‘I see.’ Mrs Pablo pursed her lips and gave them both a cold hard stare.
The Dunk shifted his shoes on the polished floorboards, pink skin glowing above the collar of his black polo neck. Hadn’t said a single word since they’d been shown into the headmistress’s office. Stood there like a plank of wood instead. So much for his proletarian revolution and teaching ‘these posh twats’ a lesson.
‘If you could take a look, that would be a great help.’
A sigh, then Mrs Pablo put on a pair of half-moon glasses and peered down her nose at the printout. She stiffened. ‘Yes, I recognize this child.’
‘And?’
‘And nothing. She no longer attends Bellside School for Girls.’ Mrs Pablo stood, doing up the buttons on her ugly cardigan. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s lunchtime and I have students to supervise.’ Then she swept out of the room, leaving the pair of them standing there like a couple of prats.
So much for assisting the police with their inquiries...
Lucy marched after her into a small reception area. The kind of place where wayward girls would squirm on hard wooden seats, awaiting their summons to the dragon’s lair. ‘Is that it?’
The headmistress nodded at the room’s small, and currently unmanned, desk. ‘Mr Marlins will see you out.’
‘You could at least tell us the kid’s name.’
‘We don’t answer questions about pupils without their parents’ permission. Present or former.’ Opening the outer door and raising her voice. ‘Mr Marlins! These officers are leaving.’
The reply came in a high-pitched obsequious Dundee accent. ‘Yes, Mrs Pablo.’
Then off she marched, head held high, back stiff, as if someone had jammed a flagpole up her backside.
The Dunk cleared his throat. ‘See what I mean? Come the revolution...’
‘Oh, now you’re brave enough to speak, are you?’ Lucy pointed at the open doorway. ‘Where were all your proud class-struggle speeches when Madame Twin-Set was fobbing us off?’
‘Excuse me?’ The owner of the squeaky Dundonian accent appeared. His tweed suit, paisley-patterned waistcoat, polished brogues, and short white hair made him look like the illicit love child of the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland and Toad of Toad Hall. ‘I believe Mrs Pablo would like me to escort you back to your vehicle, if that’s all right? We don’t like unaccompanied adults on school grounds, for obvious reasons.’ He blanched, held up his hands. ‘Not that I’m suggesting either of you would... with the girls, but rules have to be rules for everyone, or there’s no point having rules at all, don’t you think?’ Then Mr Marlins ushered them out into the corridor. ‘Horrible day, isn’t it? Still, at least it’s not snowing. Small mercies.’
They followed him downstairs to the ground floor.
Lucy stopped, made a big show of rolling her eyes and sighing, throwing in a slap on the forehead for good measure. ‘What an idiot.’ She dug the printout out of her pocket again. ‘We came all this way and I forgot to ask Mrs Pablo if she knew who the girl in the picture is.’ Holding it so close to Mr Marlins’ face that he had to blink and back up a couple of paces to get it into focus. Put, literally, on the back foot.
‘What, Allegra Dean-Edwards? Oh, she doesn’t go here any more. Her parents got her into St Nick’s. Which I know has a great reputation, but we pride ourselves at Bellside School for Girls on our top-notch curriculum and teaching excellence.’
St Nick’s... Now there was a name she hadn’t heard in a long, long time.
The Dunk pulled his chin up. ‘What’s St Nick’s?’
‘St Nicholas College, Auchterowan?’ Mr Marlin’s voice dropped to an awed whisper: ‘Only one of the most exclusive boarding schools in the country.’
‘Yeah, not really the kinda circles I move in.’
Mr Marlins peered at the printout again. ‘Is she giving that homeless person a new coat? Well, I must say, that’s very “on brand” for our Allegra. Don’t think I’ve ever met a child quite as focused and sure of herself. Knew what she wanted to be from the start of primary one — the outreach stuff, the sandwiches and coats for the homeless, raising money for a hostel, that’s Allegra working on her “brand”. Thinks it’ll give her the edge when it comes to getting into Oxford. I kept telling her: “They don’t care about extra-curricular activities, Allegra. They only care about academic achievements.” But once she gets an idea in her head?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘And she’s only eleven.’
‘Sounds like a nice kid.’ Lucy took the picture back.
‘Oh, personality like nails down a blackboard, but sharp as you wouldn’t believe. And as I say: focused. She’s going to end up ruling the world one day, you mark my words.’
‘Penny for them.’
‘Hmmm?’ Lucy stayed where she was, staring out through the passenger window as the rain washed across the city in gritty-grey swathes, like smoke. Toning everything down. Leaching the life out of it.
‘Let me guess’ — the Dunk took the first exit at the roundabout, heading over Dundas Bridge, Castle Hill looming on the other side in all its twisted glory — ‘Sarah Black.’
‘Not everything is about Sarah Bloody Black.’ A long breath hissed out between Lucy’s pursed lips. ‘Well, kind of.’ A lopsided shrug. ‘I was wondering: the guy who’s been following me, what if he’s not some random stalker pervert? What if the Blacks have bunged him a few quid to harass me?’
‘Oooh... Yeah. Explains the slashed tyres, doesn’t it? Sending you a message?’
Hard to tell if that made him more or less dangerous. The kind of man who’d happily menace a woman for money was probably the kind of man who’d think rape was a perk of the job. That she was his for the taking. And Lucy’d had more than enough experience of that kind of crap to last several lifetimes, thank you very much. God knew enough women got murdered every year by toxic, horny shitheads.
And what if he attacked her somewhere more secluded than right outside Divisional Headquarters? After all, he knew where she lived...
Lucy reached into her raincoat pocket. No sign of DI Tudor’s rape alarm. It was back at the house, in her overcoat.
All that time, meandering about town this morning, did she take ten minutes to pop into Argos for that baseball bat? Of course she didn’t. Still hadn’t phoned anyone about getting the house fitted up with a security system, either.
Great. Well done, Lucy. Way to keep yourself safe.
The Dunk cleared his throat. ‘Maybe you should, you know, crash at mine for a couple of nights? Zoe won’t mind. Kind of. It’s only a couch, but maybe better than being on your own, out in the middle of nowhere?’
So, the daft little sod was a mind reader now, was he?
‘Thanks, Dunk, but—’
Her phone launched into its generic ringtone, and when she pulled it out, ‘DI TUDOR’ glowed in the middle of its screen. Think of the Devil. She hit the green button. ‘Thought you were in the post-mortem.’
‘Hairy Harry’s declared a tea break. Our beloved Procurator Fiscal is off shouting at someone on her phone, so thought I’d give you a bell. See how it’s going.’
‘We’ve got an ID for the victim. He’s—’
‘I know, DCI Ross filled me in. He says you had a run-in with Sarah Black this morning. She’s claiming you assaulted her.’
‘I already had this conversation with Professional Standards and—’