‘Mother Wendy?’ says Barb. ‘She’s a regular at my Friday morning group.’
It’s only when Judy asks Barb’s whereabouts on the 25th and 26th of February, that the breezy voice falters. ‘I had a 7pm group on the Tuesday and a 9am on the Wednesday. Why do you need to know? There’s nothingcriminal, is there?’
Judy thinks of the way Tony had pronounced the words ‘foul play’, with ill-concealed excitement. Barb sounds more fearful than anything and is not reassured when Judy says again that it’s an ongoing investigation.
Nelson steps closer to the noticeboard. Ruth’s face stares up at him, from a newspaper cutting about the excavation of murder victims, from the UNN archaeology prospectus, from the dust jacket of one of her books. There’s even a screenshot from the TV seriesWomen Who Kill, where Ruth was a– sometimes unwilling– expert witness. More worryingly, there are some photographs that were clearly taken from a distance, one showing Ruth and Katie outside the cottage. In the middle of the display– or shrine– there is a yellow Post-it note. Nelson leans forward to read the words written on it.
Stone walls do not a prison make
Nor iron bars a cage.
Nelson turns to Eileen, who is still keeping her distance.
‘Did you know about this?’
‘No,’ says Eileen. ‘I mean, I knew he liked her, thought she was a good teacher but. . . I never came into his room. I didn’t know about this.’
‘I’m going to call campus security,’ says Nelson. ‘And I really think you should find somewhere else to stay.’
‘I’ll be OK,’ says Eileen. ‘There’s a lock on my door.’
Nelson remembers how easily he was able to break into Joe’s room. The young really are astonishingly stupid sometimes. If Michelle were home, he’d be tempted to offer Eileen a bed for the night. But she isn’t and he can’t. Besides, they are in the middle of a pandemic. And he’s planning to slope off to Ruth’s as soon as he’s collected Bruno.
‘I’ll speak to the university,’ he says. ‘They’ve got a duty of care.’
‘They did send me a food parcel,’ says Eileen. ‘It had a Cup-a-Soup and two cans of baked beans in it.’
‘Pictures of me?’ says Ruth. She looks round the room. Kate is constructing the tower containing Dumbledore’s study. Ruth remembers that the spiral staircase is very tricky. Flint is stretched out in a patch of sunlight. He seems to like having them both at home all day. They are all safe, Ruth tells herself.
‘It was like a bloody shrine,’ says Nelson. ‘Newspaper cuttings, stuff from the internet. Even some photos that look as if he took them himself. One had Katie in it.’
‘Kate?’ Ruth can’t stop her voice sounding sharp and anxious. Kate looks up and even Flint twitches in his sleep.
‘What do you know about this lad?’ Nelson is asking.
‘He’s one of my first years. He seems keen. Intelligent.’ Ruth sees the dark-bearded face. Lytton Strachey. She thinks about Joe going to see Janet to talk about the Grey Lady.Beware the Grey Lady.
‘Have you got a home address for him?’ asks Nelson.
‘There’ll be one on the files. I’ll check.’
‘There was a Post-it note too. It said: “Stone walls do not a prison make. Nor iron bars a cage.” Do you know what that’s all about?’
‘It sounds like a poem.’
‘It is. I googled it. By someone called Richard Lovelace.’
‘I’ve never heard of him. I’ll ask Shona.’
‘Don’t tell her too much.’ Nelson is not the greatest fan of Shona, Ruth’s friend in the English department. Ruth is fond of Shona but has to admit that discretion is not her strongest suit.
‘I spoke to the campus security,’ says Nelson, ‘but they were bloody useless. There’s a warden but it turns out he doesn’t even live on site.’
‘Most wardens don’t.’
‘I spoke to him too. I’m a bit worried about the girl. Eileen.’
‘Me too.’
