I didn’t even recall touching it. I’d been listening to Smithy questioning Professor Simpson and my hand had wandered over without my knowledge. Despite my best efforts, my damned face gave me away again. Unfortunately, some things you didn’t grow out of.

We were at the university again, getting back to basics with Rose-Marie’s colleagues. I’d survived my early debrief with Sharkman Johns, who had let me out under Smithy’s care and had been semi-civil with only a touch of condescension. Call me cynical, but I found this newfound favour disturbing.

We were standing in a laboratory in the Pharmacy Department of the university. Everywhere you went up here there seemed to be padlocked freezers sitting in dimly lit corridors. I found it an almost-depressing environment to be in, despite the pink walls. This lab was vast, with rows of working benches covered with an array of scientific-looking equipment. There was a continuous background fan hum coming from the fume hoods along one wall. Despite the air circulation, the place still had an aroma that hinted of a cross between floor polish, something acidic enough to eat your face off and weirdly, linament.

‘So how would you describe your relationship with Miss Bateman?’ Smithy asked, having allowed a pause for me to recover my composure.

‘We had a good working relationship. I held her in very high regard, she was a fine researcher and I had no doubt she’d be a successful doctoral candidate.’ The professor had turned to watch me rather than face Smithy while answering the questions. I felt distinctly squirmy under his gaze, and not just because he was keeping an eye on his property. Despite his slightly unkempt look, the man had magnetism. I wondered if the other women in the department felt it. If Rose-Marie had felt it.

‘Had you noticed any changes in her behaviour or in her work recently?’

‘You asked me these questions last time you were here. Look, I’m very busy at the moment. You’d be better off talking to Dr Collins who saw her every day.’

Smithy never took kindly to being fobbed off, even less so by academics, in whom he seemed to hold an inherent distrust. ‘Oh, I’m very sorry to take up your precious time, and I will be talking to the others too, but, I have questions that need to be asked, and I’m here, now.’ He’d puffed up to twice his normal size, and the professor, who I took as being someone not about to be intimidated, reciprocated. He shot me a look, and I yanked back my hand that had been straying towards the chromatograph again. I had to look down at the floor to hide my smile.

‘Exactly how often did you see Miss Bateman?’

‘I couldn’t tell you exactly, but we had a regular Thursday-morning appointment to review progress.’

‘And what exactly did her work entail?’