Lauren sighed. “Near the end of term. It just happened. It was so…so natural. I wasn’t trying to seduce him or anything like that.” Annie could see tears clouding her eyes. “We were looking at some pictures. Pre-Raphaelites. He remarked on my resemblance to one of the models.”

“Elizabeth Siddal, Dante Gabriel Rosetti’s first wife. You do look a lot like her, Lauren. Or a lot like the paintings of her. A typical Pre-Raphaelite beauty, as someone said.”

“You know?”

“I should have made the connection sooner,” Annie said. “My father’s an artist, and I do a bit of painting myself. I’ve picked up a thing or two over the years.”

“But how could you have known?”

“We found Luke’s shoulder bag at the other flat, too. I read over his recent writings and found a lot of classical references I didn’t understand. One thing I did understand is that they were of a sexual nature, very intimate, and they stressed a kind of Pre-Raphaelite look. There were also references to Ophelia, but I don’t think it was Shakespeare Luke had in mind. It was John Everett Millais. He painted Ophelia and used Elizabeth Siddal as a model. She caught pneumonia lying in a tepid bath every day posing as Ophelia floating down the river. Very romantic. But what I don’t understand is why. Why did you do it, Lauren? Why did you kill him? Was he going to leave you?”

“You don’t understand anything. I didn’t kill him. You’ve got no proof. I’ve got an alibi. Talk to Vernon.”

“I’ve already talked to Vernon,” said Annie, “and I’d trust him about as far as I could throw him. Your brother lied for you, Lauren. Only natural. But I’m willing to bet that he’s the one who helped you get rid of the body. You couldn’t have done it all by yourself. And he’s the one who hatched the kidnapping scheme. That had all the hallmarks of an afterthought. It wasn’t the reason for Luke’s disappearance and death. Your brother thought he’d try and cash in on it and he’s small-time enough to ask for only ten thousand. Besides, you’d probably talked about Luke and told him the family wasn’t quite as wealthy as people assumed. He’s a gambler, Lauren. And a loser. He needs the money. I talked to his bookie. Your brother’s in debt up to his eyeballs. Did you even know what he’d done after he’d helped you?”

Lauren looked down into her lap. Her fingers were twined together, grasping so tightly, all the knuckles were white. She shook her head. “I don’t believe Vernon would do anything like that.”

“But you must have suspected, after you heard about the kidnap demand?”

“It confused me. I didn’t know what was going on. Maybe I had my suspicions, I don’t know. I was too upset to think about it.”

“The thing is,” Annie went on, “that our scene-of-crime officers found minute traces of blood on the wall where Luke was shoved over into Hallam Tarn. Minute, but enough to provide a DNA profile. I think that profile would match you or your brother. I’m also certain that when our men come in here and go over your place, they’ll find traces of Luke’s blood. Now, that might not be conclusive in itself, as we know Luke was punched in the nose before he came here, but it’s all starting to add up, Lauren.”