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By contrast with the tiny window-slots in the student rooms, the reception area had large expanses of plate glass, allowing light to flood in, so that residents could see the doors to the lift, and read the numbers on the mailboxes. They could collect their mail in the light and then retreat to their dark cell-like rooms. Behind the lifts was a door to the canteen. Students came and went constantly. Each time the door opened, Charlie could smell bacon and coffee. But the door also let out the noise of a lot of people talking at once in a badly sound-proofed space, the clatter of tableware and the beeping of cash registers and card readers. After Dilys’s bacon sandwich and Patsy’s bag of cookies, Charlie couldn’t summon any enthusiasm for food, or even coffee, not if it meant entering the maelstrom of noise beyond the canteen door. Instead, he relaxed on the couch and let his mind drift.
Mainly he thought about kissing Tom, trying to ignore the voice in his head telling him that Tom was out of Charlie’s league. Sometimes the voice was his own, sometimes his mother’s. But the message was always the same: he wasn’t good enough and he would get found out. After the events in Lanzarote, he doubted his own judgement. He had hooked up with a good-looking guy in a club, and that guy was tried for murder. He had given evidence in the guy’s trial and his reward had been his picture all over the papers and social media. That he’d solved the murder and given the evidence to the local police counted for nothing. DS Charlie Rees was now Gay Cop in Holiday Murder Scandal.
He wrenched his mind back to the case, but the doubt had already worked its way into his thought processes. Yes, Vitruvious was stealing money from the college, with or without help from the finance department. But murdering a student so he could make a painting of the body? That was crazy talk. Just because some French painter had trawled the morgues for inspiration didn’t mean a twenty-first century painter with a secure job would do the same. Géricault had made his name with The Raft of the Medusa, but Vitruvious was already well known. He was on TV. Students came from all over the world to study with him. Maybe he didn’t sell many paintings, but… The thoughts went round and round. It was bizarre, but it fitted. The two students had been dehydrated. Rico had been starving. Vitruvious was obsessed with painting desperate people on boats, pictures with a message. But Kaylan was alive and refusing to talk. No way would Kaylan be sticking up for Vitruvious if the tutor had tried to kill him. There was the coincidence of Kaylan appearing only a few miles from Vitruvious’s old home, but Charlie couldn’t read anything into that. Vitruvious visited rarely, had even changed his name to distance himself from the place. No, they would tackle Vitruvious about the money, and see what happened. Charlie was so lost in his swirl of contradictions, that he didn’t notice Patsy flop down next to him on the couch.
“Sup, Sarge?” she asked, and he came back to himself with a jolt.
“Sorry, miles away,” he said. “Did you get anything?”
“Handcuffs for someone,” she said. “Both of mine paid extra, both were in touch with Vitruvious before they came.”
“Same,” Charlie said. “We’ve got enough to talk to him under caution, whatever Ravensbourne says.”
Eddy appeared at that moment and caught Charlie’s words.
“Vitruvious? If he’s not behind this lot, I’m about to be called up for Wales. What time do painting tutors start work?”
“Let’s go and find out,” Charlie said. As he stood up, his phone rang, Ravensbourne, with good news.
“We’ve charged your boy Gwilym with the assaults,” she said. “Couldn’t stop him telling us all about it. And the best outcome for Harrington-Bowen is a quiet resignation, because his nephew has dropped him right in it. Uncle Nigel said it wasn’t a crime, Uncle Nigel told me that if I didn’t hurt them, it would be OK.”
“Uncle Nigel probably attacked Mags last night,” Charlie said. “I’m pretty sure he’s involved in this fraud with Vitruvious as well. He should be prosecuted.”
Ravensbourne didn’t answer, simply sighed down the phone.
“Funny handshake brigade?” Charlie asked.
“Let’s just say the powers-that-be may prefer that he disappears without a public fuss. And on another subject, you’ll be reporting to Superintendent Kent after today. It seems he’ll be back at this desk in the morning. That’s partly down to you.”
“Team effort, boss,” Charlie said. “And now we’re going to sort this fraud out.” He felt a surge of confidence. Getting the flasher behind bars was a good result, and if the price was letting Harrington-Bowen keep his pension, he’d take it. It stank, but if Harrington-Bowen’s Masonic brothers closed ranks, they’d struggle for a conviction even with the forensic evidence. That was how it was, and they did the best they could. Future women students were safe at least, and perhaps the previous victims would get some comfort from knowing that their attacker was in prison. He hoped so.
25
He’s not there
Wednesday 10.30 am
On the way to the main building, the rain started. Huge drops, falling slowly at first, and then faster, until everyone, students and staff, townspeople and police officers, were running for cover. Charlie, Eddy and Patsy found themselves in the foyer of the library, hair plastered to their heads, shoes and trousers soaked. Outside the rain fell in torrents, washing piles of leaves into the gulleys and blocking them, until lakes spread across the tarmac of the paths and car parks. It streamed down the windows of the library, hammering on the glass and overflowing from the gutters in sheets of water.
“Coffee,” said Charlie pointing at a machine near the door. “It’ll give us chance to dry out a bit and to decide how we’re going to play this. I think we need to talk to Vitruvious and the finance bod at the same time.”
They found a low table and chairs and huddled over their coffee deciding who was going to do what.
“Vitruvious is trying to use his media contacts to keep us off his back,” Charlie said. “If anyone’s going to be accused of harassment, it should be me. My reputation can’t get any worse. I’ll talk to him, you two go and see what you can get from the finance guy.”
Eddy and Patsy nodded and Charlie went on:
“We need formal statements from the parents, but given the number of students we’ve spoken to, we can act on the assumption those payments were made,” Charlie said. “Either Vitruvious was acting alone, or someone in the college was helping.”
They considered this statement of the obvious for a moment.
“And if they all deny it, sarge?” Patsy asked.
“Formal statements, interviews under caution with everyone who might be involved, however peripherally,” Charlie said.
“Shouldn’t you bring Vitruvious in for an interview?” Eddy said.
Charlie had been wondering the same thing.
