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“Cut the crap,” said Agatha savagely. “I find it damned suspicious that you have no interest in finding out who murdered your friend.”

They stared at her mulishly. Both were chewing gum. Then Trixie shrugged and said to Fairy, “Let’s split.”

They sauntered off, leaving Agatha glaring after them.

“I got their photos. Might come in useful,” said Phil.

“Let’s try the school,” said Agatha. “So much bureaucracy and paperwork these days, the teachers are probably all still chained to their desks.”

“I took notes from reports in the local papers. Her English teacher is a Miss Rook.”

They entered the school and walked along corridors until they found a teacher who told them Miss Rook was in the staffroom and directed them there.

There were five teachers in the staffroom. “Miss Rook?” asked Agatha.

“That’s me.” A small woman got to her feet.

Agatha introduced herself and Phil.

“Is it about Jessica?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll leave you to it, Alice,” said one of the four other teachers, and then they left.

“Sit down,” said Alice Rook. “Would you like some staff coffee? I warn you, it’s pretty terrible.”

“No, we’re all right. Tell us about Jessica.”

“Up till six months ago, she was a very good pupil. Not like some of the others, who shout Paki at me even though I’m half Indian.”

“That explains the English name.”

“Yes.”

Alice Rook was a pretty woman with a smooth coffeecoloured skin, large dark eyes and thick black hair.

“So what caused the change in Jessica?”

“Fairy Tennant and Trixie Sommers. Bad influence. Jessica was quite shy, you know, and like all shy girls she wanted to be popular with the boys. She started to hang out with that precious pair. I told her her work was slipping, and that if she didn’t get good grades she’d never make it to university. She just stared at me and said nothing. You know what I think? I think she had a crush on someone. I think she had decided to do anything to attract that someone.”

“Any idea who that someone was?”

She shook her head. “I would swear it was no one in her class or in her year. I know the boys the girls fancy and it wasn’t any of them. I think it was someone outside of this school.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I teach English, and for Jessica’s form it’s the last lesson of the day. Towards the end of the lesson, she would keep looking out of the window and fidgeting. Her eyes were bright and shining. She looked like a girl waiting for a lover.”

“Did you ever see her go off with anyone?”

“I’m afraid not. What a waste of a bright girl.”

“Is there a school counsellor? Might she have consulted someone?”

“There is a counsellor, Mrs. Aynton, but if Jessica consulted her, she can’t really tell you anything. What the pupils say to her is confidential.”

“But Jessica’s dead! Surely that makes a difference.”

“Wait here and I’ll see if she’s still in the building.”

I went to a school like this, thought Agatha. Built of breeze block and already crumbling at the edges. Thrown up cheap. The smells are the same. Disinfectant and the metallic odour of school meals.

Alice Rook came back. She shook her head. “Jessica never consulted the school counsellor.”

“What was her best subject?” asked Phil.

“Definitely maths. The only subject she still got A’s in.”

“Who taught her?”

“Mr. Owen Trump. Why?”

“Pupils will always work hard for a teacher they admire and she might have said something to him,” said Phil. “Is he still in the school?”

“I’ll have a look.”

Agatha was torn between wishing she had thought of that idea herself and a feeling that she really ought to give Phil a little praise. Instead, she said, “We’ll review your wages when we get back to the office. I think we can say your trial is over.”

Phil’s face lit up. “Thank you very much.”

“Only what you deserve,” said Agatha gruffly.

The staffroom door opened and a young man came in. “I’m Owen Trump,” he said. “Alice has gone home.”

Agatha’s heart gave a lurch. He looked in the dim room like a younger version of James Lacey. He had thick black hair and bright blue eyes.