by Carol Wyer
Natalie looked over his shoulder, a paper cup of warm tea in her hand. ‘That Fran’s Facebook account?’
Ian nodded.
‘The techies got into that quickly.’
He swallowed the chocolate. ‘Yes. It came a few minutes ago. I’m going through the conversation threads now. Nothing yet – they’re mostly discussing lectures and work schedules at the moment.’ He continued to scroll as he spoke. ‘The tech team didn’t find anything suspicious on Lennox’s phone, and I contacted the pubs Ryan and his friends visited last night and their story checks out. There’s footage of them all at four of the pubs – the White Hart, Stolen Pig, Swan and the Three Kings– and CCTV at the students’ union bar shows they left there at seven forty-six. Ryan didn’t join his friends at the fifth pub, the Tumbledown Dick, and I could only spot his friends on the pub’s footage. I guess that supports his story that he went home.’ As he spoke, his fingers repeatedly clicked the mouse, bringing more of the lengthy conversation into view.
A shrill ring interrupted them and Natalie answered the internal phone. ‘Yep. Okay. Thanks for looking into it.’ She put down the receiver and said, ‘Ryan has no police record in South Africa. Never been in trouble.’
‘He’s a hard nut though, isn’t he? His father’s the CEO of a media company.’
‘Yes, I read that in the file you prepared.’
‘You see the bit about the family being attacked?’
‘Uh-huh.’
Ian continued all the same. ‘Yes, some gunmen broke into their complex and held the children and mother at gunpoint. Little wonder Ryan’s as hard as he is, given he was there when it happened.’ He lifted his cup with his free hand then froze.
Natalie, who’d been reading the screen at the same time as him, shouted, ‘Stop!’ but he already had, cursor hovering over the conversation between Fran and Rhiannon that Ryan had mentioned.
Fran: Totally pissed off with Gemma for flirting with Ryan even though she broke his heart
Rhiannon: Bitch
Fran: She’s a total flirt. Apparently, she sits in the front row and makes eyes at Professor Younger every time he lectures them
Rhiannon: She’s probably hoping to bed him to get a better grade
Fran: More than likely. She’ll probably screw her way to a first-class degree
Rhiannon: She was hanging around the prof like a bad smell today. I had a lecture with him after hers and she was still in the lecture hall, standing all doe-eyed while he explained something to her
Fran: Did she flick her hair?
Rhiannon: Yeah
Fran: She does that all the time when she’s talking to guys
Rhiannon: ‘Oh, look at me… I’m really sexy… flick… pout… flick… pout…’
Fran: I swear, one day, I’ll pull it out of her fucking head
Rhiannon: We should tie her down and shave her head. LOL
Fran: It’d only grow back
Rhiannon: Something else then?
Fran: Yeah, something that would fix her for good. I know people who’d sort her out once and for all
Rhiannon: Ooh, scary! What? Get a contract out on her? LOL
Fran: Not exactly. Just rearrange her face a little
Rhiannon: Fran, you wouldn’t!
Fran: Wouldn’t I?
Natalie broke off from the dialogue on the screen. She reached for the folder and read the few paragraphs about Fran who’d been brought up by her mother and stepfather in East Toxteth, one of the most deprived areas in the country. One of a family of six, Fran had got into trouble as a youngster and, along with other members of a small gang, had offended several times before being put into care at the age of twelve. A year later, she’d gone to live with her maternal grandparents in Childwall, Liverpool, and had not been in trouble since.
‘Fran was at a meeting last night, wasn’t she?’
‘Something to do with the students’ union social committee,’ said Ian.
‘Make sure she was there for the entire meeting, will you?’ She left him working on it and rang Phil Chancer, the owner of Chancer’s Bar, to find out who else worked there. No sooner had she obtained the list of names than Murray rang in with an update.
‘Lennox’s chemistry tutor says the lad was definitely working on that particular experiment. He reckons Lennox has been in the lab most nights over the last couple of weeks because his report on it is due in at the end of this coming week. We checked the lists and with the lab assistants, and Lennox hasn’t signed out any acids at all this term. We’ve only got one more lecturer left to interview about Gemma – Professor Younger.’
It was the same lecturer whose name had cropped up in the Facebook conversation between the girls. Natalie explained what they’d uncovered.
‘Okay, we’ll grill him thoroughly. Maybe there was something going on between him and Gemma,’ said Murray.
Ian waited until she ended her conversation with Murray before telling her what he’d discovered. ‘I’ve been going through the rest of Fran’s conversation with Rhiannon and there aren’t any other references to Gemma. I think this was a one-off occurrence.’
‘We can’t discount the fact that Fran reckoned she knew people who would “sort out” Gemma and that she said she’d “rearrange” Gemma’s face. Those might be throwaway comments and have no substance, but there are grounds to suspect she and the others were jealous of Gemma. Fran is good friends with Rhiannon. Do we know where Rhiannon was last night?’
‘No. I’ll find out.’
She got into the general database and hunted for information on Rhiannon Williams. She didn’t notice Dan Tasker’s arrival until he gave a soft knock on the glass door. Ian leapt up to let him in.
‘I wondered how you were getting along with the Gemma Barnes investigation. We’ve arranged a conference with the media for this afternoon. It’s been decided it is best to get the media on side for this one and put the word out. We don’t want the public anxious that there is an attacker on the loose,’ he said.
Natalie shook her head. ‘Surely, if there is a random attacker, we do want the public to be extra vigilant.’
‘Do you have reason to believe it was a random attack?’
‘Not really, sir.’
‘More often than not, these types of attacks are by people known to the victim.’
Natalie nodded. ‘That’s true. We don’t have a great deal to follow up at the moment although we’re looking into the possibility that one of her housemates or a fellow student was behind the attack. At present, we have little evidence other than an online conversation.’
‘Tell me what you know.’ Dan folded his arms and rested against the desk to listen.
She ran over what they’d ascertained, and when she’d finished he said, ‘Given Fran’s background and what was said online, I’d suggest you might have found your attacker.’
‘Fran was in a meeting at the time of the attack on Gemma. Ian, you checked that, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. She didn’t leave until it was over.’
‘What time was that?’ Dan asked.
‘After eight o’clock, sir.’
‘What about the other girl in this online conversation? Where was she at the time?’ Dan kept a steely gaze on Ian, who didn’t buckle.
‘I’m still in the process of checking her out.’
‘And why haven’t you done that yet?’
Natalie stepped in. She wasn’t going to allow Dan to goad her officer. Ian had already compiled detailed files on the students who had shared the house with Gemma. He hadn’t had time to do the same for those who resided nearby, at 59 Eastview Avenue, or those who were on the same course as the girl. ‘This online conversation has only recently come to light. Rhiannon doesn’t live in the same house as Gemma, and we’ve been concentrating on those students who shared accommodation with the victim before casting the net further afield. Now we have reason to suspect Fran and maybe Rhiannon were involved in the attack, we are making the necessary
enquiries.’
Dan answered with a curt nod. Riling people seemed to be his way of getting things done, but she didn’t need goading. Her team was all over this, and they’d find out who was responsible. He shifted from his relaxed stance into a standing position and, ready to depart, said, ‘I’ll be informing members of the press that we’re looking for an individual or individuals who are most probably known to the victim. If there is any suggestion that that is unlikely to be the case, then I shall require informing immediately.’
‘Sir,’ said Natalie.
Once Dan had left, Ian discharged a noisy breath. Natalie didn’t comment. She was about to assist Ian, who was still finding out information on Rhiannon, when she received a call from an unknown number.
‘DI Ward?’
‘Yes, who am I speaking to?’
‘It’s Hattie Caldwell. I need to talk to you about Gemma.’
‘Do you have some information for us?’
‘I must speak to you alone.’
‘Do you want to come to the station?’
‘No… no. I’ll meet you outside Chancer’s Bar in half an hour.’
‘It’d be better if you came here to the station. Hello? Hattie? Shit!’
Ian looked across. ‘Problem?’
‘No. She rang off. Hattie wants to speak to me alone in half an hour at Chancer’s Bar. I’ll leave you to continue with these checks. We need to gather as much information as we can find.’
‘You think she might know who killed Gemma?’
Natalie thought about the breathless urgency in Hattie’s voice. She was anxious. ‘Yes. I think that’s possible.’ She hoped Hattie held the key to this and they’d be able to identify and arrest the attacker. It wasn’t purely about a quick result. She wanted this for Sasha’s sake so she could learn the truth, which in turn would help her find closure.
Chapter Nine
Saturday, 17 November – Late Afternoon
Lucy and Murray were in Murton-on-the-Water, a densely populated industrial town some thirty-five miles east of Samford, noted for its brewing industry. They parked on St Peter’s Road outside Professor Younger’s house, a nondescript semi with a bricked-over front drive on which were parked four cars.
Murray read out the information he’d received about the man. ‘James is a fifty-one-year-old linguist specialising in German, Spanish and French. He has a first-class honours degree from Manchester University and a PhD in Applied Linguistics from Reading University. He worked at a university in Berlin from 1985 to 2005 and returned to the UK in 2006, where he took up his position at Samford University. Married to Anika Beck, a German woman who is a part-time lecturer in Health Studies at Murton-on-the-Water College. They’ve got a twenty-year-old son and a seven-year-old daughter,’ said Murray.
Lucy rested her hands on the steering wheel and looked glumly ahead. ‘It’s doing my fucking head in. All day and not a sniff of anything untoward. If this guy wasn’t involved with her, who do we try next?’
‘We don’t. We head back and see what Natalie says.’
Lucy sighed heavily. ‘Okay.’
‘Come on, Lucy. This isn’t like you. What’s up?’
‘Nothing. Tired maybe. Aurora kept us up half the night again.’
‘She teething?’
‘No. It’s too soon for teeth. She’s grouchy.’
‘Takes after you then,’ he replied with a grin.
Lucy gave him a semi-sad smile. ‘We both know that isn’t possible.’
Murray threw her a concerned look but she spotted it and punched him gently on the arm. ‘Before you say anything, I’m sound and I love her to bits and I wouldn’t change a thing about her or being a parent. It’s the best feeling.’
‘But…’
She snorted gently then said, ‘One day, Aurora will be out in the world on her own, and Bethany and I won’t be able to look after her or protect her. It’s a scary thought, especially when I see what’s happened to Leigh and to Gemma.’
‘I get that but you can’t dwell on future possibilities. You’ll drive yourself mad. Millions of kids go through life without any issues; we get to see the ones who don’t, which means your perspective is skew-whiff.’
‘I know. I’m being silly. We should have stopped for some lunch. I’m having a sugar dip,’ she replied.
‘We’ll get this over with then stop off on our way back to the station.’
‘You’re on.’ She threw open the door and once more prepared to interview somebody who had known Gemma. Murray was beside her when she pressed the doorbell, which created a soft musical melody that seemed to come from the rear of the property. The door opened and a handsome man with dark hair flecked with silver, who was wearing an apron over a cable-knit jumper and trousers, appeared. He waved a pair of tongs and said, ‘Just sorting out a barbecue. Come through.’ Catching the expression on Murray’s face, he added, ‘I know, sounds crazy, doesn’t it? A barbecue in November.’
He ushered them through the sitting room into a decent-sized conservatory, where two women sat on wicker chairs, glasses of red wine in their hands. It was snug inside, even with the doors open onto the patio.
James was still talking. ‘It’s a little inclement to sit outside to eat but it’s okay for cooking. The girls insisted on a barbecue.’ He pointed to an enclosed trampoline, where a couple of young girls in woollen jumpers and trousers bounced. Meat sizzled enticingly on the round barbecue and the aroma of chargrilled meat wafting through the doors made Lucy’s stomach rumble.
He nodded in the direction of the women and said, ‘That’s my wife, Anika.’
The thinner and taller of the women, with chestnut-brown hair, said hello.
‘Anika, the police have come to ask about Gemma.’
‘Ah, the poor girl.’ She gave a sad shake of her head.
‘Did you know her, Mrs Younger?’ asked Lucy.
‘No. I work in Murton-on-the-Water. I don’t know any of James’s students although he has spoken about her. She had much potential.’
‘What about you?’ she asked the other woman, who shook her head.
‘That’s Anika’s friend, Debbie. She knows very little about my work. Now, how may I help?’ James said to Lucy.
‘Tell us whatever you can about Gemma.’
‘To echo my wife, she was a fine student with potential. She took studying very seriously.’
‘Is that surprising?’
‘You don’t often get students as advanced linguistically as she was or as determined to succeed… so, yes… it was a little unusual. Would you mind if I attend to the food? You’re welcome to stay inside.’
‘Go ahead.’
He moved immediately outside the conservatory and deftly grasped a blackening sausage, removing it from the centre of the grille and placing it closer to the edge where there was less intense heat.
‘We understand she stayed behind after lectures.’
‘There was only one occasion where I can recall that happening. I’d been lecturing on the changing face of Germany in film and text, and she hung back to ask me some questions about Heinrich Böll’s novel Das Brot der frühen Jahre.’ He flipped a burger with a practised hand.
‘What sort of questions did she ask?’
‘She was interested in the key concepts covered in the book, such as symbolism, religion and emotions, and keen to read more by the same author. She quizzed me on which novels she ought to read to help her understanding of the writer. I gave her a summary of each of his greatest works.’
‘And was this unusual?’
‘It was unusual to see such enthusiasm from a student, and refreshing.’ He gave a smile that did not reach the corners of his eyes.
‘Would you say she was gifted?’
‘Enthusiastic and willing to put in the hard work to gain the rewards, rather than gifted in writing essays or doing critiques. Linguistically, however, she was gifted. Her grammatical knowledge was sound and her pronunciation very good indeed – impres
sively so, given she’d never visited the country.’ He pushed the meat about the grille as he spoke.
‘She told you she’d never been to Germany?’ Murray asked.
‘Yes.’
‘During a lecture?’
‘No, during a seminar. I’m a lecturer but I also host seminars on a variety of subjects. This term I’m offering a seminar on German history and culture. Gemma signed up for it.’
‘How many other students are in that group?’
‘One – Douglas McCrabe.’
‘And how often do you hold these seminars?’
‘I really don’t see the relevance of your question,’ said James, his eyes narrowing.
‘We’re trying to get a picture of Gemma’s movements, who she had lectures with, who she sat with in seminars,’ said Murray.
‘She didn’t really sit with anyone in particular,’ said James. ‘She invariably chose the front row and sat with whomever was around her.’
‘How did she get on with Douglas?’
‘Fine. They were matched intellectually and we had some excellent, lively discussions.’
‘What can you tell us about Douglas?’
‘He’s also a very bright student. His mother is German and he’s bilingual.’ He turned a sausage that hissed and spat fat, causing him to jump back out of harm’s way.
‘Did Gemma ever talk to you outside of seminars or lectures?’ asked Murray.
‘Maybe a couple of times when we passed each other on campus.’
‘Did you discuss anything other than university subjects?’
‘Nothing else at all.’
The children had given up leaping up and down, clambered off the trampoline and were now running around, kicking up dead leaves and shrieking. Debbie caught Lucy’s eye and smiled politely.
