‘What am I to do, then?’
‘Take it from me, you’re not going to find Miss Gibbon.’
‘But it won’t hurt for you to give me her old address. Please.’ Mel started edging around the desk for a sight of the computer screen.
‘What on earth...?’ Outraged, Bounty grabbed the screen and twisted it out of range, eyes blazing. This was a side of the so-called unflappable school secretary Mel had never seen before. ‘Get out of here, girl, or I’ll report you.’
The unpleasantness in the office left Mel shaky and troubled. It had been out of all proportion to the simple request she’d made. True, she’d overstepped the mark trying to see the address, but Bounty’s reaction had been totally over the top. It only added to the mystery and made her more concerned about Miss Gibbon. What was the ‘impossible situation’ the head had been faced with?
One thing was clear: it was no use asking for help from anyone in school, staff or students. They were united in opposition to the poor woman.
Better think again.
Meanwhile the rest of the A-level group were still fixated on one topic.
‘How old do you think he is?’ No need for Ella to say who she was talking about.
‘Under thirty.’
‘That’s obvious. I’d say twenty-six maximum.’
‘Ask him.’
‘Get real. You can’t ask a teacher what age he is.’
‘Does it matter?’ Mel said.
‘Of course it matters. We know almost everything else about him from his website, like where he went to art school and stuff, but there’s nothing about his age.’
‘Ask Ferdie, then. He won’t mind telling us.’
‘Perfecto. Great suggestion. He’s friendly. I’ll ask him Saturday.’
‘While you’re at it,’ Ella said, ‘ask him when the next party is.’
‘He told me,’ Jem said. ‘It’s when there’s a full moon.’
‘Like when the werewolves come out?’
A chorus of howling started up.
‘He was winding you up.’
‘He wasn’t, I’m abso-fucking-lutely sure. He’s honest. He tells you straight when you ask him.’
‘What parties are these? I haven’t heard about them,’ Naseem said.
‘They’re not for the likes of us,’ Jem said. ‘Regulars only.’
‘Why? Are they, like, doing drugs?’
Jem shook her head. ‘When Anastasia told us about the parties I asked if they smoked pot and she was really shocked. Then for a laugh I asked if they were into orgies, and she was like, “If they were, I’d stay away.”’
Shrieks of laughter.
‘I’d stay away as well,’ Mel said. ‘Imagine an orgy with Geraint.’
‘If it’s not sex or drugs, that doesn’t leave much to be secretive about,’ Jem said. ‘I guess it’s just heavy drinking.’
‘Do they think we don’t drink?’ Ella said.
‘This is about Tom’s job, most likely. He’d be in deep doo-doo if the school got to hear we were drinking. I don’t blame him. You can be sure one of us would get rat-arsed.’
‘Ella,’ somebody said at once, and got laughs.
Ella spun around. ‘What do you mean? I can hold my drink.’
‘Like you did at the last prom when you threw up over that boy’s shoes?’
‘Give me a break. That was yonks ago. Wouldn’t it be wicked to crash one of the parties?’
Nobody spoke. Just because someone says jump in, you don’t want to be the first.
Finally Jem said, ‘Like put it on Facebook and get thousands of kids along?’
‘That would be so uncool,’ Ella said. ‘I’m not suggesting we should be mean to Tom. I’m thinking just ourselves. After they’ve had a few drinks they won’t care who turns up.’
‘What would you wear?’ Jem said. ‘Your goth gear?’
‘Naturally.’
‘Count me out,’ Naseem said. ‘This could be so embarrassing.’
‘How about you, Jem?’
Jem shook her head. ‘It’s not my scene.’
‘Nor mine,’ Mel said.
‘We know that, scrubber,’ Jem said quick to deflect any criticism. ‘Your scene is some greasy-spoon caff in the back streets of Bognor.’
No one was brave enough to come to Mel’s defence. The put-down, like so many others, seemed to speak for everyone.
‘What a load of wimps,’ Ella said. ‘Haven’t you ever crashed a party before? Sounds like I’m on my own.’
15
‘That man is capable of anything... anything at all,’ Georgina said in the car on the drive back to Chichester. She’d been a dormant volcano in the caravan and at last she could send out sparks. ‘I was watching him the whole time, those eyes like chips of ice. I wouldn’t put it past him to be holding his daughter in some secret hideout.’
‘Interesting thought,’ Diamond said.
‘Yes, but don’t run away with the idea that this is for her sake. It’s all about himself, always has been, as far as I can see. He couldn’t deal with her teenage rebellion or her poor choice of husband. The only way to get control of the mess she was in was to fund the divorce, pay the debts, buy her back and make her dependent on him. So he sacrificed his home and his bank balance and thought he’d fixed the problem and now he’s threatened with a worse scandal than ever.’
‘So he locks her away and claims she’s missing?’
‘Or removes her from the scene altogether.’
Diamond blinked. ‘Kills her, you mean?’
‘I wouldn’t put it past him.’
‘His own daughter?’
‘To me, he’s a man at the end of his tether, single-minded, humourless, driven and dangerous. He has the means. That van is stuffed with lethal material, including a gun.’ Georgina’s eruption was in full flow.
‘It comes down to pest control?’ Diamond said.
She had to pause and think about that. ‘In a manner of speaking, yes. Don’t you agree?’
In truth, he was never going to agree. There were dangers in pinning a case on eyes like chips of ice and a job killing things. He couldn’t rule out Barry Mallin as a potential perpetrator, but better evidence was needed. ‘It would be unusual for a parent to kill their own daughter or son. The reverse happens more often.’
‘All right, wise guy. You heard my assessment. What did you make of him?’ she asked.
Diamond gave an oblique answer. He wasn’t trading in character assassination. ‘Difficult to see him as Hen Mallin’s brother.’
‘There’s a resemblance in the face,’ Georgina said. ‘Something about the mouth and jaw.’
‘But not in the way they deal with a crisis.’
He left it at that. He saw no point in discussing what the man might or might not have done. The potential for a serious crime was there, but no more needed to be said at this stage.
Fortunately Georgina went off on a different tack. ‘I’m glad I left the bulk of the questioning to you. You covered most of what I would have asked. In fact, I can’t think of anything you missed.’
‘That’s all right, then.’
Satisfied, she rubbed her hands. She almost clapped. ‘We’re a team that gets things done, Peter. Two interviews already, Henrietta Mallin and her brother, and both went rather well, with me setting the agenda, so to speak, and you following up on the detail. If people see us as Miss Nice and Mr Nasty, so be it. That’s a well-tried method of interrogation.’
She meant good cop bad cop. Miss Nice and Mr Nasty was another nugget to tuck away.
‘What’s next?’ he asked.
‘More fact-finding. We mustn’t lose sight of our main objective.’
‘Which is?’
She blinked, shocked that he needed to ask. ‘To discover the full extent of Henrietta Mallin’s misconduct.’
‘She already confessed.’