Free A Little Learning by J. M. Gregson Page B

the way, inevitably.’
    ‘Serious enemies?’
    ‘More serious than the people who think we live in ivory towers would ever credit, Inspector. People who think they have a grievance can be both extremely petty and extremely vicious, at times. But I don’t know of anyone who might have nurtured enough resentment to shoot George through the head.’
    Peach nodded. ‘I may need to speak to you again, in due course. When we know rather more about the circumstances of this death.’ He tried to make it sound a little like a threat, but he was no more successful than previously in breaking through the defences of this composed, rather impressive woman.
    Lucy Blake looked up from the notes she had been taking and said quietly, ‘You say you met as students.’
    ‘Yes. We really got together when I was in my last year and George was doing an MA.’
    ‘So you probably had an academic career of your own.’
    It looked for a moment as if she would reject this line of enquiry. Then, perhaps accepting the question because it came from a woman, Ruth Carter said, ‘I did, for a few years, yes. I had a better degree than George, as a matter of fact. Then I gave up serious academic work to raise my children. Most people still did that, you know, twenty years ago.’ There was an edge of contempt, and perhaps too of regret for the years gone and the opportunities missed, as she looked at this serious-faced girl with the greenish eyes and the lustrous chestnut hair who was pursuing a career of her own.
    The reaction didn’t prevent DS Blake from persisting. ‘So you haven’t been teaching anywhere, these last few years?’
    ‘I’ve done a couple of evenings of history teaching for the WEA for several years, now. I enjoy that. Adults who are keen to learn and stuff that’s worth teaching!’ Her sudden animation made them wonder how she estimated her husband’s work and the steps he had taken to secure his elevated post. ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve been wondering whether to go back into a full-time post in higher education.’
    ‘Thank you. It may seem to be of no relevance to you at this stage, but we need the fullest possible picture of the household where a murder victim existed.’
    Peach stood up. ‘As I said, we shall probably need to see you again. If you think of anything which may help our investigation, however trivial, please get in touch with me immediately at Brunton CID section.’
    ‘When can I return home, Inspector?’
    He hesitated. ‘It would be best if you could leave it until Wednesday morning, if that’s possible. And — well, if you can arrange it, you should have someone with you when you go back there, I think.’
    She gave them that small, composed smile which they now knew well. ‘Thank you for thinking of that. I shall make appropriate arrangements.’
    Peach would have given quite a lot to know what they might be.
    As she took them out through the hall, the woman they had seen briefly in the doorway of the kitchen as they came into the house was waiting for them. Her face was stained with tears, her flying grey hair a contrast to her daughter’s neatly arranged ash-blonde waves as she said, ‘He was very good to me, was George. Good as my own son. Make sure you get whoever did this to him, won’t you?’
    Ruth Carter, a good half a foot taller than her mother, quickly put her arm round the trembling shoulders and led her firmly away. But the picture of that distraught elderly woman stayed in both their minds as they drove back to the motorway.
    It was the only instance of raw, painful grief for the dead man they had seen so far.
     

 
    Eight
     
    The death of the Director of the UEL had surprisingly little immediate effect on the activities of the university. The sensational event was a source of intense speculation among the academic and other staff, but only a few found that their working day was much changed.
    The students were affected even less by the passing of a figurehead who was