'-Mark Jacobs,' inserted Nathan.
'That's right, Mark Jacobs. He is also enrolled on our English course and is a student of Nathan.'
Logan lent forward against Stephanie's desk and jotted the last part of her answer in his notebook so that it would be clearly obvious to Rachel. She knew the wheels and cogs inside his head were turning, probably in the wrong direction, but still turning all the same time and his theory she would soon enough be privy to the knowledge of.
'Where can we find Mr Jacobs?' asked Rachel.
'Well if he's not down at the local coffee shop sporting the dribble he calls slam poetry then he will be high somewhere on the campus. Check the toilets in Derwent College on University Road.'
'Nathan, that was just on one occasion. It's not fair to have the detectives believe our students are all high on Marijuana. It only happened the one time DCI Lambert and he assured us it was a one-off attempt at the drug and he wouldn't try it again.'
'You don't believe that Mr Lambert?' quizzed Logan.
'I wish I could say no but I don't trust him and I'm sorry Stephanie, but nor will I ever.'
'Why do you not trust him Nath,' asked Rachel.
'A feeling-'
'-we can't conclude that Mark is a bad apple-'
'-Stephanie!' Nathan said firmly. 'I have a feeling and I'm not the only one, other professors have raised their concerns with you Stephanie.'
'You are all like little boys in that department. Mark challenges you all and you don't like it because it hurts your penises,' Logan let out a short burst of laughter attempting to hold it back as to remain ever professional. 'I'm sorry DC Langley, but it is just all one ego competition with Mark and his professors,' Stephanie concluded before resting back in her comfortable desk chair, resting her arms on the wide leather armrests.
'It is not like that at all Stephanie. Mark is one of those young gentlemen who believes he knows all the answers before he needs to be taught them. He is second to the rest of the students but doesn't want to or is not willing to see that. He is impossible to teach!'
Silence fell across Stephanie's office as all eyes focused on Nathan, who was standing in the corner still with his arms crossed and a stern dissatisfied expression painted in a shade of green across his face.
'It definitely sounds like that Mr Lambert,' Logan stated jabbing his boot metaphorically in to Nathan's side.
That instantly earned him the glare of Rachel.
'You can find Mark with our guidance counsellor, Willow Greenfield across the road at the West Building. If you ask my assistant on your way out, she will provide your with a campus map. I hope we have been of assistance.'
'You have Stephanie and I'm sure if we need any further assistance, you will be available?' Rachel said softly.
'Of course, you know where to find us.'
Chapter 5
As Rachel left Stephanie's office she could feel Logan's eyes burning into her with a million piercing questions. She had to admit she had been thrown by discovering that Catherine was Nathan's student and the same questions were probably bubbling away in her as they took step after step down the corridor. The counsellors office wasn't too far away across the quad to the building opposite.
'Nathan could be implicated in this case boss, you are aware of that?'
Rachel stopped, looked down the corridor as far as she could and repeated the process the other way, Logan had stopped a couple of feet ahead of her. There was no-one around.
'Just a minute. Logan, I hope you are not implying that my husband has anything to do with this, are you?' the words flowed freer than a river and she instantly regretted them the minute they did. Logan was looking for any reason to kick her off the case so he could take control. With her getting annoyed and full of emotion, could provide him with the ammunition he needed.
'Aren't we putting all members of staff, Catherine had a connection with, on the suspect list?' he asked in the most patronising voice he could.
That was the moment, the very first moment of her life she felt the urge to punch a colleague in the face. Not just a slap that would tickle someone of Logan's physique, no, an actual full fist clenched punch right between his eyes and would see it as a bonus if she broke his nose too. She knew he would make it difficult for her but to suggest that Nathan would be capable of strangling a young woman to her death was simply absurd.
'No, we won't be placing Nathan on the suspect list!' she replied letting her anger vent from her tone.
'If Nathan wasn't your husband and this was just an average Joe Bloggs case he would be,' remarked Logan flippantly.
Rachel huffed and began strolling, Logan followed, she knew he was right. If this was any other case then yes, Nathan would be treated as another suspect. But this wasn't just another case, this was her first case as Detective Chief Inspector and Logan was just trying to get inside her head.
'I'm just wondering if this case would be better handled by someone less involved Rachel,' Logan said softly as he caught up with her.
She ignored him in a vain attempt to take the higher ground, keeping her pace the same and looking straight ahead. He had rattled her though and he knew that.
'Maybe we should have a chat with Superintendent Jepson,' Logan quizzed, seeing how far he could push her, hoping if he pushed hard enough the case would be handed to him.
Rachel stopped again, turned and looking directly into Logan's jealous filled eyes said, 'William Jepson gave me the case when he called me this morning. He knows exactly who my husband is and exactly what he does and where he works. Now I don't believe he would have assigned the case over to me, if for one second, he thought there would be a problem with me leading the investigation. So, yes, let's go and have a chat with Superintendent Jepson. Where you can tell him he is "wrong".'
Where did that bolt of lightening come from, Logan questioned himself. He knew she was feisty but that came from deeper down inside. Maybe she was just angry but he wondered if there was something else too.
'Well Logan? Do you want to go and have a chat with the Superintendent or do we seek out Mark Jacobs?' Rachel asked looking at him impatiently for an answer.
Logan considered his response carefully, she could twist his words with the Superintendent, making them have a completely different meaning.
'Rachel, of course we will seek out Mark together. I'm sorry to upset and offend you with my comments just now. It's just...it's just hard to see a vibrant young woman with her entire future ahead of her just...well...just laid there, discarded like a pile of rubbish. It's just not right.'
Rachel clapped her hands together, 'if I didn't know you better I would have welled up with tears. The sentiment from the words, the compassion in your tone and is that even a tear in the corner of your eye? All that together would have me believing you but I don't and you are not having this case of me either.'
Logan shrugged casually and proceeded onto the counsellors office to locate Mark Jacobs.
Chapter 6
Rachel and Logan had left her office and not a minute too soon. It was a Saturday and she had to deal with this fiasco. Stephanie Wellbeck loved her University dearly, like a mother loved their child, requiring nurturing and protecting from the big bad world outside. This situation required more than a plaster and a soothing hug.
'Do you want me to stick around, Steph?' Nathan asked but didn't receive a response. She was buried in an avalanche of thoughts inside her head. She knew she would have some incredibly tough questions to answer with the board of directors on Monday.
This could cause mass panic, with concerned parents withdrawing their children from the variety of degrees the University offered. That would be unthinkable, if students went then the courses would be under subscribed and what that really meant is the University would loss a large chunk of revenue.
'Stephanie!' exclaimed Nathan.
'What?' she shouted looking up from her desk.
'Do you need me to stay?'
'"Need" i
s open to interpretation, Nathan. You more than anyone should know that. No. I don't "need" you to stay but I would appreciate it if you did.'
Stephanie pointed to the vacant seats across from her own, indicating for Nathan to sit down. He obliged. Whilst he did, she picked up her telephone handset with a recently manicured hand and dialled one, her assistant picked up instantly. 'Two white coffees please Sandra,' she said down the mouthpiece before returning the handset to its cradle.
'Rachel will keep us posted with any developments,' Nathan commented.
'We need a plan, I'm sure I'm not the only one worried,' stated Stephanie leaning forward across her freshly polished desk. Nathan was taken aback by Stephanie's abruptness stumbling his words out, 'why would...I...be worried?'
'You expect me to believe you don't know what I'm talking about?'
'I thought that was forgotten about!'
'How naive you Nathan,' Stephanie said whilst chuckling. 'Just because it is in the past doesn't mean it's forgotten about. Does Rachel know?'
Before Nathan had chance to answer, Sandra knocked on the closed office door and then entered after Stephanie invited her to. She was a petite woman in her early fifties with old age rapidly taking a firm grip. Her brow, permanently scrunched crowned a deep set of brown eyes with heavy bags drooping below. She had little fine hair adorning her top lip and her set of false teeth would wobble about after being incorrectly fitted five years ago.
She had received her call from Stephanie ten minutes prior to Nathan and it was evidently a key factor in her wardrobe choice this morning. Sandra had thrown on the first clean pressed clothes she had in her wardrobe and chosen a mustard woollen jumper and a pair of grey camouflaged combat trousers, bought once on the ill-fated advice of her daughter. Nathan couldn't help but stare before she retreated out of Stephanie's office and back to her desk.
'Does she know?' reiterated Stephanie with firmness.
Nathan retracted his eyes from the door and placed them level with hers, 'no she doesn't and she doesn't need to either.'
Stephanie chuckled, 'Nathan there is a murder investigation underway right on our doorstep.'
'That doesn't have anything to do with us.'
Stephanie throw her arms up in the air becoming increasingly frustrated with the level of stupidity being demonstrated by Nathan.
'Of course it has. A murder has happened on or near our grounds. We are all suspects.'
'I'm Rachel's husband, she wouldn't think of us as suspects.'
Stephanie walked thoughtfully to the side of her desk before perching her tiny bottom on the edge, 'she probably wouldn't but her other colleagues may just do and they will crawl through our past faster than a colony of ants.'
'This is nonsense, Steph, absolute nonsense. I'll be around if you need me!'
Nathan rose from his seat and began walking towards the door, but he was too slow. Stephanie had anticipated Nathan would attempt to leave and leaping off her desk, she ran blocking off his exit.
'Don't try and stop me from leaving Steph!'
'I'm not going to but this University is my life and I'm not having that ruined by a sexual harassment charge against a student being dragged out of the mud,' Nathan stared at Steph hard resisting from slapping her across the face. 'I will happily throw you under the bus if I have to Nathan, just warning you now.'
Chapter 7
Rachel and Logan walked in silence down the bland white and cream corridor inside the West Building, taking Rachel back to her freshman year. A couple of hours drive for her parents with a young naive eighteen year old Rachel Lambert occupying the rear seat behind her mother in the front passenger seat.
Her father would be driving along while her mother would be obsessively telling everybody how to drive. "Could've indicated there," or "he is driving way too close," were her most popular comments. Her father would role his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking and her mother would pretend not to see. When they arrived on campus her mother would fuss over her, insisting on helping with the unpacking and telling everyone she met, including the woman who handed her dorm key, that her daughter was studying criminology and how one day she would be a big-time detective.
Rachel is the only daughter of Charles and Margaret McDonald, a doctor and a geography teacher, who provided Rachel with a solid foundation in life. Her mother was incredibly proud that her daughter had fulfilled the legacy she had so often encouraged.
Rachel now missed those care-free days filled with parties and friends and on the odd occasion, a lecture or two. She was daydreaming and hadn't initially heard the noise from a few dozen students all talking over one another with their speculative conversations.
In the middle of the crowd stood the university counsellor, Willow Greenfield, who would still be the most noticeable woman even in a full capacity Wembley Stadium on a Cup Final Sunday. She was average height, probably about five-foot-six-inches tall with illuminating Magenta hair acting like a beacon amongst the wave of brunette and blond encircling her.
With fear and hysteria consuming, they were all firing questions faster than a machine gun at her, but she graciously managed a smile from ear to ear, radiating the warmth from inside her. Rachel and Logan, now no more than fifty feet away from the crowd, caught Willow's sight and raising her arm upwards, she signalled for the pair to join her, alerting the attention of the students to their presence. The noise paused for a second and as if slow motion everything came to a stand still as the students watched the pair approach.
'I am Detective Constable Langley,' Logan stated as he pulled his warrant card out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket. 'Unless your name is Mark Jacobs or you have any relevant information regarding our investigation, you will need to leave.'
The students ignored him and began bombarding the pair with a million questions. "Who has been murdered?' seemingly the most popular - despite the rumour mill giving them all a strong indication to whom it was - followed by the anxiety of feeling safe with a killer on the loose, no-one knowing if they could strike again.
Willow's attempts at calming down the students had on the whole, been ignored. Her high squeaky voice, similar to one of those cartoon chipmunks and the lack of any actual knowledge of the situation afforded her no aid.
'I need you all to calm down,' Rachel said in an authoritative voice. Not one of the student's listened though still and continued with the barrage of questions.
One spotty nerd in a flannelet shirt his mother had no-doubt bought for him and a pair of beige corduroys, was making the most noise. That was, the loudest noise with the least coherent, though. Logan had waited in the wings but now being surrounded, like a pray to a pack of wolves, was aware that the situation could escalate further out of their control.
'Quiet!' Logan shouted with instant silence spreading across the crowd like wildfire. 'I need you all to go home now. If we need to speak to you, we will at some point in the near future.'
Blank expressions filled the crowds in a wave from front to back, but remained standing around the pair.
'Go home now before I have you all dragged away!' he said firmly and loudly. The crowd began to disperse, mumbling to themselves as they went.
◆◆◆
'Thank you. That was crazier than a frog doing ballet,' Willow said in her high-pitch tone that pierced through Logan's eardrums.
Rachel, a bit more patient with the general public, thanked Willow for her assistance and asked if they could use her office to ask Mark a few questions.
'Of course darlings, perhaps I could tempt you with a good old cup of English tea too,' Willow responded with her hands swirling and whirling around like one of those Octopus fairground rides.
'Thank you, that would be lovely,' responded Rachel politely. Willow skipped away down the corridor and through a door on her right hand side.
'Well, she's a sandwich short of a picnic,' said Logan raising his eyebrows as he spoke.
Rachel sighed and opened the door to Willow's off
ice. It was certainly less functional than they had imagined, although Rachel admitted it was a first for her, there had been no guidance counsellors at Manchester University when she attended there. She'd heard of them being used across in America. Was it just another Americanism crossing the Atlantic? She was less sceptical than Logan but had asked herself the question whether students really required a guidance counsellor?
They both took a step inside and introduced themselves to Mark Jacobs. He was sat in silence on the brightest orange sofa, Logan had ever seen. A large statement three seater sofa that neither were sure of the message it was suppose to be telling.
Rachel sat at the side of Mark, his head was down looking at the floor beneath, a plain old cream linoleum with the odd bit of damage from years of furniture organising. She sat for a moment, composing herself but also allowing Mark more time, he was still crying. Controlled and calm crying, no sound of sniffling, just little droplets of water running down both cheeks. His eyes glazed over without any focus or movement and his hands were clenched together in prayer.
'Mark,' Rachel said gently placing her hand on top of his. 'I am so sorry for your lost. It must have come as a shock for you.' Every word spoken was text book, said with meaning and sympathy but had been rehearsed many times before. She was not heartless, in fact her first five cases as Detective Constable, had reduced her to tears. Now, with over fifty cases behind her now she had become harden to the horrific acts human beings would be willing to do to each other without consideration.
'Mr Jacobs it would be really useful if you could answer a few questions for us,' Logan butting in firmly. Rachel gave him a warning glance and received raised eyebrows in return. Mark didn't reply. Rachel didn't want to drag him down to the police station.
She put her arm around him. 'Mark, I can imagine this is not easy and the last thing you want to do, is to talk about it. But, it would really help us if we could find out what Catherine was doing before...well, you know.'
Catherine Page 4