Blind to the Bones. Stephen Booth

amounts of money. There’s no way of calculating how much.’

      ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

      ‘You don’t appreciate what we’re developing here. It’s really ground-breaking stuff. If we roll some of these programs out for all platforms –’

      ‘There’s no need to explain,’ said Fry. ‘That wasn’t what we came about.’

      But Dearden wanted to explain. Or at least, he wanted to talk about a subject that had nothing to do with a visit by the police.

      ‘We’ve actually used top consultant psychologists in the development of this concept,’ said Dearden. ‘That’s how serious we are about it.’

      ‘Mmm.’

      Dearden had led them down the corridor and into a small conference room, where there was a long table, a flipchart on a stand, and a projection screen against the end wall. It looked like a million other meeting rooms that Fry had been in for briefings and training sessions. She looked around for an overhead projector to go with the screen. But of course presentations here would be done in PowerPoint from someone’s laptop.

      To her surprise, Alex Dearden sat at the head of the table as if he were about to chair a meeting. Fry had expected to be facing him across the table. This way suited her, though. It meant she and Murfin could be on either side of him. Dearden couldn’t concentrate on both of them at once.

      ‘It’s about Emma Renshaw,’ said Fry, taking a chair.

      ‘Emma? But that’s a long time ago,’ said Dearden. ‘It was all dealt with a long time ago.’

      ‘It wasn’t exactly dealt with, sir. Emma has never been found.’

      ‘Of course, I know that. And it’s been very distressing for all of us who knew her.’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘But, I mean, I told the police everything I knew at the time, which wasn’t very much. It was all gone through over and over, though it didn’t do any good. Tragic though it is for her family, I think there comes a point when we have to put these things behind us and move on, don’t you?’

      Fry stared at him. She had to remind herself how old Alex Dearden was. Twenty-two, according to his file. But he sounded like someone thirty years older. He sounded like a respectable middle-aged citizen irritated at being pestered over something that had happened long ago in his past, when he had been a different person entirely.

      ‘You knew Emma from a very young age, I believe,’ said Fry.

      ‘For ever. We lived in the same village. In Withens. Do you know it at all?’

      ‘I haven’t been there yet.’

      ‘Well, when you see it, you’ll understand. There’s nothing to the place. Children of around the same age couldn’t help but know each other. We went to the same junior school, in Tintwistle. And later on, to the same secondary school, too. But our parents were on friendly terms anyway, so we were thrown together a lot.’

      ‘And after school, you even ended up going to the same university.’

      ‘No,’ said Dearden. ‘You have that wrong. I went to Birmingham University. Emma was at UCE, where she attended the art school. That’s the University of Central England. It’s a former polytechnic.’

      ‘Right.’ Fry looked at Alex Dearden and saw the little superior smile. He thought he had the better of her now, and was feeling more relaxed.

      ‘But our universities were close enough that we thought it might be a good idea to pitch in together and rent a house,’ he said. ‘It beats being thrown in with a load of strangers. You don’t know who you’re going to have to live with for three or four years when you do that. It’s madness. At least I knew Emma wouldn’t be too much trouble. And our parents thought it was a good idea, too. They put the money up front for the deposit, of course.’

      ‘Of course,’ said Fry. She had never been to university herself, and had never had any parents either willing or able to put the money up to rent a house for her. But she nodded and smiled to encourage him.

      ‘And your other housemates – one was Neil Granger.’

      ‘Ah, well, he’s a bit of an odd character, is Neil.’

      ‘Odd?’

      ‘Well, don’t get me wrong. He’s OK really. But he didn’t mix with us so much back in Withens, you know, because he was one of the Oxleys.’

      ‘I’m sorry? Could you explain?’

      Dearden shifted on his seat and his smile faded. He glanced at Gavin Murfin, unnerved by the silent one, as they always were.

      ‘You’ll have to find out about the Oxleys,’ said Dearden. ‘They’re a bit of a rough lot, always in trouble. We never normally had anything to do with them. Actually, I thought you would know of them already – they’ve all got criminal records, of course.’

      He looked at Murfin again, who stared back at him blankly, in the way that only Murfin could. Holding his gaze, Murfin began to work his jaws a bit, as if he were chewing gum. But Fry knew that he hated gum. He said it was like going out with a prick-teaser – it promised to be food, but never was.

      She looked down at the notes she’d brought. ‘I think I have heard the name Oxley, now you mention it,’ she said.

      Dearden looked relieved. He was on safe ground again, talking to people who were on the same wavelength. He was uncomfortable about his attitude to the Oxleys, and he didn’t like having to justify himself. Fry filed away that piece of information for future reference.

      ‘Neil Granger is some kind of cousin of the Oxleys,’ said Dearden. ‘There’s Neil and his brother Philip, and they were brought up with the Oxleys. But he’s a decent enough bloke, Neil. When you’re talking to him, you can forget he’s an Oxley.’

      ‘He was at the same school with you and Emma? In the same class?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘And which university did he go to? Birmingham or Central England?’ She shuffled her papers. ‘I’m afraid I don’t seem to have that information, either.’

      Fry looked at Alex Dearden with a hopeful expression, and was pleased to see the complacent smile was back.

      ‘Neither,’ he said. ‘Neil wasn’t at uni.’

      ‘But he shared this house with you in, where was it, Bearwood? Why did he go all that way to share a house? I don’t understand.’

      ‘It was a bit of a coincidence, really. At first, when we went down there, it was just the three of us – me, Emma and her friend Debbie, who was on the same course. The two girls were big pals, you know, and they went everywhere together. But there was a fourth bedroom in the house, and after a while we started to think we’d have to try to find someone else to share. To be honest, the rent was a bit of a struggle for the three of us. You don’t appreciate what expenses you’re going to have, you know – books and all that. Emma and Debbie had a lot of equipment to buy for their course work.’

      ‘And there would be socializing, I suppose?’ said Fry.

      Dearden looked at her suspiciously. ‘Why do you suppose that?’

      ‘Well – student life. There’s a lot of socializing, isn’t there? Or so I’m told.’

      ‘A bit. But if you have any sense, you don’t go mad. Not if you want to get through your course with good grades, which we all did.’

      ‘I see. But life was proving a bit expensive, all the same?’

      ‘Yes. Things we hadn’t budgeted for – Council Tax, electricity, the phone bill. You know.’

      ‘Yes, I do know.’

      ‘Anyway,