‘Do you know his name, Dr Villiers?’ asked Nikki, deciding that he would be her first port of call.

‘No, I don’t, but I’m sure one of the students will be able to help you.’ He handed her a typed sheet. ‘I thought this might help. It’s a list of students who are probably closest to her.’

‘What about her family? Do her parents know that she has missed classes?’

The Dean looked worried. ‘Not exactly. The Secretary rang them earlier, on some pretext, just to ascertain if she was there, but they said that they were not expecting to see her until next Friday for some family birthday.’

‘Didn’t they get concerned, if you didn’t seem to know her whereabouts?’ asked Joseph.

‘Third-year students have a fair amount of free time for their studies, Sergeant. There’s a greater emphasis on independent learning. We don’t keep them locked up.’

‘What is her background, sir? Family well off?’

‘Absolutely not. They live on the Carborough Estate. Kerry came here by way of a scholarship and a grant. Her school work and examination results were exemplary.’

Nikki’s eyes widened. ‘A kid from the Borough making it to Uni, now that’s refreshing!’

‘Not every child from a poor background finishes up as a mug shot, Inspector. A few have enough drive and inclination to move upward.’

‘Not many. Sadly, we spend most of our life seeing the other end of the spectrum.’ Nikki stood up. ‘May we see her room, Dr Villiers?’

‘Of course, but they don’t have rooms any more. The modern version is called a pod or a cube. And if it’s alright with you, I won’t come with you. My visits to the students quarters are kept to the minimum, and my presence would definitely cause speculation that something is amiss.’

‘And ours won’t?’ asked Nikki.

‘You aren’t wearing uniforms. Lots of people come and go through the living centre.’ The Dean opened the door. ‘Excuse me, I’ll go and get you a pass card.’

‘There goes a seriously worried man,’ muttered Joseph, as the door closed.

‘Wouldn’t you be, if this kid is the A-class swat that he reckons she is?’ Nikki walked to the window and looked across the acres of grounds, and whispered, almost to herself, ‘I’ve got a very bad feeling about Kerry Anderson.’

Joseph looked across the campus and his eyes widened. ‘This has all changed beyond recognition! An uncle of mine used to live in one of the old houses in Blenheim Road.’ He indicated to an area beyond the perimeter wall. ‘You could see the art college, as it was then, from his bedroom window. It looked like some rambling old mansion house in lovely parkland. Nothing like this!’

‘Ever heard of progress?’ Nikki was in no mood for giving talks on Greenborough’s regeneration over the last decade and, thankfully, Joseph took the hint.