She ignored him, slipping the key into the boot lock.
Youre Leah Flood.
She stood facing him, the key in the lock, about to turn it. So?
My daughters on the police force. She thinks they did a shitty thing to you. So do I. For what its worth.
She gave him an abrupt nod. She didn’t want to talk about it. Plus, why should she believe him? He might be trying to undermine her. She watched him, waiting to see what he’d do or say.
You have plenty of support, you know. My daughter hears things. I hear things. The police are anxious to shake off the old culture, the one you came up against.
Leah felt that she was losing control of the situation. She clenched her fists. You hired a hitman, on behalf of someone else.
No. Youve got it all wrong.
Okay. Lets look at it another way. You passed information on to another person, and this person hired the hitman.
Abbott threw up his hands. Maybe, but it was done innocently on my part. Theo reported to me, I reported to Dr Heyward at the school.
Leah was inclined to believe him. She needed to eliminate him as a suspect, thats all. She opened the boot.
Abbott moaned softly in distress. Thats Theo. Oh God, his poor wife.
Leah pointed, saying, He was shot by that man. The murder weapon is in the glovebox, a silenced .22 pistol. My prints are on it, sure, but with any luck youll find the killers prints on the shells and magazine inside the gun, and you may find gunshot residue on his hand and sleeve.
Abbott nodded. I can do something about that.
Hes dangerous.
Abbott nodded again, then glanced shrewdly at Leah. Theo was licensed to carry a .38 revolver.
Leah began to back away. She patted her jacket pocket, indicating that she now possessed the .38, then darted across the road and along it to Glenferrie Road, where she walked rapidly for two blocks, occasionally glancing back over her shoulder. She was not followed but Abbott was bound to phone someone. She hailed a passing cab.
She took it for several blocks and caught another cab. Then another. She hadn’t come this far by trusting a man like Abbott, or anyone else.
chapter 20
It was a twenty-minute cab ride to Penleigh Hall Church of England Girls Grammar School. What a mouthful, and it all denoted snooty indifference, if the woman at the front desk was any indication of the spirit of the establishment. She tipped back her head and stared down her nose at Leah.
I’m afraid that Dr Heyward does not see anyone without an appointment.
Already she had lost interest in Leah and was closing down her computer, flicking intercom switches and checking her handbag for car keys.
Which is her office?
The woman stopped what she was doing and stared at Leah, appalled. Are you applying for a teaching position with us? I’m afraid youll have to follow standard procedures and
I’m not after a job, certainly not in this place.
The woman peered at Leah. An expensive, eye-watering perfume, stale as the day was long, wafted from her. Are you related to one of our pupils? A staff member? Unless its an emergency, we have certain rules
It was time to cut through the suffocating formalities. Its about Tess Quant.
The woman froze. Oh.
I need to see the principal at once.
Do you have information for us? I’m afraid theres no reward.
Leah put her hands on the wooden rail that encircled the reception desk, seat and switchboard, and leaned in, snarling, Because this stinking school stuffed up, someone tried to murder Tess. I saved her. I know where she is. So unless you want me to go to the media, I suggest you get off your fat arse and take me to the principal. Now.
The woman went white, reached for the intercom. Like a whip, Leah slapped the womans hand away and said, No, take me there.
Leah followed as the woman hurried along the corridor. Doors on either side opened on to high-ceilinged offices and conference rooms. The wood panelling gleamed from a hundred years of polishing; original oil paintings hung on the walls; the ornate plasterwork was free of dust. Leah thought there was probably some credence to Tess’s claim that the school placed its public image ahead of the education and welfare of its pupils.
The receptionist came to a heavy, partly open door marked Principal, knocked and was about to poke her head around it when Leah pushed past, finding herself in an airy corner office lined with books. Ivy on the cloistered walkway outside filtered the afternoon sun and dust motes winked in the gauzy light. Books and folders were heaped on an antique table and there were files and a laptop on the desk, which sat solidly on a densely woven rug.
Dr Heyward, the receptionist said, this person has news
Leah cut her off. I’m here about Tess Quant.
The principal regarded her gravely for a moment, then nodded at the receptionist. Thank you, Mrs Webb. Ill handle this now.
If you’re sure?
I’m sure.
With a sniff, the woman was gone. Dr Heyward rose from behind her desk. She wore a linen jacket over designer jeans, dangling earrings and bright lipstick. Her hair was long, chaotic, scraped back from her assessing face by a pair of huge red hair clips. Half-lens spectacles hung from her neck by a fine gold chain. Her nails were short, pink, and well cared for. She was no more than forty years old; Leah had been expecting a stern, remote, sixty-year-old.
Are you a detective from Abbotts ? Have you found Tess?
Yes, Ive found Tess, no, I’m not a detective, Leah said. She paused. But I used to be a police officer.
Dr Heyward stared at her for a long moment. Are you from the press?
No.
A frown. Then who are you?
Leah decided to be frank. My name is Leah Flood. I was
The police whistleblower! Dr Heyward exclaimed, her brow clearing.
Yes.
Brave woman. But whats your relationship to Tess? And where is she?
Shes somewhere safe, and not coming back to school. And shes not hurt, not that you’ve asked how she is.
The principals lips had gone thin and tight. Whats your role in this?
I’m looking after Tess’s interests, since no one else seems to be.
Dr Heyward raised an elegant eyebrow. I see. And you’re including myself and the school in that judgment.
Yes.
It might interest you to know that Tess has been a problem child ever since she came to us, but lets forget that for the moment. Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you like tea, coffee, something stronger?
Leah remained standing. I want answers. I want action.
Oh, bully for you, Ms Flood.
You may call me Leah.
Leah it is, the woman said dryly. And what, exactly, do you expect me to do for you?
Leah felt obscurely as if she were a kid again, hauled before the principal for some wrongdoing. Thered been several such occasions when she was young. You can be straight with me. for a start.
Dr Heyward seemed to curl her lip but said nothing.
Tess told me that she was sexually abused by a member of your staff and you did nothing about it.
Dr Heyward didn’t move a muscle. Long seconds ticked by, and then something seemed to go out of her, as if shed deflated by a minute degree. Brian Vale, the swimming coach.
Yes.
Dr Heyward began a series of slow nods. Finally she said, I did do something about it. I acted promptly, but Tess had already made up her mind about me and run away. I very quickly found two other pupils who have been abused or claim abuse.
Leah hadn’t realised how on edge shed been, waiting to hear something like this, until she let out a long, ragged, relieved breath and sank into a chair. Thank God.
Dr Heyward nodded and also sat. She wasn’t about to admit dereliction of duty, though. She wasn’t about to admit something that might get her, or the school, sued. She was watching and waiting to see what Leah would do or say.