Free Child's Play by Maureen Carter Page A

crossing shapely legs, smoothing a creaseless skirt. The little black dress was straight out of
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
; the silver hoop earrings could’ve doubled as bracelets. Harries wondered if she enjoyed an audience, hoped it was more a case of giving the subject serious thought.
    â€˜I haven’t known Caitlin long.’ Proper newsreader’s voice. ‘But she works hard in class, puts in the hours after school too.’ Smiling, Miss Fox brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. ‘Actually she’s one of the leads in my end-of-term production. She’s playing Abigail in
The Crucible
.’
    Harries nodded: for all his vast theatrical knowledge, she could’ve been playing snooker in Sheffield. ‘How would you describe her personality?’
    Pensive, she reached for a bottle of Evian and held it to her lips for a few seconds before drinking. If it was a distraction technique it had partial success. Harries kicked No-Shit’s foot under the desk: he was supposed to be taking notes.
    â€˜Sorry.’ She balanced the bottle on her knee. ‘Just marshalling my thoughts. I’d hate a careless word to point you in the wrong direction.’
    â€˜Understood.’ Harries reckoned a lot of punters didn’t give a toss about misdirection, though right now any direction would do. ‘Take your time, Miss Fox.’
    She did, and another dainty swig. ‘She’s a bright, popular girl, eager to please, willing to help, seems happy and bursting with confidence. Loving drama, she’s a pleasure to teach.’
    â€˜â€œSeems”?’ Harries queried. ‘You said “seems” happy and confident.’
    â€˜Sometimes, I wonder if the happy-go-lucky Caitlin we all know and love is the real deal. Or if it was partly an act, you know?’
    He didn’t. And no one else had come anywhere close to making the same suggestion. ‘Go on.’
    â€˜It’s tricky to pin down.’ She re-crossed her legs.
    â€˜Try.’ His smile of encouragement faded as she related vague concerns, formless fears. Apparently, Caitlin stared into space a lot, sad expression on her face, tears in her eyes. She spent quite a bit of time alone in the library, deliberately distanced herself from friends but paradoxically was the sort of girl who had to be liked by everyone and the most casual remark could cut her to the quick.
    Sounded like every teenager Harries knew, unless … He leaned forward a touch. ‘Are you saying someone’s bullying her?’
    â€˜No.’ She paused. Was that telling? ‘I really don’t think so. I just find her extremely … sensitive. Complex. A little moody? A bit of a drama queen.’
    â€˜As in?’
    She threw her hands in the air. Harries thought the gesture pretty theatrical. Maybe Miss Fox did too. She gave a sheepish smile. ‘Sorry, it’s just so difficult to describe. But I guess it’s a case of her always needing to be the centre of attention, always having to top everyone else’s story. Not belittling people, just to get a laugh, you know?’
    Not really. Maybe the boss would have an idea. They were hooking up at Caitlin’s granny’s house in an hour or so; he’d run it past her then. ‘Tell me, Miss—’
    â€˜Please.’ She raised a palm. ‘The name’s Jude.’
    He nodded acknowledgement. ‘Has Caitlin seemed more subdued recently? Did you sense anything bothering her?’ Nothing, she said. ‘Is there someone, a best mate maybe, she might have confided in?’
    The girls she named had already been interviewed: nada on that front. He pressed further on Caitlin’s background, asked whether she’d had problems at school, whether she seemed happy at home, if she’d had boyfriend bother. The teacher supplied no-yes-no answers but no real intelligence, no lines worth pursuing. Harries sensed she’d help if she