‘We’re from the police,’ I said, holding up my badge. ‘We’d like to speak to the principal.’

‘I’m afraid that’s not possible,’ the woman said curtly. ‘He’s in a meeting.’ She looked smug.

‘This is a time-sensitive matter,’ I said, trying to ignore her blatant rudeness.

‘Not possible,’ she sniffed and turned back to her typing.

‘Is he on the premises?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ the secretary replied, as if we should’ve known the answer.

‘Okay then.’ I turned and walked down the corridor into the building.

Wozza raised his hands in mock helplessness at the secretary and followed me.

‘You can’t just—’ she screeched.

She hurried out of the office and followed us as I opened doors to look inside offices. I came to one with the title DEPUTY PRINCIPAL stencilled on the door and found a woman sitting behind a desk. She looked much friendlier than the secretary.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but would you mind telling me where I can find the principal? My partner and I are from the Deception Bay CIB. We need to see him on a matter of some urgency.’

‘Of course.’ The woman jumped up from her chair and came around her desk to us.

The secretary caught up and began apologising to the deputy principal. ‘I’m so sorry, Margaret,’ she said, in the kind of high-pitched voice that reminded me of a cockatoo. ‘These rude people just barged past. I tried to tell them Duncan’s in a meeting, but they wouldn’t listen.’

‘It’s all right, Judy,’ said the deputy principal. ‘I’ll take it from here.’

‘But …’ Judy glared at me but I didn’t react or back down, which made her bristle, huff, then turn on her sensible heels and head back in the direction of the office.

‘Don’t mind her,’ said the deputy principal. ‘She’s been here since the ark. Thinks she owns the place.’

‘You have my condolences,’ said Wozza.

The deputy principal snorted a loud spontaneous laugh. ‘I’m Margaret Donaldson,’ she said, shaking both our hands. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘We need to talk to the principal and we then need to speak to some of your students,’ I said.

‘Can I ask what this is about?’ Margaret looked concerned.

‘It’s one of your students. Someone’s been hurt …’ Wozza said.

Margaret gasped in shock. ‘Who? What’s happened?’

‘We really need to speak with the principal,’ I said.

‘Of course.’ She took off up the corridor, past another couple of doors and opened the third.

Wozza and I followed. From behind her, we could see a bunch of people sitting around a large oval table. Margaret spoke in a quiet voice and a man who looked to be in his late fifties sitting at the far end of the table stood up and came to the door. Margaret beckoned him out and shut the door after him.