‘How the hell did they find all that out?’ Bryant asked as they drove over the Stourport road bridge that straddled the River Severn.

‘Apparently, Dawson let Stacey do it the hard way before guessing that the annual yearbooks that grace the halls of Heathcrest would probably have been uploaded electronically too. Each yearbook has a section on the achievement of previous students, and Cordell’s graduation from medical school was right there.’

‘What about the Spades thing?’

‘Right there in the book under their graduation photos. Remember the clubs weren’t secret back then.’

‘Trust Dawson to find a shortcut,’ Bryant observed as he took a left into a wide tree-lined street.

Kim knew that Oakland Hospital was a private healthcare facility that had opened on the outskirts of Stourport-on-Severn in the mid-seventies. Ten years later it was absorbed into a larger chain when private healthcare boomed. In the years since, the minor operations had developed into life-saving transplants along with cosmetic procedures. And just about everything in between.

If the entrance to Russells Hall Hospital sometimes resembled a Black Friday electronics sale, then Oakland was more like a leisurely stroll around Harvey Nichols.

Kim took a moment to assess her surroundings as Bryant introduced them both and asked to see Doctor Cordell.

Soft music replaced the din of agitated voices. Plush, pastel furnishings took the place of plastic, functional seating. Warm and friendly reception staff sat in the place of terse, stressed administrators. Framed prints of old movie posters replaced noticeboards screaming information on health issues.

Oakland did not resemble any hospital that Kim had ever visited, and Gordon Cordell did not resemble any nimble-fingered surgeon she had ever met, she thought, as a chubby, clean hand reached across the desk towards them.

Gordon Cordell was a short, rotund man with a chin that was fighting to remain separate from the neck.

Kim didn’t try to ignore the immediate sensation of mistrust for the man in front of her. There was a guardedness that seemed to be emanating from him and they hadn’t yet opened their mouths.

‘Mr Cordell, thank you for seeing us at such short notice,’ Bryant said, pleasantly. If her colleague was feeling the same wariness as she was he was hiding it well.

‘I’m afraid I only have a few minutes.’

‘Of course, doctor. We’ll try not to take up too much of your time. We’re here in connection with Heathcrest Academy. We understand you were a student there?’

Cordell nodded uncertainly, which did nothing to quiet the growing suspicion in Kim’s stomach. It was a simple enough question and required no hesitation. He either was or he wasn’t. The cynical part of her felt he was deliberating over every question for fear of revealing something.

‘And you graduated?’

‘In 1992,’ he answered.

‘Good school?’ Bryant asked.

He nodded.

It appeared the man barely trusted himself to speak.

‘You kept in contact with some of your old school friends?’

‘Some,’ he answered.

Kim had learned that there were two kinds of nervousness when being questioned by the police. Over-talkers and under-talkers. For some the nervousness went straight to the vocal chords and they said more than they needed to, filled every silence in an effort to reinforce their truth, often repeating a phrase over and over. Others clammed up completely and offered as few words as possible, not even trusting their own tongue.

‘And you were part of a group there, Clubs, I think—’

‘Spades,’ he corrected, promptly.

‘Maybe you could tell us about that?’ Bryant asked, clearly hoping an open-ended question would elicit more than one-word answers.

‘For what reason?’ he asked, rubbing at the skin on the side of his nose.

Or not, she thought.

‘Because it may help with our enquiries, Doctor Cordell,’ Bryant said, pleasantly.

Cordell glanced at the phone on his desk, either praying it would ring or it was an unconscious movement of the eyes.

‘We’re just here for background,’ Bryant assured him.

‘It’s just a club,’ he said, rubbing that same area of skin again. ‘It’s just some harmless fun when you’re at school, like a gang of friends. You must have had a set group of friends, officer?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ Bryant said, pleasantly. ‘Kind of lost touch after we left school though. Is that the same at Heathcrest?’ he asked.

Kim could feel Cordell’s growing discomfort.

‘I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you mean,’ he said, buying time for a simple question for an intelligent, educated man.

‘Well, do all you little Spades stay in contact once you’re out in the big wide world?’ Bryant asked the question with just the right amount of dismissive amusement to get a jaw clench from the man. This was Bryant’s baiting at its best. Subtle but effective and a joy to watch.

‘I don’t think you quite understand how—’

‘Oh no, I get it,’ Bryant said, now cutting the man off when he wanted to speak, which was just going to add to Cordell’s annoyance. ‘When I was a kid, one of my mates took some money from his mum’s purse, and we went and bought as much pick ‘n’ mix from Woolworths as we could carry. We swore it would be our secret. Pricked our thumbs, exchanged blood and everything.’

‘That’s not exactly—’ Cordell said, trying to interrupt but Bryant was on a roll.

‘Thing is, by the time I got home I felt sick as a dog. Not just cos I’d swallowed enough sugar to fell a wildebeest but because I knew I’d done something wrong,’ he said.

The tension on Cordell’s face was very telling. She marvelled at how her colleague had an anecdote for every occasion.

‘I couldn’t eat my tea, and by bedtime I was convinced the police were going to be knocking on my door. And suddenly the promise I’d made earlier to keep my mouth shut was no longer as important. Not compared to bringing shame upon my family.’ He paused and then lowered his voice. ‘Do you have family, Doctor Cordell?’

The doctor met Bryant’s intense gaze, and Kim knew what was coming next, as did her colleague.

‘I’m sorry, officers but I have nothing that will aid your investigation and I really must get on with my work.’

Bryant stood and offered his hand.

‘Thank you for your time and I hope we can speak more fully the next time we meet, probably best at the station when you’re less busy.’

Yeah, leave that threat hanging there, Kim thought. Bryant mentioning the next time assured Cordell that their business was unfinished and the idea of attending the station had prompted three deep swallows.

* * *

Kim closed the door behind them and Bryant leaned down to re-tie his shoelace.

‘Nice story about the sweets,’ she observed.

‘No story,’ he admitted. ‘And I haven’t been able to look at a Jelly Baby ever since,’ he said, straightening. He looked at her. ‘You ready?’

‘Oh yeah.’

Bryant stood close to the door and listened. She saw his mouth count to three before pushing down on the door handle

He hesitated for just a couple of seconds before speaking but it was long enough.

Cordell stood at the window already speaking on his mobile phone.

‘Sorry, doctor, but… oh never mind, it can wait,’ Bryant said, holding up his hand in apology and backing out of the room.

‘Works every bloody time,’ Kim said, as they headed along the corridor towards the front of the building.

By silent agreement they had acknowledged that they were going to get nothing from Doctor Cordell, so Bryant had focused his questioning on simply rattling the doctor, knowing full well that if he were guilty of something he’d be on the phone to someone as soon as they’d left the room. And he hadn’t disappointed them.

‘So, what did you hear?’ she asked.

‘Three words distinctly,’ he said. ‘I heard “know about Lorraine”.’

Yes, that was exactly what she’d heard too.