Preface to Murder

out his notebook and pen, ready to take notes.
‘Perhaps we could start with a little background about the Blavatnik School?’ said Bridget. She’d noticed on their way up the sweeping staircase that the building didn’t contain the usual fresh-faced undergraduates that you found in the colleges. Everyone here was older. There was a seriousness about the place.
Professor Al-Mutairi nodded briefly, carefully removing the smile from his face before speaking. ‘Our mission here is a grand one, but essential in this day and age. It is, quite simply, to improve the quality of government and public policymaking throughout the world. To that end we offer a one-year Master’s course and a three-year Doctorate degree. We also conduct research with the aim of finding solutions to public policy issues and global challenges.’
‘And what was Diane Gilbert’s position here?’
‘Dr Gilbert taught one of the modules in the Master’s degree, but her main area of work was research.’
‘I see. Can you tell me how long you’ve known Diane?’
‘Dr Gilbert and I have been associated for the past five years.’
Associated. It seemed a curious word to use, as if the professor was keen to place some distance between himself and the murdered woman. His unwillingness to use her first name suggested an aloofness between the two.
‘And your association was what, precisely?’
‘A purely professional one. As Dean of the Blavatnik School, I was technically her manager, although Dr Gilbert was not a woman who could easily be managed. She was too headstrong for that.’
Professor Al-Mutairi’s characterisation of Diane Gilbert chimed with Bridget’s own impressions, but the professor’s response seemed to indicate a strong personal dislike of the dead woman.
‘Did you and Dr Gilbert clash?’
The professor sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. ‘Our personalities were very different, and so were our opinions. But the Blavatnik School is a broad church. We welcome diversity of all kinds.’
‘If you don’t mind me saying, professor, that doesn’t really answer my question.’
A smile twitched his lips and lit up his dark eyes. ‘In truth, Dr Gilbert and I did not see eye to eye. She possessed – how can I put this delicately? – an unhelpful appetite for courting controversy, even danger. Where Dr Gilbert was concerned, the more controversial her ideas, the better. And she was only capable of viewing the world through the distorting prism of her own political views.’
‘Those views didn’t align with yours?’
‘They did not. I desire a world where free trade between countries leads to increased cooperation, understanding and rising standards of living. For Diane, nothing but a socialist revolution could make the world a better place.’
‘Were you aware that Diane received a death threat shortly before her death?’ asked Bridget.
‘I was.’
‘And did you take any kind of action to protect her from danger?’
Professor Al-Mutairi smiled wryly. ‘Excuse me, DI Hart, but I was under the impression that was the job of the police.’ Bridget flinched at the reminder of her own sense of culpability over Diane’s death, but the professor quickly moved on. ‘In any case, Dr Gilbert herself showed scant regard for any threat to her person. I can say with all honesty that I admired her courage. She would never allow herself to be cowed by any kind of threat.’
‘Do you know if she had any enemies?’
Al-Mutairi’s brow creased in consternation. ‘Enemies? That is a very strong word, if you don’t mind me saying. Dr Gilbert was a university academic, not a soldier on the battlefield. In the intellectual world, there exists rivalry, certainly. But we do not have enemies, merely colleagues following different paths to the truth.’
‘There may not always be one truth,’ said Bridget.
The professor’s frown was quickly replaced by a grin. ‘Oh, there is always one truth, Inspector. But not everyone can see it.’
‘What did you think of her latest book?’ asked Jake.
Professor Al-Mutairi nodded as if to acknowledge the pertinence of Jake’s question. ‘Arms sales to the Middle East. It is an important area of policy, of legitimate concern. It is only right that it should be researched and discussed. And yet…’
Jake looked up from his notebook. ‘And yet?’
The professor’s lip curled down in disapproval. ‘As always, Dr Gilbert allowed her personal biases to infect her work. She was unable to view any topic from a dispassionate perspective. This latest book is a prime example of that.’
‘Her book wasn’t sanctioned by the School?’ asked Bridget.
‘Certainly not, and I fear that it will drag our good name through the mud.’
Bridget was beginning to wish now that she had read Diane’s book after all. It would be helpful to have a few pertinent facts at her disposal. She cast her mind back to the talk at the Divinity School, but she had been too busy concentrating on security concerns – and, admittedly, some personal matters – to pay much attention to what Diane had said.
‘What exactly is it about the book that you object to, Professor?’ she asked politely.
A shadow passed across his face. ‘Dr Gilbert approached her work with a very particular mindset. She firmly believed that the Americans and the British were wrong to involve themselves in the affairs of the Middle East. She accused them of acting out of cynical self-interest and greed for oil.’ He paused briefly before continuing with a rising passion. ‘But she did not grow up in Kuwait, like I did. She did not see her own father gunned down and murdered by Saddam Hussein’s rampaging troops when they invaded my country in 1990. She did not see her mother weep and her sisters cower in fear. She did not feel for the region here, like I do.’ He thumped his hand against his chest, covering his heart with his fist.
Bridget waited for Professor Al-Mutairi to calm down after his emotional outburst. It