chair and sat down.
"We have to speak to everyone individually," Toreth added.
"Before people start confusing each other with gossip. Of course." The explanation seemed to diminish his irritation slightly. "Hence why I was escorted straight to my office on arrival and politely ordered to stay inside."
"It's standard procedure for I&I and Justice," Toreth replied, using his best nothing-I-can-do voice.
"So I merit the attentions of a senior para-investigator? Am I a suspect?" Warrick sounded more intrigued than concerned.
"No, actually not."
"Oh?"
"You have a very good alibi."
Warrick raised an eyebrow. "I don't think anyone has even asked me for one."
"That's because the alibi is me. The girl died somewhere about ten o'clock, give or take a certain margin. That was about — "
"Coffee," Warrick finished for him. Actually, it hadn't been, but Toreth didn't feel like splitting hairs. Apart from anything else, the image of Warrick stripped and shivering wasn't conducive to professional concentration. For the first time, he noticed the faint bruises on Warrick's mouth.
"The girl?" Warrick added after a moment.
Toreth shook his head slightly, which Warrick misinterpreted as a negative rather than an attempt to clear his mind.
"Of course, you can't tell me."
Toreth weighed it up; he had to start somewhere. He set up the camera again, glancing at Warrick, who nodded, smiling slightly as he understood the implication. No mention of the night before.
"Her name was Kelly Jarvis," Toreth said, watching for the reaction.
"
Kelly
?"
Genuine-looking shock, Toreth thought, perhaps a little more than news of the death of an employee usually provoked.
"Did you know her well?"
"Yes, I . . . she's . . . she's one of the students. University students. I — " Warrick wiped his palms together, repeating the gesture as he spoke. "No. Not very well, I suppose. God."
"When did you see her last?"
"I, er . . ." Warrick swallowed, pulled together a semblance of composure. "Yesterday evening. Just before I left, in fact, which was around seven pm."
So much for 'rushed over as soon as I could get away'.
"I was due to review some of her work this morning," Warrick added.
Lucky early hit, Toreth thought. "Did she say or do anything unusual?"
"Nothing," Warrick said automatically, then, before Toreth could repeat the question, he held up his hand. "Sorry. Let me think about it."
Toreth waited, content to give him the time. A helpful, cooperative witness was a rare enough find.
"There was nothing that struck me at the time," Warrick said at length. A smile ghosted briefly across his face. "Although I must say that I was thinking about other things. She asked if we could postpone the meeting for a few days to give her a chance to do another experiment or two. I said yes."
"That was all?"
"Yes. No, wait. I offered her a lift home."
Toreth raised an eyebrow and Warrick looked at him sharply. "When I said 'lift home', that is precisely what I meant. A lift for her, to her home, where I would leave her. She lives off the campus, as you no doubt already know."
Address in the file, presumably, although Toreth couldn't recall it without checking. "Sorry. Why did you offer?"
"I was on my way out and I assumed she would be too. I don't encourage the students to stay late."
"Why not?"
"I measure people's effectiveness by results, not hours worked — in my experience an expectation of long hours tends to encourage time-wasting. Commercial security is another reason — predictable working patterns make it easier to spot aberrations. And the streets around the campus aren't the safest places for women — or anyone — to wander alone. Even the corporate-sponsored students at the AERC tend not to be able to afford accommodation in the more salubrious areas."
A comprehensive selection of reasons. Toreth made a mental note to return to the topic later.
"Did she accept the lift?" he asked.
"No. She said . . ." He frowned. "She said she
"We have to speak to everyone individually," Toreth added.
"Before people start confusing each other with gossip. Of course." The explanation seemed to diminish his irritation slightly. "Hence why I was escorted straight to my office on arrival and politely ordered to stay inside."
"It's standard procedure for I&I and Justice," Toreth replied, using his best nothing-I-can-do voice.
"So I merit the attentions of a senior para-investigator? Am I a suspect?" Warrick sounded more intrigued than concerned.
"No, actually not."
"Oh?"
"You have a very good alibi."
Warrick raised an eyebrow. "I don't think anyone has even asked me for one."
"That's because the alibi is me. The girl died somewhere about ten o'clock, give or take a certain margin. That was about — "
"Coffee," Warrick finished for him. Actually, it hadn't been, but Toreth didn't feel like splitting hairs. Apart from anything else, the image of Warrick stripped and shivering wasn't conducive to professional concentration. For the first time, he noticed the faint bruises on Warrick's mouth.
"The girl?" Warrick added after a moment.
Toreth shook his head slightly, which Warrick misinterpreted as a negative rather than an attempt to clear his mind.
"Of course, you can't tell me."
Toreth weighed it up; he had to start somewhere. He set up the camera again, glancing at Warrick, who nodded, smiling slightly as he understood the implication. No mention of the night before.
"Her name was Kelly Jarvis," Toreth said, watching for the reaction.
"
Kelly
?"
Genuine-looking shock, Toreth thought, perhaps a little more than news of the death of an employee usually provoked.
"Did you know her well?"
"Yes, I . . . she's . . . she's one of the students. University students. I — " Warrick wiped his palms together, repeating the gesture as he spoke. "No. Not very well, I suppose. God."
"When did you see her last?"
"I, er . . ." Warrick swallowed, pulled together a semblance of composure. "Yesterday evening. Just before I left, in fact, which was around seven pm."
So much for 'rushed over as soon as I could get away'.
"I was due to review some of her work this morning," Warrick added.
Lucky early hit, Toreth thought. "Did she say or do anything unusual?"
"Nothing," Warrick said automatically, then, before Toreth could repeat the question, he held up his hand. "Sorry. Let me think about it."
Toreth waited, content to give him the time. A helpful, cooperative witness was a rare enough find.
"There was nothing that struck me at the time," Warrick said at length. A smile ghosted briefly across his face. "Although I must say that I was thinking about other things. She asked if we could postpone the meeting for a few days to give her a chance to do another experiment or two. I said yes."
"That was all?"
"Yes. No, wait. I offered her a lift home."
Toreth raised an eyebrow and Warrick looked at him sharply. "When I said 'lift home', that is precisely what I meant. A lift for her, to her home, where I would leave her. She lives off the campus, as you no doubt already know."
Address in the file, presumably, although Toreth couldn't recall it without checking. "Sorry. Why did you offer?"
"I was on my way out and I assumed she would be too. I don't encourage the students to stay late."
"Why not?"
"I measure people's effectiveness by results, not hours worked — in my experience an expectation of long hours tends to encourage time-wasting. Commercial security is another reason — predictable working patterns make it easier to spot aberrations. And the streets around the campus aren't the safest places for women — or anyone — to wander alone. Even the corporate-sponsored students at the AERC tend not to be able to afford accommodation in the more salubrious areas."
A comprehensive selection of reasons. Toreth made a mental note to return to the topic later.
"Did she accept the lift?" he asked.
"No. She said . . ." He frowned. "She said she
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