Catherine

by A J Hollingsworth

  The trio had reached the dorm block where Mark's room was located, a modern brick built accommodation unit offering residence for over two hundred students. On approach the building wouldn't have looked out of place in London's upmarket Canary Wharf. Laying in front were perfectly manicured lawns with borders filled of small laying bushes and sprinkle of flowers still thriving after the summer sun was fading away and modern black lighting poles that offered a rich glow of white sparkling light across the beige paved paths. The entrance doors was modern carbon steel framework with strengthened safety glass. Whether it had been placed for security reasons or whether to prevent inebriated students smashing through as the staggered back after too many drinks was a question that crossed the ever cynical mind of Logan.

  Mark swiped his student card that he had removed from his pocket moments earlier as they walked down the path and then opened the door holding it open for Rachel and Logan to enter first. The smell hit Logan the moment he walked though. It wasn't unpleasant, it was sweet, homely. The whiff of lavender and peach intruding his nose like a Trojan horse. It reminded himself of home with his wife's obsession over the scented candle, everywhere like maggots over a rotting corpse. The window-sill, the kitchen counter, the television cabinet, the bedside table next to her collection of romantic novels with the worn pages and crinkled edges. One lit a day and burning from sunrise to sunset encapsulating you in a fresh meadow or the waves of a bubbling ocean and the favourite one of always, the scents of the festive period enjoyed with the crackling of a freshly lit fire burning in the tarnished steel. A smile rose upon his lips uncontrollable as they began the climb up the first flight of stairs.

  Reaching the top of the third flight of stairs, the penthouse floor hidden in the everyday university life, the corridors painted an unassuming cream and the skirting recently been refreshed with high sheen white and the splattering of wooden framed landscape paintings of fields of corn, a river running through a valley with high level ferns banking the sides and the one that caught a second glance from Logan, an industrial dock scene painted in several shades of grey, black and white. The torment of the heavy and long days of a long forgotten British trade now romanticised by artists for a quick quid in their back pockets, neither reflecting the hardship felt by the broken and damaged workers who would have endured that pain day after day before job related illnesses took them from their loved ones.

  'We are here,' Mark commented as he swiped his student card along the card reader bolted to the wall beside his room door. Was this student accommodation or an hotel?

  Mark entered the room first followed shortly after by Rachel first and the Logan clipping at her heels. The dorm room was standard design, one window - small enough no to be overpowering but large enough to spray fresh sun light across the entire living space - located on the one external wall opposite the door they just entered through. Along the left hand side was a standard adult size wooden effect laminated bed with a screwed up spotty duvet on top of crunched blue bed sheets and a matching pillow slanted near the headboard that backed onto the external wall. Nestled into the other corner, covered with the same laminate was an L-shaped desk with built-in basic lamp and small CD rack filled with Artisan band albums.

  The walls were covered with old American film posters, Casablanca, Manhattan, Breakfast at Tiffany's and one of Rachel's all time top five film, The Exorcist. The desktop was strewn with jottings on multi-coloured post-it's, the notes for the latest assignment, that he had been working on with his laptop still opened next to them and a mixture of Biro pens and highlighters scattered on top. An array of empty wine bottles cluttered the windowsill dancing with the dabs of light that flickered through them and speckled upon the walls around, offering an expensive alternative to a pound shop disco light ball.

  'I apologise for the mess,' Mark stated. 'I have no excuse other than I am a student and isn't that how we are meant to live?'

  Neither Rachel or Logan answered the question, as they watched Mark reach down to the bottom drawer of his desk and unlock it with a tiny silver key that was attached to his door room card with a standard key-ring hoop. Inside the drawer was an old blue shoebox with the Adidas logo stencilled on top. Mark lifted it up on top of the desk and placed it precariously upon his notes before removing the top and throwing it on his bed.

  He removed a bundle of letters on fancy pink paper with extremely neat handwriting inscribed on them. He handed them over to Rachel who thanked him and standing next to Logan began starting to scan through. The first one was addressed to Mark. The letter began telling him that Daisy was still in-love with him and she felt that with hard work and understanding they could re-build their relationship. Daisy explained in detail how they could do that over the next paragraph or two before the letter took on a very sinister tone that started ringing alarm bells inside Rachel and Logan. Daisy stated that he would have to get rid of Catherine or she would have to take matters into her own hands and do it for him.

  'Mark, what does Daisy mean when she would have to "get rid of Catherine if you don't"?'

  He shrugged as he answered, 'I attempted to talk to her after I received the letter but...' he hesitated.

  '...she wouldn't?' asked Rachel.

  'No she did but it was strange.'

  'How strange?'

  'She was too calm, I was furious.'

  'Too calm? You wanted her to scream and shout at you?' asked Logan.

  'Well, yes. She always had in the past.'

  Rachel stepped forward slightly moving in front of Logan, 'in the past?'

  Mark pulled his chair from under his desk and sat down with a tired expression. 'Yes. If you keep looking there are other letters had me concerned at what Daisy was capable of. I had spoke with her about them and she had started shouting at me and on more than one occasion had punched me, even once leaving a bruise on my arm.'

  'Did you report any of this to wither the University or the police?' Rachel enquired further.

  'No. I thought I could handle her I never thought she would be capable of hurting Catherine. I assumed they were all empty threats. Her attempt at getting me back.'

  'Not the healthiest way to go about it though Mark!' stated Logan.

  Mark buried his head in his hands and through in a muffled voice said, 'I know. What can I say. I should have reported it, I know that now, but like I said I thought I could handle it.'

  'Do you believe that Daisy could have murdered Catherine?' asked Rachel.

  Mark looked up with all the colour flushed from his skin like a ghost. 'Yes, I think she did.'

  ◆◆◆

  Rachel and Logan exited Mark's dorm room with Rachel closing the door behind them.

  'What did you think to that then?' asked Logan with a smile on his face.

  'Probably the same as you do Logan. I'm not sure if he has told us everything. I mean he was very keen to point the blame in Daisy's direction.'

  'What do you want to do DCI Lambert.'

  'I've told you to call me Rachel, Logan. I think we only have one choice at the moment, we go pick up Daisy and see what she has to say for herself.'

  Rachel began walking towards the lift with the letters from Mark in her hand. The fun had just begun, she thought as the pair stepped onto the lift.

  Daisy's dorm room was a short fifteen minute walk away from Mark's dorm. The cool air whistled through the Sycamores that lined West Avenue backing onto Bede Student Resident Hall, with the hall behind them they crossed the courtyard once again and along West Avenue before turning onto Victoria Road. Ten minutes later they were both standing outside another student resident building. This time in much contrast with the first with its stone facade with an early nineteenth century dated key stone above the main wooden door aged with an antique door knocker and matching handle. The windows had been much improved from what would have been steel frames and single pane to modern double-glazing in retro style PVC frames. The grounds once again were well-maintained with manicured lawns and fresh
ly pruned flowerbeds at the base of the residence.

  Rachel and Logan stood in front of the building as a student walked past them in a hurry to stay clear of the cold and the ever increasing grey skies.

  'The forecast promised rain later,' the student commented aloud as she hurried past the detectives.

  'Excuse me Miss,' Rachel spoke almost as quickly as the young woman was striding.

  She turned to face the detectives.

  'DCI Lambert and DC Langley. We are trying to locate a Daisy Reynolds Does she live here?'

  The young woman stopped for a brief second before answering, 'I think so. I've seen here around now and again. Second floor. Not sure of her room number though.'

  'Thank you.'

  Rachel and Logan followed the young lady into the building and then parted company as the pair searched out Daisy's apartment on the second floor. There were no elevator, probably owing to the age of the building, they took their last step and was faced with a long beige coloured corridor. On either side were all matching beach effect doors. Rachel compared the corridor with the ones she had come across in places such as Travelodge. Boring but served the purpose they were built for, probably with a fresh coat of paint being applied during the summer months when the students had all returned home.

  Rachel took the lead and as they approached the first set of doors, one was blank and the other had been decorated with homemade banners and pictures. 'Becca' written in large bubble letters coloured with bright pinks and purples with sprinkles of glitter across blazoned the middle of the door and a picture of, what the pair assumed to be at least was Becca, was stuck near the top right hand corner of the door. Not the girl they were looking for. The pair continued down the corridor with randomly mixed decorated doors until they cam across a room with 'Daisy' stuck on the front in black and gold writing. Logan knocked on the door reverberating the sound of his knuckles clashing against the wood throughout Daisy's room.

  'Miss Reynolds?' called Rachel through the door.

  There was no answer.

  'Miss Daisy Reynolds,' called Logan raising his voice and knocking once again. Again there was no answer but a few moments later Rachel heard a stumble coming from within the dorm room. Logan who hadn't heard had begun to turn to knock on a nearby dorm room.

  'Wait Logan, I can hear someone inside.'

  Logan returned to Rachel's side and knocked once again.

  'Daisy it's the police. We want to talk about Catherine Holmes,' said Rachel through the door.

  A few moments longer they heard some more stumbling around inside the dorm room and Logan growing ever more impatient couldn't resist but knocking again this time, full fisted and with enough strength to almost knock the door of its own hinges. He received a shake of the head from Rachel. He shrugged his shoulders before knocking once more, in what Rachel perceived, was an attempt to get even further under her a skin.

  'Yeah, I heard,' came a females voice from inside the room and few seconds later the door lock being released could be heard by the pair before a very sleepy head peered around the door, the top of a fluffy violet dressing gown could be seen hanging on the edge of the young womans petite frame.

  'Miss Reynolds, Miss Daisy Reynolds?' asked Logan.

  'Yeah that's me, now do you mind telling me what's this about. I was enjoying one of the best dreams I've ever had.'

  'Of course, Miss Reynolds,' answered Logan. 'Catherine Holmes was murdered last night and her body was found this morning at the Museum Gardens. We have a few questions we would like you to answer.'

  'Oh. Of course,' Daisy stumbled the words out with shock as she stepped back allowing the door to fully open. 'You have just woken me, so I haven't had time to get dressed.'

  Daisy stood in front of Rachel and Logan with just a dressing gown on and the skimpiest of underpants underneath. She grasped the opening at the top of her dressing gown, attempting not to flash the detectives her ample bosom.

  'Miss Reynolds if you want to get dressed we can give you a minute or two,' Logan said with an air of understanding echoing in his voice.

  'Please, if you don't mind. Come on in and have a seat,' Daisy responded.

  Daisy stepped further into her room gathering her clothes from the floor of her room before moving past the detectives through another door that had been hidden from view by the main door to her room. Inside her en-suite shower room, she proceeded to slide into her slim-fit jeans and after a bit of untangling first, she popped on her pink bra and then stretched into her crop top that appeared one size too small showing the majority of her mid-drift with her cleavage on show.

  Rachel was offered the only chair in the room, a wooden framed padded no frills chair that had been tucked neatly under the equally plain desk that was neatly organised with everything in certain place as Daisy's design. She gracefully accepted Logan's offer, whilst he opted to remain standing near the main door. A coffee mug rested on a coaster on Daisy's bedside table in front of her bedside lamp, a plain golden over hanging with an adjustable head. The coffee cup was half full, however etched onto the side of the mug was a picture of Daisy with her parents. Daisy wore a cardboard crown with the words 'Happy Birthday' printed on in a range of bright colours.

  'That was taken at my sixteenth birthday party,' Daisy commented as she re-entered the room from the en-suite and had seen Rachel paying close attention to it.

  'You look like you were having fun,' Rachel responded looking at the big smile Daisy had.

  'Yeah my parents are great. Worst thing about life here. I miss them a lot more than I though I ever would. I guess it's a girl thing, the boys don't seem that bothered to be away from home. One big party they see it has.'

  'Not enjoying life at University?' quizzed Logan.

  'Don't get me wrong,' she hesitated not really registering the detectives names when they mentioned them earlier.

  'DC Langley and this is my colleague DCI Lambert.'

  'DC Langley. I do apologise. I was mainly asleep when you knocked at my door. Where was I? That's it. I love life here, may even come back as a professor myself, haven't decided yet. I guess there is still time to figure out that. I just miss my family, never been away from them before,' Daisy said as she looked at the mug on her bedside table.

  'I can appreciate it is hard to be away from family. I felt exactly the same when I was at University. Especially in that first year when everything is just frightening. Not knowing which building you should be in and then when you find the right one not knowing which lecture room you should be in. I always expected to be sat in a lecture about the Roman Empire rather than Criminal Law. Luckily I never made that mistake, but it was always there in the back of my mind,' Rachel said sympathetically.

  'As fascinating as this all is, Miss Reynolds, we need to ask you some questions about Catherine and your relationship with Mark Jenkins.'

  Daisy nodded, understanding they had a job to do and she shook her duvet straight before she sat down on top, picking up her hair brush from the drawer in her bedside table. She stroked it through her shoulder length auburn hair, grappling with the knots that had formed from her antiques the night before.

  'Did you like Catherine?' asked Logan with his notepad and pen at the ready.

  'If you have already spoken to others, then you will know that I wasn't her biggest fan to say the least. That was no secret.'

  'Why not Daisy,' asked Rachel.

  'She stole Mark away from me. I could never forgive her for that. We were so happy and then she appeared with her long wavy hair and fluttering eyelashes. I couldn't compete, so Mark went off with her.'

  Logan continued to jot down notes as Daisy spoke.

  'Did you blame Mark too?'

  'Course not,' Daisy said with a raised voice. 'He is young and gullible. She locked onto Mark the first time she saw him and with a pincher grip took him away and I just couldn't hang on. She had turned his head.'

  'So you were jealous?'

  'This wasn't some kind o
f silly school crush. She manipulated him.'

  'That sounds like reason for murder, Daisy,' Rachel said sternly.

  'You think I murdered her?' laughed Daisy.

  'Jilted lover is the reason why a lot of murders happen Daisy.'

  'I would not kill Catherine because she stole Mark from me, I may put hair removal cream in her shampoo, but definitely not kill her.'

  'Mark supplied us with some letters-'

  '-letters? What type of letters?'

  'Letters that Mark claims you wrote-'

  '-those, I know which one's you are talking about now. Yeah. I wrote a few letters. That's not a crime, is it?'

  'Daisy, you appear to threaten Catherine's and Mark's life in them. Since you have just admitted to writing them I think we are best to carry on with this conversation at the police station.'

  'You arresting me?' Daisy asked puzzled.

  'Yes,' responded Rachel.

  Chapter 9

  Staffordshire University - August 2007

  This was the first day of his career, University Lecturer and Professor, the never-ending years of secondary school, college and university to graduate with a first in English had now hit its own full stop and this was his first teaching post on the start of a new journey. He stood there in the gateway of Lichfield Campus on the verge of greatness, expanding, shaping the minds of the next generations. That was the dream. That's what he repeated to himself on a self loop.

  He walked up the newly laid pavement with a small man-made lake at the side lined with wooden posts and rope draped from one to the other. The main door enticing him closer with each step he took. He pushed open the door and with a map of the layout of the building he made his way down the corridor to the staff canteen, that's if you can call a small room with a kettle and a toaster, a canteen. There was one other professor in the canteen when he entered.

  'Morning, you must be the new kid. I am Professor Michael Morton, History.'

  'Morning, Professor Nathan Lambert, English,' Nathan stated as he held his hand for Michael to shake.