Mariana blinked, taken aback. ‘Here, at St Christopher’s?’

Zoe nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘I see. What’s his name?’

Zoe paused. She spoke in a low voice.

‘Edward Fosca.’

14

Just under an hour later, Zoe was repeating her story to Chief Inspector Sadhu Sangha.

The inspector had commandeered the dean’s office. It was a spacious room overlooking Main Court. On one wall, there was a beautifully carved mahogany bookcase and a leather-bound collection of books. The other walls were covered with portraits of past deans – watching the police officers with undisguised suspicion.

Chief Inspector Sangha sat behind the large desk. He opened the flask he carried with him, and poured himself a cup of tea. He was in his early fifties, with dark eyes and a short-cropped salt-and-pepper beard, smartly dressed in a grey blazer and tie. As he was a Sikh, he was wearing a turban, in eye-catching royal blue. He was a commanding, powerful presence, but had a nervous energy about him – a lean and hungry look – forever tapping his foot or drumming his fingers.

To Mariana he seemed faintly irritable. He gave her the impression that he wasn’t paying full attention to what Zoe was saying. He didn’t seem particularly interested. He’s not taking her seriously, thought Mariana.

But she was wrong. He was taking her seriously. He put down his tea and fixed his large dark eyes on Zoe.

‘And what did you think – when she told you this?’ he said. ‘Did you believe her?’

‘I don’t know …’ Zoe said. ‘She was a mess, you know, she was high. But she was always high, so …’ Zoe shrugged, and thought about it for a second. ‘I mean, it sounded so weird …’

‘Did she say why Professor Fosca had threatened to kill her?’

Zoe looked a little uncomfortable. ‘She said they were sleeping together. And they had a fight or something … and she threatened to tell the college and get him fired. And he said, if she did …’

‘He’d kill her?’

Zoe nodded. She looked relieved to have got it off her chest. ‘That’s right.’

The inspector seemed to mull this over for a moment. Then he abruptly stood up.

‘I’m going to talk to Professor Fosca. Wait here, will you? And, Zoe – we’ll need you to make a statement.’

He left the room, and in his absence, Zoe repeated her story to a junior officer, who wrote it down. Mariana waited uneasily, wondering what was going on.

A long hour passed. And then Inspector Sangha returned. He sat down again.

‘Professor Fosca was most cooperative,’ he said. ‘I’ve taken a statement from him – and he says that, at the time of Tara’s death – at ten P.M. – he was finishing a class in his rooms. It went from eight until ten P.M., and was attended by six students. He gave me their names. We’ve spoken to two of them so far, and they both corroborate his story.’ The inspector gave Zoe a thoughtful look. ‘As a result, I am not charging the professor with any crime, and I feel perfectly satisfied that – despite what Tara may have said – he is not responsible for her death.’

‘I see,’ said Zoe in a whisper.

Zoe kept her gaze down, staring at her lap. Mariana thought she looked worried.

‘I’m wondering what you can tell me about Conrad Ellis?’ said the inspector. ‘He’s not a student here – he lives in town, I believe. He was Tara’s boyfriend?’

Zoe shook her head. ‘He wasn’t her boyfriend. They hung out, that’s all.’

‘I see.’ The inspector consulted his notes. ‘It seems he has two prior convictions – for drug dealing, and for aggravated assault …’ He glanced at Zoe. ‘And his neighbours heard them having violent arguments on several occasions.’

Zoe shrugged. ‘He’s a mess, like she was … but – he’d never hurt her, if that’s what you mean. He’s not like that. He’s a nice guy.’

‘Hmm. He sounds lovely.’ The inspector didn’t look convinced. He drained his tea, then screwed the lid back onto the flask.

Case closed, Mariana thought.

‘You know, Inspector,’ she said, indignant on Zoe’s behalf, ‘I do think you ought to listen to her.’

‘Excuse me?’ Inspector Sangha blinked. He looked surprised to hear Mariana speak. ‘Remind me,’ he said, ‘who are you again?’

‘I’m Zoe’s aunt, and guardian. And – if necessary – her advocate.’

Inspector Sangha seemed faintly amused by this. ‘Your niece seems perfectly capable of being her own advocate, as far as I can tell.’

‘Well, Zoe is a good judge of character. She always has been. If she knows Conrad – and thinks he is innocent – you should take her seriously.’

The inspector’s smile faded. ‘When I interview him, I’ll form my own opinion – if you don’t mind. Just so we’re clear, I’m in charge here, and I don’t respond well to being told what to do—’

‘I’m not telling you what to—’

‘Or to being interrupted. So I would strongly suggest that you keep out of my way – and out of my investigation. Understood?’

Mariana was about to argue back – but restrained herself. She forced a smile.

‘Perfectly,’ she said.

15

After leaving the dean’s office, Zoe and Mariana walked through the colonnade at the end of the courtyard – a series of twelve marble columns, which supported the library above. The columns were very old and discoloured, with cracks running through them like veins. They cast long shadows on the floor, plunging the women into occasional darkness as they wandered between them.

Mariana put her arm around Zoe. ‘Darling, are you alright?’ she said.

Zoe shrugged. ‘I – I don’t know.’

‘Do you think, perhaps, Tara was lying to you?’

Zoe looked pained. ‘I don’t know—’

Zoe suddenly froze and stopped walking. From nowhere, stepping out from behind a column – a man had appeared in front of them.

He stood there, blocking their path. He stared at her.

‘Hello, Zoe.’

‘Professor Fosca,’ Zoe said, with a slight intake of breath.

‘How are you? Are you okay? I can’t believe this has happened. I’m in shock.’

He had an American accent, Mariana noticed, with a soft, lilting cadence to his speech – ever-so-slightly anglicised around the edges.

‘You poor thing,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry, Zoe. You must be absolutely devastated—’ He spoke in an impassioned tone, and seemed genuinely distressed.

He reached out to her – and Zoe made a slight, involuntary movement backwards. Mariana noticed it, and so did the professor. He gave Zoe an awkward look.

‘Listen,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you exactly what I told the inspector. It’s important you hear this from me – right now.’

Fosca ignored Mariana, addressing himself solely to Zoe. And Mariana studied him as he spoke. He was younger than she’d expected, and considerably more handsome. He was in his early forties, tall, with an athletic build. He had strong cheekbones and striking dark eyes. Everything about him was dark – his black eyes, his beard, his clothes. His long black hair was tied up in a messy knot at the back of his head. And he was wearing a black academic gown, an untucked shirt, and a loose tie. There was something charismatic, even Byronic, about the whole effect.

‘The truth is,’ he said, ‘I probably handled it badly. I’m sure you can vouch for this, Zoe – but Tara was barely coping, academically. In fact she was failing abysmally, despite my repeated efforts to get her to improve her attendance record and complete the coursework. And she left me with no choice. I had a very frank chat with her. I said that I didn’t know if drugs were involved, or if it was relationship problems, but she hadn’t done enough to progress this year. I told her she had to resit the entirety of last year. It was either that, or send her down.’

He gave a weary shake of the head. ‘And when I told Tara this, she became quite hysterical. She said her father would kill her. She begged me to change my mind. I said it was out of the question. And then her attitude changed. She became quite aggressive. She threatened me. She said she would ruin my career and get me fired.’ He sighed. ‘It seems this is what she attempted. Everything she said to you – these sexual allegations – it’s an obvious attempt to damage my reputation.’

He lowered his voice. ‘I would never have sex with any of my students – it would be the most gross betrayal of trust, and abuse of power. As you know, I was extremely fond of Tara. That’s why hearing she made this accusation is so hurtful.’

Despite herself, Mariana found Fosca entirely convincing. There was nothing remotely in his manner to suggest he was lying. Everything he said had the ring of truth. Tara had often spoken about her father in fearful terms, and Zoe had reported, from her visit to their estate in Scotland, that Tara’s father had been a strict host – even draconian. Mariana could well imagine his reaction to Tara failing the year. She could also imagine that the prospect of telling him might make Tara hysterical – and desperate.