Page 207 of Depraved Boys

“He doesn’t have any family in England,” Sebastian murmured, sounding lost.

Mrs. Benazir walked across the staff room and opened the door. “You’re a resourceful girl. I’m sure that between you, Mr. Garraway, and Mr. Brunswick, you’ll find a solution that both assists Mr. Kashaayah and satisfies parents worrying about the welfare of their daughters.”

She stepped back, letting the door clicked shut, and my shoulders sagged with defeat. “She only cares about covering her back.”

Sebastian pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and held it to his ear. After a few moments, he gave a sharp nod and slipped it back into his pocket.

“Any news?” asked Leopold.

“Mr. Pinkerton just called,” said Sebastian. “He’s the lawyer who’s taken over Kash’s case from the duty solicitor.”

Placing a hand over my flip-flopping chest, I asked, “Did he say anything about getting him released?”

“He’s offered up the club as alternative accommodation, but he’s also working on discrediting Ashley as a witness.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “How’s he going to do that?”

“Leave it with Pinkerton,” said Sebastian. “He’s one of the best criminal lawyers in the north of England.”

“Now might be a good time to put pressure on her to change her mind,” said Leopold.

“Can you drive us down tonight?” I asked.

He nodded. “Mr. Pinkerton wants to meet us at the club in the afternoon. We can visit Ashley in the hospital afterward.”

Mr. Pinkerton waited for us in one of the club’s meeting rooms. This one was about the size of the dining room at home, but with six chairs arranged around an elegant, mahogany table. A painting of Prince William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland, hung at the back of the small room, making me wonder if he used to own the club.

The lawyer was a tall, steel-haired man in his fifties, with kind, cornflower-blue eyes that contrasted with his undertaker-style suit.

Sebastian made the introductions, and we took our seats. A waiter brought in coffee in a tall, silver pot with matching jugs of milk, cream, and two bowls containing brown and white sugar cubes.

After the waiter served the drinks, he brought in a plate of wafer-thin cookies that looked like Belgian waffles and left.

Mr. Pinkerton raised his brows. “I apologize for the delay in getting back to you, but my assistants needed to analyze a mass of paperwork.”

I leaned forward on my seat and tried to imagine what kind of documentation they would need. Ashley’s statement, the doctor’s reports, a few witness statements that mostly said they saw Prakash being led away by the police?

“What do you mean?” asked Sebastian.

“Your friend is in more trouble than a prosecution for grievous bodily harm.”

My breathing stopped for several seconds before my lungs started working again. All I could blurt out was, “Why?”

The lawyer opened a leather version of the manilla folders Miss Claymore used and leafed through the papers. “They have reopened a suicide case, which they now believe to be murder.”

“Corrine Gibbons,” I whispered.

Mr. Pinkerton’s head snapped up. “Did you know the girl?”

“I only joined Brittas Academy in September, but I know her twin brother. He mentioned that the police were looking into her death, but I didn’t think they would hold Prakash back for that purpose until now.”

“Can you get him out on bail?” asked Leopold.

“A few important witnesses have come forward, saying that Mr. Kashaayah is a risk to the school children.”

“Who?” If it was Mrs. Benazir, I would storm down to her office and tell the hypocritical shit what I thought of her double-dealing tactics.

He leafed through the papers again. “Wendy Claymore, the former deputy headmistress cited an incident where Mr. Kashaayah attacked other students.”