was alone when I arrived. I should have guessed. Amy had invented the whole story to lure me to her flat. It was most embarrassing. Amy answered the door dressed somewhat provocatively. I could tell immediately that there was no-one else at home.”
“So you extricated yourself from the situation, leaving Amy in no doubt that you didn’t approve of her attempt to seduce you? “ Neal asked.
“Of course, Inspector. What else would I do?”
“May I ask what you were doing on the night of the twenty eighth of October, Professor?”
Taylor’s answer was immediate. No doubt he had anticipated the question.
“I was at the theatre with a group of students. We’d travelled to London to see a production of King Lear at the Globe. We stayed overnight at a Premier Inn near King’s Cross and returned to Stromford the following morning.”
Taylor looked at his watch. “Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?” he said, looking at Neal, “only I have to give a lecture in forty minutes.” Turning to Ava, he added, “On the Romantic poets.”
“Never liked that lot,” she said, dismissively, “all that crap about lonely clouds and daffodils sent me to sleep at school.”
“Then you must have had a poor teacher, Sergeant.”
Taylor gathered up some papers from his desk and zipped them into a leather folder. He accompanied them downstairs and out the door. His remote garage door opened up to reveal, predictably, a flashy red Porsche. The university was only ten minutes’ walk away.
As Ava and Neal approached their modest Ford Escort, Ava veered in the direction of the driver’s side, but Neal cut in front of her abruptly, saying, “I’ll drive. You should keep your weight off that foot.”
For once, Ava didn’t object. As she bent to slip into the passenger seat, she caught Taylor’s eye; he nodded at her and a lock of blonde hair fell over his forehead. He tucked it back slowly, seductively, never taking his eyes off her. Ava matched him stare for stare, managing, she hoped, to conceal the discomfort he aroused in her, with a look of professional detachment.
“Arrogant bastard,” Neal said as he pulled out of the parking space.
“Good-looking arrogant bastard,” Ava remarked.
“Not my type,” Neal answered and they both laughed. Then, on a more serious note, he added, “Make sure his alibi checks out.”
“I’m on it, boss.”
Chapter 6
Richard Turner had been taken aback by Nancy Hill’s sudden proposal. Considering the circumstances, he was not convinced that Nancy meant what she had said. She was in that state of mind that lay somewhere between shock and grief, and Richard was not the kind of man to take advantage of her vulnerability by allowing her to commit herself to a course of action she might later regret. He had permitted himself a moment’s elation, before going on to reassure her kindly but firmly that he would be glad to accept her proposal, but not yet.
To his disappointment, Nancy had seemed to accept his reply with indifference; she seemed relieved almost, and he wondered whether he had just lost his one chance of marrying the woman he had loved for the better part of eight years.
To make matters worse, another thought nagged at Richard; it had occurred to him that Nancy’s relief might have been because she had not meant to make the proposal at all, that she had been on the verge of making some other revelation and had blurted the words out as a kind of compensatory afterthought.
Richard had long suspected that there were secrets Nancy kept from him. It wasn’t anything she said, but rather what she left out, as though her life before her arrival in Shelton had been lived in some other country. She was always particularly reticent about Amy’s father.
In a literal sense, part of Nancy’s past had been played out in another country. Amy’s father was a backpacker, and Amy the product of a promiscuous period in Nancy’s life, after she had left foster care and
“So you extricated yourself from the situation, leaving Amy in no doubt that you didn’t approve of her attempt to seduce you? “ Neal asked.
“Of course, Inspector. What else would I do?”
“May I ask what you were doing on the night of the twenty eighth of October, Professor?”
Taylor’s answer was immediate. No doubt he had anticipated the question.
“I was at the theatre with a group of students. We’d travelled to London to see a production of King Lear at the Globe. We stayed overnight at a Premier Inn near King’s Cross and returned to Stromford the following morning.”
Taylor looked at his watch. “Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?” he said, looking at Neal, “only I have to give a lecture in forty minutes.” Turning to Ava, he added, “On the Romantic poets.”
“Never liked that lot,” she said, dismissively, “all that crap about lonely clouds and daffodils sent me to sleep at school.”
“Then you must have had a poor teacher, Sergeant.”
Taylor gathered up some papers from his desk and zipped them into a leather folder. He accompanied them downstairs and out the door. His remote garage door opened up to reveal, predictably, a flashy red Porsche. The university was only ten minutes’ walk away.
As Ava and Neal approached their modest Ford Escort, Ava veered in the direction of the driver’s side, but Neal cut in front of her abruptly, saying, “I’ll drive. You should keep your weight off that foot.”
For once, Ava didn’t object. As she bent to slip into the passenger seat, she caught Taylor’s eye; he nodded at her and a lock of blonde hair fell over his forehead. He tucked it back slowly, seductively, never taking his eyes off her. Ava matched him stare for stare, managing, she hoped, to conceal the discomfort he aroused in her, with a look of professional detachment.
“Arrogant bastard,” Neal said as he pulled out of the parking space.
“Good-looking arrogant bastard,” Ava remarked.
“Not my type,” Neal answered and they both laughed. Then, on a more serious note, he added, “Make sure his alibi checks out.”
“I’m on it, boss.”
Chapter 6
Richard Turner had been taken aback by Nancy Hill’s sudden proposal. Considering the circumstances, he was not convinced that Nancy meant what she had said. She was in that state of mind that lay somewhere between shock and grief, and Richard was not the kind of man to take advantage of her vulnerability by allowing her to commit herself to a course of action she might later regret. He had permitted himself a moment’s elation, before going on to reassure her kindly but firmly that he would be glad to accept her proposal, but not yet.
To his disappointment, Nancy had seemed to accept his reply with indifference; she seemed relieved almost, and he wondered whether he had just lost his one chance of marrying the woman he had loved for the better part of eight years.
To make matters worse, another thought nagged at Richard; it had occurred to him that Nancy’s relief might have been because she had not meant to make the proposal at all, that she had been on the verge of making some other revelation and had blurted the words out as a kind of compensatory afterthought.
Richard had long suspected that there were secrets Nancy kept from him. It wasn’t anything she said, but rather what she left out, as though her life before her arrival in Shelton had been lived in some other country. She was always particularly reticent about Amy’s father.
In a literal sense, part of Nancy’s past had been played out in another country. Amy’s father was a backpacker, and Amy the product of a promiscuous period in Nancy’s life, after she had left foster care and