‘So, he was a bully. He sounds like a difficult boy,’ commented Jazz.

‘He was one of our more challenging pupils, yes, but we can only try and deal with the raw material we are given. The fact is that Charlie had been indulged by his parents since the day he was born. He . . . struggled to grasp the concept of boundaries.’

‘One more question.’ Jazz placed a plastic wallet on the headmaster’s desk. ‘Do you recognise this person?’

He picked up the small photograph and squinted at it. ‘Very faded, isn’t it? But the face does look familiar.’

‘We found it under the chair in which Hugh Daneman was found dead. He may have been holding it and it fell out of his hand when he became unconscious. So, you can’t tell me who it is?’

‘No.’ Jones stared again at the cherubic face, long fair hair framing fine features. ‘She’s rather beautiful, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, and very young. I was half wondering whether it could be a child of Mr Daneman’s, but you obviously have no knowledge of that?’

‘No.’ He handed the photograph back to her. ‘Sorry.’

‘Tell me, Mr Jones, can you think of any reason why Hugh Daneman would want to kill Charlie Cavendish?’

‘What?! Hugh? Kill someone?’ The head shook his head in disbelief. ‘To be honest, Inspector, the idea is preposterous, absolutely preposterous! Besides, I understand you must investigate Charlie’s death, but aren’t we jumping the gun a little to suggest he was murdered?’

Jazz stood up. She looked down at Robert Jones and shook her head slowly. ‘I’m afraid we can’t rule it out. I’ve been through every possible way Charlie could have swallowed those tablets knowingly, when he was perfectly aware they might kill him. So, the facts are these: either he committed suicide, or someone substituted his Epilim pills with aspirin. And, if the latter is the case, that’s murder in my book, Mr Jones.’

‘It may have been suicide . . .’ the head suggested weakly.

‘You don’t believe that, do you?’

He paused, before shaking his head defeatedly. ‘No. No, I don’t. I mean, one can never be certain, especially with teenagers, but knowing Charlie, I’d agree it was unlikely.’

‘You say you think Hugh Daneman was incapable of murder?’

‘Absolutely, in my opinion, yes.’

‘Did you know he was alone in the house that Friday night?’

‘No, Inspector, Matron was out but Sebastian Frederiks was there too.’

‘No, he wasn’t. According to Mr Frederiks himself, he had an appointment elsewhere, the details of which he is yet to give us.’

‘Really?’ The head looked at Jazz in astonishment. ‘Are you sure of that?’

‘I’m sure he told me he wasn’t at Fleat House on Friday night between seven thirty and midnight, yes.’

‘Frankly, I’m amazed. Sebastian Frederiks is the most dedicated housemaster we have. He lives for those boys and he knew the rules: that there must always be two members of staff on duty in the house at any one time. I can’t believe he would blatantly put those in his care in danger. Or “sneak off” without telling me.’