Felix Kowalski had begun to withdraw behind his bandages.
‘Nothing,’ Gurney said wearily. ‘We’ve been over it all again. Any news of Kathy?’
‘I just saw her. She came out of the anaesthetic at 2 and has been sleeping since. She woke briefly when I was there. They say she’ll live. Bloody lucky.’
They went in and Brock took the seat opposite Kowalski again. He noticed the shadow under the unbruised eye, and a slight shake in the unbandaged hand.
‘Sit up and drink your tea,’ he barked abruptly. ‘Tell me about Toronto.’
Kowalski blinked at him in surprise.
‘Toronto, yes, Toronto. What did you go there for last September?’
Kowalski’s mouth hung open stupidly for a moment as he tried to read Brock’s mind. Then he mumbled something.
‘What?’
Kowalski cleared his throat. ‘Get stuffed.’
‘Last September,’ Brock persisted, ‘just before Meredith Winterbottom died.’
Kowalski snorted, shook his head.
‘The time your wife thinks you were at a conference in Yorkshire. I’ll find out, Felix. I’ll find everything out eventually. Better tell me now.’
He was rewarded by a blaze of anger which burst from Kowalski’s red-rimmed eyes. He tried to get to his feet, swearing furiously. Gurney pressed him back down with one hand on his shoulder, and he subsided, trembling. The anger died away, and when he regained control, he muttered, ‘You can’t connect me to Meredith Winterbottom’s death, and you know it.’
Brock paused before answering quietly.
‘Well, we know that, Felix. Your mother’s already confessed to the murder of Meredith Winterbottom. She was arrested on Saturday afternoon. Didn’t you know?’
Felix rocked back in his chair as if he had been struck. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped open. ‘No… No. That’s impossible.’
‘Not in the least. We established that the times you gave us for when your mother was on her own that afternoon were wrong. Then we found out about her visit to Mrs Rosenfeldt, and following that Mrs Winterbottom. When we went to see your mother on Saturday afternoon she knew what we’d come for. She confessed to killing Meredith.’
‘No,’ Felix repeated, shaking his head. ‘It isn’t possible.’ It sounded more a statement of fact than of belief. Brock leaned forward, watching him closely.
‘Why? What do you know, Felix? What possible doubt could there be?’
But Felix had withdrawn. He sat rigid in his seat, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes.
‘Felix!’
‘No…’ He shook his head furiously, then said no more. Brock sighed and looked at the wall clock.
‘5.35. All right. Give him a bed. I’ll see him again at 9.’
He got to his feet as Felix was led away. ‘Let’s get a couple of hours ourselves, Bren. I’m beginning to feel my age.’
‘I might get over to the hospital, chief; see how Kathy is.’
‘There’s not much point at present, Bren. Why not leave it to the morning? I need you with your wits about you.’
‘What do you reckon to him?’ Gurney nodded towards the door through which Felix had been taken.
‘I think that he’s trying to decide whether to save his mother, or just let her drown.’
‘You think he can save her? She confessed to cover for him?’
‘Something like that. You know, I used to think that organized crime was complicated. It’s peanuts compared with this lot.’
Brock, feeling better for a couple of hours’ sleep, knocked on the door marked ‘Head of Department’. There was an indistinct sound of a voice from inside and he went in. He introduced himself and Gurney. Dr Endicott looked up from the papers on his desk with an anxious, preoccupied frown. His face had deep lines cut around the mouth and brow which contrasted oddly with his smooth skin, as if he had been prematurely aged all of a sudden. He was dressed in the careful neutrality of a businessman.
‘Yes?’
‘I’d like some information about a member of your staff, Dr Endicott. Felix Kowalski.’
‘Felix? Is he in trouble?’
‘He’s helping us with an inquiry. There’s just a couple of things you might be able to confirm for us.’
‘I really don’t know that I can do that. If he’s in trouble… a colleague. Also, I’m due at a meeting at 9.15, so I don’t have time at present. Perhaps you might make an appointment with my secretary.’
‘Important?’
‘Pardon?’
‘The meeting. Is it important?’
‘Ah. Well.’ He looked doubtfully at the papers on his desk, about two inches thick. ‘A meeting of the Academic Board sub-committee to decide the composition of the Committee on Gender Equity in Selection and Promotion Procedures.’
‘Well, ours is a murder inquiry, and I really don’t want to take up much of your time, but I’d like to do it now.’ Dr Endicott’s eyes widened at the word ‘murder’. Brock pressed on before he could frame a question. ‘Have you been aware of any difficulties Mr Kowalski might have been having lately?’
‘Not really.’
‘I have the impression that he’s not happy in his work. Would that be fair?’
‘Not happy? Well. Like many of us, he has had to adjust to changing circumstances. Funding cuts, new priorities, and so on. I think he has found it rather difficult. He was in a particularly hard-hit area.’
‘Has he been looking for some alternative?’
‘I really feel he should be telling you this himself. But I suppose I can say that I did write one or two references for him some three or four years back. Nothing recently, though. I rather thought he’d, er, become reconciled.’
‘Is he a popular member of staff?’
‘Ah…’ Dr Endicott swept some lank hair back from his lined forehead and frowned at his papers as he thought about that. ‘He is a challenging colleague, one might say. Abrasive, even.’
‘Yes, that was rather our impression. And is that the result of his work frustrations, would you say, or is there some other reason?’
‘Oh, I really couldn’t say. I always felt there was something
… fiery in his make-up. Central European, you know.’
‘You’ve sent him to conferences, I believe. One just last week.’
‘Really?’ Endicott looked vague.
‘The University of Nottingham?’
‘Ah yes. Not really a conference. More a staff development course, really. “Communication under Conditions of Stress” or something like that. Quite appropriate given our staff-student ratios.’
‘And last September?’
‘I can’t recall him being away last September. I could, get the file. Maureen will remember, I’m sure.’
‘Scarborough?’
‘Oh yes. That was a conference. Not really his field if I recall, but the Departmental Conferences Committee felt rather sorry for him, I think.’
‘So he went to Canada?’
‘Canada? Good heavens no! Scarborough in Yorkshire! There would have been no way of sending him to an overseas conference with our budget in the state it was!’
‘Yet we have reason to believe he went to Canada during the first week of last September.’
‘Really? Skipped off to Canada when he was supposed to be at the conference in Yorkshire? Are you sure?’ Dr Endicott seemed rather taken with the idea.
‘Are you aware of any connection he might have had with North America-friends, relatives, academic connections?’
‘Well, no.’ He hesitated, then shook his head as if dismissing an absurd idea.
‘Something?’
‘Well, the only “connection” that springs to mind is that we had an exchange student from Canada in the department last year. Rather personable young woman. But that hardly seems relevant.’
‘Felix taught her?’
‘Emm, I couldn’t say. Maureen would know, our departmental secretary. We might ask her.’ Dr Endicott seemed to have forgotten about his committee meeting as he led them out to the departmental office, where Maureen was briskly giving orders to a group of confused students. She turned to deal with the Head of Department with the same determined look on her face.