Guilty Conscious by Oliver Davies (best ereader for students .txt) 📗

“Ma’am,” I gave her and Smith a quick nod.

“You found the girl’s sister?” Sharp asked, walking with us down the warm corridor.

“Billie Helman, we did. Just came back from meeting with Dr Kumar, Stella’s therapist.”

We walked into our office, where Sharp shut the door and turned to look at the board we’d put together, waiting for us to peel off our coats and settled down.

“And?” She asked without looking over her shoulder at us.

“Billie Helman has motive and means,” I told her, “but in my personal opinion, I don’t think she’s who we’re after.”

Sharp sighed through her nose and turned around, fixing her eyes on me. “What about the father?”

“Absent,” I told her, watching Mills slip out the office from the corner of my eye. “Billie took over after their mother died and stayed in York to look after Stella. They moved out after the assault, and he’s been out of contact since. He did show up at the funeral and tried to get in touch with Dr Kumar about Stella, but she sent him off. Billie was her primary contact.”

“You’ll pay him a visit? He might have felt some responsibility after she died,” Sharp said, “taken it out the wrong way.”

“We’ll look into him, see if we can track him down tomorrow.”

She gave me an approving nod. “What else have you got?” She asked, perching on the edge of Mills’s desk.

“Mills went and spoke to the witness again to find out what she knew about Stella and Billie.”

“Which was?”

“Not much. Believes that Edward was innocent, the same as his parents do.”

Sharp hummed, “I take it that the sister is not of that opinion?”

“Certainly not. She made herself a bit of a bother for Edward, but nothing blatantly dangerous. She said she just wanted him to remember what he did, but she never really pushed it. I’m wondering if we take another look through his things, maybe at his home too, we might find anything she sent.”

Sharp nodded. “I think it will be telling,” she said, “whether or not he kept any of them.”

I hadn’t thought of that. “Any word from forensics?”

“They’ve had the go-ahead to clean up the blood, but the rest they’ll leave as is. I don’t think there’s anything you need to take from that?” I shook my head. “Good. Nothing in the way of any prints, some DNA here and there, but that could be from his friends as much as anyone else. Nothing that stands out, let’s put it that way.”

I sat down in my chair, rubbing my hands across my face.

“Think simply for a few hours, Max,” Sharp ordered. “Forget about Stella Helman and think about who could have gotten into that building and how. No locks busted.” She nodded to our board. “Window intact. A bit of old school policing should settle you down alright.” She smirked, sliding from Mills’s desk as he walked back in and placed a steaming mug before me. She gave him a nod as she walked out, and Mills dragged his chair round to plonk in front of the board, propping an ankle over his knee and staring at it.

“No scolding, then?” he asked, his back to me.

“Not today. Nice of you to run out and abandon me all the same,” I replied, walking round to sit on my desk.

“Abandon you? I went to get coffee, sir, that’s all,” he said in mock innocence. I picked up the mug and gave him a nod when he peered around to look at me with a boyish grin.

“Appreciated.” I sighed. “So, where are we? Let’s talk about access. Someone got in and out of that building without a problem. Only a few people have keys.”

Mills turned and made a face at me. “According to the university staff, only a few people have keys. But there have been students staying in those rooms for years, sir, and I’ll bet at least half of them made copies.”

“Copies?”

“For friends, girlfriends, boyfriends. Easy access, anytime. They’d only have to pop down to Timpson’s to get one.” I grimaced as his words rang true.

“That doesn’t help. So, we could say that alongside the keys we know are out there. There’s likely a dozen or so more knocking about in people’s drawers or forgotten in their old mementoes?”

“Probably,” he said, taking a sip. I gave him a once over, my eyes narrowed. “Did you get a key cut for your room, Mills? Sneak in a few girlfriends?”

“I stayed at home, sir,” he answered. “First year, anyway. Moved into a flat with friends after that. But I know plenty of people who did.”

“The great minds of the future,” I muttered into my mug. “You’d think they’d change to the hotel key card nonsense.”

“A bit harder with the old buildings,” Mills pointed out. “Besides, I’m guessing people like Edward pay for accommodation like that for a reason.”

Another good point. It was just off the campus, away from the other ugly blocks of student lodging, closer to the city centre, less security. Ideal, really, for a few twenty-year-olds fresh out of mum and dad’s place.

“Short of trying to track down every single one of those keys,” I said after a pause, “I’d say it’s safe to presume that our killer had one, or at least knew someone who did.” Knew where to get one.

“I’d say so, sir,” Mills agreed. “It could be that Billie had one at one point, but not to say she took it with her when they moved. If they wanted to leave all the memories of what happened behind, maybe a lot of her old school things stayed at their dad’s house.”

I looked him over long enough that he started to look shifty. “I’m so glad I kept you around, Mills,” I told him in a gruff voice. He flushed slightly from the rare compliment and gave me a smile.

“Glad to hear it, sir. Nobody else could put up with you,” he added.

I chuckled, then looked over to the door as