Close to Home (DI Adam Fawley #1)(26)

He doesn’t say, but Everett knows it’s their first child, and at forty-two, after three miscarriages, she’s going to want him there.

‘Don’t worry,’ she says. ‘You go and I’ll finish up here. Alison Stevens says the Dawsons can see us at two so I’ll go round after this and meet you later.’

‘You OK getting to the house?’

She smiles. ‘It’s only a ten-minute walk. I think I can manage.’

If Everett had worried about getting Nanxi Chen to open up, it’s soon obvious that she has rather the opposite problem on her hands. Nanxi has the confidence of a child twice her age, and a full-on American frankness to go with it. Daisy Mason, in her opinion, is ‘super-smart’ and ‘really sassy’. She does the best handstands in class (Kate Madigan smiles sadly at this) and tells the most awesome stories, though Portia is better at drawing, and Daisy’s no good at dancing at all, even though she thinks she is. Millie Connor is best at that, but she’s a bit stupid otherwise (a mild rebuke and a blush from teacher at this one).

‘And what are you good at, Nanxi?’ asks Everett.

‘Oh, math. My dad wants me to go to MIT like he did.’

Everett has no idea what MIT is, but she gets the picture.

‘So how has Daisy been at school recently? Was there anything worrying her at all?’

Nanxi considers for a moment. ‘Well, I suppose there was one thing. But it was a secret. She only told us because we’re her BFFs.’

Everett does her best not to look overeager. ‘What secret, Nanxi?’

The girl looks doubtful suddenly, as if she’s realized she’s already said too much, but Kate Madigan encourages her. ‘It’s OK, Nanxi – I’m sure Detective Everett won’t tell anyone.’

‘Daisy didn’t tell me what it was. She said one day she was meeting someone and it was a secret. She seemed really excited at first, but then she said it was nothing and she wasn’t going to see them again.’

‘And she didn’t tell you who it was she’d seen? A grown-up? Another child?’

A vigorous shake of the head.

‘And was she upset after she saw this person?’

Nanxi considers. ‘No, not upset. She wasn’t crying or anything. I think she was just mad.’

Which, as Everett reminds herself, means something very different in America.

‘Was Daisy happy at home, Nanxi?’

Nanxi makes a face. ‘Like, seriously? Have you seen that house?’

Kate intervenes quickly. ‘Now, Nanxi, that’s not a nice thing to say. We don’t judge people by how much money they have, do we?’

Nanxi looks as if money’s the only reliable yardstick you’re ever likely to get, but she doesn’t say anything.

‘What I really meant was whether Daisy was happy with her family?’

‘Well, Leo’s kinda weird. A bit wimpy kid. And her mom’s always on at her about her marks.’

‘And what about her father? Everyone says they’re really close.’

‘I guess so, only – ’

‘Only?’

‘He used to be, like, her hero or her Prince Charming or something. But she doesn’t talk about him like that any more. She doesn’t even call him Daddy.’

‘So what does she call him, Nanxi?’

The girl looks at Everett, a world of knowing suddenly in her eyes. ‘She calls him the He Pig.’

*

A few minutes later, when Everett gets up to go, she finds herself in front of a pinboard of drawings entitled OUR FAIRY TALES. Perhaps it’s Nanxi’s reference to Prince Charming, but something makes her look closer. Most of them are a predictable mix of Once Upon a Time and Harry Potter – boy wizards and green dragons and long-haired princesses in towers not much taller than they are. She notices in passing that Nanxi’s right and Portia is clearly the most talented artist in the class, but the drawing that really strikes her is Daisy’s. She calls Kate Madigan over.

‘Were there stories that went with these pictures?’

Kate smiles. ‘How perceptive of you. Yes, we did the stories first and then I got them to draw a picture of what they’d written.’

‘Do you have the stories?’

‘Yes, I think they’re still in a pile somewhere.’

She goes over to the desk. It’s heaped with little presents still in their gift-wrap.

‘The kids obviously like you,’ says Everett, reading a couple of the messages. To the best teacher in the world. We will miss you xxxx

‘What? Oh, that. Yes, it is nice when they bring you things. I haven’t opened them yet. It seems, you know, not the right time.’

She’s found a pile of essays now, and starts flicking through them, a coil of red hair slipping forward over her shoulder. She gets to the end, frowns, then looks up, a little flustered.

‘Now that’s odd, so it is. Daisy’s doesn’t seem to be here.’

It’s Everett’s turn to frown. ‘Really? Where else could it be?’

Kate Madigan looks bewildered. ‘I suppose it could be at home. I did take them back to the flat to mark them. But I don’t see how that one could have got separated from the rest.’

‘Could someone have taken it – from here, I mean? Could someone have come into the classroom?’