ROUGH JUSTICE IN ACADEMIA
By
P. J. Thurbin
Copyright P. J. Thurbin 2013, All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. All characters are a creation of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Any reference to historical characters or events is used in a fictitious way.
This book is dedicated to Kingston University and to my colleagues and friends therein
Acknowledgement
Much appreciation as always to my wife and editor, Daisy, who provides her valuable suggestions as a labour of love.
Chapter 1
Ralph always enjoyed the respite and feeling of calm that followed a hectic few days sailing. Now he could sit back in the soft leather seat of his vintage Jaguar XJ6 and enjoy the feeling of power and control that comes with motoring on a good highway. As the car easily devoured the miles he looked out at the passing English countryside. It was late autumn and the farmers were gathering the hay and everything looked green and serene as nature had intended it. The radio station was playing his favourite Mozart piece when the monotone of the news broadcaster broke into his reverie.
“Late last night a man and his wife were attacked while leaving a local theater in Kingston upon Thames. In spite of the ambulance crew’s attempts to save him, the man was dead on arrival at Kingston Hospital. A police spokesman said that they are engaged in a murder enquiry and anyone with information that would help their enquiries should contact them at 0208 555 1212.
This was followed by the announcer reading out some banal dedication for the next piece of music. But Ralph was now thinking about the horror and tragedy that had singled out some poor couple who had been doing nothing more than enjoying a night out at the theater. Life certainly played some bad hands to the unwary as well as the vigilant. It must have been the new Rose Theater, he thought. Not his favourite venue, but one that his University, where he was Professor of International Business, had helped to sponsor, and which was frequented by many of the staff.
The music from the radio had lost its grip on Ralph’s imagination and it was not long before he arrived home, changed and headed to the University. As he drove past the main campus it struck him how functional the building looked. Almost a factory for learning, whereas the Gypsy Hill campus, where he was located, was set in a 50 acre site with two Victorian mansions and beautiful sweeping lawns as a back drop for student halls and modern teaching blocks. The University was preparing itself for another semester and Ralph was looking forward to meeting up with his colleagues and finding out who had done what to whom over the summer break. He had been there for nearly 30 years, and with that had come, over time, a reserved car park space outside Kenry House, but no promotion. He had no stomach for politicking and the focus on academic research that seemed to be the path to the top. He had made the decision to put his energies and imagination into educating students and that was something that was difficult to measure, and hence reward. But that was his choice and he had no regrets.
Running two at a time up the magnificent Victorian staircase to his office, he felt as though these surroundings would not have been out of place at an Edwardian boarding school and it reminded him at times of his rooms at Cambridge where studies in history had somehow been an unlikely stepping stone to lecturing on the MBA at Kingston University, London. He was never quite sure how the connection had been made or even if business was an academic subject. In any event, it certainly provided a lot of people with secure jobs and an easy lifestyle, himself included. A knock on his door told him that his secretary Janice was back at work already. Ralph thought that she probably never took more than a week off during the summer as she was from the ‘old school’ and had told him that she felt at loose ends when she wasn’t at work. She had spent a lot of her life working for the government and was unflappable, almost severe at times, but for all that he wouldn’t have traded her for a dozen of the new so – called administrators who seemed to spend more time emailing their friends on their computers than actually doing their jobs.
“Good morning Professor Chalmers. I hope that you had a good week’s sailing and that the weather was kind to you.” She didn’t wait for or expect a reply as she continued. “Sorry to disturb you, but Professor Granger would like to see you and his secretary said that it was rather urgent. Shall I tell her that you are on your way?”
“Thank you, Janice. Yes the week went very well but it’s good to be back. I’d better go along and see what Granger wants. Then if it’s possible to have one of your cups of tea, we can talk over what we have lined up for the new semester.”
Ralph knew from experience that to ask Janice how her summer had been would have caused her some embarrassment as she would see that as being over familiar. Once she had brought his cup of tea, she would sit in the chair across from his desk and let him tell her his plans. It was a familiar routine and one that they both found comfortable.
A meeting with Rupert Granger, the dean of the business school, was never a pleasant experience for Ralph. It had been difficult enough when Granger had been just the head of school, but ever since his promotion to dean he had become even more pompous. There was something about the man that over the 25 years they had worked together always grated on Ralph. It had to do with the way that Granger wielded the power that came with the position. He was never out and out rude, but Ralph always had a slight feeling that he was being involved in some form of trade off. Granger would consider doing something for you only once you had done something for him. It all struck Ralph as slightly medieval. Perhaps Granger should have been born 500 years earlier.
He knocked on the door of the grand oak paneled office that Granger treated as his fiefdom.
“Come in, Ralph. I thought you were off playing at sailors again. Didn’t fall overboard this time, I hope.” Then Granger gave that chuckle that he always used to punctuate his derisive remarks. Ralph had learned to ignore these quips as he rationalized that it was probably just Granger’s sense of inadequacy that drove his behavior. But today Granger was not demonstrating his usual swagger. Something had upset him badly.
“Look Ralph, you may not have heard, but we had a nasty incident here on Sunday night. You probably remember Jack Royston? Well he and his wife Grace were attacked by some bloody madman or drugged up hooligan as they were coming out of the Rose Theater.”
Ralph kept quiet as he knew from experience not to interrupt when Granger was talking.
“Well Jack died from the attack. He was stabbed, and as usual the police have no idea who did it. They think that it may have been an attempted robbery that went wrong. Jack’s wife is pretty upset, as you can imagine, but for some reason wants nothing to do with the support the University has offered.”
Ralph was shocked to hear Jack Royston’s name and he quickly realized that this was the incident that he had heard about on the radio earlier that morning. It had been 20 years or more since an incident at the University had resulted in Jack handing in his resignation. And apart from the occasional chance meeting in London, they had lost touch, although he knew that Jack’s career had effectively stopped after he resigned. Both he and Granger had been working for Jack at the time, so it was something of a surprise that Granger had not mentioned anything about the incident, even if it was now a long time ago. He spoke of Jack as though he was just some little known member of staff involved in a tragic attack. But now Granger was starting to look very agitated.
“You see Ralph, my wife and I had been at the same play, The Winslow Boy. You may n
ot be familiar with it, but it was one of Terence Rattigan’s plays about a boy who was caught stealing money at a naval college and got thrown out without his parent’s being informed of the enquiry. His parents spent a fortune and wrecked their lives trying to prove his innocence. The message of course is that cheating never pays and there are always consequences.”
Ralph mused at the way Granger assumed that he was ignorant of what must have been one of Rattigan’s most well-known plays. But why was he going into detail about a play when one of their old colleagues had been brutally murdered?
“Well it’s dun now canny lad and nout can be done about it. What’s past is best forgot,” Granger almost drooled as he spoke.
Granger always lapsed into a sort of Yorkshire dialect when trying to disengage from a topic. Ralph had heard rumours that Granger’s father had been a coal miner and Ralph knew from his own experience how difficult it could be to overcome one’s background.
“The funeral’s next Monday at Kingston All Saints and I want you to represent me and the School as I’ll be away in France. I’m off to meet with some European academics and we’re setting up an important exchange programme for students and staff. We’ve got some big guns from the Ministry of Education involved. The whole thing culminates with a banquet at Hampton Court Palace. I’ve asked Peter Cavendish to set up a programme of music that will make it a night to remember. A sort of son et lumier touch followed by a medieval banquet. I was thinking that the VC, myself and our key guests might arrive by barge down the Thames and perhaps have a paddle steamer following with a band or orchestra. But that’s not your worry. Peter will take care of the music. You just make sure that it all fits together.”
Ralph smiled to think that his old friend Peter had been roped in to this event. Peter was Professor of Music at the University and not a great fan of Granger’s. But he was a professional when it came to selecting, playing and composing music for special events. The smart thing about asking him to get involved was that he was a world authority on 16th Century music, and that would fit very neatly into the Hampton Court scene. He had to hand it to Granger, he did know which resources to tap into to make himself look good.
But Granger pulled him out of his reverie as he continued.
“I’ve also got a chap called Joe Bullen involved. The University have decided to outsource all of our catering and entertainment for the event, apart from Peter’s music, of course. Bullen works for a highly recommended catering outfit so I’ve decided to go with them. You’ll need to have a talk with him to find out what he wants to do so you can work everything into the programme. He’s new to the University; ex-army catering corps, and stands no nonsense from what I’ve heard.”
Once again Ralph let Granger’s remarks go over his head.
“And one more thing, Ralph. We’re holding a conference here in the spring. The VC wants to put Gypsy Hill on the world map as a center for industry and academic collaboration. That’s where the money is in the future. He’s decided that the topic will be something around how a focus on employee health can aid profitability. I want you to organize the call for papers and set the conference up. I’m too busy to get involved in the details. Margaret will give you a hand, and you’ve got old Janice to do a bit of the typing if Margaret is busy with my work.”
Ralph grimaced at the impact that the words ‘old Janice’ would have on his secretary. But Granger was on a roll now and anything that he said would only be laughed off as Ralph being prissy or sentimental and old fashioned, so he kept his peace.
“Oh, and another thing, Ralph. I’ve asked Bullen’s firm to do the catering for the conference as well. So you just concentrate on the academic bits. Well that’s about it. I’ve got a lot to do with organizing my trip and the police want to speak with me again this afternoon. Damn nuisance. I’ve already told them everything I can remember about last night. Oh, and give my condolences to Jack’s wife. Not that she has a lot of time for me. But at least Jack had manners, and in spite of what happened all those years ago, I did like him, even if the feeling wasn’t exactly mutual.”
Ralph realized that Granger was actually more touched by Jack’s death than he wanted to let on. Jack’s wife had had some pretty heated rows with Granger over how he and the VC at the time, William Tiverton, now Sir William, had handled things.
Ralph stopped in at Margaret’s office to let her know that Granger was now free.
“Good to see you back, Ralph”, she said. My husband and I watched the race on the internet and saw that you were in the lead for a while until you rounded the Fastnet Rock. Those seas looked horrific.”
“I thought we could keep it up, but my crew and I were no match for the real pros,” Ralph replied with what he hoped would not be interpreted as boastfulness, although he was secretly pleased at the compliment.
“But back to the grindstone now, what with the start of the new term. And it looks like you will have quite a lot on your plate, what with the banquet and the conference that Rupert has planned for this year, not to mention teaching,” Margaret said.
Ralph found it interesting that Margaret referred to the Dean as Rupert when talking about Granger to the staff. In his presence she always referred to him as Professor Granger. All part of a weird ritual that people in organisations seem to like to play, he thought.
“Looks like it, Margaret, and I might be looking to you for some guidance and to let me know if Rupert makes any changes to his plans.” Ralph knew that Margaret and Granger were very close and was wary about letting her know what he really thought about her boss.
Margaret gave Ralph that conspiratorial look that she reserved for when she wanted to protect Granger, or at least gain someone’s support when Granger had behaved particularly badly.
“You see Ralph, Rupert and his wife were at the Rose Theater on Sunday night when Doctor Royston was attacked. Of course he didn’t know that Doctor Royston and his wife would be there. It seems that Rupert left the theater only minutes after the Roystons. Rupert had left his wife and the couple they were with while he went ahead to collect the car and drive it back to the theatre to save them walking up that dark alleyway. He was the first one to come across them as the poor man lay there on the pavement. He tried to help, but when he realized it was serious he called the police and ambulance. But as you know, when the ambulance arrived it was too late. Doctor Royston’s wife was too shocked to recognize Rupert at the time, and it was only when the police told her, that she knew it was him. I think that Rupert realises that if he had left the theater a few minutes earlier it could have been him who was attacked rather than Doctor Royston. He might even think that if he had got there a bit earlier he might have been able to prevent the murder.”
Ralph could see that Margaret was upset more over what had happened to Granger than what had happened to poor Jack Royston. But then she had not been around 20 years earlier, and had probably only heard Granger’s version of events at the time. So he tried to bring their conversation to an end in a way that would not leave Margaret dangling at the end of her story.
“I can see how it must have been a shock for everyone, Margaret. Perhaps at the funeral you might want to try to give some comfort to Doctor Royston’s wife?”
“I’m afraid I’ll be in France with Rupert. He has so many people to see, and it’s important for me to be there to give him all the help I can. So I won’t be able to make the funeral, but I’m sure that you will be able to cover for us all, Ralph.” Margaret’s phone rang before he could respond, so he just gave a nod and made his exit.
When Ralph got back to his office Janice was just bringing in his tea and setting out a plate of her special homemade cakes.
Chapter 2
All Saints Church was at the heart of the community and had been the scene of many funeral services over the centuries. Ralph noticed that there were not many people sitting on the ‘family and friends’ side, and seeing Grace, Jack’s widow, he decided that he would join her rather than align hi
mself with the dignitaries representing the University. He was pleased to see that his two colleagues Peter Cavendish and David Walker had also made the same decision and were seated there with their wives Marcia and Mary. As he looked around he was surprised to see that the current Vice Chancellor was sitting next to Sir William Tiverton who had long since retired, but was the VC when Jack Royston had resigned. There had been a lot of acrimony between Sir William and Jack’s wife at the time over the incident, and Ralph thought that it seemed a bit insensitive for him to have come to the funeral.
There were the usual eulogies and some nice things were said about Jack as is the convention on such occasions. The University choir helped to boost the tremulous and untrained voices of the congregation. Although Peter, the quintessential performer, was in full voice as usual. A reception had been organized for the family and guests in the Town Hall meeting rooms which was just a short walk from the church. As the gathering stood around drinking sherry and exchanging platitudes, Ralph managed to have a quiet word with Grace, who, considering the terrible trauma of seeing her husband killed in front of her, seemed to be taking it remarkably well. But he knew from the old days that she was a strong willed woman.
“Grace, I know there’s nothing I can say that will help, but you know how much we all loved Jack. It seems only yesterday that we were all friends and life was so good to us all.” It was at times like this that words seemed to have little value.
“It’s good of you to come, Ralph. I’m sure Jack would have loved to have seen all his old friends again. But we must accept our fate. What puzzles me most is that Jack seemed to recognize the man who attacked him. Jack had just turned round when he shouted out a name and the man cried out something. It all happened so quickly. Then when I turned around, someone was bending over Jack. They told me afterwards that it was Rupert Granger of all people. I was surprised that he didn’t come to the funeral,” She added, and Ralph noticed a slight tremble in her voice.
Rough Justice In Academia (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 2) Page 1