by Charlot King
“We just thought we’d sort the dresses, that’s all. You can’t cancel the wedding because we tried on dresses?”
Jonathan knocks back his drink.
“You’re not listening to me. I said I wanted to talk with you but every time I try you’re not here.”
“What do we need to talk about? Everything is taken care of.”
He gets up and moves away from both of them, with his back to Kara, she knows he’s talking to her.
“I wanted to talk about us. Look, there’s no easy way of saying this. The wedding’s off, for now. And we need to talk, in private. Not now.”
Jonathan then turns around to see Kara’s total devastation.
“What? No! What would we tell all the guests if we postpone it now?” She hides her own heartbreak.
“I’m not interested in talking about this again. That is final.”
Kara looks at Jonathan, gets up and runs out. Jonathan pours himself another drink and downs it in one. After some time he turns to his sister.
“I have to go back to the constituency for a second sitting. More of those local critters want to see me than I could squeeze in earlier.”
45. Losing Out
Fellows stand drinking sherry and chatting as they glance at the spectacle of the protest on lunchtime TV. They are shocked by the news that Labzuu is being accused of serious double standards, of testing drugs on people abroad which are illegal in this country. The Dean walks in to have an aperitif, but notices the frosty looks and small back chat. He knows they are questioning his decision to back Labzuu. Carter spots the Dean and tries to rescue him from their gazes.
“What sitting at lunch might I let the kitchen know you are intending to stay for, Dean?”
Professor Flint thinks again and decides he can’t endure an hour of this.
“Something’s come up, I won’t be at lunch.”
Before the Dean can take his leave, Professor Prins comes over with a sherry.
“This is all very, well, noticeable for the college, Dean. Are we on the right course here? We gave you our backing. Have we been too hasty?”
“Will you excuse me?”
Professor Prins is surprised by Flint’s abrupt departure. Professor Flint is exhaling, to try to calm his nerves. What has he done?
Later, the Dean and Dr Eruna are finishing lunch at the Garden House Hotel restaurant outside on the lawns. Empty plates litter their table. The waitress pours Dr Eruna another glass of wine and leaves with some of the empties. Dr Eruna turns to Professor Flint.
“So, you’ve made me wait until the end of our meal. Are you finished writing, are we celebrating?”
“Yes, I’ve finished.”
He gets out the paper and shows it to Dr Eruna.
“It didn’t come easily. I stayed up all last night writing and rewriting. I got a room here. I can’t get any peace in college thanks to you. I’m ashamed of this.”
“Don’t have a crisis of conscience on me now.”
Professor Flint can’t bear to look at his lunch guest, and instead spits out his words.
“What makes you think you’re above the law? That you can play with peoples’ lives? I wish I hadn’t been such a fool to believe you.”
Dr Eruna finds the whole thing amusing. The Dean has performed his use. Now if he can just get his hands on that paper.
“Calm down, you’ll spill your wine.”
Percival takes the research paper he has just spent so much time sweating blood over, and rips it in two separate pieces.
“I’ve come to a decision. I didn’t want to meet you in my office because I didn’t want a scene. I don’t want your dirty money. Do what you like to me, but I’m not associating the college with material malice at the root of your company.”
Michael Eruna tries not to visibly show his utter shock.
“You’ll regret this... and if it hadn’t escaped your notice your so-called esteemed college has had a murder of not one but two of its Fellows.”
“They are treating Susan as a murder?”
Dr Eruna enjoys sticking in the knife.
“According to the lunchtime papers. You really should get with the times.”
The Professor is shocked, but tries not to lose the thread of his argument. Percival gets up to leave, now convinced that Edward was killed in some way because of Dr Eruna and Labzuu, and he feels directly responsible for asking Edward to look into the company while he was abroad.
“I have my deep suspicions that you’re responsible for his death, but tell me not Susan as well.”
Dr Eruna gets up at the same time and at the top of his voice says,
“You won’t get away with blackmailing me Professor Flint! No favours for a fellowship. What an outrageous suggestion. I can’t help it if your private research money has dried up. You will have to find collaboration elsewhere. You have the blood of Edward Wiley on your hands!”
“Dear god man, what are you saying?”
“Don’t deny it!”
“Shut up I tell you.”
Professor Flint punches Dr Eruna in the face. Dr Eruna isn’t hit very hard, and there is a moment where Dr Eruna almost laughs at the weakness of the blow. But then seizing the opportunity, he calculatingly falls back into the next table, and onto their food. Professor Flint feels devastated and humiliated. He apologises to those sitting at the table.
“I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry.”
Flint hurries out of the dining room. Inspector Abley and Elizabeth are drinking fine hot chocolates in the foyer as a pianist plays in a bar nearby. They see Flint rush by. Inspector Abley stands and calls back to Elizabeth.
“I will go and see what’s going on -”
The Inspector leaves, and shortly afterwards Dr Eruna walks past. Elizabeth mutters under her breath.
“Stop following me, or I’ll have to take out a counter-injunction.”
✧
Rebecca rubs Kara’s back as they sit in the apple orchard amongst the wild flowers, and says, “Do you really have to leave if the wedding doesn’t take place?”
Kara clings to Rebecca in a frenzy, replying, “He listens to your every word. If you think we should marry he will. I know it. You and Jonathan are the only family I have. If he won’t marry me then it will be over. I will have lost everything.”
✧
Carter walks up the stairs to the Dean’s rooms with a tray containing a glass of fine brandy, and a selection of cheese and biscuits. He notices the light streaming from under the door. Carter knocks twice, but gets no reply from the other side. Finally, Carter turns the knob and the old creaky wooden door opens. Carter is at once confused to see the Dean, motionless, sat at his desk. After less than a second he can see that Percival Flint is dead, bolt upright in his swivel chair, hands on his desk not typing on the keypad but leaning. Carter immediately drops the tray with brandy. Half an hour later and SOCOs are packed into the Dean’s rooms, along with Inspector Abley. The police pathologist, Leedham, is finishing examining the Dean’s body. Leedham speaks quietly but matter of factly to Inspector Abley.
“If he did take these pills voluntarily - and there is no immediate evidence of force - then there are enough to kill him three times over. Quite a cocktail. But I won’t know, until I have got him back to the lab.”
Wearing crime scene gloves, Abley picks up a collection of pills and bottles.
“Can you say when he died?”
“You know I hate estimating anything Abley, but I will estimate that I’ll beat you tomorrow on the course.”
Carter raises a brow. Abley replies to Leedham.
“So you say, ‘bunker’ Bill.”
Abley looks around the room.
“So come on, give me something to work with here.”
Mr Leedham appreciates the pressur
e Abley is now under, this being the third death associated with the college, and it being such an important part of the establishment. Leedham points to the bottle of vodka on the desk, next to an exquisite paperweight.
“Look, if he drank all of that it wouldn’t have taken long. I’d say about two to four hours ago, but I didn’t say that okay?”
Carter speaks up.
“If it helps to know, he was not at lunch today. This was unusual as he tends to take lunch in college most days. His favourite on the menu as well, roast duck, yet he left suddenly.”
Abley replies.
“Thank you, sir. If you can give a statement to the Sergeant there I would be much obliged.”
Abley points at Sergeant Lemon in the corner. Abley knows that he himself saw the Dean not more than two hours ago with Dr Eruna at the Garden House Hotel, so it must have been recent and if this is the third murder, the killer still close. He must get Lemon onto finding Dr Eruna, and quickly.
46. Nearly Caught
Elizabeth is alone at home, sitting reading at the kitchen table. She takes a large gulp of Glenfiddich and pores over a book Emily got from the library on South African Families. It wasn’t a text that you could ordinarily take out, but Elizabeth knows the librarian well and she had made a special dispensation. Flicking through the glossary Elizabeth finds a page of interest and turns to read ‘Slavery and the Mining Dynasty’. There are twenty pages in this chapter and Elizabeth is so tired that the task feels overwhelming. Pages start to move, words floating up off the page into the air in front of her. She’s only slept a gnats amount since Monday night. Outside she hears a thump. It must be the greenhouse thief. She gets up and runs out into the garden too quickly, in a frenzy picking up a spade and rushing for the greenhouse door. It is already open. Running into the greenhouse she looks up to see more grapes have gone. As she leans back to survey the damage she slips on the sand and lands on her back on the greenhouse path, between the vines and tomatoes. Elizabeth is completely winded and lay there, immobile. Crows caw on the roof above her head.
“I don’t know what you’re laughing at. You should be warning me when the thief comes.”
Elizabeth shouts at the crows and then looks through the open greenhouse door. Despite being unable to get up, and feeling the pain that the grazes on her legs are giving her, Elizabeth can’t escape drinking in the beauty in the garden. So peaceful and quiet, apart from the crows. Her foxgloves standing tall, framing the lavender, roses and hydrangeas. Elizabeth picks a tomato and pops it in her mouth. Summer has truly arrived. After five minutes of laying on the floor Elizabeth becomes not only bored, but also a little cold. She tries to stand up but struggles into a sitting position instead. Thankfully not long after this Godric returns home. Noticing the open backdoor but no Elizabeth, he walks out into the garden and sees his nanna on the floor inside the greenhouse. Panicking at first, but then seeing she seems in good spirits, Godric hurries over. He is about to tell her that there had been a call from the laboratory, but thinks better of it.
“The sand worked then, there are lots of footprints.”
Elizabeth throws a look at Godric.
“They’re all mine.”
“No luck catching the culprit then?”
“No, and they’ve taken even more grapes. The door was unlocked too. Did you leave it open when you put the sand down?”
Godric looks sheepish.
“I thought I shut it.”
“So whoever is taking my grapes could just swan in. You might as well have put down a welcome mat.”
Elizabeth looks up at the beautiful healthy vine above her head.
“I don’t know. I grow these grapes for the family, not for strangers to eat.”
“I thought they were for wine.”
“For the family to drink then.”
“Come on, up you get.”
“Ow, ow.”
Elizabeth looks at her grazed leg, red with embedded grit. Godric doesn’t like the look of it.
“Shall I call the doctor out again?”
“Don’t be silly. Nothing a bit of antiseptic won’t cure.”
He lifts her gently and walks her into the house, putting her on the sofa in the drawing room, sitting with her until she falls asleep. As he looks down at her curls he inherited and her little feet he didn’t, he worries. What would she do without him? She doesn’t look cut out to cope alone, even though she would never admit it. He thinks about staying with her over the summer, to keep an eye. He loves Cambridge and knows he could do with the rowing practice he’d get if he extended his time here. He also knows his mother would go nuts if he told her, so he’s not going to do that just yet. He certainly doesn’t want to go home.
✧
Jonathan is talking to his Whip again, this time on the phone from his constituency rooms in Ely.
“Yes, I said to leave it with me. I’m going to deal with it once I’ve finished here. Yes. As suspected, small children. Working in the mines, up to twelve hours without a break. The Congo, midbelt, Angola. We’ve got photographic evidence. There’s no mistake. What a family. I had no idea she was up to her neck in it like this.”
Jonathan can hear the strain in the Whip’s voice as he quietly clips each tone.
“We are so close to announcing your appointment, Jonathan. How will it look? Just sort it, and sort it now. Leave the office. What the hell are you doing wasting your time on constituents?” The more serious the Whip gets the quieter his voice.
Jonathan is worried and remembers what Rebecca told him. That Elizabeth had heard Edward say Tip before he died. She knows. That meddling woman. Edward knew too. He knew the dirty secret. Tip. That’s what he was going to tell her. That’s what he was trying to tell Elizabeth Green. How long would it be before she worked it all out if she hasn’t already? Jonathan suddenly gets up.
“I’ve got to talk to Kat, then I’ll find her. I said I would deal with it and I will. Don’t worry.”
“We’re going to give you a big job, Jonathan. Close this down.”
“I’m on it.”
Jonathan gets up to rush out but is met by a door opening and a little old lady coming in and plonking herself down on the chair, ready to offload her complaint to her local MP. Jonathan looks at his constituency assistant, who fills him in.
“There are still six people waiting outside.”
“Okay, but that’s the lot, then I need to go.”
Jonathan returns to his desk, trapped for now.
“Well then Mrs Draper, what can I do for you?”
Jonathan slumps back down in his chair while looking at his watch, and then back at the elderly lady in front of him.
“Well, I’d like to make a complaint about the hairdressers next door to my property. They have put up an awning and it blocks the light for my little Dickie.”
“Excuse me?”
✧
At Parkside police station, Inspector Abley sits on a chair next to Sergeant Lemon. Wearing just a shirt, Lemon is picking at the spots on his arms; a habit Abley has watched him do for years. Abley stares at Lemon to try to stop him, but Lemon is oblivious. On the other side of the table Dr Eruna shifts uncomfortably in a chair, flanked to one side by a smartly dressed solicitor and another police officer standing by the door. Irritated, Abley continues to drone on in monotone with his questions, a tactic which often is known to successfully wear down the accused in the interview room by simply overwhelming them with boredom.
“Mr Eruna, you were seen publicly rowing with the Dean just hours before his death. We have eleven witnesses who saw you shouting at him, accusing him of all kinds. He was making you cross. Is that when you followed him to his rooms?”
“I didn’t.”
“Can you tell me what you were rowing about? What is this?”
Inspector Abley pulls out the research p
aper Flint tore in half. Dr Eruna is surprised to see the paper but just shrugs, so Abley continues.
“I retrieved it from a bin outside the Garden House Hotel. I saw Professor Flint throw it away after seeing you. There are back ups on his computer. Very glowing about Labzuu. Why would he rip it up?”
The Inspector knows more than he is letting on, but Dr Eruna continues to give nothing away.
“I don’t know.”
“Are you sure? It’s just that Professor Flint made clear his reasons in a letter of resignation we also found on his computer. I wondered if he was sharing those reasons with you over lunch?”
Dr Eruna senses the police know enough to incriminate him.
“Look, we’d just not seen eye to eye on a couple of things. We decided to go our own way, not to collaborate any further.”
Abley leans across the table and glares at Dr Eruna.
“That’s one way of putting it. Apparently, he could ‘no longer live the lie’, no longer support your company, and begged his college colleagues for forgiveness for getting so closely into bed with such ‘an abhorrent company’. He warns them against you in particular. Why is that?”
Dr Abley continues to stare, eyeing Dr Eruna’s every move. Dr Eruna’s solicitor looks at him pointedly to keep a tight lip.
“No comment.”
“You were peers at the college with Edward and Susan, isn’t that right?”
But Dr Eruna throws his hands in the air.
“Now wait a minute. I have nothing to do with their deaths.”
Abley pulls out a tissue and blows his nose.
“They all got in your way. One by one, to make a multi-million pound deal with the college, for your company to hit the big time with, what’s the word, gravitas, kudos, a huge signpost, isn’t it? To have your company backed by a college of such repute. Only both Susan and Edward were dead against it - the college having any involvement. We have found letters on Edward’s computer.”
Dr Eruna thumps the table.
“I haven’t hurt anyone!”
A SOCO enters the room and deposits a mobile phone in a plastic bag next to Inspector Abley.
