‘It’s what we needed.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Tree hasn’t got a hope in hell, though. God knows what we’re supposed to tell the kids when it dies. Anyway –’ He nodded towards the blond-brick building. ‘We’ve gathered together anything belonging to Karen and Billy, like you asked. There’s not a lot, I’m afraid, but it’s in the office.’
They followed him across the grounds. A bell rang somewhere in the distance. End of the school day. Up close, the buildings and play equipment made a depressing sight. Paint had chipped from every surface and the exposed metal was red with rust. There were cracks in the plastic slide and only one end of the basketball court had a hoop. The signs of a community in poverty were everywhere.
‘Funding,’ Whitlam said when he saw them looking around. ‘There’s never enough.’
Around the back of the school building a few sad sheep stood in brown paddocks. Beyond, the land rose sharply to a chain of hills covered with bushland.
The principal stopped to fish a handful of leaves out of the sheep’s water trough.
‘Do you still teach farm skills these days?’ Falk remembered checking a similar water trough once upon a time.
‘Some. We try to keep it light, though. Have some fun. The kids get enough of the gritty realities at home,’ Whitlam said.
‘You teach it?’
‘God, no, I’m a humble city slicker. We moved up from Melbourne eighteen months ago and I’ve just about learned to tell one end of a cow from the other. My wife fancied a change of scenery from the city.’ He paused. ‘We got one all right.’
He pushed open a heavy door to a hallway that smelled like sandwiches. Along the walls, kids’ paintings and drawings were pinned up.
‘Jesus, some of these are depressing,’ Raco murmured.
Falk could see what he meant. There were stick figure families in which every face had a crayon mouth turned downwards. A painting of a cow with angel wings.Toffee My Cow in Heaven, the shaky caption read. In every attempt at landscape, the paddocks were coloured brown.
‘You should see the ones we didn’t put up,’ Whitlam said, stopping at the office door. ‘The drought. It’s going to kill this town.’
He took an enormous bunch of keys from his pocket and let them in to his office. Pointing them to a couple of chairs that had seen better days, he disappeared into a store cupboard. He emerged a moment later carrying a sealed cardboard box.
‘Everything’s in here. Bits and pieces from Karen’s desk, some of Billy’s school work. Mostly paintings and worksheets, I’m afraid.’
‘Thanks.’ Raco took it from him.
‘They’re missed.’ Whitlam leaned against his desk. ‘Both of them. We’re all still reeling.’
‘How closely did you work with Karen?’ Falk asked.
‘Reasonably so, we’ve only got a small staff. She was excellent. She looked after the finances and accounts. Good at it, too. Too smart for this job really, but I think it suited her with childcare and things.’
The window was open a crack and the sounds from the playground drifted through. ‘Look, can I ask why you’re here?’ Whitlam said. ‘I thought this was resolved.’
‘It involved three members of the same family,’ Raco said. ‘Unfortunately something like that’s never clear-cut.’
‘Right. Of course.’ Whitlam sounded unconvinced. ‘The thing is, I’ve got an obligation to make sure students and staff are safe, so if –’
‘We’re not suggesting there’s anything to worry about, Scott,’ Raco said. ‘If there’s something you need to know, we’ll make sure you know it.’
‘All right, message received,’ Whitlam said. ‘What can I do to help you?’
‘Tell us about Karen.’
The knock was quiet but firm. Whitlam looked up from his desk as the door opened. A blonde head poked around.
‘Scott, have you got a minute?’
Karen Hadler stepped into his office. She wasn’t smiling.
‘She stopped by to speak to me, the day before she and Billy were killed,’ Whitlam said. ‘She was worried, of course.’
‘Why “of course”?’ Raco asked.
