on the balcony were probably bursting with geraniums. Christopher Taylor’s heart obviously yearned for climes much further south, and Ava, appraising his blonde good looks and honed physique, had no trouble picturing him somewhere Greek and Olympian.
“To tell you the truth I was a little taken aback when you called and asked to interview me,” Taylor said, addressing Ava. “I really don’t see that I can be of much help. I was one of Amy Hill’s lecturers, that’s all.”
“Is that right?” Ava said coolly, “we’ve heard differently.”
“Really? From whom?”
Ava glanced at Neal. She could hardly cite an anonymous letter as her source.
“Sergeant?” Taylor prompted.
“That’s not your concern. The point is your name has been connected with Amy Hill’s.” Neal’s voice filled the awkward silence.
“In what way?” asked Taylor.
“You tell us,” Ava replied.
Taylor removed the fine taupe cashmere sweater that had been draped around his shoulders and slung it casually over the back of the nearest chair. He was wearing a light blue chambray shirt and slim fit navy chinos that flattered his trim waist and long legs. For a moment he stood, hand on hip as if inviting them to admire his model good looks, oozing charm and elegance. It was all Ava could do to keep her mind on the job. But she guessed that his mind was turning somersaults, calculating, wondering how much they knew. How much he could get off without saying. The truth was, they had nothing on him.
“I was aware that Amy had a bit of a crush on me,” Taylor said, “a lot of my female students do, you know. It’s not something I encourage, of course.”
I bet you don’t, Ava thought cynically. “Meaning?” she asked politely.
“Meaning, Sergeant Merry, that I don’t make a practice of becoming romantically involved with my students.” He looked Ava up and down. “Besides, she wasn’t my type.”
It’s a curse, Ava thought, that blushing is a reflex virtually impossible to control. In addition to colouring, she felt hot and prickly all over as though she were an animal whose hackles were rising in warning, or was it something else — a spark of sexual attraction? Was she really so shallow as to be flattered by the attentions of the demi-god that was Professor Christopher Taylor? Warning bells sounded; she couldn’t afford to let him gain the upper hand by submitting so readily to his animal magnetism.
Before she could take control of the situation, Taylor said,
“I couldn’t help noticing that you’re limping, Sergeant. Why don’t you sit down and take the weight off that foot? I suggest you prop your leg up on my coffee table.” He gestured in the direction of a sumptuous leather sofa.
Ava was flustered. Is this how he had impressed Amy Hill, turning on the charm until she couldn’t help but succumb?
The thought brought Ava rudely back to her senses, but before she could speak, she heard Neal say, in what was, even for him, a dry Scottish accent,
“Did anything happen between you and Amy?”
“She was a very persistent young woman, Inspector, and disingenuous. She came to me saying that her friends had made a bet that she wouldn’t be able to persuade me to join them at their flat for dinner. To save her from losing face, I agreed, thinking there would be three other girls present. It wasn’t a date.
“Amy invited me to dinner with the friends who had made the bet. At their flat. She said it was to be like some reality TV show, where a group of people entertain a celebrity for the evening.”
“And that appealed to your vanity, did it?” Ava asked, released now, from the charm of Christopher Taylor’s spell.
For the first time since their arrival, Taylor seemed ruffled. He gave every impression of being affronted.
“Hardly, Sergeant. The thought of spending an evening in the company of a bunch of not particularly bright undergraduates was less than appealing. As it turned out, it was a trick. She
“To tell you the truth I was a little taken aback when you called and asked to interview me,” Taylor said, addressing Ava. “I really don’t see that I can be of much help. I was one of Amy Hill’s lecturers, that’s all.”
“Is that right?” Ava said coolly, “we’ve heard differently.”
“Really? From whom?”
Ava glanced at Neal. She could hardly cite an anonymous letter as her source.
“Sergeant?” Taylor prompted.
“That’s not your concern. The point is your name has been connected with Amy Hill’s.” Neal’s voice filled the awkward silence.
“In what way?” asked Taylor.
“You tell us,” Ava replied.
Taylor removed the fine taupe cashmere sweater that had been draped around his shoulders and slung it casually over the back of the nearest chair. He was wearing a light blue chambray shirt and slim fit navy chinos that flattered his trim waist and long legs. For a moment he stood, hand on hip as if inviting them to admire his model good looks, oozing charm and elegance. It was all Ava could do to keep her mind on the job. But she guessed that his mind was turning somersaults, calculating, wondering how much they knew. How much he could get off without saying. The truth was, they had nothing on him.
“I was aware that Amy had a bit of a crush on me,” Taylor said, “a lot of my female students do, you know. It’s not something I encourage, of course.”
I bet you don’t, Ava thought cynically. “Meaning?” she asked politely.
“Meaning, Sergeant Merry, that I don’t make a practice of becoming romantically involved with my students.” He looked Ava up and down. “Besides, she wasn’t my type.”
It’s a curse, Ava thought, that blushing is a reflex virtually impossible to control. In addition to colouring, she felt hot and prickly all over as though she were an animal whose hackles were rising in warning, or was it something else — a spark of sexual attraction? Was she really so shallow as to be flattered by the attentions of the demi-god that was Professor Christopher Taylor? Warning bells sounded; she couldn’t afford to let him gain the upper hand by submitting so readily to his animal magnetism.
Before she could take control of the situation, Taylor said,
“I couldn’t help noticing that you’re limping, Sergeant. Why don’t you sit down and take the weight off that foot? I suggest you prop your leg up on my coffee table.” He gestured in the direction of a sumptuous leather sofa.
Ava was flustered. Is this how he had impressed Amy Hill, turning on the charm until she couldn’t help but succumb?
The thought brought Ava rudely back to her senses, but before she could speak, she heard Neal say, in what was, even for him, a dry Scottish accent,
“Did anything happen between you and Amy?”
“She was a very persistent young woman, Inspector, and disingenuous. She came to me saying that her friends had made a bet that she wouldn’t be able to persuade me to join them at their flat for dinner. To save her from losing face, I agreed, thinking there would be three other girls present. It wasn’t a date.
“Amy invited me to dinner with the friends who had made the bet. At their flat. She said it was to be like some reality TV show, where a group of people entertain a celebrity for the evening.”
“And that appealed to your vanity, did it?” Ava asked, released now, from the charm of Christopher Taylor’s spell.
For the first time since their arrival, Taylor seemed ruffled. He gave every impression of being affronted.
“Hardly, Sergeant. The thought of spending an evening in the company of a bunch of not particularly bright undergraduates was less than appealing. As it turned out, it was a trick. She
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