Child's Play by Alison Taylor Page A

herself for the worst since yesterday and in a bizarre way its arrival brought relief. Now the mystery of Sukie’s disappearance was resolved, she could concentrate on the practicalities of containing whatever had led the girl to her death.
    The waiting became an eternity. Because no one had told her why she must wait, she began to feel intimidated and even afraid, and the bland young policewoman acquired the threatening aura of a gaoler. Freya judged her to be in her mid-twenties and, on the evidence of dress and general demeanour, not the product of a common background. She spoke well, too, without a trace of the raucous local accent. Freya was considering how to reassert herself in this wholly alien situation when the inspector returned.
    With barely time to collect her wits, she found herself whisked along a corridor and into a large, airy room where a thin, good-looking man about her own age sat behind a desk. The inspector put her in a chair and left.
    ‘ Sukie’s family has been informed of her death,’ the other man told her. ‘I understand her parents are now on their way here.’
    ‘ What?’ She blinked rapidly.
    ‘ I said—’ he began, but she cut him short, inhaling threadily.
    ‘ I didn’t catch your name.’
    He gestured to the nameplate on the desk. ‘I am Superintendent Michael McKenna, and I’ll be supervising the investigation into Sukie’s death.’
    Trying to push away the thought of that secret, superior piece of knowledge nestling like a grenade in the hand of someone at the Hermitage, Freya said, ‘I assume she drowned herself.’ Clasping and unclasping her hands, she added, ‘And I can only conclude that, tragically, some private misery drove her to commit suicide rather than seek help. Girls of her age are, unfortunately, often prone to hysterical behaviour that has drastic consequences.’
    ‘ We don’t know if she drowned.’
    She screwed up her face into a parody of bemusement. ‘But she must have done! She was pulled out of Menai Strait.’
    ‘ She could have been dead when she entered the water.’
    ‘ I do not believe,’ Freya said, putting all the authority she could muster into her voice, ‘that a killer is lurking behind the walls of my school.’
    Waiting for him to respond, she studied his face. He had unusually fine features but, like the rather beautiful eyes, they were drawn with weariness and, perhaps, even disillusionment.
    ‘ What you believe, Dr Scott,’ he commented, meeting her gaze, ‘has become an irrelevancy. We proceed on the assumption of suspicious death. Sukie died not long after last being seen on Tuesday night, so if someone did indeed push her into the Strait, that person has had ample opportunity to cover his or her tracks.’ For a moment he regarded her wordlessly, before saying, ‘While a suicide, from the school’s point of view, would no doubt be the preferred option, in that your liabilities would be significantly reduced, please refrain from speculation. I’ve no doubt that your word is taken very seriously and any theory you care to promote would quickly gain hold, to the detriment of our investigation.’
    A flush of anger staining her cheeks, Freya stared at him, realising that her so far limitless influence was now heavily circumscribed and hostage to circumstance. Then, with an enormous effort of will, she pulled herself under control. Dropping her gaze, summoning more tears, she said, with a catch in her voice, ‘Please forgive me. Sukie’s death has been a terrible shock and, of course, it creates a dreadful crisis for the school.’ Gathering up her bag, she rose. ‘At such a time my place is with my girls and staff, and naturally I must be ready to receive Lady Hester and her husband.’
    ‘ Sit down, please. I haven’t finished.’ Stony-faced, he added, ‘You will remain here until someone has taken your statement and I shall be talking to the Melvilles.’ He punched a button on the telephone console to summon her