Free Child's Play by Maureen Carter

christened him No-Shit.
    â€˜I’m trying, lad.’ Smirking, he wiped the limp hankie round a lens of his horn-rims. ‘It’s hard mind.’
    Harries rolled his eyes at the ceiling, knew where the old lech was coming from. He groaned inwardly at Holmes’ word play and the mental picture it prompted. The more-than-portly Holmes with a hard-on wasn’t a thought to hold. Unlike an image of the lovely Miss Fox. The young blonde looked more like a movie star than Caitlin Reynolds’ drama teacher. Bright, bubbly, big b … blue eyes.
    â€˜Well, knock it on the head, eh, Jed? She’ll be back in a tick.’ The interview had barely started when she’d had to rush out to take a call, some parent on the school secretary’s phone demanding words about little Johnnie or Jenny. Harries hoped Miss Fox would have some decent input/insight on Caitlin when she got back but given she’d only been on staff since September, he’d not hold his breath. Nor inhale too deeply. Not with undertones of sweaty socks and overripe cheese wafting in the air. Cracking open a window crossed Harries’ mind but a hockey match was in full swing outside and the accompanying sound track was like something from a slasher movie. While No-Shit strolled over to take a closer butcher’s at the action, Harries ran through the notes from earlier sessions, statements from the head, Caitlin’s personal tutor, three more teachers and two of her closest friends. The picture emerging appeared to be that of a well-liked intelligent young woman, confident, fun-loving, witty, great sense of humour. Yada yada. She probably loved animals and wanted to save the world. Goody-too-good-to-be-true-shoes?
    In Harries’ experience no one was perfect but so far not one person had a bad word to say about the girl. No one could offer up even a guess why anyone would want to harm her. Caitlin, everyone agreed, hadn’t an enemy in the world. Well, how could she? A girl with six-hundred-plus Facebook friends? Sighing, Harries shook his head. He could count his mates on the fingers of one hand, and he knew each one like the back of it. And in reality, it didn’t matter what anyone said – Caitlin patently had one enemy.
    â€˜Hey, Dave.’ No-Shit strolled back, tucking a sludge-coloured knitted tie into a too-high waistband. ‘You want in on the sweepstake?’
    Sighing, Harries tossed his pen on top of the notes. ‘What sweepstake?’
    â€˜Slow off the mark, aren’t you, son?’ Coming from No-Shit that was rich. ‘The date the chief’s gonna ride off into the sunset.’ It was an apt analogy given Baker’s predilection for all things Wild West. If you asked Harries it was all a bit big boys’ cowboys and Indians. John Wayne eat your Stetson.
    â€˜He’s definitely going then?’ Harries turned his mouth down, far as he knew there’d been nothing official, just a load of rumour and gossip doing the rounds.
    â€˜Trust me.’ Holmes tapped the side of his distinctly crooked nose. ‘I’m pally with that big bird in HR.’
    â€˜Big bird, officer?’ Jude Fox arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow as she re-entered the room. ‘I take it we’re talking the winged variety? And tell me –’ She smiled sweetly as she took a perch – ‘what did they make when you were at school?’ Harries felt his lip twitch. ‘Quill pens?’ she asked. ‘Penny farthings? Faux pas?’ Harries had to drop his glance but not before he caught a twinkle in her turquoise eye.
    â€˜Sorry, Miss …?’ Holmes hung his head. He sounded like a thick kid apologizing. Still, it might teach him to remember names in future.
    â€˜Miss Fox.’ Harries smiled, made eye contact, her twinkle still in situ. If she was flirting, it was fine by him. ‘Caitlin Reynolds? You were about to tell us more.’
    She took her time,