps a quick half in the nearest pub?’
Hughes pretended to be considering it. ‘Yes, I think I can find the time for that,’ he said finally.
‘Wonderful!’ Meadows gushed. ‘Then I’ll come and find you as soon as I’ve finished talking to Lil and Polly.’
‘I don’t want you giving the sergeant any trouble,’ Hughes warned the two girls. Then, in the face of their blank indifference, he stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind him.
‘When you’ve had a drink with him, are you going to shag him?’ asked Lil challengingly.
‘I might,’ Meadows said airily. ‘It depends how I feel at the time.’ She turned to Crane. ‘Why don’t you take yourself off as well, Jack?’
‘I really don’t think that would be a good idea,’ Crane said firmly.
‘No, perhaps not,’ Meadows agreed, ‘but the least you can do is to go over into the corner, where you won’t be in the way.’
The two girls were looking questioningly at each other, and were clearly wondering what made this strange bobby tick.
‘Off you go then,’ Meadows said, and when Crane had stood up, she reached into her handbag and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Fancy a gasper, girls?’
The girls exchanged another look, as if they suspected a trick, then Lil – who was clearly the bolder of the two – reached out for a cigarette, and Polly quickly followed.
Meadows produced a lighter and lit up the cigarettes. She didn’t take a cigarette for herself, because she didn’t smoke.
From the corner of the room, Crane shook his head in either admiration or disgust – and he still wasn’t sure which.
Meadows pushed her chair back, and put her feet on the table. ‘I’m sorry your mate got murdered,’ she said.
Lil sniffed slightly, and Polly said, ‘She was one of the best.’
‘It’s my job to catch her killer,’ Meadows said. ‘Will you help me?’
The two girls nodded.
‘So the first thing I want to know is where you all were yesterday afternoon,’ Meadows continued.
‘We were—’ Polly began.
‘We were round and about,’ Lil interrupted her.
‘Did you see anybody paying any special attention to you when you were “round and about”?’ Meadows asked.
‘Not particularly,’ Lil said.
‘No more than usual,’ Polly added.
‘No more than usual,’ Crane repeated silently from his corner.
He imagined that three girls like them – “out and about” when they should have been in school – would attract attention and probably concern wherever they went, and that by the time he and Meadows got back to police headquarters, there would be reports of several sightings waiting on Meadows’ desk.
‘Did Maggie have any enemies?’ Meadows asked.
‘Lots of them – everybody hates us,’ Lil said fiercely.
‘Except the lads,’ said Polly, with a snigger.
‘They only like us as long as we’re giving them what they want,’ Lil said, slapping her down.
‘What I meant was, did anybody hate Maggie enough to want to kill her?’ Meadows said.
Both girls looked blank, then Lil said, ‘Nobody would risk going to prison just to kill one of us – not even our dads.’
‘OK, let’s go back to where you were yesterday afternoon,’ Meadows suggested. She raised her hand, as if to hold back the flood of information she was expecting. ‘No, don’t tell me – let me guess.’ She pressed the fingers of her free hand to her brow. ‘Now where would three young girls, who were out for a good time, decide to go? My best guess would be the new shopping precinct out on the Preston Road.’
‘No, not there,’ Lil said quickly. ‘We don’t like it there.’
‘Oh well, good try,’ Meadows said, philosophically. ‘Let’s have another shot at it, shall we? You went to the Corporation Park.’
Polly shuddered. ‘No, not there, neither.’
‘Then you must have bought a couple of bottles of cheap cider – don’t worry, I know all about that, and I’m not bothered – and taken it down to the river.’
‘That
’s right,’ Lil agreed. ‘We bought some cider and took it down to the river.’
‘Well, there we are then,’ Meadows said, taking her feet off the table, and standing up. ‘That’s about it, girls. Thanks very much.’
‘You mean we can go?’ Polly asked.
‘I mean you can go,’ Meadows confirmed.
Seeming hardly able to believe they’d got off so lightly, the two girls stood up and headed for the door.
Meadows waited until Lil’s hand was on the handle, then said, ‘Hang on a minute!’
The girls turned again, the expressions on their faces saying they had always known it was a trap.
Meadows smiled at them, and held out the waste paper basket.
‘I know you don’t really give a toss what your teachers think, but if I was you, I still wouldn’t step out into the school corridor with a burning cigarette in my hand,’ she said.
The two girls returned the smile, and stubbed out their cigarettes on the inside of the basket.
‘I wish my mum was like you,’ Lil said.
‘No, you don’t,’ Meadows said seriously. ‘Believe me, you really wouldn’t want a mother like me.’
‘You couldn’t be any worse than the one I’ve got,’ Lil replied, with a tinge of sadness in her voice.
Crane waited until the girls had closed the door behind them, then said, ‘You could get in trouble for giving ciggies to kids.’
‘I could get into trouble for most of things I do,’ Meadows said. ‘You should have realized that by now. But I thought that if I got them relaxed, they might tell me what they knew.’
‘And do you think they did?’
‘They told me as much as they knew – which was practically nothing – but at least we’ve confirmed that they don’t think there was anything personal behind the murder.’
‘They’d know, would they?’ Crane asked sceptically.
‘Of course they’d know,’ Meadows said. ‘They’re feral. They’ve trained themselves to spot danger. That’s why they lied about where they were yesterday afternoon.’
‘So you don’t think they were down by the river after all?’
‘Of course they weren’t by the river. And I wasn’t really asking them if they had been.’
‘Then what were you asking them?’
‘I was trying to find out if they were with Maggie when she drank the cheap cider that your old-new girlfriend found traces of her stomach. And it seems as if they were.’
‘So where did they spend yesterday afternoon?’
‘In the Preston Road Shopping Precinct, of course.’
‘They said they didn’t like the shopping precinct.’
‘Yes, they did – and that was what tipped me off to the fact that they must have been there.’
‘How can you be so sure of that?’
‘Because of all the lies that they could have told, that was the real mother-lode.’
‘I’m not following you,’ Crane admitted.
‘There’s not a teenage girl in the world – whatever her background – who doesn’t like a shopping centre.’
‘Then why didn’t they say that’s where they were?’
‘Probably because while they were there, they did something wrong, and they don’t want me to find out about it.’
‘So even though they knew that by lying about it they’d be sending us off on a false trail, they decided to do it anyway,’ Crane said.
‘Decided!’ Meadows repeated, with sudden passion. ‘Girls like them don’t decide anything. They react! They think the world’s a hostile place – and for them, as they are, it is – and that their survival depends not on long-term strategies but on short-term tactics.’
‘You seem to know a lot about them,’ Crane said, knocked off kilter by the unexpected outburst.
‘I was them!’ Meadows told him.
‘How could you have been? You’re from a different class entirely.’
‘Misery can be very democratic,’ Meadows said. She took a deep breath. ‘Our work here is done,’ she continued, sounding much more like the Meadows who Crane thought that he knew. ‘Now let’s see just what we can unearth at the shopping precinct.’
‘You’re not going to see the deputy head?’
‘No.’
‘He’ll be very disappointed.’
‘In case you didn’t pick up on the fact earlier, his life has been full of disappointments, so one more won’t make much difference. Besides, my priority at the moment is saving the boss.’
It was as Jo Baxter was pouring the tonic into her glass that she noticed how much her hand was shaking.
And that was bad, she told herself.
No, it was worse than bad – it was bloody tragic!
She looked up at the clock.
It was only half-past twelve, for God’s sake!
What was she doing, already on her third drink of the day, at only half-past twelve?
And how long had it been going on?
She placed the tonic bottle carefully on the table, and walked over to the armchair.
‘Pull yourself together, Jo – drinking’s not the answer,’ she said aloud, and noticed how slurred the words sounded.
No, drinking wasn’t the answer, she thought, as she sank heavily into the chair. But then what was?
She loved George. He was her life.
And perhaps that was the problem.
Perhaps if she’d been more independent – like Monika Paniatowski – she might have been able to handle everything so much better.
You couldn’t build your life around just one person. She saw that clearly now. You had to have something you could call your own – something that defined you as unique.
She would develop new interests, she promised herself. She would do something to add extra dimensions to her personality. Perhaps if she did that, George would come to see that he’d been lucky to find her, rather than unlucky to lose Monika. And even if he didn’t see it, it wouldn’t be quite as devastating as it might otherwise have been, because she would have something to fall back on – something to cushion her against the disappointment.
She would start her new life immediately, she thought. No, not immediately, because you can’t start a new life when you’re drunk.
Very well, then, she would start her new life first thing the next day.
But in the meantime, it would be a pity to waste the gin and tonic she’d just poured for herself.
The Preston Road Shopping Precinct was a three-storey construction of shimmering glass and vividly painted concrete, and was located on the outskirts of Whitebridge, next to the road that led – unsurprisingly – to Preston. It proclaimed the town’s attempt to cast off its old industrial image, and embrace a bright new future, though to Meadows – standing in the middle of the central piazza – it seemed more like a monument to glitzy bad taste.
‘Shouldn’t we go back to headquarters, and see if any sightings have been reported?’ asked Crane, who was standing by her side.
‘We could do that,’ Meadows agreed, ‘but I don’t really think it’s necessary.’ She looked around her. ‘Put yourself in the shoes of Maggie and her gang, Jack. Where’s the first place you’d go?’
‘I don’t know,’ Crane admitted.
Meadows surveyed the shops around the piazza.
‘There!’ Meadows said, pointing to a boutique in the far corner.
‘You think so?’ Crane asked dubiously. ‘It’s looks a bit cheap and flashy to me.’
‘It’s certainly not somewhere you’d think of buying a dress for your new girlfriend—’ Meadows began.
‘I’m sorry I ever mentioned it now,’ Crane interrupted her. ‘What have you got against Liz?’
‘Nothing,’ Meadows replied. ‘She seems a perfectly nice woman, and she’ll probably turn out to be a very good police surgeon.’
‘But . . .’ Crane said.
‘But I don’t think she’s good for you.’
‘Why not?’
>
‘Because I think she’s about to rob you of your independence.’
‘And what if I don’t want my independence?’
‘Then you’re a bigger fool than I took you for.’
‘You almost sound as if you’re jealous,’ Crane said.
‘Don’t be absurd,’ Meadows said dismissively. ‘You and I are too different to ever become an item – and anyway, you’re no more than a boy.’ She paused. ‘Sorry, Jack, this is getting far too personal.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Crane agreed.
‘Then let’s start again,’ Meadows suggested. ‘That boutique over there is certainly not somewhere that Dr Duffy would consider shopping, but girls like Maggie consider it a wonderland. It’s the very crudity – the obviousness of it – that draws them in.’
‘If you say so,’ Crane said flatly.
‘I do say so,’ Meadows asserted, ‘and I’ll prove it to you.’
She strode across to the boutique, with Crane following in her wake.
There was only one assistant on duty – a woman in her late twenties – and her eyes lit up with a commission-earning smile when she saw Meadows.
‘Now yours is a figure we can really work with,’ she gushed. ‘It’s the figure these clothes were made for!’ Crane grinned at Meadows’ obvious discomfort, but the grin quickly faded when the assistant added, ‘And I’m sure your young man will be enchanted.’
When Meadows produced her warrant card, the assistant’s enthusiasm notably dimmed.
‘This is about the girl, is it?’ she asked.
Meadows nodded, and smiled complacently in Crane’s direction.
‘I rang the police station first thing this morning, to say I’d seen her yesterday,’ the assistant continued. ‘And a uniformed bobby’s already been round to take my statement.’
‘Would you mind going over it again?’ Meadows asked.
The assistant shrugged. ‘Suppose not.’
‘When did the girl come into the shop?’
‘Into the boutique!’
‘Into the boutique,’ Meadows corrected herself.
‘Must have been about half-past three.’
‘And was she alone?’
‘No, she had two other kids with her – they all looked a bit rough, and I think they’d been drinking.’
A Walk With the Dead Page 18
