‘I’m not accusing her of anything,’ Simon pointed out. ‘We want to ask her a few questions, that’s all—her and several other people. We’re a long way off charging any of them.’ Genius has its price. A despicable motto, if ever Simon had heard one. Was the price payable in human teeth, for fuck’s sake?

‘Why don’t I ring DC Dunning, see how long he’s going to be?’ Bedell suggested, picking up one of the phones on his desk with a heavy sigh. ‘I knew something like this would happen one day.’

‘You knew Mary Trelease would become involved in a murder investigation?’

‘No, of course not. That’s a rather crass thing to say, isn’t it? I knew there’d be trouble—that’s all I meant. I inherited the situation: Mary and the cottage. If I’d been around at the time, I’d have spoken up strongly against it. Some money’s simply not worth the price. As it is, we could find work for a full-time member of staff dealing with parents’ complaints. There’ll be a shit-storm—pardon my French—if this latest piece of news gets out.’

Bedell’s words made little sense to Simon, who knew only that he didn’t like the picture that was building up. Bedell looked down at his desk, half-heartedly moving a few pieces of paper around. ‘What’s Dunning’s number?’ he asked irritably.

‘I left my phone in the car,’ Simon lied, patting his pockets. He’d had no reception since he arrived at Villiers. It made him nervous, as if his being uncontactable might be causally linked to catastrophe for those he cared about. He imagined his mother’s anguished voice: ‘We tried to telephone, but you didn’t answer . . .’

‘I know where I put it,’ said Bedell. ‘Wait a second.’ He left the room, pulling the door to. Simon heard his shoes squeak as he walked down the corridor, then the sound of a door opening and closing. As soon as Bedell spoke to Dunning, Simon would lose any chance he had of getting into Garstead Cottage. He couldn’t afford to wait.

He went out into the corridor and down the stairs opposite Bedell’s office door, then down two more flights. He unbolted the door he and Bedell had come in through, went outside and pulled it shut behind him. A long path stretched ahead into the distance, with lantern-style lamp posts and a row of large square brick buildings on either side. How hard could it be to find a cottage? There was nothing that fitted that description in front of him for as far as he could see.