As for Richardson’s decision to attend the memorial service, Fleet wasn’t surprised. It was a perfect PR opportunity. A chance for Richardson to show the public that he was facing up to what had happened, and was as devastated as anyone else. If he played it correctly, it was even possible that he would emerge looking like the victim. It only served to reinforce Fleet’s suspicion when he’d first heard the memorial service was to take place. It was nothing to do with mourning Ben, and everything to do with polishing reputations that had in one way or another been tarnished by his death.

‘I would imagine that Mr Richardson and the school’s trustees are looking for the same thing you are, Mr Harris,’ Fleet said.

‘And what is that, Detective Inspector?’

‘Closure. Something that will make this whole sordid matter go away.’ It was a deliberate provocation, but Fleet couldn’t help himself.

The headmaster’s expression darkened. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Given the lack of progress on other fronts, that is perhaps entirely understandable.’ He looked at the book, then back at Fleet, making no attempt to disguise the implied affront.

Fleet just smiled again.

The headmaster drew back his shoulders. ‘I presume you will be attending the memorial service yourself, Detective Inspector?’

‘I will,’ Fleet replied. The truth was, he hadn’t yet made a conscious decision one way or another, but really there was no question that he wouldn’t go. It struck him that he and Nicky might be the only people in attendance genuinely there to represent Ben.

‘Then I shall see you there,’ the headmaster said stiffly, and he turned away.

Fleet allowed him to take a step towards the door. ‘If not before, Mr Harris,’ he called out after him.

There was a glitch in Harris’s movements, a dip of his chin towards his shoulder – and then he was gone.

It took a while for Fleet to settle into his task. He was irritated by his own irritation, and his failure not to rise to the headmaster’s provocations. In general, there were very few people in the world Fleet found himself actively disliking before he’d really had a chance to get to know them, but Adrian Harris was unquestionably one of them. In many ways, the headmaster reminded Fleet of Superintendent Burton, indeed of almost every senior police officer Fleet had ever worked under – unless that said more about Fleet’s relationship with authority than it did about anything else. And with Harris there was something else at play, too. The man was hiding something, Fleet was sure – for the sake of the school, was Fleet’s initial instinct, but maybe there was more to it than that. Fleet had a feeling that he was somehow underestimating the man. Or, perhaps, that he was judging him precisely the way the headmaster wanted him to.