‘Loose ends,’ he said vaguely. ‘If you’ve got time.’
‘I’ll get onto it. So you’ve taken away my little helper.’
He smiled. ‘I thought you might like a break.’
Kathy returned to her desk and put a call through to Sundeep Mehta. His advice was precise. ‘The heavy metals persist in the body. If she had a history of taking arsenic, it’ll be recorded in her hair, fingernails and bones. I’ll check. But Kathy, this was a massive, lethal dose. Was she an impulsive woman?’
‘That’s not my impression, Sundeep.’
‘Well, I’ll get back to you.’
She settled down to read through the new files, and made a start in following up the most promising leads. All the same, her mind kept returning to the house in Rosslyn Court. Alex Nicholson’s comments about the absence of a computer stuck in her mind, irking her for not noticing it sooner. Eventually she rang the secretary at the university and asked her if she could think of anywhere else Marion might have kept personal possessions. Karen explained that postgraduate students were provided with individual lockers. She apologised for not thinking to mention it before. Kathy said she’d come straight over.
When she arrived Karen took her to the postgraduate students’ office, a large room with a rank of computer stations to one side and a table and whiteboard at the other. A sink and coffee-making facilities stood in the far corner, next to a bank of grey metal lockers. Karen took her master key and opened one which had Marion’s name written neatly on a label. It was completely empty.
Kathy stared at the void in disappointment, then turned to Karen. ‘Is there anywhere else Marion could have kept things?’
‘Not as far as I know.’
‘Do you know if she had a computer of her own?’
‘Sorry, no idea. We could ask.’ They went around the room, questioning the half-dozen students working at the keyboards. No one knew.
‘How about Dr da Silva, is he here?’
‘Monday… he doesn’t have any lectures today.’ She looked out the window. ‘Car’s here. Maybe he’s in the library, or his office. Shall I check?’ She dialled a number on the phone on the central table and spoke a few words. ‘Yes, he’s in his office. He says to go on up. Know where it is?’
‘Yes-thanks, Karen.’
Da Silva answered her knock, swelling up a little as he showed her in, as if wanting to become larger. ‘Welcome,’ he murmured. ‘Please sit down. Any developments?’
‘Possibly. It’s a bit early to say. We found where Marion was living, in Hampstead.’ She watched his reaction closely.
‘Really? Hampstead? Where abouts, exactly?’
‘Rosslyn Court. Know it?’
‘Yes, I believe I do. I’m… amazed, frankly.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Well, it’s an expensive address. Not exactly student digs.’
‘Where do you live, Dr da Silva?’
‘Me?’ Kathy thought there was a flush of colour in his face. ‘Not far from there, actually. I live in Hampstead Garden Suburb, just up the road.’
‘That is a coincidence.’
He gave her a little frown. ‘Was it any help, finding where she lived?’
‘Possibly. But I wanted to ask you again about Marion’s access to computers. Surely she would have had one of her own? A laptop, maybe?’
‘Well, I told you this before-I really don’t know. I can’t remember her ever bringing one to our sessions.’
‘Do you have anything of hers?’
‘Eh?’ He looked startled, drawing himself upright in his chair. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I just wondered if she might have left anything with you for safe keeping-computer disks, say, or electronic copies of her documents, that sort of thing.’
‘Oh, I see. No, nothing like that. She gave me printouts of her work mostly. I’ve kept those. Once or twice she emailed drafts to me.’
‘I’ve looked in her locker downstairs.’
‘Locker?’
‘The postgraduate students are given lockers.’
‘Are they? I didn’t know.’
‘Anyway, it was empty. Can you think of anywhere else she might have left anything?’
‘Sorry.’ He raised his hands helplessly.
‘We’re wondering if it’s possible she might have taken her own life, Dr da Silva?’
‘What, with arsenic?’ He looked genuinely astonished. ‘You’ve got to be joking, surely?’
‘Why do you say arsenic? I didn’t mention that.’
‘You certainly did to Dr Ringland. He tells me you wanted to know if she could have taken arsenic from his lab.’ He gave her a teasing smile. ‘Or indeed if I could.’
‘We have to consider every eventuality. So you don’t think it’s likely?’
He pondered, stroking his chin. ‘Well, it’s a pretty astounding notion. I wouldn’t have thought of her as the suicidal type. That would be a gruesome way to do it, surely? I mean, she wasn’t stupid. She was rather fascinated by early, tragic death, I suppose. As I mentioned to you, I felt her enthusiasms were a little… overripe, one might say-hysterical even.’
Kathy felt her dislike of Tony da Silva’s smugness growing, and had to warn herself not to let it cloud her judgement. ‘Do you recall anything specific in recent weeks? Anything that in retrospect might be taken as a warning, a cry for help?’
‘Not really. She did go on at length about poor old Lizzie Siddal and her death. She took an overdose of laudanum, you know. That’s opium, morphine. I suppose you’ve checked that wasn’t how Marion died?’
‘It seems it was definitely arsenic. Well, if there’s nothing else
…’ Kathy got to her feet, noticing again the row of his Rossetti biographies. ‘I must get a copy of your book, Dr da Silva.’
‘Oh, please…’ He leapt to his feet and snatched one from the shelf. ‘Be my guest.’
‘Well, I must pay for it.’
‘Don’t be silly. Your first name is Kathy, yes? With a K?’
‘Yes.’
He opened the cover, took a felt pen from his desk and wrote with a great flourish, then snapped it shut and handed it to her. ‘It’s my pleasure. Oh, and, er, I loaned Marion some of my own books and papers. I suppose they’ll be at Rosslyn Court. Could I make arrangements to pop over there and pick them up?’
Kathy sensed anxiety beneath the casual question and said, ‘Not in person, Dr da Silva. At least not for some time. Perhaps if you gave me a list of the things that are yours I could take a look.’
He flushed and muttered that he’d do that.
When she got outside into the corridor, she opened the book and read his inscription: To Kathy, with enormous admiration for your work, Tony da Silva.
She wrinkled her nose, wondering what he’d written in Marion’s copy.
It occurred to her that Tina Flowers might know if Marion had a computer so she tried to phone her, but she wasn’t at Stamford Street, nor was she answering her mobile number, and Kathy returned to Queen Anne’s Gate and her paperwork. An hour later Tina rang.
‘I got your message,’ she said. ‘Is there news?’
‘I just wanted to ask about Marion’s computer, Tina. What did she use?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I never saw it.’
‘What about you, do you have one?’
‘Yeah, a laptop.’
‘How did you give her the work you did for her?’
‘Mostly it was photocopies and handwritten notes, but I did email her stuff sometimes.’
‘She didn’t give you any computer disks to keep for her, did she?’
‘No. Has something happened? Have you found anything?’
Kathy hesitated, then said, ‘Did Marion say anything at all, well, odd when you spoke to her that last time, on Tuesday morning?’
‘Odd? No, I’ve gone over in my head everything she said, and she seemed normal.’
‘Not depressed, then?’
‘No, quite the opposite. She was happy. Everything was going well for her.’
‘Did you ever hear her talk about suicide?’
‘Well, yes, about the characters she was researching. I was supposed to look out for suicide references. It was on my list of key words, remember?’
‘Yes, but I mean at a more personal level. Did she ever talk about wanting to kill herself?’