by Jay Gill
“Occasionally, Kelly would challenge a teacher on a topic or fact, mainly for the sport of it. Maybe she did so because she wanted to show off to classmates or because she was bored. Teachers soon learned Kelly was correct pretty much all the time or at least had a well-thought-out argument on most subjects.”
From our table in the tea shop, we looked across the street and could see Flo waving and pointing to another shop she wanted to visit. Richard waved back and nodded agreement.
I was eager for Richard to keep going with his insights.
“There were lots of ways she could have killed her father. She deliberately chose a way that didn’t kill him outright.
“Young Kelly waited until her father’s attention was elsewhere, then she put the farm tractor into motion. When paramedics and police arrived, he was found pinned to the concrete wall of a barn by one of the tractor’s forks.
“Do you think she ignored his pleas for help? To this day, I still wonder whether she spoke to him while he writhed in agony before eventually dying from multiple organ failure and massive internal bleeding. What do you think the young Kelly might have said to her abusive father?”
Despite what I knew of her I was still finding it hard to make the leap from abused child to murderer.
“Do you have any proof she did it?” I asked politely.
Richard scratched the side of his head with his thumb. He scrunched his nose. “Good question. Everything I have is circumstantial. Kelly claimed she was helping her father and that what happened to him was an accident. Who would argue otherwise? It was only over time that my interest in her grew. As time passed, I got calls from other forces asking for background information on her. That’s when I started keeping records. I thought one day someone would come knocking on my door. And here you are.”
Lucky me, I thought.
“What happened to her next?” I asked.
“Kelly stayed with her aunt, her mother’s sister, in London. Theresa left the hospital she was working at and joined them. The farm passed to Theresa and continued to be run by a management team. It was eventually swallowed up by an investment company owned by Kelly. She then expanded the farm business overseas. Her investment company is global and has many interests. Its portfolio ranges from pharmaceutical research to property development.”
“That answers the question of wealth. She seems to have no limitations when it comes to lifestyle.”
“She made sure she has no financial limitations. She’s a shrewd and tough businesswoman. Anyone working for her soon learns not to challenge her authority. Years ago, after a botched merger caused a downturn in profits, the CFO and COO made a move to oust her from the board. Before the takeover gathered momentum, both the CFO and COO died in a helicopter crash.”
“Helicopter crashes aren’t uncommon,” I suggested. I knew very well what Lyle was and what she was capable of, but I didn’t want my head filled with rumour and hearsay; I wanted as accurate a picture of her as possible, so I had to challenge Richard a little.
To prove his point, he swiftly continued. “A project manager for her property development company, a guy called Alan Wilson, mysteriously disappeared after some financial irregularities were discovered.
“Only Wilson’s hand was ever found. The hand had been sawn off and sent by UPS courier to the company’s accounting department. Word soon spread among management and staff that Wilson’s hand was a message to anyone else who might consider dipping their fingers into the Lyle cash register.
“Once again, however, she could not be tied to the disappearance. As a smokescreen, she even put up a million-pound reward for information leading to his whereabouts or the arrest of the perpetrators. As I said, she’s a smart lady. As well as a dangerous one.”
Flo took us home and Richard slept for a couple of hours. Flo showed me to the attic, and I pulled out some boxes of files and started looking through them.
Flo pulled a dust sheet off another pile of boxes. “It’s done him a lot of good talking to you,” she said. “I see glimmers of my old Richie. He spent years gathering all this. Little by little, piece by piece. He wants you to have them now. He hopes you can finish what he started.”
“I hope so too. He’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve what he’s going through. Neither of you do.”
The pressure I was feeling to stop Lyle had just got more intense.
I loaded the boxes of files into my car and returned to the house to find Richard up and taking another round of tablets.
“I’m surprised I don’t bloody rattle when I walk, the number of these I take,” he grumbled.
As he walked me to my car, he grabbed my arm. “There is a lot of information in those boxes,” he said quietly. “It could take weeks if not months to go through it all. My advice is to start with her time at university. She was young and full of ambition and somewhat vulnerable. It was the time before she got smart enough to properly cover her tracks. I never quite got time to fully look into that time of her life. You might just get lucky.”
Saying goodbye to Richard and Flo was emotional. I’d grown fond of them in the two days I’d spent with them. Although he was a tough old sod, I wasn’t sure how much fight Richard had left in him. I promised I’d stay in touch.
Chapter Thirty-Two
After leaving Flo and Richard’s home, I decided to stay at a hotel overnight. I couldn’t face the drive back to Dorset, and, in truth, I was keen to delve into the case files piled up in the back of my car. I sent Cotton a text message to let her know I was okay and making some progress. At least I hoped I was.
I ordered room service, settled down with a notebook and spread Richard’s reports out over the bed.
I started with the case files Richard had suggested I look at first. It didn’t take long before I understood my next move. I was about to call home when my phone rang.
“Where are you, Daddy?” It was Faith, and she sounded excited. “I was hoping you’d be home by now. I wanted to tell you about my test at school.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m working, and I’ll be a few more days. You can tell me now if you want.”
“Okay. So, it was a spelling test. You know how I need to work on my spelling, don’t you? I practised and practised with Monica and Nana Hardy, and do you know what I got? It was out of twenty. Guess, Daddy. How many do you think?”
“I don’t know. You say you practised them a lot.”
“Uh-huh, over and over. Just guess.”
“Eight out of twenty?” I joked.
“No way. Really? Are you kidding? Eight? Daddy thinks I only got eight.”
I heard Monica in the background say, “He’s messing around. You surprise him. Tell him what you got, sweetheart.”
“I got twenty out of twenty,” Faith said with pride.
“Wowee! No way. Really? Well done. That is fantastic! Twenty, you say?”
“Yep. Not one wrong. The hardest word was ‘consequential.’” Faith diligently spelt it out for me over the phone.
I then spoke to Alice, who was in the middle of messaging a friend on her phone to arrange a sleepover and didn’t chat for long. She passed me to Monica.
“It went well today,” I said. “I’ll be away another day, two days max. How are you? You sound different. Like you have something on your mind.”
“Really? Nothing in particular.” I could tell Monica was holding back, but I didn’t press her. She’d tell me when the time was right. “Your parents send their love. They popped in earlier.”
“Thank you. I love you and miss you. Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”
“It’ll wait. I love you too. I’d better go. Let you get on. Look after yourself.”
“You too.”
The call ended, and I found myself rubbing the phone on my chin, thinking about Monica’s tone. I’d not heard her sound that way before. I put the thought to one side and carried on reading.
I sipped single malt from a teacup and read as fast I could. I had qu
estions and wanted to phone Richard, but it was late. I knew he wouldn’t mind – he’d probably welcome the excitement – but I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. I’d call him in the morning, perhaps.
From what I could tell, Lyle had been the victim of a serious assault while at university. It had led to an arrest, and a young man had been charged. The phone rang again. This time it was Cotton.
“Evening, James. I got your text.”
“Emma, before you ask, I’m going to be a few more days. Tomorrow I’m heading to Lyle’s old university to speak to them about an incident that took place during her time there. How are things your end?”
“Shit. But I won’t go over it now. I’m too tired. I’ll wait until you get back here. There’s no point burdening you with it. Stupid as it sounds, I just needed a little reassurance that you’re making headway. No matter how small.”
“I feel surer than ever that the only way to get out in front of her is to think like her. The only way we do that is if we understand her. We do that by digging into her past and speaking to people who knew her.” I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt.
I could hear Cotton stifling a yawn. “Okay. I’m going to try to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day. Again. Please stay in touch. Call me if you get anything.”
“I will,” I said. The bedside clock showed it was just past midnight. “I won’t be far behind you. Just one thing.”
“What?”
“I need you to call the university and get me in front of the person in charge, probably the chancellor.”
“Anything else?”
“Tell them it’s a murder enquiry. I need to see all they have on Kelly Lyle and another former student…” I flicked through the papers strewn on the bed. “Here it is: Jacob Gregory. If they put up resistance, threaten them with a warrant. And if you have to, you could suggest you’ll make their life hell by arriving with a team of detectives to turn the place upside down.”
“Goodnight, Hardy.”
“Does that mean you’ll do it?”
“Yes, I’ll do it. Goodnight,” she said with exasperation.
The call ended, and I punched the air.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I arrived on campus early and headed straight to the office building. I was quickly informed I wouldn’t be able to see the chancellor but that the vice-chancellor, Sir Martin Arnez, was expecting me.
“Come in, detective,” said Arnez. He put out his thin hand, which I shook. “Take a seat. I’ve asked Julia McKiernan to join us,” he said. “Julia is our head of HR. She’ll be taking notes of our conversation. I’m sure you understand.”
McKiernan smiled and turned to the first page of a new notepad. I guessed she was in her early sixties. She wore navy trousers and a jacket that looked tailored. Her hair was short and dark and flattered her petite features.
Speaking to both McKiernan and Arnez, I said, “Of course. You understand the conversation can go no further than the three of us. My being here is part of an ongoing murder investigation.”
“My lips are sealed,” said Arnez. He pretended to zip his lips closed with finger and thumb the way a child might.
McKiernan studied my reaction. I had a feeling she missed very little of what went on within these grounds.
“I’m not entirely sure how I can help,” Arnez went on. “You see, this ‘incident’ between Miss Allerton and Master Gregory was before my time.”
I’d learned from Richard’s case files that Lyle had taken her mother’s maiden name of Allerton while at university.
“It was also before the time of the current chancellor,” Arnez continued. “Unfortunately, the very person who might have known a little more, my predecessor, has, sadly, passed away.
“The whole misunderstanding between the couple in question was, of course, handled most professionally and delicately by the police. They understood the need for discretion in this distasteful matter and acted accordingly. You see, the university itself had very little to do with the events that took place. Events that eventually became something of a tragedy for all involved but have long since been resolved to everyone’s satisfaction. It seems you’re rather late to the party, as it were. It appears, therefore, you’ve had a rather wasted journey. We’ve really put the whole sorry matter behind us and moved on. It’s sometimes best to let sleeping dogs lie. Don’t you think?”
I let his words hang in the air and waited until McKiernan finished scratching with her pen. I was more than a little angry at his attitude. I was used to uncooperative witnesses, but this guy took the biscuit.
McKiernan coughed gently and shifted in her seat, her eyes moving between Arnez and me like a boxing referee’s.
“Mr Arnez, let me see if I understand you correctly,” I said coldly. “Am I right in thinking, Mr Arnez, that the university’s position is that it would rather not discuss the rape of one of its female students?”
Arnez placed the expensive-looking fountain pen he’d been playing with down on his desk. He cleared his throat and then blurted, “This is not kindergarten. We cannot monitor and are not responsible for everything that goes on here between students.”
I ignored him. “A gifted young woman was attacked, beaten and raped while on your campus. An aspiring student full of promise was left shattered and scarred while on your grounds. Betrayed by a fellow student.”
“You’ve got this all wrong,” insisted Arnez.
I steamed on. “And your position is that it wasn’t the university’s responsibility to ensure adequate precautions were taken to ensure every student’s safety.”
“That isn’t what I said at all. It wasn’t like that,” insisted Arnez. “You’re misinterpreting events—”
I spoke over top of him. “A student at your institution was scarred both physically and mentally. Scars that she’ll carry with her for life. Scars that will dictate the course of her life.”
“You don’t know that,” protested Arnez.
“I do know that. And you want to bury what happened. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I think you’re being more than a little unreasonable. I mean to say—” Arnez raised his voice and repeatedly tapped his finger on the desk. “Kelly Allerton was a problem before she ever arrived here. We should never have accepted her. But we did. We offered her a place, despite having reservations, and look what happened.”
McKiernan stopped writing.
I waited for Arnez to calm himself. I spoke soothingly now. “She’s to blame?”
“Not entirely, of course.”
“Are there any members of staff who were here at the time of the assault? The truth, please. I’d rather not find out later and have to come back.”
Arnez sipped a glass of water. His slender hands were trembling. “That’s what I’m saying to you, detective. There is no one here from that far back. It was over twenty years ago.” He stretched his neck and cleared his throat. His discomfort was plain to see. We both now knew the university’s position on what had happened. He looked between McKiernan and me, wondering whether to say more.
“Well, it seems you are correct: I’ve had a wasted trip,” I said abruptly. “I apologise for taking up your time.”
I got to my feet, shook Arnez’s moist hand and waited for him to show me out. McKiernan closed her notebook and got to her feet.
“I am truly sorry we couldn’t assist more,” said Arnez. “We take all crime very seriously. Especially crimes of this nature. It’s just that it happened so long ago.”
“You’ve been more helpful than you realise. Just one more thing before I go,” I said, as if it had just occurred to me.
Arnez flinched.
“A large donation was made to the university at the time of the assault. The university’s financial records show a gift of seventy-five thousand pounds from Charles Gregory.”
“I would have to check that,” muttered Arnez.
I pulled out a sheet of paper showing the tran
saction and held it towards him. He smiled weakly as he put on his reading glasses and examined the printout.
“Ah, yes. From what I understand, Mr Gregory was a very generous donor – we have many donors who contribute to the university’s welfare. It’s not unusual to receive large sums such as this.”
I said, “Considering the timing of this donation, can you see how the payment might be construed as an incentive to sweep the allegations against his son under the carpet?”
Arnez spoke calmly. “I see what you’re getting at. The timing is a little unfortunate. You’d have to speak to Charles Gregory to be sure, but I think at the time he expected the whole debacle to blow over. That it was nothing more than a lovers’ tiff. The gift was a kind of compensation for any inconvenience caused to the university.”
McKiernan stiffened at these words.
“A lovers’ tiff, you say,” I repeated.
This appeared to be another example of Lyle bearing the brunt of the abuse of male power. It was more likely the money was to ensure the allegations were dropped. I’d need to check to be sure.
McKiernan showed me out. She seemed in a hurry. At first, I thought she was keen to get me far away from the bumbling Arnez, but then she asked me to wait while she checked her computer. I took a seat outside her office. She returned a few minutes later.
“Goodbye, Detective Hardy,” she whispered as she discreetly passed me a folded slip of paper.
Once in my car, I unfolded the note. It was an address in Majorca, Spain, for Mr and Mrs Charles Gregory, the parents of the young man charged with beating and raping Kelly Lyle.
It looked like I was going to need to pack a few things and catch a flight.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Emma sat alone at her desk checking notes, cross-referencing names, facts and interview notes and catching up with her correspondence. It was dark outside, and she should have gone home hours ago.
