Guilty Conscious, Oliver Davies [small books to read TXT] 📗

“They also both ascertain that Edward didn’t know about Stella’s death,” Mills went on.

I shook my head. “Or at least, he didn’t share it with anyone.”

Mills chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “We need to find Billie.”

I nodded and looked at his notebook. “Let’s head to the university. We can cross off talking to Professor Altman and see what Greenberg can tell us about Billie. If she knows where we can find her, that’ll be good. I don’t want to have to hunt her down.”

“I doubt she’d thank us for it,” Mills added, crumpling up his wrapper and throwing it in the bin before stretching. “It’s gonna be another long one, isn’t it?”

“Most likely,” I said, standing up and pulling my coat on. We stopped at the bathroom before heading outside, jumping into Mills’s car. My phone was half alive now, and I could see the message he’d sent me, alongside another one from Liene.

“You need a new phone, sir,” Mills told me as he pulled away from the station. “That’s the second time it’s died that quickly this month.”

“I know,” I muttered, turning it in my hand. It was old now, several new models had been out in the time I’d had this one, but I was fond of it. I tended to hang onto things until they fell apart completely, seemed wasteful otherwise. “Buying phones is a lot more completed nowadays than it used to be.”

Mills rolled his eyes. “If you need help, Grandpa, just say so.”

“Watch it,” I warned him. “I’ve still got a spring in my step; I’ll have you know.”

“Liene certainly thinks so,” he replied dryly.

I resisted smacking him, purely because he was trying to navigate a laned roundabout, and flipped him off instead, which only made him grin wider.

“Do we know what Greenberg is a professor of?” I asked.

“We do not,” he replied. “Might be telling, though. I always think you can tell a lot about people by what they teach.”

“What about what they study?” I asked.

He shrugged. He had been a politics student at university. Thank God he’d given that all up. “Altman is social sciences, though.”

I hummed, not entirely sure as to what that really was.

We arrived at the campus, parking on the side of the road and headed over to reception, where an elderly woman typed furiously at a computer, so much that her glasses nearly fell off her face with the force of it.

“Hello.” I smiled warmly and showed her my warrant card. “We’re looking for Professors Greenberg and Altman?”

She looked at my badge and then at my face before she nodded, pointing down the hall. “Staff room, third door on the right.”

“Thank you,” I said, pushing myself from the desk and walking down the hall, Mills jogging to catch up with me.

“Both in the same place,” he muttered. “Handy.”

“It is lunchtime,” I pointed out. We reached the door in question, and I rapped on it before opening it and walking inside. A handful of professors sat around, eating, talking, drinking coffee, and they all paused and looked over as we walked in.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said with a polite smile. “DCI Thatcher and DS Mills. We’re looking for Professor Altman and Professor Greenberg?”

“The two of them at the same time?” a man called from the back. “You’re a brave man.”

“Thank you.”

Two figures stood up and made their way over, glancing at each other with slight distaste. The woman reached us first, her golden hair half tied up, the rest of it spilling down over the shoulders of her long black coat.

“You’re here because of Edward Vinson?” she asked, her hands in her pockets.

“We are.”

“Professor Greenberg,” she introduced herself with a nod.

“Professor Altman.” The man joined us a second later, his wild black hair dancing as he nodded at us both. “I was Edward’s tutor.”

“Shall we?” I asked, indicating the door. They followed us outside and walked us down to a little outside area where we stood in a loose square.

“Professor Altman, we understand that Edward attended a meeting with you last night?”

“Yes,” he said grimly. “In my office.”

“What time did he leave?” Mills asked.

“Oh, around six? Was a bit keen to leave really, I think he didn’t like his feedback.”

Professor Greenberg rolled her eyes. “He didn’t like anything that hurt his ego.”

“He’s dead, Angela,” Professor Altman retorted.

“He’s not the only one, Yosef,” she snapped back.

I looked over to Mills and gave him a slight nod. He took Professor Altman over to one side, clearing up the events of last night, leaving me with the stern woman.

“What do you teach, Professor?”

She gave me a wry smile. “Criminal psychology.”

I huffed a laugh. “You taught Billie Helman?”

“I did,” she replied quickly. “I take it you learnt about Stella?” I appreciated her straightforwardness.

“We did. You don’t think Edward was innocent?”

She shook her head. “Not everybody worshipped the ground he walked on. I study people, Inspector, much as you do. I know the sort of person he was underneath it all. Manipulative. Mean.”

I made a mental note of that and asked, “What about Billie?”

“Brilliant girl.” Her face softened. “Such a shame she didn’t carry on with her studies. Smarter than he was, but after her sister…” She shrugged and shook her head. “The family situation wasn’t great. They moved out from their dad’s place, and Billie sort of took everything on herself.”

“Do you know where we can find her?” I asked.

She hesitated, looking me over with narrowed eyes.

“We just want to talk to her,” I assured her.

“She works at a café over by the Minster. Little place, blue, birds on it, I forget the name. I see her there Friday afternoons for a chat. She’ll be there,” the professor assured me.

“Thank you,” I told her gratefully as Mills walked over, Altman heading back inside. They glared at each other, and she looked back at me.

“Billie’s an emotional girl,” she told me. “She has good reason to, but she’s not a killer.” She looked me in the eye. “You’ll know that when you meet