‘By Christ, lad, they didn’t make ’em like that when I was at school.’ DC Jed Holmes dabbed a grubby hankie round his rubbery lips. Harries shifted slightly in his seat, distancing himself from what passed as a wisecrack while keeping his gaze firmly fixed on Jude Fox’s pert buttocks as she left the office, one of two at Queen’s Ridge comprehensive currently commandeered into service as an interview room.
‘Keep it down, man.’ Harries flapped a tetchy hand. It was bad enough being teamed up with the human equivalent of Mogadon for a few hours but for Holmes to deliver a line like that when the woman was almost certainly in earshot? Would the stupid sod never learn? At getting on for fifty, probably not. Little wonder Baker had long since christened him No-Shit.
‘I’m trying, lad.’ Smirking, he wiped the limp hankie round a lens of his horn-rims. ‘It’s hard mind.’
Harries rolled his eyes at the ceiling, knew where the old lech was coming from. He groaned inwardly at Holmes’ word play and the mental picture it prompted. The more-than-portly Holmes with a hard-on wasn’t a thought to hold. Unlike an image of the lovely Miss Fox. The young blonde looked more like a movie star than Caitlin Reynolds’ drama teacher. Bright, bubbly, big b … blue eyes.
‘Well, knock it on the head, eh, Jed? She’ll be back in a tick.’ The interview had barely started when she’d had to rush out to take a call, some parent on the school secretary’s phone demanding words about little Johnnie or Jenny. Harries hoped Miss Fox would have some decent input/insight on Caitlin when she got back but given she’d only been on staff since September, he’d not hold his breath. Nor inhale too deeply. Not with undertones of sweaty socks and overripe cheese wafting in the air. Cracking open a window crossed Harries’ mind but a hockey match was in full swing outside and the accompanying sound track was like something from a slasher movie. While No-Shit strolled over to take a closer butcher’s at the action, Harries ran through the notes from earlier sessions, statements from the head, Caitlin’s personal tutor, three more teachers and two of her closest friends. The picture emerging appeared to be that of a well-liked intelligent young woman, confident, fun-loving, witty, great sense of humour. Yada yada. She probably loved animals and wanted to save the world. Goody-too-good-to-be-true-shoes?
In Harries’ experience no one was perfect but so far not one person had a bad word to say about the girl. No one could offer up even a guess why anyone would want to harm her. Caitlin, everyone agreed, hadn’t an enemy in the world. Well, how could she? A girl with six-hundred-plus Facebook friends? Sighing, Harries shook his head. He could count his mates on the fingers of one hand, and he knew each one like the back of it. And in reality, it didn’t matter what anyone said – Caitlin patently had one enemy.
‘Hey, Dave.’ No-Shit strolled back, tucking a sludge-coloured knitted tie into a too-high waistband. ‘You want in on the sweepstake?’
Sighing, Harries tossed his pen on top of the notes. ‘What sweepstake?’
‘Slow off the mark, aren’t you, son?’ Coming from No-Shit that was rich. ‘The date the chief’s gonna ride off into the sunset.’ It was an apt analogy given Baker’s predilection for all things Wild West. If you asked Harries it was all a bit big boys’ cowboys and Indians. John Wayne eat your Stetson.
‘He’s definitely going then?’ Harries turned his mouth down, far as he knew there’d been nothing official, just a load of rumour and gossip doing the rounds.
‘Trust me.’ Holmes tapped the side of his distinctly crooked nose. ‘I’m pally with that big bird in HR.’
‘Big bird, officer?’ Jude Fox arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow as she re-entered the room. ‘I take it we’re talking the winged variety? And tell me –’ She smiled sweetly as she took a perch – ‘what did they make when you were at school?’ Harries felt his lip twitch. ‘Quill pens?’ she asked. ‘Penny farthings? Faux pas?’ Harries had to drop his glance but not before he caught a twinkle in her turquoise eye.
‘Sorry, Miss …?’ Holmes hung his head. He sounded like a thick kid apologizing. Still, it might teach him to remember names in future.
‘Miss Fox.’ Harries smiled, made eye contact, her twinkle still in situ. If she was flirting, it was fine by him. ‘Caitlin Reynolds? You were about to tell us more.’
She took her time, crossing shapely legs, smoothing a creaseless skirt. The little black dress was straight out of Breakfast at Tiffany’s; the silver hoop earrings could’ve doubled as bracelets. Harries wondered if she enjoyed an audience, hoped it was more a case of giving the subject serious thought.
‘I haven’t known Caitlin long.’ Proper newsreader’s voice. ‘But she works hard in class, puts in the hours after school too.’ Smiling, Miss Fox brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. ‘Actually she’s one of the leads in my end-of-term production. She’s playing Abigail in The Crucible.’
Harries nodded: for all his vast theatrical knowledge, she could’ve been playing snooker in Sheffield. ‘How would you describe her personality?’
Pensive, she reached for a bottle of Evian and held it to her lips for a few seconds before drinking. If it was a distraction technique it had partial success. Harries kicked No-Shit’s foot under the desk: he was supposed to be taking notes.
‘Sorry.’ She balanced the bottle on her knee. ‘Just marshalling my thoughts. I’d hate a careless word to point you in the wrong direction.’
‘Understood.’ Harries reckoned a lot of punters didn’t give a toss about misdirection, though right now any direction would do. ‘Take your time, Miss Fox.’
She did, and another dainty swig. ‘She’s a bright, popular girl, eager to please, willing to help, seems happy and bursting with confidence. Loving drama, she’s a pleasure to teach.’
‘“Seems”?’ Harries queried. ‘You said “seems” happy and confident.’
‘Sometimes, I wonder if the happy-go-lucky Caitlin we all know and love is the real deal. Or if it was partly an act, you know?’
He didn’t. And no one else had come anywhere close to making the same suggestion. ‘Go on.’
‘It’s tricky to pin down.’ She re-crossed her legs.
‘Try.’ His smile of encouragement faded as she related vague concerns, formless fears. Apparently, Caitlin stared into space a lot, sad expression on her face, tears in her eyes. She spent quite a bit of time alone in the library, deliberately distanced herself from friends but paradoxically was the sort of girl who had to be liked by everyone and the most casual remark could cut her to the quick.
Sounded like every teenager Harries knew, unless … He leaned forward a touch. ‘Are you saying someone’s bullying her?’
‘No.’ She paused. Was that telling? ‘I really don’t think so. I just find her extremely … sensitive. Complex. A little moody? A bit of a drama queen.’
‘As in?’
She threw her hands in the air. Harries thought the gesture pretty theatrical. Maybe Miss Fox did too. She gave a sheepish smile. ‘Sorry, it’s just so difficult to describe. But I guess it’s a case of her always needing to be the centre of attention, always having to top everyone else’s story. Not belittling people, just to get a laugh, you know?’
Not really. Maybe the boss would have an idea. They were hooking up at Caitlin’s granny’s house in an hour or so; he’d run it past her then. ‘Tell me, Miss—’
‘Please.’ She raised a palm. ‘The name’s Jude.’
He nodded acknowledgement. ‘Has Caitlin seemed more subdued recently? Did you sense anything bothering her?’ Nothing, she said. ‘Is there someone, a best mate maybe, she might have confided in?’
The girls she named had already been interviewed: nada on that front. He pressed further on Caitlin’s background, asked whether she’d had problems at school, whether she seemed happy at home, if she’d had boyfriend bother. The teacher supplied no-yes-no answers but no real intelligence, no lines worth pursuing. Harries sensed she’d help if she could but she just didn’t have anything concrete to offer. One more question then they’d hit the road.
‘It’s a big ask, I know, Miss Fox, but can you think of anyone who’d want to harm Caitlin?’
‘Look, I probably shouldn’t say this, but …’ Twice, she opened her mouth to speak before finally putting Harries out of his misery. ‘I think she may have been harming herself.’