Child's Play (D.I. Kim Stone #11)(58)

‘Do you have any idea of the research that goes into writing a book like this?’ she asked.

They were entering the sprawling university campus and moseying along Oxford Road looking for Christie’s Bistro, wondering why he couldn’t have named any one of the Starbucks they’d already passed as a meeting place.

‘Errr… no, because I’m a police officer.’

‘Allegedly,’ she quipped. ‘What’s in the book is about one tenth of his knowledge. We need to be able to ask questions, and unless technology has moved on more than I thought we can’t do that with the book.’

‘You know, some days seem so much longer than others,’ he said, spotting the café and pulling in.

How soon her team forgot that they’d only recently been moaning about being confined to eight-hour shifts and now here the two of them were at 5 p.m. two hours away from home and with no clear end to the day in sight. There was no pleasing some folks.

She stepped into the cavernous high-ceilinged room with statues, bookshelves and sofas. Oh yeah, a chain coffee shop this was not, she admitted, savouring the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans.

She spotted Gerald Kennedy from his author photo sitting in front of a wall of leather-clad books beneath a scholarly oil portrait.

‘Double espresso for me,’ she said as Bryant sidled up beside her.

He headed towards the counter, and she made towards the bearded man in the corner who looked a little older than his author photo. It was the beard, she realised. Tarry black on the photos but peppered with grey in real life.

‘Mr Kennedy,’ she said, offering her hand. ‘DI Stone and that’s my colleague DS Bryant over there. Thank you for agreeing to meet with us at short notice.’

‘Not at all, officer. The effort was all yours. I’m where I normally am at this time of day,’ he offered with a smile as he placed his book face down on the table. ‘And I must admit to being intrigued as to how you think I can help.’

He listened silently as she laid out their case in more detail, along with their suspicions.

Bryant arrived and placed their drinks on the table. The two men nodded a silent greeting to each other.

‘So, you think the killer is a former child genius who has some kind of grudge against all of these people?’

‘Either that or someone who really doesn’t like the Brainbox event,’ Bryant offered.

‘Which would be understandable,’ she admitted, recalling Ted’s description of the event.

‘I’ve never been,’ Gerald admitted.

‘You haven’t?’ Kim asked, surprised. ‘Surely someone with your interest in gifted kids is missing out on valuable research.’

‘Aah, you misunderstand my interest,’ he said, sipping his drink. ‘My curiosity lies in their later years. Whether they were able to lead normal, fulfilled lives once the spotlight had gone, and I focussed on five very famous historic cases. Did you know that Buster Keaton was a kid in vaudeville? He was trained to show no emotion as his father threw him around the stage. He slept in a suitcase for the first few months of his life.

‘And then there was Clara Schumann, a gifted piano player who didn’t talk until she was older than five. Her father made a lot of money and even wrote her diary for her. When she left him to get married she had to sue to get any of the money. My curiosity was in finding out if these poor kids can ever adapt and live a normal life.’

‘And?’ Kim asked.

‘I finally deduced that there is no clear answer. There are parents who stop viewing their child as a life that needs protecting and see them as a tool, an asset to earn money. These kids rarely recover from the need to please and perform. On the other hand, there are some parents that handle it differently. You may have heard of The Children on the Hill?’

Kim shook her head.

‘It’s a book about a whole family of overachievers in an environment secure from outside stimulation, the absence of pressure to achieve, but full of intellectual stimulation. Encouraged to make the most of each impulse or curiosity. By all accounts all the children grew up to be valuable members of society.’

‘So, you blame the parents for any eventual psychological problems?’

‘I don’t blame anyone. As a parent, what are you supposed to do if your child exhibits signs of gifts beyond their age? Are you supposed to ignore it, hide it, stifle it? Does that help the child or should it be encouraged to fulfil its potential? To be all that it can be?’

‘At what cost?’ Kim asked.

‘Does it matter?’ he asked, clearly playing devil’s advocate. ‘These are future scientists and great minds—’

‘Aah, not necessarily,’ Kim said. ‘Your book describes a woman called Winifred Stoner who raised her child to be a genius but she did nothing after her mother died. Gifted children don’t necessarily grow up to be creative adults, and creative adults were not necessarily gifted children,’ she said, paraphrasing the first couple of paragraphs.

The man laughed out loud. ‘Thank you for quoting my own words back to me but I am presenting both sides of the argument, Inspector. This is not an easy subject to navigate and is neither black nor white. Take your comment about this Brainbox event. You are clearly opposed to its existence?’

‘Doesn’t exactly sound like fun,’ she admitted. ‘I wonder if these kids are missing the fun of childhood, that they’re growing up too quickly just to satisfy adult fascination?’