Rough Justice In Academia (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 2)

by P. J. Thurbin

  “You know I’ve got a chance to go to China next year. Seems they want someone to tour the Universities and demonstrate Medieval Organ composition. It might prove to be great fun. Medieval to us is probably modern to them,” he said with a laugh. “I fancy myself in one of those kimono things.”

  Ralph appreciated Peter’s attempt to lighten the mood and noticed that Jim had lost some of his initial awkwardness. As usual, David could be counted on to play straight man to Peter’s antics.

  “By the way Ralph, how is Jane? Jim asked.

  Ralph had known Jane Ryman Jones since they were at Cambridge together as students. She had subsequently taken a job on an archaeological dig in Egypt and married while out there. When her husband died in Cairo a few years later of a tropical disease she came back to England. During the excavation at Kingston around the time of the incidents that resulted in Katie’s incarceration, Ralph and Jane had tried to re-kindle the romance, but it was not working out.

  “Well, don’t go renting a tuxedo just yet,” Ralph said wryly. “Jane has met this chap who she seems to like a lot and they’ve both accepted a contract to undertake a dig in Egypt. It sounds like a pretty exciting exploration somewhere near the source of the Nile. I think that it was probably destined to end this way. We’ll stay good friends of course, and she promised to give me early notice should any wedding plans emerge while she is in Egypt.” Ralph was glad that he had held to his resolve to share the news with his friends.

  There was a moment of awkwardness as Ralph’s friends absorbed this turn of events. As usual, Peter could be counted on to lighten the mood.

  “So well done, Ralph. You’ve slipped the noose yet again. Now it’s just a question of finding a soul-mate who likes sailing, enjoys riding in a vintage Jag, and wants to move into an art deco apartment in leafy Surbiton. Oh yes, I forgot, and also likes solving murder mysteries. Or at least trying to. Speaking of which, how’s the Rose Theatre case going, Mr. Holmes?” Peter was back at his best, tilting at his old friend.

  Ralph explained about his latest theories. He also told them about his conversation with Sir George Rainton about his visit with Katie in Holloway Prison. He noticed that at the mention of Katie, Jim had given a wry grin. They had not parted on the best of terms.

  “Looks like Inspector Linham is getting closer to an arrest. If he could tie Arthur Berick to the scene of the crime and discredit his alibi, then the case would be closed,” Ralph explained.

  “More than a few ifs, to say the least,” David interjected. “Then the prosecution still has the burden of proving the case, don’t forget.”

  “Those are just details,” Peter retorted. “You legal beagles spoil all the fun.”

  “Well, Linham won’t charge him until he is certain he has all the loose ends tied up,” Ralph said. “Lots of pressure from the powers that be to get this one right.”

  “What puzzles me a bit”, said Peter. “Is, don’t you think it’s a bit too much of a coincidence that our Professor Maitland is related to Jack Royston? And that she just happened to suggest that you invite Sir George Rainton to our conference? And especially since Rainton was the lad involved in the cheating incident with Berick’s son, or whatever? Perhaps she had learned from her uncle Jack that Rainton had backed down on his offer to pay off young Ted Berick and that because of Rainton’s actions Jack had to resign. Perhaps she wants to get Rainton here on campus again in order to expose him in some way in front of everyone.”

  “Speaking of a lot of ifs,” said Ralph. “The woman hasn’t been on the faculty more than fifteen minutes and already you have her involved in a conspiracy theory.”

  “I guess it appeals to me because it has a medieval ring about it, “Peter replied. “Maybe Rainton sold you a soft story, Ralph. He might be a villain after all, and Maitland wants revenge for her uncle’s demise.”

  “Peter you talk absolute tosh. I suppose your next deduction will be that Professor Maitland will rush up on stage as he delivers his speech and inject him with a serum that her father brought home from his germ warfare experiments at Porton Down, after which he falls head first into a tray of Ted Bullen’s canapés. It’s all complete fantasy, Peter. You really need to take a break and let the Chinese enjoy a dose of your meandering mind,” said David with a hint of exasperation in his voice.

  “Okay I take your point, David. I might have gone over the top a bit, but you mark my words, we haven’t seen the last of this one yet.”

  Looking around, Ralph realised they were the only ones left in the room, and Joe Bullen’s crew were clearing away the tables.

  “Well I’m pleased that you are at least still thinking about poor Jack and where his killer might be at this very moment. For me it’s home and a good night’s rest,” said Ralph. “Do you need a lift? That is, so long as you don’t bend my mind with any more of your outlandish theories,” he said, putting his arm round Peter’s shoulders as they walked out to the car park. As he glanced down the corridor he thought that he saw Jean Maitland deep in conversation with Joe Bullen, but he wasn’t sure. Perhaps they were sorting out some details about the upcoming conference, he mused. It was a cold winter’s night, and he and Peter were glad that the Jaguar had a very effective heating system for a vintage car.

  Chapter 8

  Sergeant Wilson tapped on the door to Linham’s office before walking in and handing him the forensic report. It was the result that he was hoping for. The DNA on the knife found at the scene of the crime and the one on the records for Arthur Berick was a perfect match. Now he just had to figure the best way to close the case.

  “Good work, Wilson. You did well making the link. But now we must be especially careful. We can’t simply go bowling along to White Marsh with a warrant for Berick’s arrest. In this case it would be prudent to have a word with our learned Superintendent before we take any further steps. After all, Berick won’t be going anywhere any time soon. If the Superintendent thinks that we have enough evidence to charge Berick we’ll have to contact the prison governor and see if he has any suspicions about how Berick could have slipped his guard when visiting Alice in the hospice. I checked with the manager of the hospice a few weeks ago and the dates line up. We don’t want to raise an alarm and scare our warder off. If we want him to come clean and tell us what really happened that night, then we have to tread very softly.”

  “Sir, perhaps we should phone the Governor to find out when Berick is likely to come up before his parole board. That’ll give us a time-frame in which to make our other enquiries, Sir.”

  Linham nodded to Wilson before picking up the phone and placing a call to White Marsh prison. The Governor was soon on the line.

  “You’re a bit late, Inspector. Arthur Berick was released two days ago.”

  Linham had to take a deep breath before he spoke.

  “Well that makes quite a difference, Governor. We have evidence that points to Berick as the main suspect in a murder enquiry.”

  He could hear the Governor chuckle.

  “Not unless he’s committed a crime in the last 48 hours, Inspector.”

  Linham decided that having gone this far it was important that he shared his suspicions about the warder from Transit Pro Secure with the governor. He was not surprised at the response.

  “Well, we have had our suspicions about that outfit,” admitted the governor. “You know that it’s within the rules for us to let prisoners make home or hospital visits and Berick’s wife hasn’t got long to live by all accounts. And especially as he was up for parole so soon, he was eligible on compassionate grounds.”

  “I appreciate your position, governor,” said Linham, realising that the governor was covering himself from any future enquiries.

  “Look Inspector, I can see that this has become critical, and the last thing I want is to jeopardize our security systems. Give me an hour or two and I’ll make some enquiries as to who went with Berick and how much is known about them. If we’ve a flaw in the system, then I for one want
it put right immediately. Meantime I’d appreciate it if we could keep this matter between ourselves. Just give me a couple of hours and I will get back to you.”

  Linham sat back trying to think what his next step might be. The desk sergeant had brought a mug of piping hot tea which gave him time to relax and think things through. His instincts told him that Berick was guilty or at least heavily implicated in the murder. He decided to put out an all points call to airports and ferry terminals just in case Berick decided to make a run for it. He got Wilson to fax them Berick’s photo ID and details at the same time, instructing them to ‘Hold Arthur Berick as a prime suspect in a murder enquiry’.

  “Might be worth going over to the hospice to have another chat with Alice Berick. If Berick is out, then he will have gone to see his wife even if he intended to make a run for it, Sir.” Linham recognized Wilson’s style. Logical and based on taking action. He knew that Wilson would soon be singled out for promotion and moved to another region and he would be sorry to lose him.

  Arriving at the hospice they were given the news that Alice Berick had died and that she was being buried at Kingston Crematorium that afternoon.

  “That’s where we will find our man, Wilson. No time for black ties I’m afraid, but let’s get over there and see if our hunch is correct. We can be there in 10 minutes.”

  It was the usual sad affair. The hearse was unloading the casket and a few family friends and the usual voyeurs filtered into the crematorium. They had left the police car at the gates, and as they walked up the graveled driveway they caught a glimpse of Berick. They waited outside until the burial ceremony was over and arrested Berick as he walked slowly towards the busy streets of Kingston and what he hoped was freedom. It was not to be. Berick made no protest, and after being warned of his rights, he confessed to the murder of Jack Royston, explaining that it was all a mistake and that he had intended to kill Rupert Granger.

  “A good day for the law, Wilson. I had a call from the governor just now and it seems that the warder working for the security company has also confessed. He was getting a bribe from Berick and panicked when he heard that he might be arrested on an ‘accessory to murder’ charge. The governor of White Marsh can now sleep peacefully at night.”

  “And so can the good citizens of Kingston, Sir. And Professor Granger as well,” Wilson added.

  “You’re right. I’d better give Professors Chalmers and Granger a call to let them know that the case is closed. And get a woman PC to go round to Mrs. Royston. Oh yes, and call a press conference. I’ll enjoy making this particular statement to the local papers. For once they might have some good news for the weekend headlines.”

  ***

  Margaret Raynor always took her boss his afternoon tea at 3pm. Today she knew that something was troubling him. There had been a deputation from some of the staff and she had overheard raised voices.

  “Margaret, can you ask Lance Bains to come up to my office straightaway? And get the VC on the phone. It’s urgent and confidential.”

  An hour later Bains was seated in front of Granger.

  “I must inform you that I’ve had a deputation from some of your colleagues. And before I go any further, I am required to remind you that it is your right to ask for a Union representative or a friend to join you. If you need time to arrange that then we can set up another meeting time.”

  Lance was not sure quite what this was about, but he had his suspicions that it was possibly some slip of the tongue or remark that was not politically correct. He knew that his style of teaching involved a lot of interaction and that sometimes he took some risks to get his point across.

  “I’m not sure what this is about, but I’m not in the Union, and evidently I’m a bit short of friends.”

  “Well, Lance, it has been brought to my attention that you may have falsified some of the details on your application to join the University. Some of your colleagues have checked with Victoria University and you are not on their records as having gained either your Doctorate or Masters there. This is a serious matter and it means that we may have to ask for your resignation. By rights we should simply ask you to leave.”

  Lance was not surprised. In his heart he had known that it was only a matter of time before he was found out.

  “They’re right. I can’t deny it, Professor Granger. I was desperate to get the job and

  hoped that being so far from New Zealand no one would find out. Pretty silly when I think about it. I accept full responsibility and you will have my resignation straight away. I’m just sorry it turned out this way.”

  Granger liked Bains. He recognized his own career pattern in the young man. A first degree, experience working for a large marketing organization, then into teaching. Granger had also been popular with his students and had never studied for a Doctorate.

  “I’ve spoken to the VC and he has given me the authority to handle this in any way I feel is right provided it results in no adverse publicity for the University. But why on earth did you think that you could get away with it?”

  “Well, when I went to New Zealand I was lucky to get a job. Things went well and they paid for me to study for my Bachelors while I was working. My view was that experience counted more than theory when it came to teaching business subjects. The theory was not a lot of use without hands on experience. I was confident that I could teach undergraduate level but no University would touch me without a Doctorate. So I decided to take a chance and put it on my application. My results with the students are good, and the students have gotten higher grades in their exams than ever before.”

  Granger agreed. He had always regretted the swing towards favouring Doctorates over business experience when interviewing potential staff. He knew that Harvard required their staff to have a long publications list along with top level business experience. But it was too late to change things at Kingston now. A possible promotion to pro VC was in sight and rocking the boat was not his style. So far it had been a winning strategy.

  “Look Lance, I have a suggestion. I can get you a post in our small business and enterprise section. You would have to resign and then re-apply for a position as a research assistant. Meanwhile we can put you on an MPhil. programme and in a couple of years you’ll have your Doctorate. We’d even pay for the programme. In the meanwhile you can do some part-time teaching to make up any deficit in your pay. Or alternatively you can resign. I’m afraid those are the only options.”

  Granger realised that if Bains accepted the transfer then there would be no adverse publicity for the University. He could easily lean on the staff who had complained in the first place.

  “It’s a great opportunity, Professor Granger, and more than generous. I accept. And thanks.”

  Granger told Bains about the need to keep their agreement under his hat. Much as he genuinely liked Bains, an added bonus was that once the dust settled he would have a loyal and willing staff member at his beck and call.

  Later that day Granger received a call from Inspector Linham telling him about the arrest of Arthur Berick. As he walked to his car he felt happy and relaxed. The incident with Jack Royston had been a wake-up call. He had realised for the first time in his life that he had enemies. His decisions had always been made to secure his position and he had rarely thought of their impact on other people. With Chalmers working on the conference and Joe Bullen to look after the hospitality, he was confident the upcoming events would be a success. Now he had done the right thing by Bains. He congratulated himself on having become a better person over the years.

  Chapter 9

  Things were going well for Ralph. Everyone agreed that the conference was proving to be a success. Tomorrow it would culminate with a closing speech by Sir George Rainton which would tie all the themes together. Rainton had managed to get his father, Sir James, to come for the final day. He had recently been made Minister for Higher Education and Granger was delighted at having achieved such a coup. He was already talking about this year being his opportu
nity for being promoted to pro Vice Chancellor. And that might mean getting on the government annual honors list for services to Higher Education and being awarded the MBE.

  Jane had called Ralph from London where she was organizing some last minute details for her pending trip to Egypt. He disliked phone call goodbyes, so he arranged to pick her up at the railway station at Esher and take her out for dinner. As the commuter crowds scurried to their cars or caught taxi’s home, he saw Jane emerge from the station door struggling with a large suitcase.

  “Looks like you’re planning to be gone for a year, Jane, Ralph said, as he took her bag and popped it in the boot. “How are you, anyhow? We’ve got a lot to catch up on.” Seeing her again reminded him of the good times they had enjoyed in their undergraduate days. But at the same time knew that a long distance friendship rarely goes any further.

  “You’re looking good, Ralph. The bag is bigger than I wanted, but there’s a lot of stuff to take when you go on these trips,” she laughed. “At least where I’m going there are lots of people fighting to carry your bags. Not like here where the service industry is a dying breed.”

  It was only a 15 minute drive along the A3 before Ralph eased the car into the cobbled driveway of the Talbot Hotel in the village of Ripley. The place had been established in 1453 and used as a coaching Inn on the London to Portsmouth Road. Allegedly, Lord Nelson had stayed there with his mistress Lady Hamilton just before he went off to fight the battle of the Nile. He smiled to himself at the irony of the connection to Jane’s impending trip. But in this case she was the one going away.

  “The food here’s supposed to be good. Marco Pierre White, the top chef, owns it. It’s got a Michelin Star and three AA rosettes.” He realised that he was gabbling on and put it down to hunger and feeling awkward about seeing Jane again.