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Simpson poured himself a mug of coffee from the supervisor's percolator.

'You've always wanted all the lights and sirens you could get, Fred,' he said mildly. 'Back up your authority? Remind the little bastards who's in charge here and where you draw the line? Wasn't that what you always told me?'

He added a couple of spoonfuls of sugar to the coffee.

'Yeah, but not in this case. This is an ugly one.'

'An ugly one you reckon?' Simpson sipped the coffee and made a face.

"This is ugly coffee I'll say that.' He stirred more sugar into the mug.

'We don't want to draw too much attention to this, Bob. Not if we can avoid it.'

For the first time since he had arrived on campus Simpson's relaxed manner disappeared and his carefully cultivated calmness deserted him.

'You don't get to decide that!' he snapped. 'I'm the investigating officer and I'll decide how much attention this gets. If necessary I'll flood the place with coppers and question anybody who so much as looked in that kid's direction. I'll turn over every rock and rattle every skeleton in every cupboard until I find out exactly what drove that girl to do what she did.'

The supervisor's manner became more conciliatory. 'What good would that do?'

'I don't know,' Simpson said. 'I won't know till I do it, will I.'

'Come on, there'll be enough bad publicity without you making things worse.'

'Without me making things worse?' Simpson was calm again. 'Did you actually see what had gone on in that room, Fred?'

'Me?' The supervisor sat down abruptly. 'Yes I saw it. I've got passkey authorisation. No one else gets access to the master keys while I'm on shift so' He nodded to himself as if confirming the recollection. 'Yes I saw it. I tried to unlock the door but the snib was on and I had to force it open. So I was the first one in there.'

I know that,' Simpson said patiently. 'You told me that already. What I'm asking is: did you take a good look at it?'

'I could see she was dead if that's what you mean. But I didn't hang around in there, no. I pushed everybody back out and I sealed the door up again.

Then I put one of my guys in front and I called it in to you. And what do I get for my trouble? The full Bertram bloody Mills.'

'Very bloody as it turns out,' Simpson murmured. 'As circuses go.'

Bartok bustled in to the office without bothering to knock. 'Sarge?' He looked pleased with himself. 'You're going to love this.'

'Don't you knock before you come into people's offices and interrupt your superiors?' the supervisor demanded.

'Sorry,' Bartok said, with no change in his self-satisfied expression. 'Was it a family conference?'

The supervisor sat forward in his chair. 'What did you just say to me?'

'I didn't mean to interrupt.'

'Do you let him talk to you like that?' the supervisor asked Simpson.

"Things have changed a bit since I was in the job.'

'Yes,' Simpson said, 'I dare say they have. What is it I'm going to love, Constable? And why?'

'Because it fits right in with your theory, you and the SOCO. I've been talking to some of the dead girl's friends. She was into the occult and spiritualism and all that sort of stuff.'

Simpson looked interested. 'All what sort of stuff exactly?'

'Student stuff,' the supervisor put in hastily.

Bartok said, 'She's been holding séances.'

"They're all at it.' The supervisor was dismissive. 'It's this year's fashion.

They see a couple of movies about ghosts and they whip out the Ouija boards. They're all trying to contact Freddy Krueger or Bruce Willis or whatever.'

'She's been holding séances in that wood apparently,' Bartok said. 'The one with the dodgy rep? Supposed to be haunted?'

'Norswood?' Simpson asked.

A bunch of them have been creeping about in there after dark it seems.'

'After dark?' Simpson gave a small grimace. 'Not sure I'd fancy that myself.'

'The woods are full of them,' the supervisor snorted. 'If the weather's warm they're sneaking off and bare-arse bonfire dancing all over. Where's the harm in that?