“What on earth?” Edward thunders before he realises who is interrupting his tutorial session. His student slumps in her chair, bunkering down against his inevitable tirade. Just my luck, it’s the same girl who was there the day before.
“Where does Miss Johnston live?” My voice comes out louder and more frantic than I intended.
Edward frowns, a worry line appearing in the middle of his forehead. “What’s wrong, Ms Payne? Why are you dripping all over my office? Has something happened?”
Shivering in my wet clothing, I march over to his coat rack and pull his coat off the hook. “I don’t have time to explain, but I need you to come. Where does Beatrice live? It’s urgent.”
His expression grows more concerned as he realises I am deadly serious. Rising from his chair, he apologises to his student. “I realise this is unorthodox, but I need to cut our tutorial session short.” He strides around his desk, reaching out an arm for his coat. “Where are we going?”
“We have to find Beatrice!” I blurt, but his face shows no signs of recognition. “Beatrice Johnston. She works in the dining hall. You see her every single day.”
“Johnston?” Edward’s eyes dart left and right. “Johnston veg? Beatrice in the dining hall is related to the veg vendor?”
A full body shiver races down my spine. We’re taking too long. “Yes, she’s their daughter. We’ve got to get to her, now. Do you know where we can find her?”
Edward’s student finds her voice. “I, um,” she coughs to clear her throat, “Um, well, it’s just that I, well…”
“Out with it.” Edgar’s gruff words spur her into completing her thought.
Hunching in on herself, she hoarsely whispers, “She lives two doors down from me. In student housing, building B.”
One problem solved. I plead with Edward’s student, “Can you take us there? It will be faster than us trying to find her on our own.”
Raising a hand, Edward blocks his student from rising. “Is that safe, Ms Payne?”
“She can wait in her room or call the security guard once we’re inside.” Holding out a hand, I invite her to lead us out of the office. “Is that okay? Can you show us the way?”
She nods, shoving her binder into her rucksack and rising to her feet. Edward and I step aside, bumping into one another in our efforts to get out of her way.
Edward quirks up an eyebrow in surprise, brushing at the wet print mark I made when my thigh bumped against his trousers.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it would appear that your giant pineapples are rather juicy. Did you go running in pyjamas?”
❖
Outside, Edward and his student match my pace, all of us speed walking in the rain. I feel like I should know his student’s name given this is the second time I’ve inconvenienced her this week.
The rain has slacked off to a drizzle, the pathway lights magnified in the pools of water. Edward offers to share his umbrella, but I decline. I’m already soaked through to my bones. A few more drops will not make a difference.
At last, Edward’s student pulls out in front, turning left to follow a short pathway to a lit door. I pick up my speed, urging Edward to hurry. “That must be block B. Come on, Edward, we’re nearly there.”
I make a leap, landing under an awning, finally out of the rain. Edward’s student slides her card in the reader and holds the door open. We follow her down the hallway until she stops in front of a closed door.
I raise my fist but freeze before I knock. Edward nudges his student towards her own door and then steps up beside me. Our eyes meet in silent conversation. With a deep breath, I pull my fist back and bang until the student occupant opens it from inside.
Beatrice Johnston stares out at us, her blonde hair tied up in a messy ponytail. Her blue eyes seem brighter in contrast with the dark shadows underneath them. I thought she had been upset over the sous-chef’s departure. Now I know it is likely guilt keeping her awake at night.
I don’t wait for a welcome before pouncing into the room. I’m soaked straight through to the bone and all out of patience. “Have a seat, Beatrice.”
She takes one look at the crazy gleam in my eyes and does as I say.
I move into the room, leaving space for Edward to stand in the doorway. “We need to talk to you about the night before Chef Smythe was killed. You said you went home sick, stayed away all night and didn’t make it back in time for your shift in the morning. Is that right?”
Beatrice blinks her baby blues, all wide-eyed innocence. “Yes, I could feel a cold coming on. I had the shivers, and my throat was scratchy. I went home to let my mother take care of me. Why are you asking me this?”
Edward meets my eyes, waiting for permission before speaking. I give a subtle nod. We’re partners, for tonight at least. “By home, you mean out in the Cotswolds? At your parents’ farm, the Johnston fruit and veg supply company?”
“Yes, that’s them. It’s not that far away. I took a taxi in the morning. My mum’s always busy taking my siblings to school, so she rarely drives me back.”
I cast a meaningful glance in Edward’s direction, pleased to see a hint of curiosity spark in his eyes. He steps back into the doorway, leaving the floor free for me to continue.
I clear my throat, calling Beatrice’s attention away from Edward. “If you went home and stayed the night, why did the security guard recall you returning from a run, soaking wet, well before the sun came up? You couldn’t have been that ill if you were out running the streets of Oxford in the rain.”
Beatrice freezes in her chair, her eyes
