Ramsay 04 - Killjoy by Ann Cleeves Page A

‘I’m really sorry. I’ll have to go. But if you want to come with me I can introduce you to some of Gabby’s friends. I’m teaching the same group as I was yesterday morning.’
    The classroom was in a different block and she led Hunter outside, across a yard where the frost still lay in the shadow. The building was 1960s glass and concrete with rusting window frames and noisy corridors. She opened a door and stood aside to let him in. The room was full of sunlight so Hunter blinked, then felt foolish, at a disadvantage. He saw twelve young people dressed in costumes which ranged from the bizarrely flamboyant to the threadbare. Ellie followed him into the room and sat on one of the desks. He stood, uncomfortably, intimated by their stares. He was not sure how to speak to these bright young people who spent all day reading Shakespeare. He felt he had more in common with the joy riders he pulled in on a Friday night.
    ‘You’ll all have heard by now,’ Ellie Smith was saying, ‘that the body of a young woman was found at the Grace Darling Arts Centre last night. The police have identified the victim as Gabby Paston.’
    She paused. A girl had started to cry and turned to be comforted by a friend. Ellie went on.
    ‘Of course it’s an awful shock and terribly upsetting but the police obviously want to ask questions about Gabby and they especially want to trace her movements yesterday. This is Detective Sergeant Hunter. He’ll ask you some questions now. If you have any other information about Gabby and there are details you’d prefer to remain confidential you can always arrange a private meeting with him through me.’ She looked around. ‘You do see,’ she said, ‘that this is a serious matter. Whatever views you might hold about the police generally, you must co-operate with them now.’
    There was a silence and she turned to Hunter. He cleared his throat nervously.
    ‘I understand that Gabriella attended the English class with you yesterday morning,’ he said. ‘According to Miss Smith she left in rather a hurry. Does anyone know where she was going?’
    A skeletally thin girl with black spiked hair and huge eyes, blackened at the rims so she looked like an anorexic panda, raised her hand. She was wearing a long black dress which reached almost to the ground and the ubiquitous Dr Martens.
    ‘Gabby had a date,’ she said. ‘Someone was taking her out to lunch.’
    ‘Did she tell you who she was meeting?’
    The girl shook her head.
    ‘Does anyone know?’
    Again there was silence.
    ‘I know where she was going.’ The girl who interjected was plump, quietly spoken, dressed in denims and a hand-knitted sweater. ‘To the Holly Tree at Martin’s Dene. She was teasing, you know, about the canteen food. How we’d have to put up with that while she was sitting down at the Holly Tree to something delicious.’
    ‘When did she tell you that?’
    ‘First thing in the morning. While we were all waiting for Miss Smith to come in.’
    Hunter considered. The Holly Tree was expensive, well out of the range, he would have thought, of the average sixth former. It was unlikely that Gabriella’s date had been with one of her schoolfriends. But if she had been there for a meal someone would have remembered her. At lunch time it would be full of business people who had driven out of Newcastle to do their entertaining. In her black leggings and boots Gabriella Paston would have stuck out like a sore thumb. Someone would haved noticed her companion too. Suddenly Hunter began to feel more hopeful. He resisted the temptation to leave immediately for the Holly Tree and went on, turning to the plump girl. ‘ Did she tell you anything about her plans for the rest of the day?’
    ‘No. Nothing.’
    ‘How did she seem to you?’
    ‘Excited. Really high.’
    ‘She didn’t tell you why?’
    Sadly the girl shook her head. Hunter considered the information. It was vague, subjective, but he would have put the girl down as