The Cambridge Theorem by Tony Cape

I’m not, really. I’m not much of an intellectual. Be lucky if I get a degree at all this year, unless I change my ways.” Allerton failed to suppress a smirk.
    Smailes remembered the Bletchley note he had found in Bowles’ wallet. “Do you know if Simon Bowles liked to gamble? Did he follow the horses, for instance?”
    Allerton snorted. “Good Lord, no. That’s something I would certainly have known about. I’m a bit of a fanatic myself. Like to go over to Newmarket whenever I get the chance. It’s sort of a standing joke that I’m a better student of racing form than any modern language. It must be in my blood, I think. No, in fact, I tried to get Simon to go with me couple of times, but he only laughed. I don’t think Simon would be seen dead at a race course.”
    Allerton realized the unwitting poor taste of his remark, and fell silent. Smailes asked casually, “Ever been to Bletchley?”
    â€œYes, I’ve seen some races there, but not during term time. It’s a bit of a slog over there, when Newmarket’s so close.”
    â€œMr. Bowles left a typed note. Does that seem unusual to you?”
    â€œA note? I hadn’t thought of that. Does it say why he did it?”
    Smailes looked at the young man, but did not respond. A note seemed the first, most obvious thing to expect.
    â€œNo, not at all. Simon had terrible, childish handwriting, and was very embarrassed by it. He used his typewriter for everything. That’s exactly what he’d do. What did the note say, officer? Can’t you tell me?”
    â€œIt said: ‘They came back. I couldn’t take it. Simon.’”
    Allerton looked stunned and passed a hand in front of his eyes. “My God. It must have happened. I can’t believe it,” he whispered. He gave Smailes a look of mute anguish.
    â€œMr. Allerton, you began by saying that Simon Bowles did not kill himself. Why do you think that, and what do you think caused his death?”
    â€œThat must have been it. He must have got frightened by something that recalled that awful time. I suppose that’s why he did it. He used a belt, didn’t he? From a plant hook? God, and we had just been there an hour or two before. Maybe if we’d gone back, after the bar, Simon would still be…”
    â€œHow did you know he had hanged himself with a belt? There has been no official report released.”
    â€œOh, come on, officer. It’s all around the college. The porters, the bedders, everyone’s talking about it. You don’t think… What are you trying to imply?”
    â€œYou have not answered my question. You began by saying Simon Bowles did not kill himself. Now you seem to believe he did.”
    â€œWell, I didn’t know about the note, and I thought that he didn’t seem in that frame of mind, that extreme frame of mind. But something must have been going on with him that I didn’t know about, obviously. But look, I’m serious. What do you mean by asking me how I know how he died? You don’t mean…I mean…Jesus Christ…”
    Allerton flushed a deep red and tears welled up in his eyes. He put his hand to the bridge of his nose and looked away. Smailes had to admit that if he was dissimulating, he was doing a bloody good job. But he did not counter Allerton’s protestations.
    â€œWhere did you go, you and Miss Greenberg, after the bar? Did you go to bed together?”
    Allerton’s sudden emotion spilled into anger. “Look, I don’t like your tone, and I don’t like what you’re saying, and if it’s just the same with you, I’ve had enough of this.” He began to rise from his seat.
    â€œWell, did you?”
    â€œNo, we bloody well did not, you dirty-minded…” He hesitated, as if unsure of the repercussions of swearing at a policeman. Smailes remained impassive.
    â€œWe haven’t been sleeping