Ralph found himself wishing that Katie didn’t have to live in Paris, but he knew that teaching at the Sorbonne would give her a chance to get her career back on track. It was a step down from being Professor of Education at Kingston University, but she had to do it if she hoped to claw her way back up the academic ladder and he was happy this opportunity had come along for her.
“But I don’t want to waste the evening talking about packing up crates of books and old lecture notes. Tell me about the play last night.”
“I was surprised at how many people turned out for it. The play was interesting, all about how some doctor in the 1800s discovered that the cholera bacterium was spread through contaminated water. And it led to the big treatment plant at Seething Wells being built.”
“In Australia they’re pretty careful about letting any bugs or bacteria get in from other countries. They even spray the inside as well as the outside of all international planes before anyone is allowed off. It can be quite a shock if you’re not expecting to get fumigated as part of the Aussie welcome. But I remember you said you were only there because Granger didn’t want to spoil his own weekend so he commandeered you to go in his place and glad-hand a bunch of scientists.”
“Too right. He does have a knack for sliding out of things that are unlikely to
promote his own interests. But I must admit it was interesting what those scientists are doing. From what I could understand, even though we in the West don’t think about it that much, there are still a lot of diseases like Cholera rampant in other parts of the world. Nearly 2 million died of AIDS in 2011 and finding how to cure or prevent that and a plethora of other diseases we probably haven’t even heard of is still a big challenge for scientists around the world. It’s also big business for the drug companies. Millions of pounds are spent on research every year and of course that produces a great deal of rivalry.”
“Ralph, you’re doing it again,” Katie admonished.
“I thought you were interested in what the play was all about,” Ralph replied.
“You know perfectly well what I mean,” Ralph Chalmers. “I didn’t ask for a lecture on pandemic diseases, I was merely asking whether the do was a real pain or if you actually enjoyed it.”
“Well, you know how those things are,” Ralph said in his usual noncommittal style.
“Who was there? Anyone I know?” asked Katie.
“I did see Lance and his pal Jack White who works at the Faculty of Science. Oh, and by chance, one of the chaps from the Wellcome Center at Oxford, Dr. Ryan Miller, was from my old college at Cambridge. I was a year or two ahead of him, but anyhow, he’s now the lead scientist for the Trust. He told me that he went to school in Kingston and had rowed in the annual regatta as a lad. He knew some of my old pals at Cambridge and had actually worked with them when he did his PhD. He’s quite a chap; rowed for Leander at Henley in the Diamond Challenge Cup some years ago and won by five lengths. He still has a boat near the Isis Club at Oxford and rows regularly.”
Katie held up her hand to stop him.
“Ralph you’re doing it again. You know I’m not interested in chapter and verse about some guy I don’t know and neither did you until last night. Tell me about Lance. Was Cynthia with him? When they came down to Devon they were getting pretty cozy.”
Ralph always got annoyed when Katie interrupted him. But he had to admit he did get a bit carried away sometimes. It was easier talking about rowing or pandemic diseases or anything besides people and their complicated relationships. Lance was one of Ralph’s colleagues and Cynthia was the curator of the Museum at Dorich House, which was part of the University. They had all been on holiday in Devon and Cynthia and Katie had become good friends.
“No. He said she was doing something up in London so she couldn’t make it. I think she’s too independent to think about settling down, although I think he’s quite keen on her from what I can see.”
As they speculated about whether Lance and Cynthia would actually take the plunge or if her liberated view of life would keep the altar at bay, and chatted on about what was happening at their cottage in Devon, and Katie’s riding and his sailing, the food arrived. Katie had ordered a whole plaice with the house salad and Ralph his favourite meat pie, peas and mashed potatoes. It was pub food, plain but well cooked and tasty.
After the usual topics had been covered, Ralph asked casually if she had heard that the police were investigating the suspicious death of a man found early that morning by a woman out walking her dog not a stone’s throw from where they sat contentedly drinking their coffees.
“What? You mean to say that a man was killed right here this morning and you just sat there having your dinner and chatting away about rowing and some play you saw last night and didn’t even bother to tell me?”
“I just told you,” Ralph said as he braced himself for the onslaught.
“Ralph Chalmers, you are impossible. And how do you know all of this, anyhow?”
“Well, I just happened to be out for my morning run along the river and saw the police tape where they had cordoned off the area where evidently the body was discovered. I asked some chap who was fishing down there what happened and he told me what he knew, which wasn’t much. Evidently the dead man was Asian of some sort, and they think he was connected with the University. They thought it could have been a hit and run, but that’s about all I know.”
“Oh come on Ralph, if I know you, you’ll be out there trying to solve the mystery before the police.
That event you were at was near there, wasn’t it? I expect the police will want to know if you saw anything suspicious.” She said with a laugh.
“You know, I was wondering if that chap they found by the river was actually at the do at Seething Wells last night.” Ralph said as he finished the rest of his coffee.
“Why? What makes you think he might have been there?”
“Well it was only a short walk from where the play was held to where he was found and if he was connected with the University he could have been walking home when someone attacked him.”
“I thought you said the police thought it was a hit and run? Leave it to you to turn it from a hit and run to an attack. And just supposing you are right, for all you know, you and everyone in attendance at Seething Wells may very well finish up being suspects.” Katie folded her arms and stared at him.
“I don’t think it is a trivial matter,” Ralph said in that tone he used when he thought Katie was acting irreverently.
“Stop being so uptight, Ralph. I was only teasing. Of course it’s sad that a man has died, but that doesn’t mean that someone killed him on purpose.”
“You’re right. But the police don’t know for sure how he died. At least they didn’t this morning. And if it was murder, then it would have happened just about the time I was heading home. The play ended about nine-thirty and I guess it was after ten by the time everyone congratulated the actors and did a bit more schmoozing. Most of the University gang had come by car, but Ryan Miller and the blokes from the Wellcome Trust were walking back to the Ditton Lodge where they were staying; it’s only about a 15 or 20 minute walk. Some of the chaps were talking about going to the pub but I’d had enough socializing for one evening so I made my excuses and left. It was nearly eleven by the time I got home.”
“So everyone is accounted for and you can just relax and enjoy the rest of your weekend. At least promise we won’t spend the rest of it looking for murderers and villains under every rock,” she laughed.
“I hope you’re not planning to drive back to London at this time of night,” Ralph said, looking at his watch. “I made the guest room up just in case.”
“I brought my overnight bag hoping for an invite. Come on. I may even let you drive our car if you’ll promise to wait until the police find out what killed that poor man before jumping to all sorts of conclusions.”
As they drove back to his apartment Ralph glanced across at Katie. She had been busy sorting out her move to Paris and they ha
dn’t spent much time together for the past few weeks. He realized with a pang just how much he would miss her.
________________
Chapter 3
Ralph was based at Gypsy Hill, the University site that housed the Faculties of Business and Law. There had been some recent building developments on campus but Ralph had managed to keep his office in Kenry House, once a Victorian mansion. As he flicked through his lecture notes his secretary Janice knocked and brought him a cup of tea and some of her homemade cakes. The other admin staff rather snidely referred to her as old school but Ralph translated that to mean that she was professional, personable, and good at her job.
“I trust you had a good weekend, Professor Chalmers. Is there anything in particular you wanted me to do today?” Ralph knew that this was just Janice’s way of reassuring him that he was in good hands.
“Fine thanks, Janice. The main thing is we need to get the grades into the system once I’ve marked these scripts.” Ralph swept his arm over the stack of assignments. “I should have them done before my lecture at eleven. Otherwise the week looks fairly calm, although we need to schedule in time for me to see those students who are borderline.” Ralph could see that Janice wanted to say something but she was too polite to interrupt before they had settled the business of the day.
Finally, when it was obvious he had nothing further, she said, “Terrible business about poor Dr. Chen. I heard about it on the radio just before I left for work.”One of Janice’s strengths was her network of friends in the other faculties that she had built up over the years. By now she probably knew more about the dead man than the police.
“I heard that the police were investigating the death of a man who may have been connected to the University, but I had no idea it was someone on the staff,” Ralph replied.
“He was over at the Penrhyn Road Campus. He was Head of the Center for Biologic Research. My friend June is the secretary in the Faculty of Science and said he was always polite; very quiet. But he was Chinese.”
Ralph smiled inwardly. Janice had been a secretary at the British embassy before she came to the University and her remarks about anyone other than the English were always carefully chosen.
“I understand he was heading up a large industry funded project into a way of preventing SARS, that flu epidemic from Asia a few years back.” Janice saw all diseases as stemming from some Asian of African source, a view that had not been substantiated but which she never questioned.
“He came here from the National University in Singapore. When I mentioned it to my husband he told me that those research projects can cost millions or even billions of pounds. He said that over 6 billion dollars had recently been granted to one of the American universities to study the SARS virus over a five year period and that to develop and license a cure would cost 100’s of millions. He was surprised that Kingston was in a position to attract that sort of funding as they aren’t really in that league.” Ralph knew that Janice’s husband was a freelance scientist of some note and that gave her some sort of kudos among her admin friends. She never missed the opportunity to criticize scientific work at the less prestigious research centers on his behalf. Ralph wondered why he had not been briefed about the research in case the Oxford Group had brought it up at the Seething Wells do, but now was not the time to chatter on to Janice about it.
“Well, perhaps the funding is coming from outside. I doubt the University has that sort of money to throw around. Let’s hope that the people at the Science Faculty can carry on the work without Dr. Chen. I’m sure it must have been quite a shock for everyone there.”
Janice sensed that she had said enough about the inadequacies of the Faculty of Science and hoped Ralph would not take it personally.
“I’ll get those grades up for you as soon as possible,” Janice said as she closed Ralph’s door and went back to her desk.
***
Ralph was a bit disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm his students displayed during what he viewed as a very erudite lecture, but over the years he had got used to students being rather listless on a Monday morning. He had to admit that he had been a bit preoccupied with the death of Dr. Chen and how he could easily have been the one to find the body if he had gone for a drink with his colleagues after the play and been walking home an hour or two later.
Back in his office he checked his diary for the name of a fellow student at Cambridge, James Portwood, who was now at the Cambridge Institute of Medical Research at Addenbrooke Hospital. He waited while the operator put him through to Dr. Portwood’s secretary.
“Ralph Chalmer’s. Now that’s a blast from the past. How are you, old boy? Are you still trying to drum some sense into those business students of yours down at Kingston?”
He had not seen his friend for a few years. The last time had been when they both stayed at the Oxford and Cambridge Club in London and had dinner together and swapped stories about their jobs and how the world had changed since their days at Cambridge.
“Must have been a blow,” Portwood said when Ralph told him about Chen’s death and that the police were treating it as suspicious. “Especially if it happens to a colleague or friend.”
Ralph explained that he didn’t know Chen personally, but of course it had been a shock to everyone at the University. Ralph’s real reason for contacting James Portwood was to see if his old pal could shed some light on Chen’s work on SARS. Having exchanged the usual pleasantries he told him about the research Chen had been carrying out at Kingston before his untimely death.
“There was some sort of ruckus at a recent World Health Organization Conference. It
seems that your Dr. Chen was putting up quite an argument that another flu pandemic was on the cards. There is no known cure for SARS and no protective vaccine available that is safe for use in humans. Antibiotics are ineffective, as you probably know. Chen had probably latched on to the fact that the SARS genome had recently been found to have crossed the zoonotic barrier.”
“Hold on, Portwood. I’m just a layman in this area. What does all that mean in plain English?”
“Sorry old chap. It simply means that the virus can jump from animals like cats and bats to humans. Or vice versa. It’s said that the source of the last SARS outbreak came from the Palm Civet, a sort of tree cat that is sold as food in the local markets in China. The outbreak started in Guang Dong Province.”
“Surely the sale of it has been banned by now.”
“It’s not that easy, Ralph. There are thousands, perhaps millions of markets and for the people there it’s a way of life. We Westerners are no different. There’s an expensive coffee being sold in America called Kopi Luwak that’s made from berries found in Palm Civet excrement. No accounting for what people will buy if it’s fashionable.”
“I take your point, James, but how quickly can this virus get from say, China, to the rest of the world?”
“It’s passed from person to person by those who’ve handled infected birds or animals and from infected fluids. What with world travel being what it is and the huge populations in cities, it can quickly turn into a pandemic. Governments are rightly worried about it. You remember how people panicked about Bird Flu. They even made a film about it, although they used a bit of poetic license there, I suspect.”
Ralph thought of the play he had seen a few nights earlier. He knew Cholera was spread by bacteria which could live for years outside the human body, but from what he understood, viruses such as SARS could only live and multiply inside a bird or other animal or the human body.
“But it’s not all gloom and doom,” James went on, “We scientists and the WHO are not just sitting on our thumbs. Apart from a worst case scenario where some terrorist group might actively spread the virus, there are lots of people on the watch for any new strains appearing in patients. That’s why the old folk queue up every year for a new flu jab. We try to keep ahead of things. It’s a global operation to keep track of any new viruses that pop up so we can nip them in the bu
d.”
“What about the work that Chen was doing?” Ralph asked. “Do you think it was important enough that someone might have wanted to stop him?”
“I’m not a policeman, Ralph, but I’d be surprised if much progress could be made unless top scientists were involved.”
“I see,” Ralph replied. He knew that his friend meant no slight. He was just stating the obvious. If important breakthroughs were being made it was much more likely to be at one of the big research centers either in the UK or America than in a place like Kingston.
“Many of the top scientists are working on ways of tackling SARS and similar diseases,” said James. “Back in 1908 Ehrlich and Metchnikoff received the Nobel Prize for their theory that a toxin could be delivered in such a way as to destroy a specific organism. A
few years later a cure for Syphilis was available using that approach. Ryan Miller, a chap who was here a few years after we were drinking our way through finals, did his PhD work into the way that a virus latches on to the cell in the human body, although he wasn’t looking at a cure for any specific disease; more about how the process worked. The outcome of the research would apply to diseases such as Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s and say, Type 2 diabetes and many others.”
“It might be a coincidence, James, but I met Ryan Miller just the other evening at a do at Kingston. He’s at Oxford and connected with the Wellcome Trust.”
“Small world, Ralph. Miller was very ambitious. He was likely to have been nominated for a Nobel Prize if he’d kept his work up, but like a lot of bright young men, he got a taste for the lions. I heard that he lost a packet and had to move on to escape his creditors. Eventually he got himself straightened out, married some bright mathematician and finished up at Oxford, or so the rumors go. He’s probably sorted himself out and got a dog and a couple of kids by now,” he said with a laugh.
They chatted on and agreed to meet for dinner sometime in London.
Ralph sat back in his chair. Out of his window he could see the pine trees swaying in the breeze. He wondered how much Miller had wanted that Nobel Prize and if he was still gambling and had debts, or if he had settled down and become part of the Oxford scene; dinner parties with friends, walks with the family on Sunday mornings and lunch at a pub by the river. Ralph couldn’t help contrasting the imagined life of an Oxford don with his own life which centered on his teaching and the occasional sailing weekend in Devon. He was rudely awakened from his reverie by Janice telling him that there were three students waiting to see him. He mumbled something about last minute Charlies and asked her to show them in.
Murder at Seething Wells (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 5) Page 2
