She nodded. ‘You know they’re supposed to be secret, right?’
Dawson nodded.
‘The playing cards are almost as old as the school. They are elite societies within an elite society,’ she said.
‘Do people aspire to be a member of these clubs?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Err… yeah. There’s no higher honour than being a playing card. It means you were chosen to join the most important club you’ll ever belong to.’
Dawson smiled. ‘That’s a bit of an exaggeration, surely?’
‘It’s not just while you’re here. You’re a member of that club for life. The other members of your club are closer than family. Other cards know all of your secrets.
‘Cards go on to become politicians, bankers, barristers, doctors and stuff. The last deputy prime minister used to be the Nine of Clubs,’ she said. ‘Cards are influential in the outside world. Cards help each other throughout life.’
‘As long as it’s the same suit?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ she said, as though that was obvious.
‘And how are new cards chosen?’ he asked. ‘What’s the criteria for becoming a card?’ he asked, feeling ridiculous.
She shrugged and wrinkled her nose. ‘Could be the kid excels in some academic subject or sport or something like that…’ She hesitated. ‘That’s it really.’
‘What is it, Tilly? You were going to say something more but stopped yourself.’
She coloured, and he recalled what she’d been saying.
‘Is there another way to get chosen?’ he asked.
‘Not officially,’ she said.
‘How about unofficially?’ he asked.
‘I think you can get a calling card because of family.’
‘“Family”?’ he asked.
‘Like, if your parents hit the rich list or they get a huge promotion or become famous for something.’
‘So, the kids themselves don’t have to be gifted as long as their parents are influential?’
She shrugged. ‘I’m just saying. It happens.’
The more Dawson learned about these exclusive clubs the more he grew uncomfortable with their existence.
‘What if you refuse the invitation?’ he asked. ‘Say you don’t want to be in one of these clubs?’
‘No one refuses an invitation to be a card,’ she guffawed as though he’d lost his mind. ‘Unless you’ve got a couple of screws loose.’
‘Tilly, did Sadie receive a calling card?’ he asked.
She reddened slightly before shrugging.
‘I wouldn’t know. It’s secret.’
‘Could Sadie have refused the invitation to join one of the girls’ exclusive clubs?’
The idea of the Sadie he’d come to know gleefully receiving and accepting a red ace on her bed was not a picture that would form in his mind.
‘I’m sorry, officer,’ she said, turning back to her books. ‘But I really must get on with my work.’
Dawson knew that the girl hadn’t answered his question either way.
Thirty-One
‘So, who do you think tampered with the letter?’ Bryant asked, as they awaited the arrival of their next interviewee.
‘Could have been anyone,’ she said. ‘In all the chaos the murderer could have gone to Sadie’s dorm room, rifled through her things and changed the letter. It could have been Saffie. It could have been the parents who are convinced Sadie took her own life.’
‘Do you think they’ve held the diary back from us?’ Bryant asked.
Kim thought for a minute and shook her head. ‘I’ve got a feeling that anything in a diary of Sadie’s would support the suicide they’re so desperate to believe. I think the diary was in her missing backpack. Where else would you keep something that held your most intimate thoughts?’
‘Jesus, guv, you think the killer has her diary?’
Kim was prevented from answering by a knock on the door.
*
Bryant called out for their interviewee to enter.
Kim recognised the man that came into view as the one who had been sitting on the ground beside Saffie two days before. Kim guessed him to be around six feet tall, with a skinny frame. His smart black trousers were topped with a plain white shirt and red tie.
‘Mr Steele,’ Bryant said, standing to greet the psychologist who worked as a counsellor for the school.
‘Please call me Graham,’ he said, pleasantly.
‘Graham, please take a seat,’ Bryant said, pointing to the other side of the desk.
‘And thank you for making time to see us today,’ Kim said, pointedly. ‘I hope your personal business was not too harrowing.’
He smiled politely. ‘My aunt was taken into hospital with a suspected heart attack.’
Bryant leaned forward. ‘Sorry to hear—’
‘It was a bad case of indigestion, officer. Tomato seeds do not agree with her.’
Bryant nodded his understanding.
Kim sat forward. ‘As you know we’re here investigating the circumstances of Sadie’s—’
‘Suicide,’ Graham offered.
‘Death,’ she clarified. ‘And I see here you’ve been at Heathcrest for seven years now,’ she asked.
‘I have indeed, officer.’
‘And as the school counsellor you’ve probably dealt with all kinds of minor grievances from the pupils?’
‘And major ones too,’ he defended.
‘And what about Sadie Winters?’ Bryant asked. ‘Was she a minor or a major problem?’
‘Aah, poor Sadie. She was a troubled young lady,’ he said, shaking his head.
Kim felt that if she heard that word used one more time to describe the child she might scream. It was as though a memo had been circulated listing key words and phrases.
‘When did you first meet with her?’ she asked.
‘It was just a few weeks ago. I met with her a total of three times.’
‘Why?’ she asked, directly.
‘I’m sorry, what…’
‘There are almost a thousand students here and you can’t chat with them all, so what was the reason for the sessions with Sadie?’
He thought for a moment. ‘If I recall correctly, it was Mr Campbell, her physics teacher. She’d become withdrawn and sometimes obstructive in science lessons.’
‘Do you remember why?’
He shook his head. ‘I met with her only a few times. She was not the most communicative pupil I’ve spoken to.’
‘So, she didn’t open up to you?’
‘No, but I have my own theory, which I tried to discuss with her.’
‘Which was?’
‘I think that she felt inadequate beside her sibling and began to rebel to get attention for herself. I think she tries to meet her parents’ expectations for greatness and falls short.’
The picture was becoming a little clearer for Kim. After reading that letter from the girl it seemed she was searching for her own identity. The kid had probably had Saffie rammed down her throat. No wonder she hadn’t opened up to him. He had laid his own opinion at her feet and even he had wanted to talk about her sister.
‘But hasn’t Saffie been a musical star for years?’ Kim asked. ‘Why would she suddenly begin acting up about that now?’
He shrugged. ‘Add a few teenage hormones into the mix and it becomes a bit more likely that—’
‘You don’t think it’s something more recent than that?’ Kim asked. ‘Something that happened just in the last few weeks that caused her to rebel?’
Although her behaviour was hardly what Kim would call rebellious. Quiet, morose, withdrawn and obstructive was how she herself spent most days of her life.
‘Were you surprised when you heard the news of her… death?’ Bryant asked.
He hesitated and then shook his head.
‘No, not really. She was an unhappy child.’
‘Did she ever speak to you of enemies? Was there someone she was having any trouble with?’
He looked surprised. ‘Not at all.’
‘So, you logged and recorded your concerns with…’ Bryant asked.
Kim hid her satisfaction. Like her, Bryant was feeling that this kid had been let down on just about every level.
‘Well, no, I didn’t actually log…’ his words trailed away as he seemed to realise his own contradiction.
‘Sir, I’d like you to—’
‘What the hell is going on out there?’ Kim asked as the sound of footsteps and raised voices increased outside the door. She was sure they’d have heard a fire alarm.