himself.
‘Well, what a surprise,’ he said. ‘Professor Freddy Robertson.’
‘You made enquiries about him yourself,’ pointed out Fry.
‘I was curious.’ Cooper turned back the pages in his notebook. ‘Look, he does a lot of work for the Rotary Club, Eden Valley Hospice, Cancer Research.’
‘So? Public charity and private iniquity?’
He looked up from his notebook. He wasn’t sure if Fry was quoting or not. But he was growing used to it from the time he’d spent with Robertson, so he didn’t bother asking.
‘Since he retired, he’s developed this interest in Thanatology.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘I’ll make the call, shall I?’ said Fry.
Cooper could tell that Freddy Robertson answered the phone almost immediately. Perhaps he spent his time waiting anxiously by the phone for someone to ask him for his advice. All he wanted was a chance to share his knowledge.
336
‘Oh, Sergeant…’ said Robertson when he answered his door a little while later. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve already forgotten your name.’
‘DS Fry, sir.’
The professor smiled. ‘DS Fry, yes.’
Fry stood in the hallway and looked at the coat rack, listening to Robertson’s chatter about his Edwardian gentleman’s residence without really hearing a word. It was Robertson himself she was interested in. And his voice. Particularly, she wanted to listen to his voice.
Thanatology,’ she said when he’d finished. ‘What does that mean exactly?’
‘It’s named after Thanatos, the personification of death. In Greek mythology, he’s the son of Nyx, the goddess of night. His Roman counterpart is Mors.’
‘Oh? Is that Inspector Mors?’
‘No. The Latin Mors, the Roman god of death, from whom we get mortality and mortuary.’
‘I was joking,’ said Fry.
Robertson inclined his head. ‘I apologize, Sergeant. I don’t always appreciate other people’s humour. You were making a reference to a well-known television programme perhaps?’
‘Yes.’
‘That sort of reference always goes over my head, I’m afraid. I’m rather out of touch with popular culture.’
He walked on ahead into the house. Fry looked at Cooper. ‘Was he apologizing just then?’
‘I think so, Diane.’
‘So why do I feel as though I’ve been insulted?’
In the professor’s study, the atmosphere was cool. No drinks offered, no pleasantries, no invitation to take the most comfortable seat. Fry pulled a chair close to Robertson’s desk and rested her elbows on it, forcing the professor to lean backwards to avoid appearing too confrontational.
‘In your discussions with Detective Constable Cooper, you’ve been very helpful over the past few days, sir,’ she said.
337
‘I’m gratified to hear it. I do my humble best.’
He looked towards Cooper, beginning to form a smile. But Fry wasn’t going to let his attention drift, or the mood soften.
‘You might be able to assist us even more, sir.’
‘Oh?’
‘Looking at the facts we’ve gathered in our enquiries so far, it seems rather strange that you’ve been able to cast light on almost every aspect.’
‘Strange? Why should it be strange? This is my area of expertise, Sergeant. My role is to cast light where it’s needed.’
He was trying to keep his tone breezy, but Fry knew she’d needled him.
‘Yes, sir. But I find it particularly interesting that you’ve several times managed to cast your light before you were asked the appropriate question.’
‘I have no idea what you mean.’
‘The sarcophagus, for example. The “flesh eater”. You were very keen to tell us all about that. So keen, in fact, that you mentioned it to DC Cooper before he had any idea of the relevance himself.’
Robertson tried for another conspiratorial smile with Cooper, but it wasn’t working. For once, Cooper was obeying the instructions she’d given him and was staying detached.
‘The same applies to some of the other references in the messages,’ said Fry.
‘Ah, the messages.’
Fry felt a surge of surprise and excitement. ‘You admit that you know about the messages?’
‘I know nothing about any messages,’ said Robertson. ‘Except that your colleague mentioned them to me yesterday.’
