‘Are you accusing me?’ Frederiks stood up abruptly.

‘No. Of course not. But I am advising you I think it would be sensible for you to tell us where you were that evening. The fact you won’t only adds suspicion, rather than quashing it.’

Frederiks slumped down into the chair. ‘I can’t. I just can’t.’

‘Then I may have to caution and arrest you for perverting the course of justice. I have to presume you’re protecting someone else, but let me warn you, at the same time you are risking your own integrity as a housemaster and the man who was directly responsible for Charlie Cavendish’s safety. If you refuse to produce an alibi to corroborate the fact you were elsewhere, then I have no proof at all you were not here.’ Jazz looked at her watch. ‘Thank you for coming to see me.’

Frederiks nodded, stood and left the room without another word.

Jazz put on her coat and searched for her car keys.

‘What do you think, Ma’am?’ Miles peered at her over his laptop.

‘He won’t have the luxury of staying silent for long.’ Jazz was rooting around in her briefcase. ‘For the life of me I can’t understand why he did nothing about Cavendish’s well-known peccadillo for terrorising little boys but . . . bugger! Can’t find what I’ve done with my keys. Can you drive me there? Let’s chew a few things over on the way.’

The sun was just managing to appear from behind the clouds as Miles took the main road west out of Foltesham towards King’s Lynn.

‘What do you think of Frederiks?’ she asked him.

‘Put it this way: I wouldn’t like to be under him in a ruck.’ Miles grimaced. ‘So, David Millar was at the school the night Charlie died. If Rory had pointed the finger at Charlie over the telephone, do you think Millar killed him as an act of revenge? And would David Millar have known about Charlie’s reaction to aspirin?’

‘All the boys in Fleat were warned of any allergy that affected their housemates, from peanuts to perfume,’ Jazz said. ‘Rory may well have mentioned it to his father, who knows? Whatever, we certainly need to find him. My instinct tells me Millar Junior is somehow involved in all this. And he’s proving pretty elusive to get hold of.’

Miles grinned at her. ‘Just like old times, Ma’am.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your instincts are usually right. The team trusted them implicitly.’

Jazz looked at him. ‘Really?’ She laughed. ‘Well, if you want to know the truth, I’ve never felt further away than I do at the moment.’

‘You’ll get there, Ma’am, you always do.’ He steered the car hard left. ‘I think this is the entrance. The housekeeper said it was just after the garage.’ Miles drove through a large pair of old wrought-iron gates, with a keeper’s cottage on one side. The drive wound through open parkland, dotted with old oak trees. They passed a lake, shimmering in the weak sun, and finally arrived in front of the house.