Never Return

by Stephen Barnes

  There were coats hanging on a row of hooks on the wall by the kitchen door. Julian retrieved the watch from the pocket of a leather jacket and handed it to Fuller.

  “Very smart,” Fuller said.

  “If no one claims it, I want it back,” Julian insisted.

  “Sure, we’ll do the paperwork later.” Fuller admired the watch before dropping it into his pocket. “Know where we can find Michael Gilbert?” he asked Julian.

  “Who’s Michael Gilbert?”

  “Here we go again. You’d get top marks for effort if you were studying the art of evasion Julian. It’s a simple enough question about someone on the same fucking course as you.”

  “I haven’t seen him since Thursday. He told me he was going away this weekend. Said he’d be back on Monday morning,” Julian revealed, realising the futility of his stubbornness.

  “Didn’t say where he was going I suppose?”

  Julian shook his head.

  Fuller smiled. “We’ll be in touch,” he said as he and Garton left the kitchen. “Have a nice day.”

  In the corridor, Fuller called Evans on his mobile. The Inspector was at home sitting on the sofa with his wife watching TV after their Sunday roast.

  “We’ve got the watch Boss,” Fuller announced with pride. “Looks valuable. Hard to resist pinching something like that. Julian claims to have found it near the body but that’s a lie. Do you want us to bring them in for questioning? There’s a whole list of stuff we could charge them with.”

  “We may need to have another chat with Julian and James but it’s not our main priority and we can leave the charges to the CPS,” Evans replied. “Well done on getting the watch but we also need to find Simeon’s brother. Any developments?”

  “Gone away for the weekend. We don’t know where. Due back tomorrow morning we were told.”

  “Well hopefully I’ll be able to speak to him then. First thing in the morning, I need you to find out exactly how much the watch is worth.”

  Chapter 10

  Colin Evans had never fully appreciated the value of education. Not long after his sixteenth birthday, he’d run through the school gates for the last time. Since that exertion, he’d never moved faster under his own steam. He couldn’t comprehend why Michael Gilbert, Julian and James or anyone for that matter would want to spend three years studying history. To him, it seemed a pointless subject.

  Evans drove to the university after the Monday morning traffic had begun to thin out. On the journey he experienced a rare feeling of regret over his lack of knowledge and thought about his two sons. He hoped the boys would want to pursue the opportunity which he had spurned.

  After parking in the cordoned off area of the car park which the police had commandeered, Evans joined the milling crowds on the campus. Thorbury Hall was the only building of any quality but fenced off and out of bounds to students and most of the university staff, the house was no longer part of the system. The other buildings were mostly concrete and glass. There were no quiet cloisters, not even a hint of red brick.

  Evans entered the main building and followed the signs which led him to the university administration suite. He pressed the buzzer on the deserted counter and almost immediately a young man emerged from the office. He was wearing a cheap grey suit and a name badge which identified him as ‘George’.

  Evans held up his warrant card. “I’m Detective Inspector Colin Evans of the City Police,” he announced. “I need to find Michael Gilbert, first year history.”

  “He may have a lecture, I’ll check,” George replied before disappearing into the office. Within a minute he returned holding a thin file. “Michael should be in the first floor lecture theatre until ten thirty,” he said after checking the file. “If he isn’t there you could try his room. It’s number 39c, Bryant House. Failing that he may be in the coffee bar in the union building or perhaps the library. I’d get someone to help you find him but we’re short staffed right now and the tannoy’s out of order so I can’t page him.”

  “That’s okay. How do I find the lecture theatre?”

  “Take the stairs at the main entrance to the first floor and it’s the second door on the right. You’ll have to wait until they come out.” George turned towards the digital clock on the wall which told him it was 10:27am. “You’ve timed it quite well,” he said.

  Evans thanked him and retraced his steps to the main entrance before climbing the stairs to the first floor corridor. Students were already pouring out of the lecture theatre. He had no way of identifying Michael Gilbert and there was no sign of Julian and James who were on the same course. He approached one of the exiting groups. “Do any of you know where I can find Michael Gilbert?” he asked.

  Evans realised immediately that this had been the wrong bunch to pick. The nearest member of the group greeted him with a serious expression but didn’t reply. “Anyone see Mr Money in there?” he asked his friends.

  A couple of heads shook but no one spoke. The youth looked back at Evans. “He may have been down at the front. Didn’t see him though,” he said.

  Evans didn’t bother to thank him. The flow of students had stopped. He entered the terraced lecture theatre. A handful of students were seated on the front row, their attention directed at the man standing behind the lectern in front of them. He was doing most of the talking but the younger voices occasionally chipped in.

  Evans walked down the steps towards the gathering. He guessed these were the more eager historians who had stayed behind for an informal discussion. He stopped half way down and sat at the end of a row of seats, unnoticed by the group. As he watched, Evans realised he knew the lecturer. The face was familiar but seemed out of place.

  “Was Palmerston really a man of principle?” one of the group asked.

  “Of course he was,” the lecturer replied. “Isn’t that clear from his approach to the slave trade?”

  “But what about the wars with China, the Opium Wars?” the same questioner asked.

  “They were about principles too,” the lecturer argued. “Don’t confuse nineteenth century principles with modern day concepts of morality.”

  “You mean there wasn’t any moral aspect?”

  “It’s wrong to view history in those terms without thinking back to the time in question. History is about putting things in the right context but linking ethics and foreign policy has always been problematical. We’ll continue this discussion in the tutorials,” the lecturer stated. He left the lecturn and began to walk up the steps towards Evans before turning to address the group once more. “Make sure you do the reading before we meet again. It’s a fundamental aspect of the course.” He turned again, noticing Evans for the first time. “Can I help you?” he asked as he approached the Inspector.

  “Perhaps you can Sergeant Cahill,” Evans replied having placed the face.

  Paul smiled after recognising the intruder. “Bloody hell, Colin Evans. What are you doing here?” Evans had been one of his bosses in CID.

  “I’m looking for Michael Gilbert. His brother was the murder victim. The body in the grounds of Thorbury Hall.”

  “You’re on the case then?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t know the victim was the brother of one of my students. Michael is in my tutor group. Not that I’ve seen much of him since the course started. I doubt if there are many people here who’d even recognise him. He might be on the campus but the lecture theatre is the last place he’s likely to be.”

  “He certainly isn’t popular with the lad I’ve just spoken to. He called him ‘Mr Money’.”

  “I haven’t heard that one before. He’s acquired a string of nicknames due to his anonymity.”

  “Well that’s useful to know. It’s nice to see you again. I knew you’d decided to return to college but I didn’t realise you’d risen so high.”

  “There’s nothing high about us academics,” Paul replied. “Or our salaries,” he added. “How’s the job?”

  “Same as alway
s but with smaller budgets,” Evans moaned.

  “We all have to live with that. You look different. I hardly recognised you.”

  “I’ve lost a few pounds,” Evans replied before they climbed the stairs and went their separate ways.

  Rather than spend time searching the campus for someone he didn’t know, Evans decided to try Bryant House which was on the other side of the road opposite the main campus. He returned to the car, drove slowly through the gates and onto the busy road from where he could see the four storey residential block he’d visited on Saturday morning to see Julian and James. He reached the small car park and backed into one of the few free spaces.

  The nearest entrance to Bryant House was locked. Eventually, Evans found a door left open by a careless student. The board on the wall at the bottom of the stairs told him room 39c was on the second floor.

  A smell like burnt cabbage grew stronger as Evans climbed the stairs. The first door he reached on the second floor corridor was ajar. He pushed it open to reveal a small kitchen. There was a table, four plastic chairs and a cooker with a hob which needed cleaning.

  Evans found room 39c further along the corridor. He knocked and heard scuffling noises from within before a voice called out, “Who is it?”

  “DI Evans, Thorbury City Police,” Evans revealed. “I’m looking for Michael Gilbert.”

  Seconds later, the door opened and a youth with tousled blond hair appeared from behind it. “I’m Michael Gilbert,” he said. From his appearance and tone of voice it was clear that Evans had provided his alarm call and it was also evident that he hadn’t been alone in the single bed. His female companion disappeared beneath the sheets when she saw the stranger in the doorway.

  “Is it about Simeon?” Michael asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll just be a minute.”

  The young face disappeared but less than a minute later, Michael joined Evans in the corridor. “We can talk in the kitchen,” he said. His red tee shirt and faded jeans made him appear the typical student although the comments Evans had heard suggested there was something which set Michael Gilbert apart.

  Michael led the way into the kitchen which Evans had inspected earlier. It was shared by several other residents but was unoccupied when they entered. They sat at the table.

  “I’m sorry about what happened to Simeon,” Evans said, “It must have been a big shock.”

  “It was. I heard about the shooting but I didn’t know it was Simeon until Dad called me on my mobile. That was on Saturday morning. I haven’t spoken to Mum. I would have gone home but Dad told me to wait until the funeral. We don’t know when that’s going to be.”

  “We’ll let you know when the body’s released. We were looking for you over the weekend but you weren’t around and your phone is switched off.”

  “I was with my girlfriend. We went to Hull on Friday evening. We’ve both got friends there. Like I said, I found out about Simeon on Saturday. After Dad called, I didn’t want to speak to anyone so I switched my phone off.”

  “Did you choose this University because Simeon had moved up here?”

  “No. It’s a good university. That’s why I came here. Me and Simeon weren’t that close. He was more than four years older than me. Shall I put the kettle on?”

  “Not for me thanks.” Evans had no wish to linger in the dingy kitchen. “When did you last see Simeon?”

  “It was the weekend before last on the Sunday.”

  “Can you think of any reason for what’s happened?”

  “No.”

  “Did Simeon have any connection with the university?”

  “Not as far as I know. I’ve no idea what he was doing on the campus.” Michael looked at Evans. The young man’s expression gave no clue about his state of mind.

  “What do you know about Simeon’s finances? Would you say he was well off?” Evans asked.

  “I don’t think he was on bad money but as far as I know, he was only a trainee at the bank.”

  “I looked for you in the lecture theatre earlier. The tutor said you hadn’t been going to lectures.”

  “I’m thinking of changing to law if they’ll let me.”

  “How do you get on with your fellow students?”

  “Most of them are alright.”

  “It must be hard living on a student loan.”

  “You must have heard what they call me.” The young man was astute enough to realise what Evans was leading up to. “Most people here are hard up. I had a job in the summer so I’ve got a bit put by. They’re jealous because it gives me an advantage with the girls.”

  “I see.” Sexual jealousy seemed a plausible reason for Michael’s lack of popularity. Evans handed him a business card. “Call me if you think of anything which might be relevant. We may need to see you again to take a formal statement.”

  Michael looked at the card and slipped it into his pocket. “Thanks,” he said.

  “One other thing. What time did you leave for Hull on Friday?”

  “Am I a suspect?”

  “It’s just for the purpose of elimination.”

  “I don’t remember exactly. It was between six and seven o’clock. You can ask Sarah if you don’t believe me.”

  “We may need confirmation but I won’t bother the young lady right now.”

  Evans was relieved to breathe the fresh air on his escape from Bryant House. As he sat in the car dwelling on the meeting with Simeon’s brother, Michael Gilbert emerged from the building with his girlfriend. Evans watched as they climbed into a two year old BMW with Michael on the driver’s side.

  Chapter 11

  There was barely enough room for the two desks in the tiny office Paul Cahill shared with Peter Greening. Paul was on his own reading through a pile of essays, his attention wavering as he endured the repetitive accounts of Palmerston’s foreign policy.

  Paul’s unexpected encounter with Colin Evans had brought back old memories both happy and painful. They’d played a part in some disturbing cases but there had been other, better experiences. The camaraderie and the occasional euphoria of success were the good things he frequently regretted leaving behind.

  When Paul joined the City Police straight from university over eight years ago, Colin Evans had already gained a reputation as a successful detective but his inclination to rattle cages had undermined his career prospects. His rebellious nature had made him popular amongst the lower ranks and even earned him the respect of one or two higher up the pecking order but to those with real power, he was considered a liability. Unintentionally, Evans had shown Paul what could happen to anyone who didn’t toe the line and this had been another significant factor in his decision to leave the job.

  Now, the past was impinging on the new world of academia within which Paul had sort refuge. Thorbury Hall, even in its derelict state, was part of that world. The body in the grounds was a reminder that there was no escape from reality.

  Peter entered the office as Paul was loosing interest in the essays. “You look perplexed,” he said, “Are the young historians getting you down already?”

  “No more than I expected. Having the place swarming with police is more depressing. I even bumped into Colin Evans this morning, one of my old bosses.”

  “Bit of a tyrant was he?”

  “No. Quite the opposite but there were some nasty cases I’d rather not be reminded of. Life in the City Police certainly wasn’t all fun and games.”

  “Well the police presence seems to be thinning out. I doubt if they’ll be around here for much longer. Have you called Tom?”

  “Who?”

  “Tom Thorbury. You thought he might be persuaded to support the campaign to save the hall.”

  “That’s right. I haven’t called him yet.”

  “Well as you don’t appear to be focused on those, you could do it now,” Peter said, pointing at the essays.

  “I’ll get his number but don’t blame me if it comes to nothing.” Paul took out his phone a
nd called Carol.

  “I’ve just been reminded to contact Tom Thorbury,” he told her. “You said you had his office number.”

  “He’s totally focused on his business,” Carol pointed out. “I only met him twice but he didn’t seem to have much enthusiasm for anything else.” She gave Paul the number and wished him luck.

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know how I get on.”

  Paul called Thorbury’s office and asked to speak to Tom.

  “Is it about a vacancy?” he was asked.

  “No. I’m Dr Paul Cahill from the university. I’d like to talk to Tom about Thorbury Hall.”

  “I’ll see if he’s available.”

  After a brief pause, another voice said, “Dr Cahill, Tom Thorbury speaking. How can I help you?”

  “I’m conducting research on Thorbury Hall. I believe it was once your family home.”

  “That’s right but I doubt if I can help you. I’m not an expert on the subject of Thorbury Hall. It was sold before I was born. What do you want to know?”

  “Just general stuff. People assume that as an historian, I must have a detailed knowledge of local history but there isn’t much available material.”

  “Being a member of the family doesn’t necessarily qualify me to assist. My parents never spoke about Thorbury Hall. They weren’t inclined to dwell on the past.”

  “Even something which seems insignificant could be of interest. If you could spare me a few minutes of your time, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “I could see you this afternoon if you think it might be worthwhile but I don’t have much time to spare. We’re very busy.”

  “That’s alright. Where’s your office?”

  “Palace House, 48 City Square. Come round at two o’clock.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you then,” Paul told the reluctant aristocrat.

  Chapter 12

  Fuller was in the CID office when Evans entered. He waved the watch at the Inspector and smiled triumphantly. “It’s genuine,” he said. “Retails at nearly twelve grand.”