Game of Bones

Chapter One-2

PROFESSOR BABBINGTON rose to his feet, walked towards the dais, and was just about to give his speech welcoming the new students to the faculty, when the audience became aware of Rafferty and Llewellyn’s entrance at the back of the hall, the uniformed officers following. An uneasy muttering began, grew louder as they made their way to the front. It caused Babbington to look up from his notes. All at once he seemed to sag, as if accepting the inevitable. He gave a sigh. With the microphone, it was clearly audible in the hall. He gestured to the side of the stage and exited with a surprising dignity. Even his walk lacked the usual stumbles, which was surprising given he was a known drunk.

Rafferty pushed open one of the double doors to the left of the dais and walked through. Babbington met them out of sight of the audience, as had clearly been his intention. Drunk or not, he was a proud man, arrogant even, as Rafferty had found from the start of the investigation. He would want to be arrested out of sight and sound of the students.

All Babbington said, more or less to himself, was, ‘They’ve succeeded, then? I thought they might.’ He even gave a pained half-smile, as if acknowledging the situation, and the part his colleagues had played in providing the evidence against him. Then his tone changed. It became peremptory, as though he was addressing a first-year student. The tone and manner that ensured he stayed an outsider at the university, a disliked outsider, who didn’t trouble to make himself pleasant. It had got up his colleagues’ noses. It certainly got up Rafferty’s. ‘There’ll be no need for handcuffs, Inspector. I’m not going to flee. I intend to clear my name of these infamous accusations.’

‘You’re not under arrest, Sir.’ Not yet anyway. Rafferty went to take Babbington’s arm, but the man shook him off. Rafferty, aware there would be a press of faces against the windows of the hall to witness him being led away, let him win that round. He could allow Babbington to keep his dignity for the brief walk to the car.

He led the professor out to the entrance where the police car waited. The uniformed officers saw him safely in, climbed in themselves, and drove him away.

Llewellyn looked sadly after him. One of his idols had fallen, and he looked as deflated as Babbington.

Rafferty said nothing, just made his way to the car, and got into the driver’s side. He could have appeased his sergeant by letting him drive, but he knew Llewellyn would feel it was a sop to his feelings. Anyway, Rafferty was eager to get the interview process started, so wasn’t prepared to stomach Llewellyn’s ultra-cautious style of driving.

Llewellyn climbed in beside him. He said nothing. Neither did Rafferty. He started the car, determined not to break the uncomfortable silence that Llewellyn had imposed. He made it as far as the main road, then he couldn’t hold it in any longer. ‘All right. Spit it out. You think I’m wrong, don’t you?’

Llewellyn didn’t even look at him.

‘Fine. Be like that. But you’ll damn well talk at the interview. I’m not putting up with you sitting there, with a face like a smacked arse, and making sure Babbington knows you’re on his side. You’re supposed to be on our side—my side. You’ll play your part in laying out the evidence of his guilt to Babbington, whether you like it or not.’ After that, Rafferty shut up, and concentrated on his driving. He felt he’d said what needing saying.