Lost Hours

by Alex Walters

  ‘And did she?’

  ‘The university authorities felt it wasn’t their position to advise her either way, but I hope we made it clear that, if she did, she’d be given all possible support. As I say, it was a more clear-cut case than these things often are.’

  ‘Yet at the time of his death Justin was still only suspended?’

  ‘That’s where things get murky. Justin’s mother had, predictably enough, intervened right from the start. She insisted he was innocent, that he wasn’t capable of doing something like that. I don’t think she really even believed it herself. Maybe I’m too cynical, but her behaviour felt to me more like the actions of someone who believes they can always buy their way out of trouble. She said that if we insisted on going through the formal process, she’d get the best legal support she could get to support Justin, and that she wouldn’t hesitate to drag both the university and the complainant’s names through the mud in the process. Even though the internal process is supposed to be confidential.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m sure most of it was just bluff, but she’s a formidable woman.’

  ‘The university presumably didn’t let that stop them proceeding?’

  ‘God, no. The authorities here have their faults, but they don’t take kindly to anyone trying to blackmail them. It was made very clear that the disciplinary process would go ahead, and that Justin was welcome to take whatever action he wanted in line with the defined procedures.’ He paused, as if for dramatic effect. ‘But it didn’t happen.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Like I say, it’s murky. Out of the blue, the woman in question decided not to proceed with her complaint. She claimed that she was worried on the impact on her own reputation, about what she’d have to go through if the case proceeded.’

  ‘All too familiar,’ Zoe said.

  ‘Except that it hadn’t been her tone before. She’d clearly seen it very much as an issue of principle. She wasn’t doing it just for herself, but to make the point that people like Justin Wentworth couldn’t get away with this kind of behaviour. I was impressed by her.’

  ‘Principles sometimes come up against reality. Maybe the reality was scarier than she expected. And, with respect, she had no obligation to impress you.’

  Pascoe smiled. ‘Touché. Of course you’re right. But I don’t think that was it. I don’t suppose we’ll ever prove it, but I think she had an approach from Justin’s mother or someone acting on her behalf. I don’t know if she just received the same threats that the mother had already made to us or something worse. I also have a suspicion there might have been some kind of pay-off, probably a fairly substantial one. We didn’t feel able to press her as to whether that was true, but there were rumours to that effect.’

  ‘So was the intention to reinstate Justin?’

  ‘He was suspended and sent home when the complaint was first made, pending the outcome of the process. That was all a bit academic, to be honest, because term was nearly over anyway and Justin had completed his exams, for what that was worth in his case, so the only impact was that he went home a week or so early. The whole thing has dragged out over the summer holidays, partly because of the difficulties of getting everyone together. When the complaint was withdrawn, we didn’t really have any option but to reinstate Justin.’

  ‘So he was expected to come back this coming year?’

  ‘Except that then we ran into a different problem. The Student Union had got wind of the fact that Justin was likely to be returning. They told us that students wouldn’t be prepared to work alongside Justin, that any lectures or tutorials involving him would be boycotted, and that they’d be organising protests. We told them we’d prefer them not to take that kind of action, not least because we felt we had a duty to protect the identity and interests of the woman who’d made the initial complaint. They reckoned it was out of their hands, and that all they were doing was reacting to student opinion. Which, in fairness, may well be true.’

  ‘What was going to happen?’

  ‘We were still dithering. Some people had hoped Justin’s academic results might be enough in themselves to prevent him continuing. As it turned out, they weren’t good but they weren’t quite that bad. So we were left with a dilemma. We’d spoken to Justin, tried to persuade him it wasn’t going to be in his interests to return next year. Suggested he take a year out, and return when things had calmed down a little.’ He held up his hands. ‘I’m not exactly proud of the convolutions the university was involved in. It was almost as if we ended up trying to negotiate with him.’

  ‘Which is presumably exactly what his mother wanted.’

  ‘I’ve read more about her since this all blew up. That does seem to be her forte, doesn’t it? Getting a deal.’

  ‘That’s her reputation,’ Zoe agreed.

  ‘From what I saw, she seems to get what she wants,’ Pascoe said. ‘One way or another. We were amateurs dealing with a professional. I don’t know what would have happened if Justin had lived. I suspect he’d have come back, and we’d have spent too much of our time and money protecting him from the protests. He’d have loved being the centre of attention, and would have received more personalised supervision. We’d no doubt have been painted as shameful reactionaries for sheltering him, as if what we were doing implied approval of his behaviour. And most likely the only person not returning next year would have been the woman he assaulted.’

  Zoe shook her head. ‘You can imagine how often we have to deal with this kind of issue. That’s so often the way it pans out. There’s no justice in cases like that.’

  ‘That’s not what I’d have expected a police officer to say.’

  ‘We do our best. Quite often, it’s simply not enough.’

  ‘We’ve learned a few lessons from it, anyway,’ Pascoe said. ‘Though I don’t know what we could have done differently, really.’

  ‘And you’re saying his mother was involved in this all the way through.’

  ‘She was on the phone to the Vice-Chancellor as soon as Justin had been informed about the complaint against him. Why?’

  ‘We’ve interviewed her at some length about Justin’s background, and this is the first we’ve heard of any of this. She gave us quite a different impression about Justin’s character and university life.’

  ‘I’m sorry. We should have been in touch with you as soon as we heard about Justin’s death.’

  ‘Not your fault. We should have treated Justin’s background as a higher priority. We were too willing to accept his mother’s depiction of him. We made some allowance for maternal prejudice, but I hadn’t envisaged that her description would be so at odds with reality. Partly as she wasn’t averse to criticising him in other respects.’

  ‘It’s one thing to criticise your son,’ Pascoe said. ‘It’s another to acknowledge that he was guilty of attempted rape.’ He paused, clearly thinking about the implications of what Zoe had been saying. ‘Do you think Justin’s killing might have been linked to this?’

  ‘It’s another avenue for us to follow up,’ Zoe said. She wasn’t in a position to mention the murder of Keith Chalmers and its implications for the investigation.

  ‘I can’t imagine that the original complainant could be responsible for anything like that. She was furious with Justin Wentworth, and rightly so, but I can’t envisage her as the murderous type.’

  ‘All kinds of people commit murder,’ Zoe said. ‘And it’s possible someone else might have decided to take action on her behalf.’

  ‘So this is a line of enquiry you’ll be pursuing?’

  ‘I don’t think we have a choice, at least until we know more. It potentially provides a motive for murder. Why do you ask?’

  ‘You’re right, of course. But it won’t be straightforward.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘For a start, we’ve guaranteed confidentiality to the complainant. I assume you’ll be wanting to talk to her?’

  ‘We’ll need to, yes. We’ll handle it as sensitively as possible. But we won
’t necessarily be able to guarantee anonymity. It depends how the inquiry proceeds.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s a murder investigation.’

  ‘I appreciate that. I’m just glad none of this is my problem. There are times when I’m grateful I don’t have to wrestle with anything more difficult than interpreting English literature and persuading students it’s okay to use their intellects rather than waiting for me to give them the answers. All I can do is put you in contact with the Director of Student Services and let her take it from there. The whole thing’s a really nasty business.’

  ‘I’m very grateful to you,’ Zoe said. ‘You’ve given me some valuable information.’

  ‘It’s good you haven’t had a wasted trip. I’m just surprised that Justin’s mother didn’t tell you any of this. She must have known you’d find out eventually.’

  ‘That’s something for us to look into,’ Zoe said. ‘I suppose parents like to think the best of their children. But I’m still surprised she withheld information that might be pertinent to her son’s murder. We’ll have to talk to her again.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ Pascoe said. ‘I’ve only met her a couple of times, but she scares the hell out of me.’

  ‘You and me both,’ Zoe said. ‘But in my line of work that tends to be an occupational hazard.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Annie hadn’t been sure what to expect, but her expectations hadn’t extended to anyone quite like Erica Adamsson. Her experience of trade union officials had been largely limited to men like Keith Chalmers – and they generally were men, middle-aged, besuited, overweight and balding with years of experience in working on or around the shop-floor.

  Adamsson was something else. For a start, she looked young, probably no more than early twenties. She was tall, slim and blond, and Annie suspected that in an alternative life she could easily have been a fashion model. But there was also something intimidating about her, even to Annie, who had long made a professional point of not being intimidated by anyone. It was something to do with the intensity of Adamsson’s gaze, the way she stared at Annie through black-rimmed spectacles as if about to challenge her right even to exist. Adamsson spoke impeccable English, although Annie could detect a trace of some kind of Scandinavian accent.

  ‘I was sorry to hear about Keith,’ Adamsson said. ‘It was a shock to all of us here.’ She sounded as if she’d learned the words of sympathy by rote without ever quite understanding what they meant.

  Annie nodded. ‘At this stage, we’re really just trying to gather some background on Mr Chalmers. We’ve informed Mr Chalmers’ son, who’s the next of kin, so we’re expecting he’ll be able to tell us about Mr Chalmers’ private life. I was hoping you might be able to give us some insights into his work.’

  ‘Insights?’ Adamsson repeated. Her tone implied she was considering a critique of Annie’s use of English. ‘I suppose. We were working colleagues for the last two years or so.’

  ‘What’s the set-up here?’ Annie immediately regretted her choice of words, suspecting that Adamsson would view it as inappropriately informal.

  ‘It is a small office,’ Adamsson said. ‘Six of us. I am office director. We have four representatives, who cover the various sectors we represent. Keith was one of those. And we have an administrator.’

  ‘And you cover the East Midlands?’

  ‘Yes, as we define it. That stretches across to East Anglia, and down to Northamptonshire. It’s quite a large area.’

  ‘So the representatives spend a lot of time on the road?’

  ‘Inevitably.’ Adamsson spoke as if the question was hardly worth answering. ‘Most of them come in here once or twice a week. Keith less so, unfortunately.’

  ‘Why unfortunately?’

  ‘It made my job harder. I need to know what cases they’re involved in. Any emerging issues or problems. I don’t want to find I’ve been caught out because I’ve not been kept up to speed with events.’

  ‘And was that a problem with Mr Chalmers?’

  ‘It could be. Keith was not an easy man to work with. He was not a team player.’

  ‘I suppose the representatives have to be very self-sufficient?’ Annie wasn’t sure why she felt any urge to defend Chalmers, but that was how Adamsson’s manner was affecting her.

  ‘Perhaps.’ Adamsson sounded as if she’d never given the matter much thought. ‘But Keith was more challenging than some of the others. He came in only rarely. Usually because I had insisted he should be present at a meeting.’

  ‘Did he get on with his colleagues?’ Annie asked.

  ‘I suppose so. In so far as he needed to.’

  Annie was beginning to feel as if she was talking a different language from Adamsson. ‘What about with you? Did he get on with you?’

  ‘With me?’ There was a prolonged silence. ‘Not really. We were very different people.’

  ‘In what way?’

  Another pause. ‘I have certain standards. I believe in discipline. It’s the only way to run an office like this, especially if staff are working remotely. Keith was not good at those disciplines. His manner was – casual.’ The condemnation sounded damning, the most severe criticism that Adamsson could envisage.

  ‘How did that manifest itself?’ Annie felt she was in danger of inadvertently mimicking Adamsson’s verbal style.

  ‘He didn’t follow procedures. He was a great believer in what he called “flexibility”.’ The quotes around the word were almost visible. ‘He told me that was the secret to effective negotiation. The willingness to bend the rules to achieve the desired outcome.’

  ‘You didn’t agree with that?’

  ‘I accept that intransigence is likely to be a barrier to success. But that is different from Keith’s notion of “flexibility”. In my view, his approach was at times tantamount to anarchy.’

  ‘That seems a rather strong description.’

  ‘But correct, I think. I have established procedures here, for example, which are designed to make everyone’s life easier. Protocols about how we report, how we create files, how we record information, and so on. Keith often disregarded or even flouted those procedures. That makes everyone’s life harder.’

  ‘I understand that the disciplinary procedures were invoked against Mr Chalmers on a number of occasions?’

  There was another extended silence. ‘That is an internal matter.’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Ms Adamsson. I’m engaged in a murder inquiry. If you have information that may be pertinent to our investigation, you have a legal obligation to share it with the police.’

  ‘It is not pertinent.’

  ‘With respect, we have to be the judge of that. In any case, I understand that, on at least one of those occasions, the police were involved.’

  ‘We decided not to proceed with the matter.’

  It was notable that, since they’d moved on to this topic, Adamsson’s responses had become increasingly terse. ‘I understand it was the police who decided not to progress with the investigation on the basis that there was little likelihood of being able to evidence any wrong-doing.’

  ‘Nevertheless, the point is that the inquiry was discontinued.’

  ‘Did you believe that Mr Chalmers had committed any wrong-doing?’

  ‘My opinion is of no importance. We have procedures to follow. In that case, we were unable to continue.’

  Annie sighed. She suspected Adamsson would be able to continue politely blocking her questions for as long as she wanted. ‘Can I ask you about the nature of the accusations?’

  Adamsson’s expression remained blank, but it was clear to Annie that she was weighing up how to respond to the question. Finally she said, ‘There were accusations that Keith was accepting payments from some of the employers we deal with. That he was being bribed to act against his members’ interests. There were also accusations that he had used union funds inappropriately.’

  ‘How did you feel about that? About the accusation, I mean.’

  �
�If it was true, it would of course have been wholly unacceptable. Our role is to represent our members, and there can be conflict of interest. It is simple.’

  ‘Did you believe it to be true? Did you believe that Mr Chalmers had behaved inappropriately?’

  For a moment, Annie thought Adamsson would make another attempt to dodge the question. Finally, though, she said, ‘I thought it was likely, yes.’

  ‘But there was insufficient evidence to proceed with the investigation?’

  Adamsson shrugged. ‘Opinions differed, let us say. Keith had a better reputation with the national office than he had here. They discouraged the investigation.’

  ‘Why was that? Why did he have a better reputation at national level, I mean?’

  ‘You would have to ask them.’ Adamsson hesitated for a moment, as if recognising that this response was insufficient. ‘Much of it comes down to political divisions. The national office tends to be more old-fashioned. You might say more right-wing. They think of us as dangerous radicals.’ Adamsson smiled, but Annie wasn’t sure to what extent she was joking. ‘They saw Keith as one of their own. He’d worked in London for a while, and was very old-school. We saw him as something of a spy in the camp.’

  ‘I believe there was some suggestion that the accusations were maliciously motivated?’

  Adamsson’s smile was unwavering. ‘There were some tensions in the office, but my view is that the accusations were sincerely motivated. It is academic now, though.’

  Annie raised an eyebrow. ‘Except that someone was responsible for Mr Chalmers’ death.’

  ‘You’re not suggesting anyone here was responsible?’

  ‘I’m suggesting nothing. But I am interested in the nature of Mr Chalmers’ working relationships with his colleagues. Particularly if there were tensions.’

  ‘It was just office politics. Nothing more. In this kind of work, people have strong feelings about what they do and how they do it.’

  ‘Of course. But we will need to talk to everyone here. I trust that won’t be a problem?’

  ‘Not at all. I quite understand. But I’m afraid you won’t find the explanation of Keith’s tragic death here.’