‘And you kept looking for more than three hours? On a day very much like today, from what I understand.’

‘We looked for some of that time. Not all of it. The rest of the time we sat and smoked. We decided fairly quickly that Ben must have cheated. That he was probably already back inside.’

‘And yet you didn’t think to raise the alarm when he failed to show for dinner that evening. It was one of his teachers in the end who reported him absent, wasn’t it? But not until the middle of the following morning.’

‘You would know better than I do. I’ve told you the extent of my involvement in what happened.’

Richardson was regarding Fleet coolly, and maybe it was just the man’s youthful demeanour, but once again Fleet had the sense that he was dealing with an obnoxious kid: one who knew he’d done something wrong, but was aware, too, that there was nothing anyone could do about it.

‘Where did you go when you went inside, Mr Richardson?’

‘To be honest, I don’t remember. Probably to Melissa’s room.’

‘Boys were allowed in the female dormitories, were they?’

‘No,’ answered Richardson. ‘They were not. But you know what they say about rules. And we couldn’t hang out in the boys’ wing. Lance and I were in a dorm of twelve, but the girls’ rooms were smaller. Melissa had a double, and her roommate was hardly ever around.’

‘So, for a large portion of the day of Ben’s disappearance,’ said Fleet, ‘the only people able to confirm your whereabouts were your two closest friends. The people who, along with you, were the last ones to see Ben alive.’

‘Now wait just a minute, Detective Inspector,’ interjected Lawe. ‘My client is here voluntarily. We even agreed to reschedule several of his urgent appointments in response to your request to expedite this interview. We did not do so in the expectation that you would present us with slights and insinuations.’

Richardson once again held up a hand. ‘It’s fine, Herb. He’s only doing what he’s been told to. Just following orders. Isn’t that the phrase, Detective Inspector?’

His smile was a deliberate provocation. Fleet had seen Richardson goading interviewees on his TV show in a similar manner. He would say something inflammatory, or even deliberately insulting, just to get a rise.

‘And anyway,’ Richardson went on, when Fleet failed to react, ‘it was a weekend, meaning the school was half empty. And it’s a large campus. I doubt anyone who was there that day could claim to have an alibi for the entire twenty-four-hour period.’

Fleet tapped his pen against his notebook.

‘Have you stayed in touch, Mr Richardson? With Melissa Haynes. With Lance Wheeler.’

‘I can’t say that I have. We’d drifted apart even before we’d finished school.’