The Last Straw. Paul Gitsham

exchange for sexual favours, but that’s bullshit. I know for a fact that undergraduate essays are all marked independently and anonymously from the tutor that sets them to stop that sort of stuff happening. Anyhow, she moved on and we haven’t heard from her since. This was some months ago.”

      Jones noted down the details, deciding to pursue the lead nevertheless.

      “I guess the people with the biggest grudge against Alan would be his former grad students and postdocs. He treated some of them shockingly. I know, because I usually ended up picking up the pieces.”

      “Anyone in particular?”

      “Well, I suppose Antonio Severino is the first name to spring to mind. He was one of Alan’s postdocs until recently, then things went horribly sour.”

      “How? By the way, could you just clear up some terminology for me? What is a ‘postdoc’?”

      “Well, a postdoctoral research assistant or associate is a junior researcher at a university. Basically, you do your PhD, to become ‘Doctor’ and then do a couple of research positions of a couple of years apiece in other people’s laboratories to gain experience. In some countries, such as Canada, you are still regarded as little more than a glorified student. Fortunately in the UK it’s now a properly salaried position with all the usual benefits.

      “Anyhow, Dr Antonio Severino joined us about two years ago. He’s a smart guy and managed to solve a couple of really difficult problems that we were struggling with. Anyway, Alan being Alan felt a bit threatened by this as he realised that Antonio was inevitably going to share a lot of the limelight when the research was published and so he announced out of the blue that when Antonio’s initial appointment expired in six weeks’ time, he wasn’t going to renew the post. Furthermore, he was going to hold off on the publication of several key papers until he had some more data. This really upset Antonio. You see, not only was he out of a job in six weeks, he is also not going to have any publications to show for the past two years. In this climate he’ll be lucky if he gets a job cleaning glassware. The long and the short of it is that Alan absolutely shafted the poor bastard.”

      “How did Dr Severino take this?”

      “How do you think? Not to be stereotypical, but Antonio is a full-blooded Italian. They had the mother of all shouting matches in the lab, which spilled out into the corridor. Half the building must have seen and heard it. Anyway, I finally persuaded Antonio to leave and go home for the day, promising I’d talk to Alan about the papers. Antonio did calm down enough to leave the building, but he went straight down to the pub.

      “He’s always been a drinker, but that day he excelled himself. According to a couple of Mick Robinson’s group who were having lunch in there he got absolutely wasted. When they arrived he was already really pissed, drinking shots. They knew him and everyone sympathises with you when you’re dissing the boss, so they sat with him for a bit. Eventually they figured he’d had enough and called him a cab.

      “Apparently, he did get in the cab, but changed his mind halfway home and got the driver to drop him off outside here. I guess he was going to come back in and have it out with Alan again, but he got distracted by Alan’s rather nice shiny BMW and used his penknife to slash all four tyres and his house keys to scratch some sort of Italian obscenity on the bonnet. Did about three grand worth of damage, I’m told, before one of the security guards stopped him.”

      Crawley’s expression hinted that he might not have been entirely disapproving of his co-worker’s actions. “Well, Alan was all up for doing him for criminal damage, but the University Disciplinary Committee decided that it wasn’t going to do anybody’s reputation any good if this got into papers, so as usual I did my best to pour oil on troubled waters.

      “In the end, I persuaded the university to let Antonio see out his last six weeks on gardening leave. Alan agreed to let me write him a decent job reference, which he signed and put ‘papers pending’ on the references list on his CV. Antonio consented to pay the excess on Alan’s insurance claim. I tell you guys, some days I feel like the Secretary General of the United Nations in this place.”

      “How long ago was this?”

      “About four or five weeks ago.”

      “And has Dr Severino had any luck in finding another job yet?”

      “I had a request to pass on his references a couple of weeks ago to a lab at Leicester Uni. I haven’t heard anything back from Antonio, so I’d guess he’s probably been unsuccessful.”

      Jones nodded, taking note. Severino certainly had a big enough motive and if he had just been turned down for a job that could have been a trigger.

      “Tell us about Dr Spencer.”

      “Tom? Oh, he’s not doctor yet. He’s a final year PhD student.”

      Karen Hardwick half raised her hand almost as if she were at school. However, her voice was firm and betrayed none of the nervousness she was feeling at interrupting her superiors.

      “What stage was his PhD at? Was he still working or writing up?”

      A brief look of discomfort passed across Crawley’s face.

      “He was writing up, although he was still doing a few experiments to tidy things up.”

      “What stage was his thesis at? Was he still in his third year or was he in his write-up year?”

      Jones listened carefully. He had no idea where Karen’s line of questioning was going, but the vibes he was getting off Crawley suggested that he wasn’t thrilled about the direction. That alone made the questions worth asking in Jones’ book.

      “He was in his write-up year. He’d submitted some draft chapters to Alan for editing.”

      “It’s August now. Assuming he started in September, he must be pretty close to the end of his fourth year. Would that be correct? How was he funded and is it still current?”

      “I’m not sure why this is relevant.”

      “Please, bear with me, Dr Crawley.” DC Hardwick’s eyes didn’t leave the increasingly uncomfortable-looking scientist.

      “Yes, he is within a couple of months or so of the end of his fourth year. He was funded by the Medical Research Council. The funding will have ended by now.”

      “How much of his thesis had Professor Tunbridge approved? Is Mr Spencer on course to finish within the four-year deadline?”

      “I wouldn’t know about that.” The lie was weak, but Hardwick decided not to pursue it.

      Sutton now picked up the gauntlet. “How would you characterise the relationship between Mr Spencer and Professor Tunbridge?”

      “Well, Alan was a difficult man, as I think you are realising, and the relationship between students and supervisors is often tense, but I never saw them have a stand-up row like he did with Antonio Severino.”

      Jones looked at his colleagues; they seemed to be content for the time being. He looked forward to their thoughts. It was clear that Crawley wasn’t telling the whole truth, but he was unsure how to proceed just yet.

      “Well, thank you for your time, Dr Crawley. If you could give one of my colleagues your contact details that would be very helpful. I would also appreciate the names and contact details of other members of the research group. We may call you again in due course with some more questions. In the meantime, I believe that we have an appointment with the head of department, Professor Gordon Tompkinson.”

      Jones stood up, signalling the end of the interview. Crawley looked relieved.

      “Let me take you to see Professor Tompkinson.”

      As they exited the small room Jones spotted the young uniformed constable, standing outside the taped-off entrance to Tunbridge’s office. Beckoning him over, he instructed him to take down the details that he had requested from Crawley when he returned from taking them to see Prof Tompkinson. That should give him something