And the derision was back in full force. ‘My reason for ending our relationship is definitely none of your business, officer and now I must—’
‘Couldn’t you have waited to finish with her?’ Kim asked, struck by the callousness in his tone. ‘She has just lost her sister.’
His lips pursed into an unpleasant sneer. ‘I can assure you, officer, that she’s lost a lot more than that.’
He turned and walked away from her. She saw little point in following him. He’d said all that he was going to say.
*
As she headed back into the hall Kim considered what she’d learned. Saffie wanted something from Eric, Eric was angry with Saffie, and Sadie had been angry with just about everyone.
‘What do we know?’ she asked her colleague, who took out his notebook.
‘So, the kid is fourteen-year-old Shaun Coffee-Todd, son of the newsreader and a former studio runner. He seemed fine in the previous class but never reached his next lesson. Apparently suffers with an allergy to nuts.’
‘Jesus,’ Kim said. She’d seen an anaphylactic shock reaction before and it wasn’t good.
The ringing of her phone stopped her thoughts.
She took a breath before answering.
‘Dawson,’ she said.
‘Kid didn’t make it, boss. Pronounced dead ten minutes ago.’
Kim ended the call and closed her eyes for a second before turning to Bryant.
‘This school has now given us two dead kids this week and it’s only Wednesday. What the fuck is going on?’
Thirty-Four
The cards filed into the candle room one by one.
Again, one chair was empty. The same chair.
A few glanced towards it but more did not.
‘Thank you all for coming,’ said the Joker, pulling out his chair.
The sound of wooden chair legs scraping on the concrete followed.
‘You all know that Six is dead?’ the Joker asked once everyone was seated.
There was a rumble that travelled around the circle.
The Joker turned to Seven. ‘Did you do it?’
Seven shook his head.
‘Answer, damn it,’ the Joker growled.
‘No, I didn’t get to him soon enough to…’
‘You didn’t make him eat a nut or something as a punishment for breaking the rules?’ the Joker asked, wondering if Seven had done so without realising the consequences.
Seven shook his head, vehemently. ‘No, no, I was going to push some tacks up through the soles of his shoes, but I hadn’t found the right moment.’
Yes, a popular punishment. Just three or four tacks and the wearer didn’t realise until their own body weight had pushed the flesh down onto the sharp points. It would have done the trick and taught him a valuable lesson.
The Joker sighed heavily. ‘If you did this, you can tell us. If this was your punishment for his rule break, which went wrong and you didn’t understand the consequences, tell us now. You know that the secret will be safe here. Remember Noah?’
Seven nodded.
Noah Gless had been the Four of Spades in the mid-sixties. He had gone on to become the head teacher of an exclusive all-boys school in Kent. For fifteen years his sexual abuse of young boys had remained secret. Until an eight-year-old had told a nurse while being treated for a broken arm. His admission had brought forward a flood of complaints. All correct and horrific.
Noah Gless was charged with thirty-four counts of sexual assault. The Spades had formed a wall of protection around him. His barrister pleaded diminished responsibility based on the sworn testimony of an eminent psychiatrist. Noah was sentenced to five years in a mental health facility, which was appealed down to three, and he walked free within a year.
‘I didn’t do it, I swear,’ Seven reiterated.
The Joker searched his face. And believed him.
‘Okay, cards, reach for your glasses,’ the Joker instructed.
All cards took the shot glass placed in front of their chair. A small measure of whisky had been poured into each one, as was the custom if a card died. It was barely a mouthful and reserved only for a death in the family.
‘To Six,’ the Joker said, raising his glass and drinking the shot.
The cards all followed suit and placed their glasses on the table.
The Joker nodded to the King on his right, who collected up the glasses.
‘And now to congratulate Five, Four, Three, Two and Ace who all move up a card. Well done to you all.’
The Joker waited for a few seconds before continuing.
‘We have two small matters to deal with before the process of choosing a new Ace. First, Nine has an important basketball game in two weeks’ time. He needs to practise. Who volunteers to take his homework?’
The hands were slow to rise but eventually three cards offered their services.
‘Seven,’ said the Joker. ‘That one is yours.’
Seven nodded.
‘Secondly, Eight is being bullied by his biology classmates for passing out when dissecting a frog.’
The King’s hand was first in the air, and the Joker nodded in his direction. ‘I’ll trust you to suitably advise the boys concerned.’
The Joker hesitated for a moment, reaching to the side of the chair. ‘Okay, our next order of business is to choose a new Ace.’
He lifted a pinboard that held two A4 photographs.
‘Take out your pins,’ he instructed.
Each card reached into their pocket and produced a black Spade tiepin that had once been worn with pride. But now remained hidden in trouser pockets.
Tradition dictated that the Joker would propose two possibilities to join the suit and give the reasons why.
Right now the room contained two potential world class athletes, a musician, a boy already on his way to medical school, an artist, a boy who had joined Mensa before he reached the age of six, the son of a cabinet minister, a banker, and the sons of two international businessmen.
The Joker pointed to the first photograph. ‘I have proposed subject one as his father has recently been awarded an MBE for setting up a charitable education initiative in Uganda.’
The cards nodded in response.
The Joker pointed to the second photograph. ‘I have proposed subject two because both of his parents are successful barristers.’
The proposal needed no further explanation. Just as many children followed their parents through the education system, they followed their careers too. There was a good possibility that subject two would also choose to enter the legal profession and be useful in the future.
The Joker sat back. ‘Okay, cards, you know what to do.’
The King thrust his left hand forward and used the Spade pin to prick his thumb. He waited for the bubble of blood to form before smudging it onto the face of the photo of his choice.
The process continued around the table, ending with the Jack.
The Joker looked down at the ten droplets of blood ground into the pudgy little face.
The choice had to be unanimous.
It was.
Thirty-Five
‘Okay, boy, what’ll we listen to tonight?’ Kim asked Barney as she scrolled through her music library.
He offered no response as he waited for key words he understood, despite the fact he’d eaten his evening meal, crunched away on a carrot and had been for a two-mile walk. Still, he lived in hope of something more.
After listening to Saffie earlier her ear now craved a burst of Beethoven. Kim scrolled to the playlist, found ‘Hammerklavier’ – the piece played by Saffie earlier – turned up the volume on the speaker and hit play. Immediately the piano notes seeped into her ear and travelled right to her nerve endings, massaging away the stress of the day.
She stood back and observed her current project. Two months earlier she had tasked an ex-criminal named Len to find her a bike frame for less than five hundred quid. He had taken the challenge and three weeks later presented her with the bare bones of the 1968 Norton Commando she’d asked for.