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Tommy had been walking close behind him. Watch it!' he said and stumbled into him.

Ralph fumbled the torch and dropped it. It hit the road and went out.

'What did you stop for?' Tommy complained.

'Never mind that, where's the torch?' Ralph said, groping about on the ground. Help me find the torch!'

'How could you drop the torch?' Meg demanded. 'What were you thinking about?'

'Calm down,' Josh said. 'Everybody calm down. It's got to be there somewhere.'

'Listen,' Chloe said. She had heard a noise in the darkness behind them.

'What's that?' she asked. 'Listen! What is that?' But she already knew what it was. She already recognised the heart-stopping sound from the total blackness behind them. Unmistakably, the hinges of the cemetery gates were squeaking.

Chapter Eleven

'There's always been a problem with student suicides.' Simpson cradled the phone between his shoulder and chin as he reached for another cigarette.

These things happen.' He flipped open his lighter. 'Suicides among young adults are on the up generally. Does anybody know why?' He lit the cigarette. 'No, East Wessex is below average if anything.' He listened for a moment then said, 'You know me Karen. You know if I find anything unusual about this one anything newsworthy at all and you'll be the first reporter I contact.' He laughed. 'Yeah all right, slip of the tongue. You'll be the only reporter I contact Yeah. Take care.' He hung up and took a deep drag on the cigarette. 'Should be OK for the time being.'

Bartok put down the two plastic beakers of coffee and drew up a chair on the other side of the desk. He shook his head disapprovingly. From his expression it was not clear whether he was more unhappy about the cigarette or the telephone conversation he had just caught the end of. He coughed a token couple of times and said, 'She's going to be very unchuffed when she finds out you've been lying to her.'

Simpson shrugged. 'I haven't been,' he said. It's a suicide.'

'Anything unusual, anything newsworthy, Sarge? Where do you want to start?'

'A messy suicide, but still a suicide. Come the inquest there's no question what the coroner's verdict will be.' Simpson sipped the coffee. 'Did you put sugar in this?'

Bartok snorted. 'Fags, coffee and four sugars? You want to die right there at the desk?'

'What about the pool car. Did you get the pool car?'

Being serviced. Won't be ready till lunch time.'

Simpson nodded resignedly. 'You watch they'll have us back on push bikes one of these fine days.' He took four sachets of sugar from his desk drawer and began tearing them open and emptying them into his coffee. 'Is your paperwork up to date?'

Depends which date.'

Simpson stirred his coffee with a Biro. 'Get it done this morning.'

'The ink'll leak,' Bartok said, never taking his eyes off the stirring.

'Did you hear what I said?' Simpson asked, and wiped the pen on an empty sugar packet.

'Yes, Sarge.' Bartok retrieved the packet and examined it. 'Sarge, why are you flogging yourself to death to keep the press away from the girl's suicide?'

'I reckon her family might have suffered enough.'

Bartok gave up looking for leaked ink and tossed the packet away. 'It's bound to come out eventually though. I mean it'll all come out at the inquest.'

'Yeah well.' Simpson sipped his newly sweetened coffee. 'Sufficient unto the day, Constable.'

'Sorry?'

'Is the evil thereof.'

'Oh right,' Bartok said. 'And in the meantime the university authorities will have had the opportunity to cover their collective backside.'

"There's that too,' Simpson agreed. 'It wouldn't be the first time.'

'I bet that coffee tastes plasticy now doesn't it,' Bartok said, sipping his own.

'Your brother-in-law must have got to you after all then did he?'

Simpson smiled slightly. 'You can find out a lot by doing nothing, Constable. Trick is to let people get on with what they want to get on with.'

Bartok looked sceptical. 'Get on with what for example?'