‘More than just teenage angst?’

‘I wouldn’t have asked James to work with him if that’s all it was, would I? But George has a hard enough life at home. I wanted to know what was bothering him. See if we could either support him through it or sort it out.’

‘George is sixteen?’

She nodded. ‘You got kids Mrs . . .?’ Another suck on her cigarette, inhaling smoke and tar with relish. ‘Or is it Miss Wheeler?’

‘Detective is fine. Might it be girl trouble with George?’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Because?’

‘George isn’t interested in girls.’

Ross looked up from his note-taking.

‘Or boys for that matter.’ Paton sucked harder on her cigarette.

‘And you’d know?’

‘Three of our girls got pregnant last year. Twelve, thirteen and fourteen. There are worse stats out there, but I’m sure you’re aware of them. George just didn’t show any interest in girls or boys.’ She looked at her cigarette, watched the dying embers fade. ‘James Gilmore was one of the good guys; he tried to help the kids.’

‘So did Mr Gilmore get anywhere with George?’ asked Ross.

Paton shrugged. ‘Nothing specific, nothing we could use. Said he needed more time. He worked slowly, gained their trust, built up the relationship bit by bit. Things like that take time. George Grey has an awful home life – both mum and her partner are heroin users; they’re both off their faces most of the time. It’s a bloody minefield. And if we challenge them about the way they bring up George,’ she snorted, ‘it’s their human rights we are violating.’

‘Are social workers involved? Can’t they do anything?’

‘Social worker’s been off sick for six months. She’s having a breakdown. Her man left her, then hanged himself. Poor cow doesn’t know what day it is.’

‘Is there going to be a replacement sent out for her?’

‘Might get one in a month or two. Cutbacks dictate what will happen.’

‘I see what you mean about it being a nightmare.’ Ross had got over his need for tea.

‘Welcome to my world. End of the academic year and George is out of school and that’s that.’ Paton looked like she was about to cry. ‘And now James has been murdered.’ She ground her cigarette stub into a silver ashtray.

Wheeler sat back in her seat. James Gilmore had been battered to death and his body left as a warning. A very disturbing warning. Was it something he’d uncovered in connection with George Grey? Paton lit another cigarette, sucked hungrily on it, then exhaled. She flicked ash towards the ashtray – most of it landed there but the rest settled like silver dust on the polished floor. ‘I don’t know what’ll happen to wee George now. I thought he was really beginning to trust James, that they were establishing a bond. I thought we might be getting somewhere.’

Ross kept his voice neutral. ‘What kind of a boy is George, Ms Paton?’

‘Nice, he’s a nice wee boy,’ she squinted through a whorl of smoke at Ross. ‘I hope you’re not thinking he had anything to do with this?’

Ross pursed his lips. ‘I’m sorry, but we need to consider all angles. And also the two boys who found Mr Gilmore, Alec Munroe and Rab Wilson, we need to ask you about them.’

Paton glared at him. ‘George Grey has had a shite life. I’m trying to help him and James was trying to help him. Rab and Alec weren’t much better off – have you any idea how difficult their lives are?’

‘But they were there to steal from Mr Gilmore,’ Ross reminded her.

Paton looked to the floor. ‘These weans think stealing is nothing; you’ve no idea what their lives are like. Lifting a few odds and ends from someone’s house, even a member of staff, well, we all know better than to take it personally.’ She paused. ‘You’ve seen the places they live in? The families they come from? Getting caught stealing’s the least of their worries. Besides, Detective Stewart says they called the police when they found the body. Why would they do that if they were involved in James’s death?’

Ross and Wheeler let the question hang.

The head teacher got it, her eyes widening. ‘You’ve got to be kidding, a double bluff? They’re toying with the police? Good God, Alec can hardly read or write. The only thing he was good at was painting – he helped to paint the backdrop to the Christmas play. I thought he might get taken on with a painter and decorator in the area but nothing as yet. That’s where his strength lies. Academically he was very poor, though. As for Rab, he was good at PE, got some awards for boxing – you can tell by his build he’d be a good fighter. I think he took it up for a while, fought a few local fights. Again, not that academic but better than Alec. Rab was also pretty good at drama; he was in the school Christmas play two years hard running. Like us all they had their strengths and weaknesses, but to do this kind of thing? Never.’ She sucked on her cigarette and exhaled the smoke through her nostrils, glaring at them like a tiny, angry dragon.

Wheeler watched as the woman seethed then smoked some more, finally calming herself. ‘But it was George that Mr Gilmore saw most recently?’

Paton shifted on her seat, crossed then uncrossed her legs, trying and failing to get comfortable. ‘George is a lovely boy but he’s too distracted to do well. James tried hard with him and, given time, I’m sure he would have found out what was troubling him.’

Ross kept his voice gentle. ‘And now James is dead.’

Paton didn’t bother to hide her anger. ‘You’re wasting your time if you think George could do anything like that.’

‘Who does George hang out with – is he in with a bad crowd?’

‘No, some of the kids at our school are violent, he’s not.’ She stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray. ‘If anyone wanted to kill poor James, I’d be looking at some of the thugs running about Glasgow.’

‘We’re looking at everyone.’

‘Why would Mr Gilmore be involved with thugs?’ Wheeler asked.

‘He wouldn’t; he was trying to do good but sometimes these things are just random,’ Paton looked at Wheeler, ‘aren’t they?’

Wheeler studied the floor for a second, thinking of the time and energy someone invested in beating Gilmore to death. ‘Maybe he got to know something he shouldn’t have?’

‘Like what? If he knew anything important, why wouldn’t he come to you? No, I can assure you, this tragedy has nothing to do with either my school or any of the pupils.’

Ross kept his voice level. ‘James Gilmore’s death was savage.’

Paton shuddered. ‘Yes, your DCI Stewart outlined the circumstances.’ She moved to the edge of the sofa. ‘It has to be a mistake. It’s just awful but I’m sorry, there’s not much I can tell you. I already told your DCI, there’s no way either boy is connected in any way at all. I’d bet my whole career on it. Have either of you two met them?’

Wheeler shook her head.

Ross answered, ‘No, not yet and I know you’re fond of the pupils but to be fair Ms Paton—’

That was it – the head teacher lost her patience. ‘FAIR, SON? What age are you?’

Ross stared at her then looked to Wheeler.

Paton continued, ‘I’ll bet you that I’ve been a teacher since you were in nappies. I was born and grew up in Glasgow, taught in schools that practically streamed some of the weans towards Barlinnie and you think I’ve never come across a murder before? Are you serious?’

Ross looked at Paton, swallowed and glanced across at Wheeler.

Wheeler ignored him, recognised the strategy, thought he was pushing his luck.

‘Thirty-odd years teaching in Glasgow and you think this is a one-off?’ Paton was still angry; her vowels had changed from clipped head-teacher-speak to working-class Glasgow. ‘Do me a favour.’ She stood. Conversation over. She turned to Wheeler. ‘It’s not like I’m an unfeeling old bitch but there really isn’t anything else I can add. Alec and Rab had nothing to do with it. Neither did George Grey. It’s terrible that poor James is dead but you should be out there finding his killer, not going after some poor weans.’