‘The case concerns a missing student,’ he began. ‘Her name was Fiona Quinn.’

‘And what do you know about Ms Quinn?’ Alec asked, leaning forward.

‘Good student, hard-working. She was always good at keeping in touch with friends and family. But in the days leading up to her disappearance she dropped off the radar. It seems that she got herself involved in something she shouldn’t have. Her parents were abroad at the time. They thought she was doing college work, but they didn’t know any more than that. Nobody did.’

‘And do you know what she was studying in university?’ Alec asked.

‘Archaeology,’ Barry replied. ‘She was in her final year.’

‘And have you linked any similar cases to this one?’

That last question was enough to press Barry’s back into his chair; it squeaked like a trampled field mouse. He had obviously been a detective for long enough to know when something wasn’t right.

‘Should I be concerned, Doctor?’ he asked. ‘Your interest in this case seems a little more than just a hobby.’

‘Detective, I assure you that my interest is strictly above board. I like to imagine that I may be of assistance in someday solving one of these “cold cases”, as they call them. It’s tragic. It truly is. Whatever must—’

The grandfather clock tolled, startling Barry forward in his chair.

Alec rested both elbows on the desk and laced his fingers together, staring at his guest as the nine bells sounded aloud. Only when the silence returned did he pick up where he had left off, reciting the lines he had planned that morning like a part-time player.

‘As I was saying, whatever must Ms Quinn’s poor parents be going through? It’s too short a time to heal such a wound, I’m sure you can agree?’

Alec emptied the folder’s contents onto the desk, spreading them out before him like jigsaw pieces. There were pages bound by paper clips, some loose photographs, and an audio disc with the case number scribbled on it in black pen. He picked this up and held it as if to advertise its importance.

‘And who was the detective on this case?’ he asked, leafing through the pages.

Barry probably guessed that Alec already knew the answer, and that was quite permissible. It would benefit both parties if the detective proved himself not to be a stupid man. There was, however, no way he could have understood Alec’s reasons for testing his knowledge on the matter.

‘That would have been Will Collins,’ he replied.

‘And he is…’ Alec said, looking to Barry to close the sentence.

‘He’s dead. He died not long after that case.’

‘I see,’ Alec said, indifferent, placing the pages down carefully, pleased with his investment. ‘Is this the only copy?’ he asked, tapping his index finger on the disc.