The Secret Admirer: An absolutely gripping crime thriller (Detective Natalie Ward Book 6)

by Carol Wyer

  His pomposity and gushing monologue served to further annoy Natalie. ‘I’ve no doubt she was a clever young woman but you are sidestepping the real question here. Were you and Gemma having sex?’

  Her direct question caught him off guard and he shifted position before saying very quietly and slowly, ‘No… we did not have sex.’

  ‘Was there any physical relationship between you?’

  ‘There was none.’ He drove home his point by locking eyes with Natalie and repeating, ‘None. Nothing happened between us. Our relationship didn’t extend beyond the boundaries of tutor and student. I value my position at the university, my career and my reputation. I would never compromise any of those by having a fling or relationship with any student.’

  Natalie noted he didn’t say he valued his marriage or family. ‘Then can you explain why you were spotted outside Chancer’s Bar on Saturday, November the third, holding hands with Gemma?’

  He shifted again in his seat and this time adopted a less relaxed pose, both feet now on the floor. He squeezed his nostrils between his forefinger and thumb then nodded as if only just recalling the occasion. ‘Ah, yes. I remember now. I’d stopped off at the bar for a drink after work – I’d been preparing lectures, and Gemma was serving. She was upset about a grade I’d given her for an essay and asked if she could talk to me about it outside. I naturally agreed and when we were outside she began crying. She’d never had anything less than an A grade before and she couldn’t understand why she’d only got a C. I explained that some of her arguments in the essay were flawed and that getting a C grade wouldn’t influence her final grade for the year because she produced consistently high-standard work; that it was merely a blip.’

  ‘You could have told her all that when you returned the essay to her.’

  ‘Initially, she wasn’t upset and accepted the grade and left my office with no comment to make. She reflected on it during the day, and by the time she saw me, she felt she should ask me why I had marked her down. It was no more than that.’

  ‘And you felt you should hold her hands while you told her this?’ Natalie said.

  ‘She was upset. It was only a friendly gesture.’

  ‘But one that could be misconstrued if observed and one that could damage your reputation if it got out you’d been spotted.’

  ‘I was being understanding and sympathetic.’

  ‘Do you often hold your students’ hands when you give them bad grades?’ asked Murray.

  James bristled at the remark. ‘I don’t think that’s a relevant question.’

  ‘Go ahead. Answer it,’ said Natalie.

  ‘No, DS Anderson, I do not. Gemma was emotional and I had a soft spot for her – not in a sexual way, more in a paternal capacity. She wanted to excel, and when she didn’t, she was very hard on herself. I demonstrated human kindness which extended to holding her hands briefly to make my point – that she had nothing to worry about.’

  Murray continued to goad the man. ‘You held her hands in an act of kindness?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And stroked her cheek in the same act of kindness? Funny that. I don’t normally stroke people’s cheeks when I’m being nice to them.’

  ‘It was a paternal gesture.’

  ‘You see yourself in a fatherly role?’ Murray said, resting his elbows on the table. Natalie sat back. Murray was good at intimidating suspects, which often resulted in them confessing to misdemeanours. A bead of sweat appeared on James’s upper lip.

  ‘I am an educator and, in that capacity, I build relationships with my students. I help them attain their educational goals and, like any parent, I am proud of their achievements. You could say there are similarities between what I do and the role of a parent.’

  Murray clicked his tongue. ‘Can you cut out all the high-brow, intellectual lingo and tell me why you stroked Gemma’s cheek?’

  ‘I was comforting her.’

  ‘Comforting her?’ Murray repeated, leaning closer.

  ‘That’s all.’ James wiped a finger over his lips. ‘Honestly.’

  Murray said nothing for a moment then pushed himself back into an upright position, a sign for Natalie to continue.

  ‘We’ve spoken to a few of your colleagues who were at the departmental meeting you attended on Friday evening. I understand you went to the old hall for drinks afterwards?’

  ‘That’s right. I’m sure they saw me there. I was speaking to the chancellor for a while and to quite a few people.’

  ‘Funny you should say that because none of them remember seeing you after six thirty.’

  ‘They probably lost sight of me. We were mingling in the dining hall close to the buffet and in the reception room. I must have been in a different room to them.’

  Natalie let a pause hang before saying, ‘That is possible; however, one of your colleagues said you excused yourself to take a phone call and disappeared shortly afterwards. He was going to the toilets and saw you leave by the side entrance at six fifteen.’

  James’s shoulders sagged.

  ‘Where did you go?’

  He rubbed at his lips again and then heaved a sigh before saying, ‘To visit my lover.’

  ‘Who, James?’

  ‘This won’t get back to Anika, will it? It’s over. We’ve called it a day. I have my family to think of.’

  ‘How very noble. Who is she?’

  ‘Debbie Randle. She was at our house yesterday when you came by,’ he said to Murray.

  ‘Your wife’s best friend?’ Murray replied coolly.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And she’ll be able to confirm this, will she?’ Natalie asked.

  ‘I don’t want her involved in this. Her husband doesn’t know about us and doesn’t need to.’

  ‘But we need to verify your whereabouts.’

  ‘Can you ask her when her husband isn’t about?’

  ‘We’d like her contact details, please.’

  ‘Only if you promise to be discreet.’

  ‘This isn’t a marketplace where you can haggle. We have to speak to her to confirm your whereabouts. Now we can do that immediately or we can leave it and let you stay in one of our cells until we manage to talk to her. What would you rather we do?’

  He was beaten. He shut his eyes for a few seconds, long enough to consider his options, then opened them and said, ‘I’ll give you her details.’

  ‘Before you do that, I’d like to return to the subject of Chancer’s Bar. Why did you previously deny ever going to – or even knowing about – Chancer’s Bar?’

  ‘Because I didn’t want my relationship with Debbie to become public knowledge. I didn’t wish to draw attention to the fact I was there to meet her. If I’d admitted it, you would have questioned me further about my motives for being there, especially in light of the fact Gemma worked there. I ought to have come clean. It was… foolish of me. I see now it would have been better had I admitted it sooner.’

  Natalie’s eyes narrowed at the flimsy excuse. ‘How often did you go there?’

  ‘Only the once.’

  ‘And that was on Saturday, November the third?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m having difficulty working out why you chose to go there. You see, it wasn’t on your way home. In fact, you’d have gone out of your way to get to it. Was it to see Gemma?’

  His voice suddenly sounded tired. ‘No. It was Debbie’s idea to meet at the bar. I didn’t even know Gemma worked there. By the time I spotted the girl, it was too late to walk away. She’d already clocked me and was waiting to serve me. I bought a small whisky and texted Debbie to tell her I’d meet her somewhere else. I quickly drank up and made to leave but Gemma was upset. That part was all true. She was due a break and asked if she could have a quick word with me outside, where she challenged me about the grade I’d given her. I told her what I’ve already told you, and I didn’t hang about afterwards. I drove to the Grey Goose instead to meet Debbie. She’ll back me up on that.’
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  ‘Would you mind waiting here while we look into this?’

  His response was a weary, ‘Fine, whatever, but please don’t do this in front of her husband. I don’t want to ruin her marriage.’

  ‘And what about your marriage?’

  ‘It’s too late to save that,’ he replied.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sunday, 18 November – Late Morning

  Debbie Randle’s voice fell to slightly above a whisper when she discovered who was ringing her and was asked if she could confirm James’s whereabouts for Friday. ‘Wait a minute,’ she said and the phone fell silent. Natalie hung on patiently for the woman to come back on the line. She imagined Debbie’s husband had been present when she’d answered the phone and had not wanted him to overhear.

  ‘Sorry, it was difficult to speak to you. I’ve come outside now,’ Debbie said.

  ‘We’re trying to establish James Younger’s movements on Friday evening, and he has claimed he met up with you.’

  ‘That’s right. We met outside the Bell Inn but we didn’t go in. I got into his car and we drove to Samford Chase, where we walked for a while and then sat and talked. He wanted to end our relationship. Anika’s become suspicious and he was concerned she’d find out what was going on and leave him. I was willing to give up my marriage for him but it turned out he wasn’t prepared to ditch his family for me.’

  ‘What time did you and he part company?’

  ‘I’d say around quarter past ten.’

  ‘James ended the relationship yet you still went to his house yesterday,’ said Natalie.

  ‘Anika invited me for lunch before Friday happened. I wasn’t going to go but James said it would look suspicious if I suddenly pulled out, and that Anika would guess who he’d been seeing. My daughter is good friends with theirs and she’d been looking forward to going. It was hard for me but it is what it is,’ she said. Sorrow had crept into her voice.

  ‘I also need to ask you about a Saturday evening two weeks ago, on November the third, when you arranged to meet James in Chancer’s Bar in Samford. Whose idea was it to meet at that bar?’

  ‘Mine.’

  ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

  ‘He arrived ahead of me because I was running late. I was about five minutes away when he messaged me to say we needed to change the venue. One of his students was serving behind the bar and he didn’t want her to see us together. We agreed to meet at the Grey Goose and I drove there. He arrived a quarter of an hour later. Apparently, the girl challenged him about a grade he’d given her that day and he’d had to have a few words with her before he could actually leave.’

  ‘Did he mention the student by name?’

  ‘No. He said she was a second-year student who had to learn that sometimes her work didn’t deserve the A grade she believed it did.’

  ‘Did he often talk about his students?’

  ‘Not when he was with me.’

  ‘Would you say he likes his job?’

  ‘No, I’d say he loves his job, probably more than he loved me or his wife. It’s everything to him.’

  ‘How long have you and James been involved in a relationship?’

  ‘Since March.’ The sigh that followed was audible and lengthy.

  ‘Did he ever mention Gemma Barnes to you?’

  ‘In passing. She was one of his bright hopes.’

  ‘He didn’t tell you she was the student working at Chancer’s Bar?’

  ‘No, he didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘Okay. Then, that’ll be all. Thank you for your time, Debbie.’

  ‘I know why you’re asking me these questions about James, but he wasn’t involved in that attack on Gemma. James wouldn’t have harmed her and certainly not by throwing acid at her. James hurts people differently. He breaks their hearts.’

  With no grounds to detain James, Natalie and Murray returned to the interview room to tell him he was free to go. He had the grace to look shamefaced, and before he stood to leave he said, ‘I’m not a bad person. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen and I’m trying to rectify the situation and do right by my wife. Don’t judge me.’

  ‘It’s not my place to. I’m only interested in catching the person responsible for killing Gemma.’

  He gave a nod and the officer in the room with them accompanied him out. No sooner had the door closed than Murray let out an angry, ‘Self-pitying prick! So much for being a father figure. He’s only concerned about himself.’

  The skin had tightened around Natalie’s forehead and she pressed her fingers against it.

  ‘I think we’ll try Sasha. She might be able to remember something that will help us.’

  ‘She didn’t know anything the last time we spoke to her – only that Ryan was possessive,’ said Murray.

  ‘She was highly emotionally charged at the time. She’d just found out about Gemma. Since then, she’s had a little time to come to terms with what’s happened and she might think of somebody we haven’t yet interviewed. It’s worth a shot.’

  It was afternoon by the time Natalie and Murray reached Sasha’s house. A jumbled pile of textiles – jade silks, pastel cottons and paisley checks – covered the kitchen table. A photo album rested on top of it, open to a page showing a teenaged Sasha and a toddler, both barefoot, in matching blue-denim bib-dresses side by side on a brick wall, waving at the person behind the camera. Even as a child, Gemma had resembled her mother. Two peas in a pod. The place smelt sour; the culprit, an opened bottle of milk abandoned on the top next to a plate of limp, dark-green lettuce leaves and a half-eaten tomato.

  ‘I’m sorry… I’m not making any sense today. My head really throbs,’ said Sasha.

  She placed the pills on her tongue, winced at the acrid taste, then gulped down the glass of cold water she’d run straight from the tap. Judging by her heavily swollen lids and pink sclera, Natalie assumed constant weeping had caused the headache. Natalie had been told that eyes become puffy through crying because emotional tears are less salty than ordinary tear secretions and eye tissue, so through the process of osmosis, water moves into the saltier ocular tissues, causing them to swell up. It was only a few months ago that, like Sasha, she’d experienced similar tension headaches and had sat immobile with inflamed eyes for days on end. Her heart went out to the woman, who was going through the same agonising emotional turmoil she’d experienced after Leigh had been murdered.

  ‘Don’t apologise. It’s understandable,’ she said, kindly.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Murray asked.

  Sasha shook her head. ‘Tanya’s made me lots of cups of tea during her visits. She’s very kind but I’m a bit sick of tea now. I can’t face anything to eat or drink.’

  ‘You probably need to rest. Have you no one to come and stay with you?’

  ‘My mum might come over from Bristol but her partner’s not very well at the moment, and she and I don’t have the best of relationships. There’s my cousin, Gail, in Blackpool. I could ring her but we haven’t spoken in such a long time that it would be… weird. There was only really me and Gemma. She wanted me to make more friends, and her moving out was part of that plan of hers. She didn’t realise it’s a lot more difficult for me than it was for her. Most people my age are in relationships and don’t suddenly want a new friend tagging along.’

  ‘Do you feel up to talking about Gemma again?’

  ‘Not really but if it will help you find out who did this to her, I’ll try and answer any questions. Did you talk to Ryan?’ She sounded nasal, another result of crying.

  ‘We did.’

  ‘It wasn’t him, was it, or you’d have charged him?’

  ‘We’re still investigating and it takes some time. We found an anonymous note to Gemma in her room. It was signed from “An Admirer”. Did she talk to you about it?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I remember that. It was hand-delivered to Eastview Avenue soon after she moved into the house. I was there when she opened it and read it. We couldn’t
guess who it was from.’

  ‘What was written on the envelope?’

  ‘Only her name.’

  ‘What did she do with the envelope?’

  ‘She threw it in the bin in her room.’

  ‘But she kept the letter. Can you think why she’d keep it? It was in the back of her diary.’

  ‘I don’t know why she kept it. I don’t think it was intentional. We were busy arranging her stuff in the room and I think she left it on her desk after reading it. Maybe it got swept up and slipped into the diary. She might have forgotten it was there.’

  That seemed to make sense. The letter had been with other out-of-date items, but Natalie wanted to be sure that the letter wasn’t significant. ‘Did she get any other notes like it?’

  ‘No. I asked her if she’d heard any more from her admirer a week or so afterwards, but she hadn’t, and by then she’d begun going out with Ryan, and we thought the letter had come from someone who’d backed off when they’d found out she was seeing him. She definitely didn’t get any others. She’d have told me if she had.’

  It sounded logical, and without further notes from the admirer, the letter in the diary appeared to be a dead end. Gemma hadn’t talked about it with or shown it to anyone else. It had simply been tidied away and forgotten in the back of the diary, out of sight.

  Sasha plodded across to a chair and reached for a box of tissues, taking one and blowing her nose. Even with swollen eyelids and an uneven complexion, she was still striking. Nothing could detract from her platinum-blond hair, oval face, slim nose, smooth jawline and perfectly shaped bee-stung lips. She must have had admirers and boyfriends. They knew about Lennox, but was there somebody else who’d maybe been rebuffed by Sasha and targeted the person she loved the most?