“I wasn’t sure I’d find anyone here.’ ‘I’m just passing through, laddie.’ The muffled voice came from the other side of a cabinet of skulls. ‘Who are you after?’ ‘I’m DS Toogood,’ the detective flashed his warrant card. ‘Leighford CID.’ ‘Leighford? You’re a long way from home. Tam Fraser.’ A large man with a mane of silver hair emerged from a stash of boxes in the corner of the room and shook Toogood’s hand, taking in the photo on the card at the same time ‘No, I’m just doing a bit of housekeepi...ng.’ The accent was Lowland Scots, refined, intelligent. If Peter Maxwell had met the man he’d have been instantly reminded of the actor Finlay Currie. But Martin Toogood was far too young for that. ‘Who were you hoping to find of a Saturday?’ Fraser asked him. ‘This is a university, man. We have the longest holidays in the world. After policemen, of course.’ Toogood ignored the jibe. ‘Anybody,’ he said. ‘I’m making enquiries in connection with the death of Dr Radley.’ The man’s bonhomie vanished.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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