Did he really have to spell out everything? ‘Should we have known?’ he asked, through gritted teeth.
Again the counsellor seemed to weigh his response carefully, and Thorpe realised that was one of the reasons he found conversation with the man so infuriating. Every single word was dissected and measured before it left his mouth.
‘There was no indication of suicidal thoughts or I would have spoken to you about—’
‘That is not what I wanted to hear,’ Thorpe said. That admission was only going to add fuel to the detective’s suspicions.
‘Brendan, she barely spoke,’ Graham exploded, using his first name uncharacteristically. ‘During the three sessions we had she hardly said good morning or goodbye. Despite my constant questioning she sat in front of me and picked at her fingernails, so how the hell do you expect me to deduce suicidal thoughts from that?’
The air sizzled between them.
Thorpe understood that for Graham to admit that Sadie had been suicidal would be to bring his own ability and performance into question. But the detectives would never go away if they perceived any doubt that the girl had ended her own life.
‘You’ll be meeting with the police later today?’
‘I would imagine so. I haven’t yet had chance to speak with them. Why?’
Thorpe met his gaze and held it. ‘I want to make sure we’re in agreement,’ he said.
Graham looked at him blankly.
‘I want you to give the police officers everything they need.’
Graham frowned at him. ‘Why would you suspect I’d give them anything less than—’
‘I mean everything they need,’ he said meaningfully.
‘Are you asking me to lie to the police to speed up their investigation?’ he asked.
‘For God’s sake, Graham, catch up, will you? Jesus, you’ve always been a bit…’ he stopped himself from saying any more. He wanted this boor of a man on his side and revealing what he thought about him, had always thought about him, would not help him achieve his goal.
‘Why stop what you were going to say? You think I don’t know how you viewed me when I came to this school?’ he asked, shrewdly.
Thorpe could feel the heat entering his cheeks. Yes, he had tried and failed in his capacity as deputy principal to sway the principal and to reject him for the vacancy. Had he been in his current position when Graham applied he would have refused the man an interview. He didn’t fit at Heathcrest. But right now he needed him onside.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’d earned your degree and studied—’
‘The first time,’ Graham clarified.
Thorpe coughed into his hand. ‘I don’t recall…’ he sidestepped, even though the memory of Graham’s first day was clear in his mind for many reasons. Although not sporting the beard at the age of thirteen, Graham’s reedy appearance and unruly red hair had not helped matters for the new boy at all.
‘There were two of us, if I recall.’
Thorpe shook his head. ‘I really don’t remember the girl, Graham. It was so long ago.’
Graham narrowed his eyes. ‘Her name was Lorraine. We were both scholarship students chosen for our sporting—’
‘As is still the practice, today,’ Thorpe said, shifting uncomfortably. Graham had been chosen for his ability to jump a long way into a sandpit. He’d been close to championship distances before hitting his teens, but an injury to his right heel had failed to mend properly, ending his athletic career at the ripe old age of fifteen.
Graham caught his gaze and held it. ‘Not easy being a scholarship kid in a place like this.’
‘You seemed to manage okay,’ Thorpe snapped. The fact that Graham had been a member of the Spades instead of him still didn’t sit easy with Thorpe. Even after twenty-five years. Graham’s father had been an assembly line worker at the Range Rover plant in Longbridge. Thorpe’s father had been a respected novelist and his mother a judge. He should have been offered the Ace of Spades instead of this buffoon.
But he was in charge now.
‘What I’m asking you to do, Graham, is help the police officers reach the natural conclusion that Sadie’s death was suicide in a timely manner. Basically I want you to get them out of my school.’
Twenty-Eight
Kim could still feel the weight of Sadie’s letter against her breast as they walked into Heathcrest.
‘Follow me,’ she said, striding through the grand hall to the corridor that ran behind the rooms that looked on to the front of the building.
She stopped at the third one along and tapped lightly. By her reckoning they had around fifteen minutes until lunchtime was over.
Kim pushed the door open and was not surprised to see Joanna Wade sitting at her desk with a half-eaten tub of homemade salad beside the book she was reading.
‘No staff room?’ she asked.
Joanna smiled in response. ‘I’m fine here, thanks.’
Again, Kim wondered what had prompted the move for this woman. Something about her didn’t fit in this environment.
‘Joanna, do you have any of Sadie’s writings that we can take a look at?’ she asked, unsure when it had become comfortable to call this woman by her first name. She wanted to compare something Sadie had written to the note in her pocket.
‘You don’t have enough?’ she frowned.
Kim shrugged. Even Joanna assumed her personal possessions would be stuffed with poems and musings.
She turned and opened a sliding door.
‘Guv,’ Bryant said, ‘I’m just gonna round up some coffee from somewhere.’
She smiled at him gratefully. Her coffee reserves had not been replenished since leaving the station.
Joanna took down a lever arch file and opened it. Kim pulled up a seat beside her as she began to leaf through the contents.
‘There was a poem she wrote just a few days ago that stuck in my mind.’ She continued to turn over single pieces of paper with different names in the top right-hand corner.
‘Why are you here?’ Kim asked, suddenly, surprising herself.
The Joanna Wade she’d met a couple of years ago had seemed more vibrant, more animated. There was something missing. It was like she’d been through the washer a couple of times and had faded just a little bit.
Joanna’s hand stilled for a second as she picked up the next sheet.
‘One game of darts and I might tell you,’ she said.
Kim laughed at the comment which was both opportunistic and distracting.
‘Ah, here’s one she wrote just last week,’ she said taking a sheet from the box and placing it before Kim. ‘Not the one I’m after but this’ll give you some idea of her talent.’
The poem filled the whole page but with only one word on each line.
Kim read it twice and shook her head.
‘I don’t get it,’ she said, honestly.
‘The theme was isolation,’ Joanna said. ‘Now take another look.’
Kim read it again. ‘Okay, so every word is linked to loneliness, which could have been done from any thesaurus.’
Joanna rolled her eyes despairingly. ‘Look beyond the words, Inspector. See the whole thing.’
Kim looked again and ignored the words.
‘Single words on a line, surrounded by space. Other words are around but not close by,’ Kim said.
‘Exactly,’ Joanna replied. ‘She captured the theme in much more than the words. She made the actual page stark to paint the picture of loneliness. Not bad for a thirteen-year-old girl, eh?’
Kim nodded her agreement as Joanna frowned.
‘Ah, I remember now, I gave that other poem to her counsellor. I’ll get it back so you can take a look.’
Kim took Sadie’s letter from her pocket.
‘What do you think of this?’ Kim asked. ‘Knowing her writings as you did.’
Kim knew Sadie had not committed suicide, so why was there a suicide note?
Joanna read the letter, paused and then read it again. She nodded, despite the frown that touched her features.
‘Definitely something Sadie would have written.’
‘But?’
‘I don’t know. There’s something not quite right about that letter.’ She looked at Kim. ‘But I honestly don’t know what.’
Kim had felt the same way when she’d read it at the Winters’ home and when she’d read it again in the car.