by D. S. Butler
‘Both William Grant and Albert Johnson still live in the area, as far as I know. I’ll see if I can get their addresses for you.’
‘Thank you. That would be very helpful. I do have a list of other teachers’ names, so if you have any records or contact details for them, I’d appreciate those, too.’ Karen pulled out her mobile phone and navigated to the list Sophie had sent her, and showed it to Terence Smith.
He made a note on a yellow pad. ‘We should be able to help. We do keep old records, so I we can compile a list of teachers who worked here at the same time as Oliver Fox. We may not have current addresses for them, but it should be a starting point.’
‘That would be very useful,’ Karen said, and gave him her email address.
‘It’s all on the computer system, but I’m not great at using it,’ he said, grinning at Karen. ‘They certainly haven’t made our system idiot-friendly. I’ll pass the list on to Maggie Reynolds, she’s head of the sixth form and is fantastic with the system. She’s on a free lesson at the moment, so I’m sure she’d be happy to help. I’ll ask her to email you as soon as she’s done. Is that okay?’
‘Yes, thank you. I know you didn’t work with Oliver Fox, but did you ever hear any stories about him?’
Terence Smith’s expression grew guarded. ‘I’m not sure what you mean. I don’t give the time of day to rumours. I’m shocked a police officer would pay any attention to them.’
Karen was surprised by his reaction. He’d immediately assumed she was referring to something negative. Interesting. Sometimes rumours were all they had, and with a little digging and background research, they turned into solid leads.
‘I meant stories about his time here. His wife told us he coached the football team in his spare time,’ Karen said. ‘But rumours, speculation, I want to hear it all. I can’t afford to ignore anything.’
Terence looked down at the desk. He twisted his fingers nervously. ‘Well, like I said, it was well before my time, but I did hear that there was some tension between Oliver Fox and some of the other teachers, including Bert Johnson.’
‘Do you know what caused that tension?’
Terence shook his head quickly. ‘I have no idea. Bert Johnson did have a reputation for being quite old-fashioned and a bit of a curmudgeon. He was well liked by the students, but he certainly didn’t stand for any bad behaviour. He was strict. Stricter than would be acceptable these days.’
‘In what way?’
Terence looked extremely uncomfortable. He ran his hands through his hair so it looked even messier.
‘Well, I think when he started out as a teacher, they still used to give kids a whack on the back of the hand with a ruler.’
‘Are you saying that Mr Johnson physically reprimanded the students?’
Terence shook his head vigorously. ‘No, I said nothing of the sort. You see, this is why I don’t like to speculate. He was a good teacher, but I’m just trying to explain why he and Oliver Fox may have had a difference of opinion. Maybe they had different teaching styles. I don’t know. I never even met Oliver Fox.’
Karen raised an eyebrow. ‘I see.’
‘I hope you’re not going to put that on the record. It could smear the man’s reputation.’
It couldn’t smear his reputation any worse than the police finding a skeleton in his house, Karen thought.
‘We’re just looking for leads. We don’t intend to smear anybody’s reputation, Mr Smith.’
Terence Smith appeared mollified. ‘Good. I’m pleased to hear it. Now, I do have another meeting . . . unless there’s something else you want to ask me?’
‘No. Thank you, Mr Smith, you’ve been very helpful,’ Karen said, getting to her feet and shaking the man’s hand.
Her chat with the head teacher had been enlightening. There had been some tension between Albert Johnson and Oliver Fox. Now all they had to do was find out why.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Karen checked her messages as she left the school, and rolled her eyes when she saw she had another message from her sister.
It will be good for you. Take a chance. He’s nice, I promise.
Emma was still going on about that blind date. It was the last thing Karen wanted to do. She ignored the message and put her mobile phone back in her pocket before climbing into the car.
It took her less than fifteen minutes to drive back to Nettleham. When she got to the office, she said hello to the officers she passed, but Sophie didn’t respond. She was resting her chin on her hand and staring at the computer screen.
Karen decided her colleague’s recent attitude was worth mentioning to DI Morgan. Sophie was a hard worker, but this job could get to anyone at times. She needed encouragement, and as her senior officers it was Karen and DI Morgan’s responsibility to make sure she was coping with the demands of the case.
Karen headed straight to DI Morgan’s office, but before she could knock on the door, it opened.
He stood there, grinning. ‘Well, it’s done. I am now an official resident of Heighington.’
Karen smiled. ‘Congratulations. That’s great news.’
‘Yes, it is. I’m surprised at how quickly I’ve settled here. It already feels like home. Well, it will feel like home once I get everything unpacked. I might start moving some boxes to the new place tonight.’
Karen looked over her shoulder at Sophie and saw that she was still slumped in her chair. ‘Have you noticed Sophie seems a bit down recently?’
DI Morgan frowned and said, ‘Oh, what’s the matter with her?’
‘I’m not sure. I thought I’d have a chat with her later. I just wondered if she’d mentioned anything to you.’
‘No, she hasn’t said anything to me. How did you get on at the school?’
‘Okay. The place has changed a lot since Oliver Fox worked there. As we predicted, after thirty years none of his old colleagues are still at the school. The current head teacher, Terence Smith, mentioned Albert Johnson. He also mentioned a man called William Grant who he thinks is still local. A teacher called Maggie Reynolds is compiling a list of Fox’s contemporaries, and she’s going to send it to me later today.’
‘Good. Have we unearthed anything else?’
‘Apparently there was some tension between Albert Johnson and Oliver Fox, but Smith didn’t want to speculate. He was a bit touchy about the whole thing. It sounds like Albert and Oliver had a disagreement at some point, so that’s worth looking into.’
‘Definitely. Somehow, Oliver Fox ended up dead in a suitcase in Albert Johnson’s house. The most likely scenario is that they had an argument, Albert killed him and managed to hide it from everyone for over thirty years.’
‘There’s no forensic evidence to suggest anything violent happened at Albert’s house,’ Karen pointed out.
‘No, but carpets and wallpaper could have been changed over the years. It would be hard to say for certain he wasn’t killed there.’
‘Well, our link between Albert Johnson and Oliver Fox is the school, so when we get some more details about his old colleagues, we can ask the appropriate questions and find out if there was a major bust-up between the pair of them. We’ve also got that odd dynamic between Elizabeth Fox and her sister to look into. I didn’t bring up the affair, but Elizabeth mentioned it herself. She said Laura had always been jealous of her and the affair didn’t mean anything.’
DI Morgan raised his eyebrows. ‘I wonder what Laura has to say about that.’
‘That’s exactly what I was thinking. I thought I might pay her a visit. I asked Elizabeth for her address this morning.’
Before they could say anything else, Sophie approached, holding out a piece of paper. ‘I’ve managed to get in touch with DI Goodfield, who headed up the original investigation. He’s living in Bassingham and is happy to talk to us this afternoon.’
Karen smiled. ‘Great. If I go and talk to him, do you want to come with me?’
Sophie’s gaze shifted from Karen to DI Morgan and back ag
ain. ‘If you think I can handle it, Sarge.’
Karen frowned, but DI Morgan didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss. He slapped his hands together. ‘Excellent, although how much he’ll remember about the case if he’s a heavy drinker is anyone’s guess.’
Karen looked at her watch. ‘Okay. I’ll be back in time to drive us to Bassingham this afternoon. I’ll go and see Laura first.’
‘And I’ll try to track down William Grant,’ DI Morgan said. ‘If he’s still local, that shouldn’t be too hard.’
DI Morgan turned and went back into his office, and Karen watched Sophie walk back to her desk with her shoulders slumped and her head bowed. She didn’t have time to talk to her now, because she really wanted to fit in a visit to Laura before they went to talk to DI Goodfield. But on the way to Bassingham, it would be just her and Sophie in the car, and maybe then she would be able to get the young officer to open up and talk about what was bothering her.
It was after midday when Karen arrived at Laura Nicholson’s home on Saxilby Road, just outside Skellingthorpe. It was a detached house with a pebble-dashed exterior, and apart from two farm buildings and associated storage units, there wasn’t much else around. In the distance, there was a long line of tall poplar trees, and a pleasant view of the surrounding farmland.
Karen pulled into the driveway. The house was shaded thanks to high leylandii hedges surrounding the property. The front door was painted a cheerful pillar-box red. Karen got out of the car and noticed how peaceful it seemed, despite the traffic from the busy road.
When Laura opened the door, Karen noted again how similar she looked to her sister, despite the difference in hair colour. She had high cheekbones, a long, narrow nose and pinched lips. Karen wondered if that was due to the fact she was constantly pressing them together.
She wore heavy gold jewellery, including three bangles on one of her small wrists. She had thin, spidery lines around her mouth, and Karen wondered if she smoked. But as Karen stepped inside the house, she didn’t detect the smell of cigarettes.
Laura led her into a small sitting room. The furniture looked old and a little tired, but everything was clean and tidy. Karen sat down on a faded armchair, and a tabby cat wandered haughtily into the room before jumping on to Laura’s lap, curling up and making itself comfortable.
She didn’t offer Karen tea or coffee but got straight down to business. ‘What can I do for you, Detective?’
‘I hoped you could tell me a little more about your relationship with Oliver.’
Laura narrowed her eyes. ‘I see. You didn’t waste your time digging up dirt.’
Karen didn’t respond. She wasn’t asking these questions because she was interested in gossip. She only wanted the truth.
Laura stroked the cat. ‘I’d like to know who told you about my relationship with Oliver.’
It was Laura’s guilty conscience talking; Karen hadn’t mentioned the affair. When she’d used the word ‘relationship’, most people would have taken that to mean how they got along with the other person. They wouldn’t have leapt to the conclusion that Karen was referring to an extramarital affair.
She didn’t want to answer Laura’s question. That wasn’t how this worked. She was the one who needed to ask questions and control the direction of the conversation. ‘We need to gather all the background information we can so we can fully understand Oliver’s situation at the time of his death.’
‘I don’t see why it’s important. It happened so long ago.’
‘Because you were close to him at one point. Maybe Oliver mentioned something to you that could be useful in our investigation.’
Laura gave a little huff under her breath, but she didn’t object further.
‘Were you seeing him at the time he disappeared?’
Laura looked up sharply. ‘Are you sure this is important?’
Karen nodded.
‘Yes, I was still seeing him. I fell for him in a big way. I was naive.’
‘Were you in a relationship with anyone else at the time?’
Laura bit her lip and then shrugged. ‘I was married. To Maurice.’
‘Did your husband find out about the affair?’
Laura gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Do you think Maurice lost his temper and decided to murder Oliver? Is that your theory?’
Karen raised an eyebrow. ‘We’re considering all options at the moment.’
‘Well, I can tell you there’s no way it was Maurice. He was a quiet, mild-mannered man, and didn’t care what I did as long as it didn’t interfere with his fishing.’
‘And are you still married to Maurice?’ Karen asked.
‘No.’
‘Do you have contact details for him? I’d like to speak to him.’
‘He died, four years ago . . . cancer.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I miss him. We never had a great relationship, but when he was gone, I realised how much I took his company for granted.’ The cat purred on Laura’s lap as she continued to stroke its fur.
‘I want to ask you a question, and it might be difficult for you to answer. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Laura.’
Laura pursed her lips.
‘Were you the only woman Oliver Fox was seeing?’
Her cheeks reddened. ‘Do you mean was he having an affair with another woman?’
‘Yes.’
Laura’s gaze dropped to her lap again. ‘I don’t think so.’ Raising her head, she looked at Karen defiantly. ‘And even if he was, it wouldn’t have been serious. He loved me. The only reason he wouldn’t leave Elizabeth for me was the children. It wasn’t just an affair. We fell in love. Of course, my sister didn’t believe that. She likes to tell everybody that I’m jealous of her and that I can’t stand to see her happy.’
Karen listened as Laura talked, mostly about her strange relationship with her sister. Laura had insisted she’d been in love with Oliver, yet she didn’t offer much information on the man himself. She didn’t tell Karen what he was like. She couldn’t tell her anything personal about him.
When Laura had finished her tirade, Karen asked, ‘Did Oliver confide in you?’
‘What about?’
‘Was he having trouble at work, any issues with co-workers or his boss?’
‘No, he never mentioned anything about that. He was a respected member of the community, and everybody admired him. He coached the boys’ football team in his own personal time and didn’t get paid for it. Those children were lucky to have a teacher like him.’
Karen smiled encouragingly, then asked if she could remember the names of any of his colleagues.
Laura looked blankly at her. ‘To be honest, we didn’t talk about his work much.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘Oh, all sorts of things. We had so much in common.’
Laura wouldn’t offer any specific facts, and Karen started to wonder whether her relationship with Oliver had been mostly in her head.
She couldn’t picture Elizabeth or Laura physically overpowering Oliver Fox, but there was an underlying current of jealousy and unhappiness that made the back of Karen’s neck prickle. DI Morgan would probably laugh at her, but her instincts were telling her something was wrong here. Something was very wrong indeed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Karen reached Nettleham just after one p.m., intending to grab a sandwich from the canteen and make some notes before she and Sophie set off to talk to DI Goodfield. She was listening to the local news as she turned into Deepdale Lane. There was nothing being reported about the discovery of Oliver Fox’s body. For now, they could get on with their investigation without worrying about journalists getting in the way.
She parked in a spot near the marked cars. Rummaging in her handbag, she pulled out her purse and walked towards the main entrance of the station. She smiled at the duty sergeant, swiped her card to enter the secure area and headed straight to the canteen. It was busy, and she had to queue, but there were still some sa
ndwiches left. DI Goodfield said he’d be home all afternoon, so Karen had an hour or two before she had to head to Bassingham. She put her lunch on her desk, hung her jacket over the back of the chair and sat down with her notepad.
She wrote: Laura Nicholson – delusional? Odd relationship with her sister?
She was about to unwrap her sandwich when DI Morgan noticed she was back.
He walked over to her desk. ‘How did it go at Laura Nicholson’s?’
‘All right. She believes the relationship she had with Oliver Fox was something special. I get the impression she thinks he was her soulmate. It’s hard to get the full picture when you’re dealing with two different versions of a relationship. Laura describes it one way and her sister another.’
‘Was there any lingering anger or resentment? Any reason the affair could have led to Oliver Fox’s death?’
‘Laura was married at the time she had the affair. It’s possible her husband could have been jealous, although she did say he wasn’t really the type to get in a red-hot rage over it. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to follow up that angle easily because he died four years ago.’
DI Morgan sighed. ‘That’s the trouble with cold cases. Witnesses and suspects have either moved away or died. I’ve managed to track down an address for William Grant, though. I called him and said we would pay him a visit. Are you up for another trip before you go to see DI Goodfield in Bassingham?’
‘Give me five minutes, and I’ll be with you.’
Karen ate the cheese and ham roll at her desk as she checked her messages. There was nothing from Rick, so Albert Johnson must still be asleep, or pretending to be. And there was no sign of Sophie, so Karen assumed she’d gone to get some lunch.
After gulping down the last of the orange juice, Karen logged off the system and went to find DI Morgan. ‘Ready?’ she said.
He grabbed his coat.
William Grant lived in North Greetwell. Karen was grateful it didn’t take them long to get there from the station. DI Morgan drove, following the instructions from the satnav. He turned right into Westfield Approach, and then stopped beside a bungalow on Westfield Drive.
