‘Why would I want to waste my knowledge on a quiz show?’ Bruno retorted calmly, but with underlying anger in his voice.
It wasn’t the first time Roy Grace had thought it, as he shot a glance at him. The boy seemed so much older than his years. Were he and Cleo badly underestimating Bruno’s intelligence? Had they put him in the wrong school? Should he be in some hot-house academy?
‘So, you know more facts than your Geography teacher — do you have other teachers where you know more than they do?’
‘Of course, all of them.’
‘Would you prefer to be in a different school?’
Bruno wasn’t yet aware of the headmaster’s threat to expel him.
‘I don’t need to be in this school, it’s a waste of my time and talents. I need to be in a school that will challenge me.’ Bruno glanced disdainfully out of the window. St Christopher’s was coming up on their right. ‘Did you know that the ancient Egyptians, when they died and were mummified, had their favourite pets killed and mummified, to go in the tomb with them?’
Grace looked at him. ‘I wasn’t aware of that, no.’
‘Do you think they did that because they wanted company in their tombs or because they worried their pets would miss them too much — or that no one would take the same care of the animals they did?’
Frowning, Grace slowed, turned into the side street, drove up a short distance before making a U-turn, and pulled up some yards short of the school gate. ‘I honestly don’t know, Bruno. Their whole culture and views on death were very different to ours.’
‘Why don’t our teachers tell us important things like that?’
Grace thought for a moment before replying to his son’s question. ‘Perhaps they don’t believe things like that are important or relevant in our modern world, Bruno.’
‘Education’s a joke, don’t you think? I can learn more from Google than any teacher can tell me.’
It took Grace a few seconds to process this. He’d not particularly enjoyed his own school days, and his performance in class had been disappointing to his parents, only just scraping through essential exams at pretty much the lowest pass grade. The reality was, he knew, that with his academic record he wouldn’t have stood a cat-in-hell’s chance of getting into the police today.
And with similar cockiness to Bruno, he thought, with a grin, That would have been their big loss!
A boy also in a red jacket, about Bruno’s age, jumped down from a Defender that had pulled up in front of them. A young girl, similarly dressed, was disgorged from a Mini. Both entered the gates.
Turning to Bruno, who was unclipping his seat belt, Grace said, ‘Go for it, speak your mind. Tell them what you think they should be teaching you!’
The boy hesitated, frowning. ‘Really? You think so?’
‘Sure. Be brave. Remember, fear kills more dreams than failure ever can.’
Bruno looked puzzled. ‘Dreams? Is there any point in dreaming anything? Look at my mother.’ He shook his head. ‘The teachers aren’t worth it. But is anything in life worth it?’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘My mother had so many dreams, but they were all shattered and there was no way to put the pieces back together. Life sucks. School sucks.’
Before Grace could respond, Bruno opened the door, climbed out and slammed it behind him. Without looking back, he strode towards the school gates, ignoring two other pupils who were also approaching them.
Grace sat still, watching him until he had disappeared. Life sucks. School sucks. He wondered again, as he had constantly ever since discovering that he had a ten-year-old son, what kind of bizarre upbringing Sandy had given him to jade him and make him so cynical.
He was clearly bright, bright as hell.
Dangerously bright.
Heartbreakingly bright.
But Bruno’s unpredictability worried him. The child psychiatrist, Dr Orlando Trujillo, who they’d taken him to see, told them he thought it was just a phase Bruno was going through. Still adjusting to the loss of his mother, to relocating to a new country, that it was his way of putting a defensive shield around himself.
Grace hoped Trujillo was right. He wasn’t sure what else he and Cleo could do, other than looking for a different school for advanced children. But would even that be the right thing? This school here had a terrific reputation.
It was ironic, he thought, as he drove off, rain starting to fall, his focus starting to return to Eden Paternoster and the briefing meeting in half an hour, that he’d always held the view that well over ninety per cent of crimes were committed by people who had suffered terrible childhoods — alcoholic or abusive parents, broken homes. That was exactly Bruno’s upbringing, too. A drug addict, single-parent mother.
They needed more advice, and quickly, if they were to avoid Bruno not being allowed back to the school again after the end of this term. He resolved to get home early from work and talk it through with Cleo. Maybe try to have a heart-to-heart with Bruno — if the boy would be willing to open up even a fraction.
33
At 8.45 a.m. Roy Grace sat with his assembled team in the conference room, for the second briefing of Operation Lagoon, having just completed a brief management team meeting.
‘I have some significant developments to report,’ Grace announced. ‘The first is that Niall Paternoster, Eden’s husband, was arrested yesterday evening on suspicion of her murder and detained overnight in custody. He will be formally interviewed again this morning by Jon Exton and Norman Potting in line with the interview strategy. DC Alec Butler, our tier five interview adviser, will update us later about what was said last night. This was only his first account and, to date, he has not been challenged on anything he has said.’
He glanced at his notes. ‘During the search of the Paternosters’ home in Nevill Road, last night, some substantial evidence came to light. The first of which was a mobile phone which we have established belonged to Eden Paternoster. Her husband claimed she had brought it with her on their Sunday outing to Parham House, but the battery was low. The Forensics Team, however, found the phone in a drawer in her bed, concealed beneath a pile of her lingerie.’
‘Totally pants!’ Potting said, grinning and looking around.
Grace looked at him a little more sympathetically than normal. ‘But we do have something else that may be significant, which was found wrapped in plastic concealed behind a wall-inspection plate. A torn ladies’ T-shirt, presumably belonging to Eden, on which there are some small blood spots. It has been sent for fast-track processing at the DNA lab.’
He looked at his team, letting that sink in before continuing. ‘They also found evidence of blood on the kitchen worktop and the floor tiling beneath, samples from which have been sent for testing, too. Further of note,’ he added, ‘there’s a wooden knife rack with a knife missing — and from the position and size of the slot, it would appear to be the largest of the knives.’
He paused for a moment. ‘Two perhaps even more significant items were discovered during the search. Both of these were secreted under a loose floorboard in a spare bedroom. The first was Eden Paternoster’s passport, which her husband indicated to the officers who attended yesterday morning, PCs Alldridge and Little, was missing from its usual place.
‘The second was a white gold wedding ring and another diamond ring — possibly an engagement ring. The wedding ring was engraved on the inside with the initials EP — NP, 19.09.15. The initials of Eden and Niall Paternoster and the date of their wedding. When Niall was booked into custody last night, a wedding band was removed from his finger. It had the same initials, reversed, and the same date. This would indicate to me that either she had removed it — together with her engagement ring — before her disappearance, or perhaps more likely if he did murder her, that he removed both to hamper identification.’