Murder at Seething Wells (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 5)

by P. J. Thurbin

  In the reception area he saw a security guard leaning on the counter chatting with the receptionist. Controlling the urge to shout, he grasped the guard by the arm.

  “I’m looking for Dr. Miller. Have you seen him?” The guard straightened up and looked slightly embarrassed to be found away from his post by the door.

  “Dr. Miller left a while ago, sir. He always goes for a row in the afternoon and comes back after tea and works late. But how did you get in without a pass, sir?”

  “Damn the bloody pass, man. Doctor Miller has just confessed to murder and has probably made a run for it.” His remarks were met with a look of incredulity.

  “Contact the police and tell them that a man is on the run. Do you know the registration number and make of his car?”

  “I can find it, sir. It’s a blue Ford. He has a parking place with his name on it by the front- entrance.”

  “Just get on to the police and hurry. I’ll go and check if it’s gone.”

  Once in the car park it was obvious that Miller had escaped. Then Ralph remembered that he kept his boat at the City of Oxford Rowing Club. If he was going on the run then he might have left some clothes and belongings there ready, just in case, or he might have gone to see his wife first.

  Ralph jumped in his car, glanced at his map of Oxford and threaded his way through the traffic. Crossing a bridge over the Thames, he saw a sign to the boathouse. He pulled up on the verge at the side of the bridge and looked down to the meadows that were being slowly covered by the late afternoon mist floating up from the silent river. In the distance he could just see the outline of the Chiltern Hills. The boathouse looked deserted and he thought that he had made the wrong choice and that by now Miller was probably at the nursing home with his wife. He was starting to feel a bit foolish and the cars crossing the bridge were showing their annoyance with his having stopped on a busy road.

  When he looked at the boathouse again, he noticed a blue Ford on the grassy riverbank. He ran to the other side of the bridge and on a bend in the river he caught sight of a rower silhouetted against the yellow winter skyline. The last rays of a feeble sun created a pink hew that made the whole scene look surreal. He lost sight of the rower as the boat disappeared behind a line of willow trees that were bent over as though trying to hide what was going on. Ralph knew that it was Miller, but what was he trying to achieve? He could only go a short way and then he would have to turn around or get ashore at Sandford Lock. He thought of shouting out to him, and for a crazy moment considered running along the towpath. The Lock was 2 miles away and he might be able to catch him up. Realizing that it was a stupid idea, he got back in the car and called 999.

  The operator thought he was reporting an accident and it seemed ages before he spoke to the police controller. He told them what had happened as he drove the car down the ramp on to a side road that was sign-posted Sandford. The road seemed to twist and turn and twice he finished up in a farm lane and had to turn back. Back on the road he pulled over as a police car with blue lights flashing overtook him. As he pulled in to the small car park by the side of Sandford Lock he could hear a helicopter circling overhead. A policeman stepped in front of him.

  “Sorry sir, there’s been a boating accident at the weir.”

  “I’m Professor Chalmers. I reported that someone was escaping down the river.”

  “Well sir, the lockkeeper says that someone in a racing boat rowed right into the weir. If whoever was in it is the person you reported, then there is little chance that they survived. The river’s fast flowing just now and there’s a 10 foot drop to the other side. Very dangerous. Locals know it as the Sandford Lasher.”

  Ralph staggered back as the enormity of what had just happened hit him and the policeman grabbed his arm.

  “Steady, sir. Best sit down on this wall. Was he a close friend of yours?”

  “No, not really; just someone I knew. But I need to make a statement about a lot of things that have happened today.” The young policeman was now looking around for someone more senior.

  “Right, sir. If you’re feeling a bit better, we should go over and talk to my Sergeant, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  After Ralph told his story at Oxford Police HQ, the Inspector then called Inspector Linham in Kingston, who vouched for Ralph. A constable was sent to the Wellcome Centre to collect Miller’s confession which Ralph had dropped when he rushed from the office.

  ***

  After he had made a full statement and drank several mugs of hot sweet tea, Ralph headed toward the M40 and home. It was gone 9 and he would be lucky to be home before midnight. He couldn’t get the picture of Miller rowing into the mist out of his mind. Could it be that in some bizarre way he wanted to feel the surge of the boat through the water one more time? Was he reliving the days when he won the Cup at Henley or was it the coward’s way out?

  Ralph had sensed from the tone of the phone conversation between the Oxford and Kingston police that Linham was less than happy with Ralph’s involvement. His instructions were that he wanted to see Ralph first thing the next morning at Kingston police station.

  ***

  It was early when Ralph walked up the familiar steps of the police station. He had lectures later that day, and if he was going to receive Linham’s wrath he wanted to get it over with. But the Inspector welcomed him with a warm hand-shake. Wilson gave him a rueful smile.

  “Can I get you something from the canteen, Professor? They open at 7.”

  “No thanks, Inspector, I Just had breakfast, but thanks anyway.”

  “So it looks as though you have cleared up the Stephen Chen case all on your own then,” said Linham with a smile.

  “Well it was all a bit of a surprise, in some ways. I only went down to get him to support me in trying to stop the Chinese using the vaccine.”

  “Well, a written confession is always a satisfactory ending to a murder enquiry,” said the Inspector. “The Oxford police are helping me to put the report together, and then we can get it over to the coroner. I doubt that in light of Miller’s confession there will be a full enquiry. But I’m afraid your people at the University will have to be involved and they won’t be too happy about that.” Wilson handed Linham a note.

  “Just came in, Sir. They found Dr. Miller early this morning. His brother is a lawyer in Oxford and identified the body. They found him in a whirlpool that the locals call the Sandford Lasher.”

  “In that book, Jerome K. Jerome’s book Three men in a boat, he described that whirlpool as a good place to drown yourself,” Ralph said gloomily. “But you never believe that someone you actually know would take it literally.”

  Linham took the note and grimaced at Wilson.

  “You know Professor, if Dr. Miller had asked his brother for help or just given himself up, then he may have only gotten an involuntary manslaughter. Who knows, maybe nothing at all if he could convince the jury it was an accident.” said the Inspector.

  “Perhaps with the pressure of his wife’s illness and the Nobel Prize more than likely slipping away, what with all the publicity about his involvement with Chen, it was just all too much for him,” Ralph said.

  “I guess you managed to avoid getting that promotion you were after, Professor?”

  “What was that Inspector?”

  “I think I recall you were aspiring to become the University’s first whistleblower,” the Inspector chuckled. “Don’t worry Wilson, it’s just a little joke between me and the Professor.”

  They chatted on for a while until Ralph realized that he would be late for his lecture if he didn’t get back post haste. He made his excuses and Linham thanked him for his help and said he would be in touch if something cropped up.

  As Ralph drove back to the Gypsy Hill campus, he couldn’t stop thinking about how many lives had been affected by Stephen Chen’s ruthless desire to be wealthy. A day working with young innocent students would be a good antidote.

  __________________

  Chapter 14


  It had been a long day teaching and after clearing up a back log of emails Ralph made his way to the staff bar. One email had put a smile on his face. Kramer had formed a collaboration with the Chinese firm and they had agreed to halt any trials with the flawed vaccine. Ralph had simply replied to Claus Stein– ‘Thanks’.

  It was early evening and the bar was unusually crowded. Some colleagues were holding court with students over a beer, a practice the Dean discouraged.

  “Over here, Ralph.” He spotted Lance seated by the tall windows that

  looked out onto the leafy campus. In summer it was a glorious sight with wide views of the lawns and shrubs over the tree tops. Tonight all he could see were the lights of nearby houses and a winter moon that suggested a frosty night ahead. Jack White was at the bar with David Walker and gestured in Lance’s direction as they weaved through the crowd with a tray of drinks.

  “Jack’s been spreading rumors that you and Harriet Warner have become quite an item,” Lance said as he nudged Ralph’s arm.

  “Very funny. But to be fair, she can be quite effective. Now she and Granger, that would be more like the proverbial match made in heaven.”

  “Assuming she could get in the first punch,” said Lance with a laugh. “But seriously, you must be knackered. Cynthia said that all the drama at Oxford made the news. Now we want to hear the real lowdown.”

  Ralph explained how Miller had confessed to Chen’s murder and then absconded and most likely taken his own life.

  “Maybe. Or perhaps he was making a run for it and botched it,” said Lance.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” said David. “He could just as easily have driven off in the car without all that drama on the river.”

  “Unless he wanted to make it look like a suicide so that the police would stop looking for him,” said Lance as he sat back and took a long swig of his beer.

  “It’s a good thing you teach marketing and not law,” said David with a sigh. “I can just see you trying to sell some of your half-baked theories to a crusty old judge who just wants to adjourn and go home to his supper and a snooze in front of the telly.”

  “Well, I do have some good news,” Jack interrupted. “And a lot of the credit goes to you, Ralph.”

  “Roll the drums,” cried Lance.”

  “Well,” Jack continued, “it seems that Kramer has decided to continue with the SARS Project and our Faculty is going to be funded for another 12 months. I’ve been appointed the new Project Director working alongside researchers from MassBiologic. And just as a little sweetener, they’ve asked me to spend 3 months in Boston at their labs.”

  “Good on you, Jack. That deserves a toast,” said Lance . “To Jack!” They said in unison as they stood up and congratulated him. The bonhomie amongst the four friends attracted some annoyed glances from the other staff, but spirits were too high for a few disapproving looks to dampen their evening.

  “Ralph, I remember you said that Ryan Miller and his team were up for the Nobel Prize. Do you think all this will jeopardize their chances?” David could always be counted on to bring the tone down to a more reasonable level.

  “Their hat is still in the ring,” said Jack. “Although since the Nobel Prize can’t be awarded posthumously, Miller won’t be recognized by the committee. But if they do make it then I’m sure they won’t forget to help Miller’s wife.” It was quiet for a few minutes as they thought of their own families. Ralph broke in.

  “What’s happening with Richard Windham? He’s the one who uncovered Chen’s dodgy reports and had the guts to show them to Harriet Warner.”

  “They’ve dropped the case against him,” said Jack. “But he’s decided to take the enhanced early retirement package the University’s offered and buying a place near Barcelona. Evidently Harriet has got him some work at the local University there as she knows the Dean.

  “Wheels within wheels,” said Lance with a chuckle. “No more late night sessions at the Lamb, eh Ralph? Windham told us how you persuaded him to throw himself at Harriet’s feet.” Ralph resisted the temptation to comment. He knew that Lance meant well but after a few drinks he tended to go over the top.

  David was just the opposite. If anyone could be counted on to move the conversation back to higher ground he was your man, and tonight was no exception.

  “It seems to me that nearly everyone in this tragic series of events was involved in some sort of scam or deceit,” said David. “None of us are saints. Goodness knows I’ve got pretty close to the line myself on occasion.” Ralph seriously doubted that David even knew where that line was, but appreciated his attempts to include himself rather than simply throwing stones.

  “Probably,” Jack agreed, “We are all guilty of one thing or another, even though we may have different motives.”

  “Granted. But money and self-aggrandizement seem to figure somewhere in most crimes,” said David. “It could be cheating on expenses, giving a student a pass mark to cover the fact that you are a lousy tutor, taking paper home from the office for your printer, playing online games at work or putting something up on Facebook when you should be working. We can argue until the cows come home that those things pale in comparison to what Chen was up to, but at the end of the day it is all dishonest.”

  “You’re right, David,” said Ralph.”But when we’re talking about gambling with human lives for the sake of money, even you must agree that Chen went far beyond petty dishonesty.”

  “Of course. But my point is that we are all tempted to be dishonest and here we have a case of someone who stepped over that fine line between what we all cast a blind eye to and something more serious. And this time crime really didn’t pay; certainly not for Stephen Chen.”

  “The law caught up with him in the end,” interjected Lance.

  “No. Chen wasn’t caught by the law,” David pointed out. “It was Miller who regardless of his motives, took action and paid the penalty with his own life, whether by accident or by design. Perhaps if he had turned himself in he might have been seen as a hero instead of a murderer.” Lance was obviously not comfortable with all the serious talk.

  “Look you lot, I only came here to talk about Rugby and have a few pints,” said Lance. “Ralph, you missed a cracking game at Twickenham on Saturday. Oh, and by the way, I proposed to Cynthia at half-time. And before you buggers ask, yes, she accepted.”

  “You old dog,” said Jack.

  They all toasted the future bride and groom and promised to throw a party at the weekend.

  “You’re the last man standing, Ralph,” said Lance. “If you give Katie a call tonight and pop the question maybe we can have a double wedding.”

  “You never know,” replied Ralph. As they stood up to go Lance sneezed.

  “I think I might be getting the flu,” he gasped.

  “Better hold off until I get the vaccine ready,” laughed Jack.

  “Bugger off you lot,” Lance grunted. The stars over Gypsy Hill were very bright as they made their way out into a frosty clear night.

  ***

  In a late night call to Katie he shared the good and bad news about the case and they agreed that a week in Devon over the spring break was just what they needed. A bit of quality time in their cottage by the sea would do them both a world of good. The hedgerows would be starting to bloom and the daffodils would line the roadside. They might even get some nice weather and Ralph could take the Gypsy Lady out for a sail while Katie cantered over the moors on her lion Majestic.

  Later that week Ralph saw an article in the Surrey Comet about the old lady who had discovered Chen’s body on the slipway.

  Mrs. Valerie Wilkins has been successful in her campaign to have the disused filter- beds at the old Seething Wells Waterworks kept as a wildlife habitat and not turned into an apartment complex by Marian Corporation. A victory for Valerie over Goliath.

  _________________

  almers Mysteries Book 5)