Behind Dead Eyes (DC Ian Bradshaw #2) - Howard Linskey Page 0,86

to rip through his T-shirt. He beckoned for Bradshaw to take a seat. ‘I’ve not seen you before, bonny lad.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You didn’t come down here mob-handed,’ the big man noted, ‘so you’ve obviously got balls.’ Bradshaw had heard the stories. If you wanted to arrest Jimmy McCree in his own back yard you turned up with back-up from armed officers and riot shields, because as soon as you knocked on his front door most of the neighbourhood would be out throwing half-bricks at you and simultaneously crying ‘Police brutality!’ as you led him away.

‘And nobody called to say you were on your way, so I’m wondering if this is properly official.’ He looked sly then. ‘Does anyone even know you’re down here?’ The implication was that if Bradshaw never returned he might not even be missed.

‘Are you finished?’ asked Bradshaw, who was in no mood for mind games.

McCree sighed, as if Bradshaw didn’t understand the rules of an audience with the King of Newcastle. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘so what’s this about?’ And his tone hardened. ‘Say your piece then fuck off.’

It didn’t take long for Tom to find the faculty building and nobody challenged him as he walked its corridors searching for the relevant room. He was grateful academic people didn’t believe in wearing their knowledge lightly, preferring to broadcast their credentials to the world with names and titles on every door, along with the letters denoting their qualifications.

When he found the right door he knocked. ‘Come,’ was the slightly imperious response. He entered to find a man standing by a blackboard busily scribbling numbers and symbols.

‘Looks complicated.’ When the doctor turned towards him he said, ‘Tom Carney. We spoke on the phone.’

‘Everything looks complicated if we have no understanding of it,’ said Doctor Alexander. ‘French, Swahili, the notes on a music sheet,’ the doctor said, and he added some numbers to his work before finishing, ‘If someone shows us what it all means, however …’

‘Yeah,’ agreed Tom doubtfully, while hoping the doctor would not try to explain the enormous equation that filled a large section of the blackboard, ‘I can cope with a bit of French but I suspect that might be beyond me.’

‘Please tell me you’re not one of those people who can’t comprehend the difference between astronomy and astrology.’

‘I think I can at least manage that.’ The lecturer peered at him expectantly. ‘Astronomy is the study of the planets and the stars,’ Tom said, ‘whereas astrology is just bullshit.’

The doctor seemed pleased with that answer. ‘There is no scientific basis in the notion that the future can be predicted by the position or motion of the stars,’ he nodded in agreement with his own point. ‘Astrology is often referred to as a pseudoscience but I think that’s very generous. I rather prefer your description, though I suspect I won’t get away with that in any of my lectures.’ Then he seemed to remember something. ‘Didn’t you call to speak to Professor Matthews?’

‘That’s right.’

His frown deepened. ‘And I did inform you the professor died some months ago.’

‘You did,’ said Tom, ‘but I have a couple of questions and I hoped you might be able to help me with them.’

‘I’m afraid I didn’t know him all that well.’

‘They are about physics actually, not the professor.’ The doctor looked doubtful. ‘It relates to some expert testimony provided by the professor in a case I am looking into.’

Alexander blinked at him. ‘It can’t still be a live case. He has been dead for almost a year.’

‘It isn’t. I am re-examining the case and conducting a thorough review of all of the original evidence.’

‘I see,’ Tom could tell the lecturer was uneasy, ‘but I am not about to assist you in discrediting our former professor.’ He folded his arms and glared at Tom.

‘Nor would I expect you to,’ Tom assured him, ‘I just need a better understanding of his findings.’

‘Relating to what?’

‘The force of a blunt instrument striking an immobile object.’

‘Oh,’ he unfolded his arms then, ‘that I can help you with, I suppose, or I can at least try. What exactly do you want to know?’

‘To be specific, I want to understand how you would go about calculating the force of a hammer blow.’

‘Oh that’s relatively easy.’

‘Really?’ Tom was surprised to learn this.

‘Yes, it’s just Newton’s equation of motion.’

‘I could pretend I know what you’re talking about but …’

The lecturer reached for a piece of chalk and went back to his blackboard. He grabbed a dusty cloth and