Chloe and Alex made their way to Interview Room 2, where Tom Stoddard, one of Keira North’s housemates, was sitting waiting. Alex looked tired, dark shadows circling her eyes, the yawn she attempted to stifle behind the back of her hand made obvious by the unintended exhalation that escaped with it.

‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there last night,’ Chloe said, noting her colleague’s efforts to appear more alert than she was. ‘I’d have been able to attend the call with you.’

She had been living at Alex’s house for months now and was worried about outstaying her welcome. Though Alex had done nothing to make her feel in the way, Chloe wasn’t sure that living and working together was always a good idea. She liked their partnership. She liked the friendship they’d developed. She didn’t want Alex to reassess either based on the fact that she had grown sick of finding Chloe’s used make-up wipes left on the bathroom windowsill.

‘You’re allowed a night off,’ Alex told her. ‘How was it, anyway?’

‘It was good.’

‘Good … that’s all you’re giving me?’

Chloe smiled. ‘Yep.’

Alex rolled her eyes. Chloe knew exactly what she fishing for and she would likely make sure she got it later – little though there was to tell – when they were both back at the house. Chloe had been denying herself the chance of happiness for too long; Alex had kept reminding her of the fact. It was about time the habit got cut loose.

Alex pushed open the door to the interview room and held it aside so Chloe could enter first. The young man sitting with his back to them stood hurriedly when he heard them come in, his sudden movement in contrast with the lazy expression his face wore. He stared at them, impassive, his eyes watery behind the telltale sheen of a hangover.

Tom Stoddard was twenty years old and came from Leeds, according to the background check that had now been completed. He was studying architectural engineering at the University of South Wales and claimed to have known Keira North since early in the previous academic year.

‘You can sit down, please, Mr Stoddard.’

The young man slumped back into his chair, his resentment at having to be there already obvious. None of his behaviour seemed normal for someone whose housemate had just the night before fallen to her death.

Alex pressed the button on the tape recorder that sat to the side of the desk against the wall. The boy studied it with scepticism, as though expecting it to spontaneously combust.

‘Interview with Tom Stoddard commencing 11.03, Monday 12th June. Present in the room are Detective Inspector Alex King and Detective Constable Chloe Lane.’

‘Am I under arrest?’ Tom asked, his eyes still fixed on the tape recorder.

‘No. We record every interview in case any detail needs to be returned to. How long had you known Keira North, Mr Stoddard?’

Tom’s eyes finally met Alex’s. They were a pale grey, made even more muted by the alcohol that clearly still flooded his system. When he moved, every action was slowed with the lingering effects of the weekend that had gone before. ‘We met early on in the first year of uni, so October before last, roughly.’

‘How did you meet her?’

‘On a night out with friends. She was with Leah – that’s how I met them both.’

‘Leah Cross? Another of the people you share the house with?’

Tom nodded. Remembering the recording, he said, ‘Yes.’

‘So you got on well, developed a friendship … decided to live together in your second year.’

‘Yeah.’

‘How did that work out?’ Chloe asked.

‘Good. Yeah … it worked out well.’

‘What about Jamie? Did you already know Jamie too?’

Tom shook his head. ‘There are four bedrooms at the house and there were only three of us, so we advertised for someone and chose Jamie.’

‘He’s not a student like the rest of you, is he?’

Tom shook his head. ‘He works for an insurance company.’

‘Did you ever have any involvement with Keira North other than just as friends?’

‘No.’

Alex glanced at Chloe. The answer had come too quickly; it was clearly planned, as though the young man had been waiting for the question. If he had been involved with Keira as anything more than a friend, why lie about it now? It seemed a fair assumption that anyone who had nothing to hide would have no objection to sharing the truth of a relationship.

‘Is there anything you want to tell us about last night, Tom?’ Chloe asked.

The young man was clearly not as calm as he wanted them to think he was. Despite the relaxed posture – the slouched shoulders and the arms that dangled lazily at his sides like a lethargic ape’s – his face betrayed his unease.

‘Someone who was at the party says they saw you going into Keira’s room at approximately half past eleven, about twenty minutes before she fell from the roof,’ Alex said. ‘Was this person mistaken?’

Tom’s arms moved from his sides to his chest, where he folded them in a barricade against the two women sitting opposite him. ‘No. I did go in there.’

‘Was this person right about the time at which they saw you going into the room?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I suppose so. You lose track of time at parties.’

Alex sat back, mirroring his pose. He was aware of it and it seemed to unsettle him.

‘There was arguing heard coming from the bedroom. What were you and Keira arguing about, Tom?’

He sat forward and put his arms on the desk. ‘Who was it?’ he asked. ‘This person,’ he added, mimicking Alex’s phrasing.

The comment was met with Alex’s trademark curled lip. She’d seen enough of this young man to decide she didn’t like him: too sure of himself, too arrogant, too ready with his excuses. One of his housemates had died, yet he was behaving as though she had just popped out for a while and would be returning later, as usual. His only concern seemed to be centred on the inconvenience her demise was causing him.

‘You had a houseful last night, Tom. Safe to say more than one person saw you go into or come out of Keira’s room. So let’s try again … What were the two of you arguing about?’

‘Keira fell from the roof,’ Tom stated. ‘It was an accident, wasn’t it? Why are you asking me all these questions?’

‘We need to speak with everyone who was at the party last night to build a picture of the events that led up to Miss North’s death. What were you arguing with her about?’

‘I was downstairs when she fell,’ he said, ignoring Alex’s question yet again. ‘I was in the kitchen. There are people who’ll tell you that’s where I was. I didn’t see her fall. I don’t know what happened.’

‘Thank you for that,’ Alex said, ‘but it wasn’t what I asked.’

The young man glanced at Chloe before looking back at Alex. If he thought he was going to get any reassurance from her, Alex thought, he was looking in the wrong place. Chloe had a particular dislike of liars.

‘Look,’ Tom eventually said, ‘Keira was a bit uptight, all right? She wasn’t happy about how many people turned up over the weekend and she was freaking out about the mess. It was just a silly argument, that’s all. Just drink talking.’

Alex nodded. ‘Drink talking. You or her?’

‘Both,’ Tom said with a shrug.

Alex sat back in her chair and let her eye dark eyes rest on him for longer than was intended to be comfortable. ‘If you think of anything else, Mr Stoddard, please let us know. I assume you’ll be going home for the summer?’

‘Yeah. Few days’ time.’

The young man stood, having already taken his cue that he was free to leave. There was something so arrogant about him, Alex thought again; something overly confident in his manner, despite the nerves so apparent during the interview.

Had this man – little more than a boy – taken the life of his housemate? And if so, why had he done it?