Page 22 of Dying Truth
Kim had first met Joanna Wade a couple of years earlier while investigating the murder of school principal Teresa Wyatt, a woman linked to the discovery of bones at the site of a derelict children’s home. After interviewing most of the woman’s colleagues and receiving the exact same ‘saintly’ description, this woman had been the only one to tell them the truth, while flirting outrageously with Kim.
She had changed very little, Kim noted. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail revealing a strong, square jaw and piercing blue eyes. Her plain black trousers were well cut, emphasising her long legs, and a plain white silk shirt showed a St Christopher around her neck.
‘Buy me a drink and I’ll tell you,’ she said, smiling.
Kim ignored the response and continued. ‘You taught Sadie Winters?’ she asked.
All amusement disappeared from Joanna’s eyes and was replaced by sadness.
‘I did, indeed, Inspector,’ she said.
‘For how long?’
‘Since I joined the team last September.’
‘So, just over six months?’
‘Six months is a long time here,’ she replied.
The response took Kim by surprise. Not so much the words as the tone. It was covered with a quick smile, the type one uses to convince the other person it was a joke, but Kim had not missed the regret. She really found herself wondering why Joanna Wade had made the move but guessed that she was not going to find out.
‘Different to your last school?’ Kim asked. If she recalled correctly Joanna’s teaching methods had sometimes been unconventional and derided by her boss despite getting and keeping the attention of her students.
Joanna simply nodded, and Kim understood she was getting no more.
‘So, what was she like, Sadie?’ Kim asked. ‘And please don’t say troubled,’ she added.
Joanna shook her head. ‘I wasn’t going to. I’d describe her as introspective, reflective and far more talented than she gave herself credit for.’
‘In what way?’
‘Poetry,’ Joanna answered. ‘She saw her writings as pointless ramblings. They were expressive and occasionally a little self-indulgent, but she was thirteen. I think we were all captivated by our own emotions at that age. Her poems reflected much of what was going on in her mind.’
Kim saw Bryant make a note. She guessed it was to ask Dawson about such writings amongst her personal possessions.
‘Like what?’ Kim asked, wanting to understand the girl better.
‘Her place in the world, fear, often loneliness, just stuff,’ Joanna said, glancing away.
Kim waited for her gaze to return. ‘“Stuff”?’
There was something that Joanna was keeping to herself.
‘As I said, Inspector, she was thirteen years of age.’
The set expression was back, and Kim felt the woman’s resolve to say nothing more on the subject. She had a feeling that Joanna’s stubbornness mirrored her own.
‘Did you ever have any trouble with her in lessons?’ Kim asked.
Joanna shook her head. ‘I didn’t.’
‘Indicating that someone else did?’ she pushed.
Joanna opened her hands expressively. ‘Sadie loved English, so she was never any bother to me.’
Kim opened her mouth to speak as Principal Thorpe entered the grand hall and stopped dead. The young couple chatting excitedly behind almost walked into him.
The woman’s right hand instinctively covered her extended stomach.
