Free Smoke and Mirrors by Elly Griffiths

pleasure to teach.’
    ‘She was good at English, wasn’t she? We know about the plays she wrote.’
    Mrs Paxton gave Emma a sharp look, as if suspecting her of asking a trick question. ‘Plays? I’ve never heard of any plays. Annie was an all-rounder but she excelled at maths and science. She talked about becoming a doctor . . .’ She brought out the handkerchief again.
    ‘Do you do any drama here?’
    Miss Paxton drew herself up. ‘Indeed we do. We put on
Twelfth Night
last year.’
    Emma’s mind boggled slightly at the thought of
Twelfth Night
with an all-girl cast. Her school had put on
The Tempest
and that was bad enough (Emma had played Gonzalo).
    ‘And we had some drama workshops only a few weeks ago,’ Miss Paxton went on. ‘I didn’t notice Annie being particularly interested, though she took part, of course.’
    ‘What did you know about Mark Webster?’ asked Emma. ‘Did you ever see them together?’
    Now Mrs Paxton looked properly horrified. ‘We never have anything to do with the
boys
. It’s a completely separate school. And I certainly never saw Annie with a boy. It’s strictly forbidden by the school rules. Girls must not fraternise in any way.’
    Emma’s school had had a similar rule but she seemed to remember that fraternisation had gone on anyway. She smiled placatingly. ‘Thank you very much, Mrs Paxton. I won’t take up any more of your time. I know this must be a very difficult day for you.’
    ‘It’s a terrible day,’ agreed the headmistress. ‘But life must go on.’
    Yes, life must go on, thought Emma, as she followed Mrs Paxton’s upright figure through the panelled corridors and somehow, seeing the red-blazered schoolgirls scuttling past, casting awed looks at their headmistress, Mrs Paxton’s cliché began to sound like an exhortation. These girls could be in danger from Annie’s killer. It was up to Emma to make sure that life went on.
    *
    The girls’ and the boys’ schools had adjoining playing fields. There were signs saying ‘Girls must NOT walk across the field’ but it was quicker than going back round by the road so Emma took the path around the edge of the pitch, noting the point at which hockey turned into rugby. There was still snow on the ground but both schools had teams running about, being yelled at by teachers in sheepskin coats. The hockey players and rugby players studiously ignored each other but Emma wondered if it was always like this. It would have been easy enough for Mark and Annie to meet at the Rubicon, maybe even to pass notes. She must remember to ask Annie’s friends when she interviewed them.
    Mark’s headmaster, Dr Martin Hammond, was an older, drier character than Mrs Paxton but he, too, had nothing but praise for his pupil.
    ‘A model student. Well behaved, diligent, full of promise. Dear me . . .’ He took off his glasses and wiped them. ‘To say that now . . .’
    Dr Hammond didn’t need to say what he meant. Mark’s promise would never be realised. He would never leave this school with academic honours, just as Annie would never become a doctor. The headmaster stared bleakly ahead of him while Emma asked about Mark’s school career.
    ‘A solid citizen. A little quiet in lessons, some of the masters said, but always hard-working and well prepared. And, as I say, his written work was of an excellent standard. He was shaping up to be quite a decent little batsman too.’
    Emma looked at the framed cricket bat above Dr Hammond’s head and realised that this was quite an accolade.
    ‘What about drama?’ she asked. ‘I’d heard that he was interested in acting.’
    Dr Hammond looked quite as affronted as Mrs Paxton before him. ‘Acting? I’ve never heard of anything like that. We do a Gilbert and Sullivan every year and, as far as I know, he never took part.’
    Perhaps he was a music lover then, thought Emma. She asked about Mark’s friends.
    ‘Simkins Minor, I think, and Warburton. A small group of the quieter sort. I