Trick of the Dark

by McDermid, Val

'There's a short cut here,' Magda said, indicating an alley fenced with high wooden palings that ran between the houses. 'It brings you out by the meadow gate.'

  'I remember.' Charlie followed her, forced from her side by the narrowness of the path. 'So where did you guys meet up?'

  Magda sighed. 'I know you're a friend of my mum's but, if I tell you, will you promise not to tell her?'

  Charlie forced a chuckle. This was getting interesting and she didn't want to lose Magda now. 'Don't tell me it was somewhere disreputable.'

  'No, nothing like that. But I just don't want her to get the wrong idea. Promise?'

  'OK, I promise.' Charlie sidestepped a puddle, felt wet grass switch against her trouser leg.

  'It's the most unromantic thing,' Magda said. 'We bumped into each other in the ladies' loo in Magnusson Hall. At my wedding. I came out of one of the cubicles and she was washing her hands at the basin. Our eyes met in the mirror, and we recognised each other straight away. It was amazing. Electric. But of course, nothing came of it. I mean, how could it? I'd just got married, it didn't make any sense to me.'

  Liar, Charlie thought. Magda's insistence felt fake. Like a politician who finds five different ways to not tell the truth, she was responding to what had not been asked. 'But it was a connection.'

  'Yes. A connection. Then, when Philip died, she got in touch. Asked if there was anything she could do. To be honest, the thought of spending some time with someone who hadn't known Philip was a relief. Can you understand that?'

  The path broadened out and Charlie moved back to Magda's side. 'Completely. The death of someone close can assume an overwhelming presence in our lives. There's no hiding place from the dead. So yes, I totally get why that would appeal.'

  Magda nodded. 'That's right.' She smiled and her whole face lit up for the first time. 'So I said yes, she could take me out for a pizza.'

  It was a very different story from the version Corinna believed. And it would only serve to fuel Corinna's bizarre conviction that Jay was a multiple murderer whose latest victim had been her son-in-law. The trouble was, it unsettled Charlie. It made her instincts twitch. The encounter felt predatory and calculated and that made her wonder whether Corinna was quite as deluded as she'd thought. 'Nice story,' she said, giving no hint of her disquiet.

  'Charlie?'

  'Yes?'

  'Do you know why Jay and my mum fell out? Was it really not just bigotry and prejudice?'

  Charlie considered her options and decided she didn't actually have any. 'I don't know. All I can say is, your mum might not approve of homosexuality, but she's not a bigot. As far as I am aware, she's always been able to separate the general from the particular. I was in my second year when I started coming out to people and she was one of the first I told. And it changed nothing between us as far as I could tell. She certainly didn't stop using me as a babysitter. So whatever the reason for Jay being banished, I don't think it was because Corinna thought she'd be a bad influence.' Charlie gave Magda a gentle punch on the arm. 'Though, as things have turned out, it seems I might have been.'

  Magda's smile was vague. 'That's a weird thought. But it doesn't make any sense. Jay says she can't think of any other reason why Corinna acted like she did.'

  'It's a long time ago. Maybe they've both forgotten what was behind it. People do sometimes, you know.'

  They reached a T-junction in the path and Magda pointed to the left. 'The gate's down there, just round the bend. It brings you into Schollie's meadow. I'm going back to the house.' She turned to face Charlie. 'I came to tell both of my parents about me and Jay. I'm not looking forward to telling my dad. He'll totally lose his mind. But I'm not leaving it up to Mum to break it to him.'

  'You will be OK,' Charlie said. 'It's all survivable. You've got your woman to go home to. They can't take that from you.'

  Magda suddenly threw her arms round Charlie. 'Thank you. It's been really helpful, talking to you.'

  Startled, Charlie returned the hug. 'Any time.' She stepped back, fishing a card out of her backpack. 'Here. Any time you want to get in touch. It would be good to hear from you.'

  Charlie wasn't sure if the flush on Magda's cheeks was from the fresh air or the impulsive embrace. Either way, it emphasised her youth, reminding Charlie of the child she'd first known all those years ago. Magda took the card and tucked it into her pocket. 'It's weird. My minders coming back to take care of me.'

  'I guess Corinna had good taste in babysitters.'

  Magda groaned as she backed away. 'That's so not funny. Listen, I hope you catch up with Dr Winter.'

  Charlie watched her swing round and run back up the alley to the street. It had been an interesting encounter. She turned round and started walking towards the meadow gate, hoping she could persuade Helena Winter into similar indiscretion, but doubting it.

  As she opened the wrought-iron gate, her phone rang. Expecting it to be Maria, she was in no hurry to answer. But when she glanced at the screen, her heart leapt. She fumbled with the controls, almost cutting the caller off in her eagerness. 'Lisa,' she said, trying to sound relaxed.

  'Hi, Charlie. How's your day so far?'

  Charlie couldn't resist a dry little laugh. 'Interesting,' she said. 'In the Chinese sense.'

  'Good. We all need the stimulus of interesting days. You can tell me all about it.' Lisa's tone was intimate, her voice seductive as ever. 'I am so sorry I missed you last night. I hated having to let you down.' She sighed, as if she'd been genuinely distressed. 'You know how it is. It's hard to say no when you think you might be able to help. It feels really selfish to walk away for the sake of my own pleasure. I'd rather have been with you, believe me.'

  Charlie truly didn't care if Lisa was spinning her a line. It sounded convincing to her and as long as there was still a possibility that things could work out the way she dreamed of, she would go along with whatever Lisa said. 'I understand,' she said. 'Your time's not your own.'

  'Exactly,' Lisa said. 'But I have managed to find some space today, if you're still around. I've cleared an hour, and if you could come over to my place, I wouldn't have to waste time going off to meet you then getting back here. Then we could make the most of what little time we've got. How would that be?'

  Fabulous? A dream come true? Charlie cleared her throat. 'Which hour did you have in mind?' She shifted the phone to her other hand so she could look at her watch. It was just after one. Why was she even bothering? It didn't matter what time it was, she knew she was at Lisa's beck and call.

  'Can you be here for half past three?'

  Play it cool, Charlie, play it cool. 'That shouldn't be a problem. I'm on my way to see someone at St Scholastika's right now, but I'll make sure I'm free in plenty of time.'

  'That's wonderful,' Lisa said. 'I can't wait to see you. I'm really looking forward to hearing all about your mysterious adventures.'

  And that was that. Dead air. No endearments, no small talk. Just Lisa making her arrangements then moving on to the next thing. Charlie didn't care. She punched the air like an adolescent, grinning and doing a surprisingly graceful little pirouette on the tips of her boots. In the space of a couple of minutes, the world had shifted on its axis. Things were going her way. It didn't matter that she'd spent her entire undergraduate career in fear and awe of Dr Helena Winter. Today the tables would be turned.

  Today, she would slay the dragon.

  6

  Walking into Helena Winter's den was like stepping through a wormhole in time. Nothing had apparently changed in the nineteen years since Charlie had sat down on the dark red sofa for her first tutorial on Aristotle. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with books — and a quick glance suggested to Charlie that most of them were the same books, in the same slots — apart from the chimney breast, which was occupied by a large Victorian watercolour of Zeno holding forth to a rapt audience in a painted portico. The furnishings were Spartan: a sofa and an armchair, a plain pine table and chair by the window. The gas fire hissed and
popped as it had all those years before, and Helena Winter herself seemed unaltered by the passage of time.

  She had opened the door in response to Charlie's knock, looking as slim and straight-backed as ever. Dr Helena Winter, the Prescott Fellow in Philosophy, immaculate in tailored skirt and cashmere twin-set, a single strand of pearls at her neck, her white hair in the same perfect chignon. A bluestocking version of Audrey Hepburn, Charlie thought. There had been a fleeting moment of uncertainty in her dark blue eyes, then relief as she recognised her visitor. 'Miss Flint,' she said. 'Or is it still doctor?'

  Straight for the jugular, as ever. 'It's still doctor. But I prefer Charlie.'

  Helena inclined her head. 'Come in, Charlie. This is a surprise. ' She held the door wide for Charlie to enter. 'Have a seat.'

  For a moment, Charlie diced with the wicked thought of taking the armchair, but either her courage failed or her good manners prevailed and she made for the sofa.

  'We don't see you in college very often,' Helena said, settling into her armchair and helping herself to one of the strong untipped cigarettes she used to smoke in tutorials, but only after six in the evening. She caught Charlie's raised eyebrows and said, 'I'm not permitted any longer to smoke in the company of undergraduates. So I take my pleasures when I may. Tell me, to what do I owe this visit, Charlie? Have you decided that a purely academic career is, after all, what you crave?'

  She's playing with me. She knows about the Hopton case and she's enjoying herself. Charlie smiled. 'Too late for that, I think.'

  'Such a pity. If only you'd believed in your abilities and stuck to philosophy, you could have taken a First, and all of this could have been yours.' Helena gestured magnanimously with both hands, indicating that the room, the college, Oxford itself had all been within her gift and Charlie's grasp.

  'I wasn't that good a philosopher.'

  'On the contrary, my dear. You had a very fine grasp of the complexities of moral philosophy. You could have made a lasting contribution. It was always my regret that you chose so ephemeral a field in which to work.'

  Charlie had been determined not to let Helena get under her defences, but she could feel the niggles and barbs cutting into her. 'Helping people deal with their psychoses isn't exactly ephemeral. And I could never have achieved the enthusiasm for Greek philosophers that you bring to Zeno and Aristotle.' There was truth in what she said; Helena was a passionate teacher, with the articulacy and energy to pass her enthusiasm on to her pupils. But Charlie had come to Oxford for more than academic credentials and she wasn't about to be deflected by any steel-eyed bluestocking who wanted her for a scholar far more than Jesus had ever wanted her for a sunbeam. It dawned on Charlie that at least part of the reason for Helena's attitude was that Charlie had demonstrated the independence of mind to plough her own furrow, turning her back on what had been mapped out for her. 'You look remarkably well, by the way. I heard you'd been ill.'

  Helena's wide mouth curved into a thin sickle smile, the deep lines in her fine skin spreading out like concentric ripples on a pond. 'I had a lump removed from my groin,' she said bluntly. 'Doubtless some of my colleagues will have recalled the comment made by Evelyn Waugh of Randolph Churchill when he had a similar experience.'

  Charlie raised a questioning eyebrow. Helena had always enjoyed her little triumphs; even though Charlie knew the quotation, it cost nothing to pretend ignorance.

  '"How extraordinarily talented of the surgeon to find the one part of Randolph that was not malignant and to remove it,"' Helena said with a grim smile.

  'I'm glad it was nothing serious.'

  She acknowledged the reply with another gracious nod. 'And you? I hear you're being tested in a quite different manner.'

  Charlie turned away from the twin scalpels of her eyes and stared out over the river. 'It's not been easy. But I will get through it.'

  'You will. You're tough, and you're talented. So why are you here, Charlie? I don't imagine you think the answers to your problems lie in the tenets of Antisthenes.'

  Charlie smiled. 'I'll leave the Cynicism to you. The reason I'm here is that I need you to confirm something I've been told.'

  'That sounds intriguing. I can't imagine the intersection of what I know and what you need to know.'

  Charlie knew she had to proceed carefully. Helena Winter had always been as generous to an unsupported statement as a fox to a wounded chicken. 'Seventeen years ago, Corinna Newsam came to you with a moral dilemma. I need you to confirm what she told you that morning.'

  Charlie had never seen Helena genuinely taken aback. It was a beautiful moment. 'I have no idea to what you're referring, ' she said. It was a good attempt at her best hauteur, but it fell short.

  'Let me jog your memory. I know how it is when we get older and things don't surface as readily as they once did.' Charlie enjoyed the brief tightening of the muscles round Helena's mouth. 'It was a memorable day here. The day Jess Edwards died.' Helena did not look away; she held Charlie's steady gaze, a trickle of smoke rising unwavering from her hand. 'Corinna tells me she came to see you.'

  'Suppose for a moment that the circumstance you describe took place. Why on earth should I disclose it to you? You have no standing here. We haven't spoken for years. I know nothing of your motives.' She raised her hand and inhaled deeply. 'But that is idle speculation. I have no recollection of any such event.'

  Charlie shook her head. 'Call Corinna and ask her if you can trust me.' She dug into her pocket and produced her mobile. 'Here. Save yourself the bother of getting up. Use my phone.'

  Helena ignored the offer, reaching instead for her own landline handset. She stubbed out her cigarette then keyed in a number from memory and waited. 'Corinna? It's Helena. I…' Obviously cut off by Corinna, her lips tightened in displeasure. 'She is indeed,' she said, then fell silent again. 'Very well. Come and see me tomorrow at quarter to nine.' She ended the call and gave Charlie a long, considering look. 'Whatever information I have is impotent. Nothing can come of it. Where there is no proof, there can be no purpose in dissemination. Do you understand me?'

  'I'm not about to run off to the tabloids.' Charlie let her disapproval leak into her voice. 'If I was that sort of person, do you think for a moment that Corinna would have entrusted me with this?'

  'Whatever "this" is,' Helena said tartly. 'I have no idea why Corinna feels the need to revisit this episode.'

  'That's her business. What did she tell you?'

  At last, Helena looked away, studying the hand that had held the cigarette. 'It was towards the end of the morning. The news of Jess's death had shaken everyone. It's always the same when an undergraduate dies. There's a profound sense of shock, but also an anger that so much promise will never be fulfilled. That's even stronger when it's someone like Jess who has obvious gifts over and above their intellectual ability. The details fly round the place like wildfire, so by mid-morning everyone knew that Jess had somehow fallen, hit her head and drowned. We also knew that this must have happened very early in the morning, since she was already dead when the rest of the rowers arrived for their morning practice. According to the other rowers, Jess had complained that her seat wasn't moving smoothly and she planned to go down to the boathouse ahead of practice to see if she could sort out the problem.'

  'Was that common knowledge before the accident?' Charlie asked. Opening the subject out was often the best way to draw information from a reluctant witness.

  'I couldn't say. I seem to remember the girls saying that Jess talked about it over dinner the previous evening. In theory, I suppose anyone could have overheard.' Helena reached for another cigarette but didn't light it straight away, preferring to roll it between her fingers. Her hands, roped with veins and marked with liver spots, revealed the passage of the years far more than her face or posture. With a sudden shock, Charlie realised Helena had become an old woman.

  'Why did Corinna need to see you?' she asked.

  Helena took her time lighting the cigarette. 'She needed advice
. She had seen something — or rather, someone — in the meadow that morning. Very early in the morning. And she was in a quandary as to what she should do about it.'

  'Why was she in a quandary? She'd seen someone at the scene of a violent death. Surely the obvious thing to do would be to talk to the police?' Charlie kept any accusation out of her voice, making her question sound like a casual query.

  'But it wasn't that simple. It was late November. When Corinna had entered the meadow by the side gate, it had still been dark. She was certain of her identification because she knew the person in question very well, but she was well aware that in a coroner's court or a criminal court, she could soon be made to look unreliable on the question of identification at a distance in poor lighting. Furthermore, the presence of an individual did not, in and of itself, point to any kind of involvement in Jess's death. Even if the person in question had met Jess at the boathouse, there was no reason to suppose anything sinister in that.'

  'Even if the person in question benefited from Jess's death? And it's OK to use her name, Helena. We both know we're talking about Jay Stewart. That's who Corinna saw, and that's whose ambition was being thwarted by Jess Edwards' popularity. And, according to Corinna, victim of a dirty tricks campaign led by Jess.'

  Helena gave Charlie a pained smile. 'Much as I love this college, it's hard for me to believe that someone would murder in order to become JCR President.'

  'I'm with you on that. But I've spent time with a lot of killers, and you'd be depressed beyond measure by the apparent triviality of most of their motives.'

  'You may be right. But I did point out to Corinna that what she thought she had seen was open to several interpretations. And that as soon as she voiced any suspicion to the police, both the college and the person in question would become media fodder in the most unpleasant of ways. At a time when the college was desperately trying to raise endowment, it would have been a disaster. And a pointless one at that.'

  It was, Charlie thought, breathtaking. Stifle any possibility of suspicion attaching to what might well have been a murder just to protect the reputation of a college, and its fund-raising programme. Only in Oxford. Well, maybe in Cambridge too. 'You don't think that if the police had been alerted to the possibility of foul play they might have found evidence?'