by Charlot King
“Is it really that time of year already?”
“Anyway, I was talking about you.” Emily rubs Elizabeth’s arm.
“I’m okay.” Elizabeth smiles and sighs. Emily then remembers.
“Did I tell you that I’ve managed to get those tickets for us to see Carmen at the ENO?”
“A treat. Thank you. What are you eating?”
Emily picks up the menu, looks up and notices the pianist.
“This chap is good, isn’t he? I think he’s studying for his doctorate at Caius you know. I’m sure I’ve heard him play at a recital there. I suppose this is pocket money.”
“It’s good to see you, Emily.”
“Let me look quickly and get something ordered. I have just an hour and then I have to give a lecture at two this afternoon on Greek Philosophy, the Socrates years.”
“If I wasn’t so busy I’d sneak in the back.”
“Normal busy, or busy on police work? I’ve been calling you all morning. I saw the news. That golfing policeman waffling on and I recognised your garden. The hundred and one bird tables in those silver birches, and Bertie in the background watching them intently.”
“The garden is trampled like the playground of a herd of elephants.”
“So is it true?”
“What do you mean? Is death true? Yes, it comes and comes. You should’ve been on my lawn at midnight last night. Poor, poor Edward.”
“Why didn’t you ring me this morning? I could have come over to be with you.”
“Funnily enough I had a lecture this morning, and I’m behind in the meadow glasshouse. And what’s worse, the police are entirely clueless as to the cause of death, I’ve been trying to work it out all morning.”
“Isn’t it too early to be stepping back into those shoes?”
“It’s been a year. It’s still too early for everything. Eating. Laughing. But this, I’m simply needed.”
“Has Inspector Abley asked you to get involved then?”
Elizabeth pauses and looks down at the table.
“Not exactly.”
“You mean you’re meddling Liz. Where have I heard that before?” Emily smiles wryly, “And what about Godric? Without your watchful eye he’ll get up to all sorts of mischief. And don’t tell me you haven’t got enough college and departmental work?” Emily looks at the essays next to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth’s beady green eyes narrow. “You know there was an odd man with Professor Flint today, Eruna? Some company he owns and runs, called Labzuu. You heard of them?”
“No, I can’t say I have. Why?”
“His eyes were too close together. Something about him. Why did he tell me he knew Edward? It felt like a subliminal confession. But then again, maybe the lover did do it? She’s acting hysterical.”
“Oh really, Bunny. If you are going to talk murder over a perfectly innocent meal, then can you start at the beginning.”
“They took his cardigan away.”
“Whose cardigan? What are you talking about?”
“Gerald’s. There was blood all over it. I think Edward’s been murdered. I can feel it. His wrist had cuts. Why?”
Emily is upset for Elizabeth.
“He’ll always be with you.” Emily pauses, knowing the words won’t make anything better, but needing to try to help heal the wound “I can talk to the police. Get it back for you, if you like?”
“Nothing comes back Emily. We’re on a carousel, spinning round at five hundred miles an hour. We cling on, or fall off. Some of us, like Edward, are pushed.”
“Well, I wish you wouldn’t get involved with that Inspector. He gets you to do all the work, then he takes all the glory. Spends half his time on the nineteenth hole, that one. That’s what Cuthbert says, wearing some loud golf sweater.”
“Don’t be too hard. He’s just a man. He’s agreed to take Godric for a round as his guest.”
“I bet his report card at school always said ‘could do better’.”
“All the more reason to help him do better.”
“Don’t get wrapped up in all this again. As your friend I say stay out.”
“I’m fine.”
“We all know what stress can do.”
“I’m fine. I’ll tell you what is stressing me out though. My greenhouse thief. They’ve been at it again. Taken some more of my grapes. But they won’t get away with it. I set my dictaphone up in a corner this morning. If they come in again I’ll catch them on recording.”
“But that won’t last the whole morning, will it?”
“I’ve got to try something before I lose all my crop.”
At that moment the mâitre d’ comes back with a glass of wine for Emily and half of stout for Elizabeth.
“Are you ready to order?”
Emily looks at Elizabeth.
“I’ll have the grape salad please. Have you any fresh in today?”
Emily rolls her eyes and smiles at the mâitre d’.
“Plus a young bean penne pasta, please.” She looks at Elizabeth who nods. “Make that two, but no pesto on Professor Green’s”
The mâitre ‘d replies.
“It’s organic, vegan pesto.”
“Then yes please. I’d like that very much.” Elizabeth smiles, surprised and pleased that at least one person in the catering industry is listening to her today.
21. Passport to Nowhere
Dropped off earlier, Susan stands on the ugly wide concourse outside Cambridge railway station. Mature trees which once lined the entrance have been chopped down like some Dr Seuss Lorax massacre, and bicycle racks removed to be replaced by a lazy architects dream of stark office buildings, budget hotels and affordable flats. Her eyes can’t seem to settle on anything beautiful. This drab picture of the future unplanned, the first sight any tourist sees of Cambridge is enough to make them jump straight back on the next train to King’s Cross. Susan has had time to drink her second coffee and smoke her third cigarette, having deliberately got here early so as not to miss her train. She watches the queues for tickets spiral round back near the snake of taxis. Glad she pre-booked, she stubs out her cigarette and brushes shoulder deep through tourists staring at the departure board next to Marks & Spencer. Susan carries her tightly packed shoulder bag, walks up over the station bridge to platform seven and begins to relax as she spots a space on a bench in the all-weather shelter to wait for the 12.35 to Stansted. Unzipping her backpack she pulls out Edward’s passport, looks at the picture in the front, then throws it in the bin adjacent to the shelter. Susan hasn’t noticed that further down the platform police are waiting, masked by a number of tourists. Susan checks her watch. She imagines the hot weather she’ll be flying into, and can’t wait for the freedom and escape. Perhaps she’ll have a drink of Amarula cream for Edward and watch the sunset over Camps Bay beach. Just a day away from that picture postcard. Sometimes you can even see dolphins putting on a show. It is then that Susan sees the reflection of the police in the window of the shelter. As soon as she spots them, they disappear. So jittery, she wonders if she imagined it, hopes she imagined it. But then another police officer flashes past as just an image in the glass. Her stomach does a twirl and she makes her way down the platform and back over the bridge. She looks behind her and can see the police officers following. Her walk turns into a trot and then a canter. As she gets to the barriers she can’t find her ticket. Where is it? She puts her bag down and shouts at the ticket man to let her out in the panic. He shakes his head.
“Not without a ticket.”
She scrambles and finds it in her pocket, and puts it in the barrier which opens. But as she walks through a policeman grips her shoulder and Inspector Abley walks from the entrance and shouts.
“Miss Susan Bunt?”
Susan nods and he continues.
“We would like to speak with you abou
t the death of Edward Wiley. We have reason to suspect that someone might have murdered Mr Wiley, and we would like it if you could help us with our enquiries back at the station.”
Inspector Abley spots that Susan’s scarf has come loose, and he can see red marks around her neck, perhaps from the necklace? Was Elizabeth right? Susan protests, and tries to shake her shoulder free from the officers.
“Oh no. Please, please. This is wrong. I’m going to miss my plane.”
“We’d like it if you’d accompany us to the station.”
“No!” Susan punches Inspector Abley and runs past him. The police officer who had her by the shoulder chases and catches her, holding her up against a taxi, the same taxi in which she got a lift to the station. The driver winds down his window and speaks to the policeman.
“Serves her right for not tipping me.”
Inspector Abley follows, holding his nose from the punch. When he reaches the commotion he doesn’t hesitate to read her rights to her.
“Susan Bunt, I’m arresting you for assaulting a police officer. You do not have to say anything. However, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. And we will also be questioning you over the death of Mr Edward Wiley while we’re at it.”
22. Hiding Something
Susan sits across a table opposite Inspector Abley in a particularly drab windowless room at Parkside police station. Inspector Abley’s nose is still red from where Susan punched him earlier. A police officer guards the door and a recording device sits on the table, though Inspector Abley still prefers the old cassette system and argued as much when they were phased out. His Sergeant has already pushed ‘record’ half an hour ago, but they are getting nowhere with this morose woman sitting opposite. She hasn’t looked up for the entire interview, just shuffling her feet and clutching at her face occasionally. He tries again.
“Perhaps you could help us with this?”
The Inspector places a photograph on the table in front of Susan and studies her reaction closely. The photograph is of the red and black beaded necklace Elizabeth found in her garden, next to Edward Wiley. Susan glances at it for what seems like half a second and looks away.
“It was found close to Mr Edward Wiley on the night of his death.”
Susan doesn’t even look up to answer but shrugs.
“Dr Bunt, it is obvious to all that you have marks on your neck, which look very much like the print such a necklace might make if it were to be pulled against your skin. Given the proximity this was found to Edward, and the fact that you admit you were with him the night he died, perhaps close to when he died, might we deduce that this is your necklace?”
Susan stares at the floor, subdued. She does not answer.
“Can you please look at the photograph again Dr Bunt.”
Susan then lifts herself on the chair and looks Abley directly in the eye.
“Are you going to charge me? Because it feels like you don’t have any evidence and you hope I’ll just hang myself.”
Abley is not deterred. “I don’t want anyone to hang themselves. We can do this forensically. Just look at it please.”
Susan continues to look down. Abley is used to this.
“Listen, Dr Bunt, the quicker you answer our questions the quicker we can get to the truth. We believe Edward was murdered. We have asked if you wished to have a solicitor present and you declined. I ask again, would you like us to fetch the duty solicitor, as you won’t be leaving until you answer our questions. I have to caution you that you have been arrested for assaulting a police officer and will be charged with this offence.”
Susan looks up and studies the photograph carefully, then looks at the Inspector from under her fringe and nods.
“For the record, Susan Bunt is nodding, indicating that this is her necklace. What was Edward Wiley doing with your necklace?”
“For God’s sake, how do I know? I’ve already told you, it was taken.” Susan hides any expression from Abley by hiding her face in her hands.
“Why were you leaving?”
“I was going on holiday.”
“Perhaps this time you would care to elaborate, for the tape. What holiday? Where?”
“A safari.”
“You like big game? I hear the best place to see them is in the Serengeti or Masai Mara?”
“I’ve missed my flight now, haven’t I?”
Susan feels claustrophobic, trapped. How did they know to catch her at the station? It must have been that woman who came to visit. She’d clocked her bag. Who was she? Now in here, being accused of murder? It was all over now. If she could have just escaped to the big skies of Africa, she would have been able to forget what had happened. It wasn’t her fault. She kept telling herself that.
“Why did you run away from us?”
“Like the gazelle runs from the lion.”
“This isn’t a joke. A man has been found dead, with your necklace in his hand. You are the last person seen with Edward.”
“I know my rights. I can say no comment.”
“Were you the last person to see Edward?” Abley knows full well that this was Elizabeth, but wants to test Susan’s response.
“No.”
“All the evidence suggests that you were.” Abley knew he shouldn’t have said that.
“So prove it.” Susan is beginning to look sweaty. “Can I have a cigarette?”
“I’m afraid the station is a no smoking area. You were seen in a restaurant with Mr. Wiley the night of his death. Can you confirm this?”
“We’re lovers all right? Worked that out have you? He’d just got back from Africa and I hadn’t seen him in a while, okay?” Susan pauses, the reality of his death hits home. Abley continues
“What did you both do after the meal had finished?”
“Went our separate ways. I was a little narked as he was going back to his wife. He was always promising he would finish it, but then he’d say he couldn’t for this, that or the other reason. There’d never be a right time. Last night, he said he was really going to do it and I believed him. But he still made me really mad as he said he couldn’t come back with me. I couldn’t help have a niggling doubt. Anyway, he went home, and so did I.”
“You say he made you really mad. Yet you don’t have anyone who can vouch for what you did next? Did anyone see you?”
Susan hesitates.
“I was on my own.”
“So those marks on your neck were not sustained while you were busy pushing Edward into the river from the bridge?”
Susan breathes an impatient sigh.
“Edward left me in the restaurant. Afterwards I was going to walk along the river path to get home, as the moon was full. It was a beautifully peaceful night. But -” Susan isn’t sure how this is going to help matters. It surely will just complicate them, or they won’t believe her. “I got roughed up down blind man’s alley. There was a kerfuffle.”
“A kerfuffle?” Inspector Abley leans back in his chair.
“Someone made a grab for me. It felt like they were trying to strangle me for a moment, then they ran off. It was really weird. I was so shook up. The marks are from where they held tight my neck.”
“All they took was your necklace? That’s rather useful, isn’t it? Fits with everything. Why didn’t you report this earlier?”
Susan was right, they didn’t believe her.
“I don’t know why I didn’t report it. I knew I had a lot of work to do, to finish my paper before going on holiday. I’ve been up all night. Look, they’re beads. Nothing I could report to the police. Can I have it back?”
“Tell us about the necklace.”
There is a lull, Susan is exhausted from the questions which seem to be going round and round. Her head begins to swirl a
nd she starts to feel clammy.
“May I have some water please?”
Inspector Abley nods to the police officer by the door, who in turn disappears to get Susan some water.
“Tell us about the necklace.”
“Edward bought it for me on his last trip to Africa. I love black and red, and I guess that’s why he bought it?”
Abley presses Susan further.
“So we’re meant to believe that you were walking down an alley, and this happened the same night Edward died, when someone robbed you of it?”
“If you don’t believe me why don’t you have someone look. I am sure they’d find scuffed cobbles and my DNA all over Senate House Passage. I got attacked, end of. Surely big brother will have CCTV somewhere. All that college money to protect.”
“You were rather close to Edward then? We believe he fell, or was pushed, from Garret Hostel Bridge.”
“I didn’t see. I wasn’t there. I’ve already told you. Hundreds of times.”
“It all sounds a bit... you’re saying that someone tried to strangle you?”
With her head in her hands, Susan hears the police officer come back in the room. She looks up to see him carrying a cup of water. Abley is a little irritated that it has broken his flow of conversation, but can see Susan is struggling and so nods for the officer to give Susan the water. He does so and then returns to guard the door. Susan takes a long drink and puts her fingers in the cup and drips the water on her forehead. Abley presses her once more.
“Please continue.”
“I’ve told you. It did feel like they were strangling me for a moment. Then they’d gone. Just like that.”
“And what did this person look like? Did you manage to catch any distinguishing features in their appearance?”
“No, just think, if I had remembered them then I’d have an alibi. Please, can I go or are you going to charge me? I really am beginning to feel unwell.”
Inspector Abley puts the passport on the table in front of Susan.