wondering.’
The screen lit up with a slightly fuzzy picture. It showed an external camera view, pointing along the fuselage of the Prometheus , where the silver grey moon hung over it. Even though it was eight years since the first manned spaceflight, I found it hard to believe how much progress the Joint Families Astronautics Agency had made. Less than five hours now, and a man would set foot on the moon!
The office door opened and Antony Caesar Pitt walked in. He had done well for himself over the intervening years, rising steadily up through his family’s legal offices. Physically, he’d put on a few pounds, but it hardly showed. The biggest change was a curtain of hair, currently held back in a ponytail. There was a mild frown on his face to illustrate his disapproval at being summoned without explanation. As soon as he saw me the expression changed to puzzlement, then enlightenment.
‘I remember you,’ he said. ‘You were one of the Raleigh representatives assigned to Justin’s murder. Edward, isn’t it?’
‘That’s helpful,’ I said.
‘In what way?’
‘You have a good memory. I need that right now.’
He gave Neill Heller Caesar a quick glance. ‘I don’t believe this. You’re here to ask me questions about Justin again, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘For Mary’s sake! It’s been twenty-one years.’
‘Yes, twenty-one years, and he’s still just as dead.’
‘I appreciate that. I’d like to see someone brought to justice as much as you. But the Oxford police found nothing. Nothing! No motive, no enemy. They spent weeks trawling through every tiny little aspect of his life. And with you applying pressure they were thorough, believe me. I should know, with our gambling debt I was the prime suspect.’
‘Then you should be happy to hear, you’re not any more. Something’s changed.’
He flopped down into a chair and stared at me. ‘What could possibly have changed?’
‘It’s a new forensic technique.’ I waved a hand at the television set. ‘Aeroengineering isn’t the only scientific discipline to have made progress recently, you know. The families have developed something we’re calling genetic fingerprinting. Any cell with your DNA in it can now be positively identified.’
‘Well good and fabulous. But what the hell has it got to do with me?’
‘It means I personally am now convinced you were at the Westhay that night. You couldn’t have murdered Justin.’
‘The Westhay.’ He murmured the name with an almost sorrowful respect. ‘I never went back. Not after that. I’ve never played cards since, never placed a bet. Hell of a way to get cured.’ He cocked his head to one side, looking up at me. ‘So what convinced you?’
‘I was there at the club the following morning. I found a cigar butt in the rubbish. Last month we ran a genetic fingerprint test on the saliva residue, and cross-referenced it with your blood sample. It was yours. You were there that night.’
‘Holy Mary! You kept a cigar butt for twenty-one years?’
‘Of course. And the blood, as well. It’s all stored in a cryogenic vault now along with all the other forensic samples from Justin’s room. Who knows what new tests we’ll develop in future.’
Antony started laughing. There was a nervous edge to it. ‘I’m in the clear. Shit. So how does this help you? I mean, I’m flattered that you’ve come all this way to tell me in person, but it doesn’t change anything.’
‘On the contrary. Two very important factors have changed thanks to this. The number of suspects is smaller, and I can now trust what you tell me. Neill here has very kindly agreed that I can interview you again. With your permission, of course.’
This time the look Antony flashed at the family representative was pure desperation. ‘But I don’t have anything new to tell you. Everything I knew I told the police. Those interviews went on for days .’
‘I know. I spent most of last week reading through the
The screen lit up with a slightly fuzzy picture. It showed an external camera view, pointing along the fuselage of the Prometheus , where the silver grey moon hung over it. Even though it was eight years since the first manned spaceflight, I found it hard to believe how much progress the Joint Families Astronautics Agency had made. Less than five hours now, and a man would set foot on the moon!
The office door opened and Antony Caesar Pitt walked in. He had done well for himself over the intervening years, rising steadily up through his family’s legal offices. Physically, he’d put on a few pounds, but it hardly showed. The biggest change was a curtain of hair, currently held back in a ponytail. There was a mild frown on his face to illustrate his disapproval at being summoned without explanation. As soon as he saw me the expression changed to puzzlement, then enlightenment.
‘I remember you,’ he said. ‘You were one of the Raleigh representatives assigned to Justin’s murder. Edward, isn’t it?’
‘That’s helpful,’ I said.
‘In what way?’
‘You have a good memory. I need that right now.’
He gave Neill Heller Caesar a quick glance. ‘I don’t believe this. You’re here to ask me questions about Justin again, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘For Mary’s sake! It’s been twenty-one years.’
‘Yes, twenty-one years, and he’s still just as dead.’
‘I appreciate that. I’d like to see someone brought to justice as much as you. But the Oxford police found nothing. Nothing! No motive, no enemy. They spent weeks trawling through every tiny little aspect of his life. And with you applying pressure they were thorough, believe me. I should know, with our gambling debt I was the prime suspect.’
‘Then you should be happy to hear, you’re not any more. Something’s changed.’
He flopped down into a chair and stared at me. ‘What could possibly have changed?’
‘It’s a new forensic technique.’ I waved a hand at the television set. ‘Aeroengineering isn’t the only scientific discipline to have made progress recently, you know. The families have developed something we’re calling genetic fingerprinting. Any cell with your DNA in it can now be positively identified.’
‘Well good and fabulous. But what the hell has it got to do with me?’
‘It means I personally am now convinced you were at the Westhay that night. You couldn’t have murdered Justin.’
‘The Westhay.’ He murmured the name with an almost sorrowful respect. ‘I never went back. Not after that. I’ve never played cards since, never placed a bet. Hell of a way to get cured.’ He cocked his head to one side, looking up at me. ‘So what convinced you?’
‘I was there at the club the following morning. I found a cigar butt in the rubbish. Last month we ran a genetic fingerprint test on the saliva residue, and cross-referenced it with your blood sample. It was yours. You were there that night.’
‘Holy Mary! You kept a cigar butt for twenty-one years?’
‘Of course. And the blood, as well. It’s all stored in a cryogenic vault now along with all the other forensic samples from Justin’s room. Who knows what new tests we’ll develop in future.’
Antony started laughing. There was a nervous edge to it. ‘I’m in the clear. Shit. So how does this help you? I mean, I’m flattered that you’ve come all this way to tell me in person, but it doesn’t change anything.’
‘On the contrary. Two very important factors have changed thanks to this. The number of suspects is smaller, and I can now trust what you tell me. Neill here has very kindly agreed that I can interview you again. With your permission, of course.’
This time the look Antony flashed at the family representative was pure desperation. ‘But I don’t have anything new to tell you. Everything I knew I told the police. Those interviews went on for days .’
‘I know. I spent most of last week reading through the
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