Jones nodded, taking note. Severino certainly had a big enough motive and if he had just been turned down for a job that could have been a trigger.
Tell us about Dr Spencer.
Tom? Oh, hes not doctor yet. Hes a final year PhD student.
Karen Hardwick half raised her hand almost as if she were at school. However, her voice was firm and betrayed none of the nervousness she was feeling at interrupting her superiors.
What stage was his PhD at? Was he still working or writing up?
A brief look of discomfort passed across Crawleys face.
He was writing up, although he was still doing a few experiments to tidy things up.
What stage was his thesis at? Was he still in his third year or was he in his write-up year?
Jones listened carefully. He had no idea where Karens line of questioning was going, but the vibes he was getting off Crawley suggested that he wasnt thrilled about the direction. That alone made the questions worth asking in Jones book.
He was in his write-up year. Hed submitted some draft chapters to Alan for editing.
Its August now. Assuming he started in September, he must be pretty close to the end of his fourth year. Would that be correct? How was he funded and is it still current?
Im not sure why this is relevant.
Please, bear with me, Dr Crawley. DC Hardwicks eyes didnt leave the increasingly uncomfortable-looking scientist.
Yes, he is within a couple of months or so of the end of his fourth year. He was funded by the Medical Research Council. The funding will have ended by now.
How much of his thesis had Professor Tunbridge approved? Is Mr Spencer on course to finish within the four-year deadline?
I wouldnt know about that. The lie was weak, but Hardwick decided not to pursue it.
Sutton now picked up the gauntlet. How would you characterise the relationship between Mr Spencer and Professor Tunbridge?
Well, Alan was a difficult man, as I think you are realising, and the relationship between students and supervisors is often tense, but I never saw them have a stand-up row like he did with Antonio Severino.
Jones looked at his colleagues; they seemed to be content for the time being. He looked forward to their thoughts. It was clear that Crawley wasnt telling the whole truth, but he was unsure how to proceed just yet.
Well, Alan was a difficult man, as I think you are realising, and the relationship between students and supervisors is often tense, but I never saw them have a stand-up row like he did with Antonio Severino.
Jones looked at his colleagues; they seemed to be content for the time being. He looked forward to their thoughts. It was clear that Crawley wasnt telling the whole truth, but he was unsure how to proceed just yet.
Well, thank you for your time, Dr Crawley. If you could give one of my colleagues your contact details that would be very helpful. I would also appreciate the names and contact details of other members of the research group. We may call you again in due course with some more questions. In the meantime, I believe that we have an appointment with the head of department, Professor Gordon Tompkinson.
Jones stood up, signalling the end of the interview. Crawley looked relieved.
Let me take you to see Professor Tompkinson.
As they exited the small room Jones spotted the young uniformed constable, standing outside the taped-off entrance to Tunbridges office. Beckoning him over, he instructed him to take down the details that he had requested from Crawley when he returned from taking them to see Prof Tompkinson. That should give him something to do besides read the newspaper, Jones thought.
Just then another uniformed constable appeared.
Sir, the head of Security has just arrived. He is ready to go through the CCTV and the buildings access logs.
Thank you, Constable. Jones turned to Sutton. Tony, can you go and see what theyve got? The sooner we can start corroborating some alibis, the better.
Will do, guv. He turned smartly on his heel and strode off after the already departing constable.
* * *
Dr Crawley, Mr Spencer claims to have been working in something called the PCR room when the murder is believed to have taken place.
Hell have meant Molecular Biology Suite One, on the ground floor. Do you want to go there?
Yes, please, if you wouldnt mind.
Motioning them to follow, Crawley headed back towards the front of the building. Taking them back down the stairwell that they had used earlier, he then doubled back on himself, so that they were heading back into the building again. To their left were more offices and Crawley motioned to a set of double doors.
Thats the main admin office where the head of department, Gordon Tompkinson works. Ill bring you back here after Ive shown you the PCR room. I saw his car in the car park by the way, so he is in.
They continued down the corridor past yet more offices on the left. Through an open door Jones caught a quick glimpse of another tea room, this one a little tidier, again overlooking the car park. The rooms on the right appeared to be service rooms rather than laboratories, with signs on their doors such as Sterilisation Unit, Media Kitchen and Central Stores. All the doors were shut but windows with old-fashioned wire-mesh safety glass afforded glimpses of darkened rooms beyond. The air was humid yet at the same time smelled musty. Jones made a note to ask Karen about it later, again reminded that in this environment he really was a fish out of water. Finally they pulled up outside another set of double doors. Unlike the others in the corridor, there was no glass window to hint at what went on inside. The sign, Molecular Biology Suite One meant nothing to Jones. These doors seemed sturdier and to the right of them was another swipe-card reader.
Crawley paused outside and motioned to the reader with the card that he wore on a lanyard around his neck. Jones thought for a moment would entering the room compromise a crime scene? No, he decided, it was clearly a communal facility and besides which Spencer had been wearing latex gloves and other sterile clothing. It was unlikely that Forensics would get much in the way of useful trace evidence in there.
Please, go ahead.
Crawley swiped the card and there was the quiet click of a magnetic lock. A green LED lit up on the card reader. Pushing the door open seemed to require some effort and Jones felt a blast of cold air.
Positive air pressure, explained Crawley without being asked. It helps stop dust and other contaminants getting in and damaging the equipment. There is also air conditioning to keep everything at a constant temperature and humidity. They look after the equipment better than they look after the staff, he quipped weakly.
Stepping in, Crawley reached and flicked on the lights. Jones and Hardwick followed him in. Jones was immediately glad of his suit jacket. The air temperature was a few degrees too cool for his comfort and a marked contrast to the warm August weather outside.
The room was like something out of a science-fiction movie, he decided. A reasonable size, it was nevertheless crammed with benches full of equipment. The three of them were able to fit into the room side by side, but to accommodate anybody else someone would need to shuffle along one of the other aisles. The doorway in which they stood was the only entrance and there were no windows. Over the rush of the air conditioning, Jones noticed a sound that reminded him of the Scalextric racing car set that hed had as a child. A sudden, high-pitched whine, followed by silence, then repeated again, as if he were accelerating the tiny cars along the track, stopping them, then starting again.
Welcome to Molecular Biology Suite One, the jewel in the crown of the Biology department. Crawley swept his hand, in a wide arc. Theres the better part of two million quids worth of equipment in here, or at least thats how much we paid for it when it was new. Its also the most secure room in the building, not including the animal house. He gestured upwards with a nod of his head, no doubt a reference to the unlabelled fourth floor that didnt exist on the buildings public plans but which Jones had read up on when familiarising himself with potential terrorist targets.
It was certainly impressive, he decided. Pride of place was a large glass-fronted unit, the size of a commercial chest freezer, with Affymetrix emblazoned across it in blue. Jones hadnt got the faintest idea what the machine did, but it seemed to be filled with stacks of plastic trays. This, he realised, was the source of the noise. He watched fascinated as a robotic arm scooted, whining, across the length of the machine, delicately picked the top tray off a stack, before moving it to a different stack to its right. From above, a second arm appeared, this time bristling with dozens of metal prongs, which it inserted into some of the hundreds of tiny wells that Jones now saw made up the tray. Removing the prongs, the arm moved rapidly, but precisely, to the right, before lowering the prongs slowly onto what appeared to be a frosted-glass microscope slide.
Noticing Jones interest, Crawley gestured towards the machine.
Its a slide maker for gene expression studies its the reason for the security. It, and the equipment to read the slides, is worth hundreds of thousands. The universitys insurers insisted that we put it behind locked doors in case it gets stolen. There is a growing black market for these things in the Biology departments of developing countries. Its also incredibly delicate, hence the air conditioning.
Is this what Tom Spencer was using Friday night?
Oh, no. This is strictly the property of the gene expression laboratory. Tom was probably using the Tetrad PCR machine. Its not in the same league as the slide maker, but itd still be worth nicking if you had a buyer for it.
Crawley led them down a side aisle to a squat black bench-top machine about the size of an old-style desktop computer sitting on its side. The equipment had four hinged lids, all closed, with electric-blue screws on top. A large keypad on the front was flanked by an LCD screen to the left and a stylised DNA molecule as a logo to the right. The machine seemed to be switched off. What appeared to be a booking sheet was covered in scribbled names. Tom Spencer, Friday p.m. was scrawled under a column headed Block One. The other three blocks were empty at that time. Judging by the number of different names listed on the booking sheet, this seemed to be a popular machine. Even if Spencer wasnt wearing gloves when he used it, Jones doubted that they would find any useful trace evidence.
Motioning back toward the rooms only entrance, Jones asked how to exit the room.
Theres another swipe card. Security keeps a log of everyone who enters or leaves the room.