“My nephew, Harry Beam,” said Mrs. Freedman.
For a moment, Agatha was lost for words. She had imagined the nephew would turn out to be a bright, clean-cut young man.
“So this is your gap year?” Agatha finally demanded.
“Yup.”
“What are you going to study?”
“Physics.”
“Where?”
“Imperial College.”
How on earth did he get in there? wondered Agatha. Threaten to break their legs? Oh, well, one day should be enough to get rid of him.
“Mrs. Freedman, give Harry the files on the lost animals and let him get on with it. Patrick, did you manage to interview either Fairy Tennant or Trixie Sommers?”
“Not yet. I’ve been trying the neighbours. I was going to get them after school.”
“Okay, Phil and I will go now.”
“I know them,” said Harry, looking up. “Pair of slags.”
“How do you know them?”
“Year below me in school.”
“And what about Jessica Bradley?”
“Naw, she was one of the quiet ones.”
Agatha hesitated. The sensible thing would be to take Harry with her. But she balked at the thought of losing face by being seen with such an oaf.
“Come along, Phil. Harry, if you find one animal, you’re hired.”
He grunted, staring at the photographs of the missing pets.
Agatha sighed and went out, followed by Phil.
When they were driving off, she said, “I begin to wonder about Mrs. Freedman. First she gossips and then she saddles me with that monster of a nephew.”
“He may be all right,” said Phil. “They all look weird these days.”
They drove to Mircester High School and parked outside. Some parents were already waiting in their cars because a lot of pupils came in from outlying villages, some not served by a school bus.
At four o’clock, the pupils began to stream out. Agatha reflected that most seemed to have done everything they could to alter their school uniforms. A lot of the girls were wearing high heels and tiny skirts. The boys went in for the sloppy look. Trousers drooping over their ankles and shirt tails hanging out.
Agatha recognized Trixie and Fairy and walked towards them.
Harry Beam turned into a store where he knew there was a machine for printing business cards. He typed in his name, put “private detective” under it, the name of the agency and the phone numbers and email of the agency.
Then he got into an old white Ford van he had hired and headed out to the outskirts, where the Animal Rescue Shelter was located. It had just started up a month before.
He went into the reception desk.
The receptionist looked him up and down and demanded, “What do you want?”
And Harry smiled at her. The smile transformed him and Agatha would not have recognized his voice as he presented his business card and said meekly, “I wonder if I could look at your cats and dogs. You see, the owners are so distressed and we would like to do everything we can to help them find their pets.”
She studied his card. “That’s the agency which is helping poor Jessica’s parents find out who murdered her?”
“That’s the one.”
“Wait here.”
She went off.
Harry waited patiently. After a short time she returned with a man whom she introduced as Mr. Blenkinsop.
Mr. Blenkinsop had phoned the agency to check that Harry really was who he said he was.
“Follow me, young man,” he said. “We’ll let you have a look.”
Clutching his folders, Harry followed him.
He went carefully from cage to cage, turning occasionally to ask when either a cat or dog had been admitted.
At last he said cheerfully, “I think I’ve got them all. Would you like to check the photographs with me as I point them out?”
Fairy and Trixie had the shortest skirts of all. They had both loosened their ties and unbuttoned their shirts to where an edge of brassiere would peep through. Both had very long legs ending in high heels. The school would have stopped short at allowing them to wear stilettos, so they had compromised by wearing black shoes with a heavy sole and large clumpy heel. They both had masses of brown unruly hair streaked blonde.
“Jail bait,” muttered Phil. “How can their parents let them go around like that?”
Agatha walked forward. “Fairy and Trixie? Remember me?”
“That’s us,” said Fairy. “Who wants to know? Don’t ‘member you.”
“I am a private detective investigating the death of Jessica Bradley.”
“Look,” said Trixie, “we’ve talked to the police. We don’t need to talk to you. You don’t look like a detective anyway. You’re old.”
“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?”
