The first piece after the interval was one of Ralph’s favorites, Beethoven’s First Violin Concerto. He glanced at Jean and she seemed to be relaxed and enjoying the music. David and Mary were holding hands as they allowed themselves to be swept away by the beauty of the performance and the composer’s brilliance. He settled back, determined to lose himself in the moment.
A key attraction of the Royal Festival Hall is that they have an underground car park which is affordable. Negotiating the exit ramp they were soon driving smoothly through central London. Ralph always liked to drive down The Mall and past Buckingham Palace after a concert. The streets were relatively quiet apart from a few London black cabs whisking their fares home from the theatres or taking tourists to night spots. In no time Ralph and his friends had left the bright lights behind. The A3 towards Esher offered a chance to accelerate and enjoy the comforts afforded by a vintage car. Having dropped off David and Mary and wished them a good night, he drove on with Jean. She had bought a small cottage a few miles out into the country and as they sped along the full moon turned the fields into daylight.
“When I see the fields light up like this I always imagine what those American soldiers must have thought of as they drove along here. I know that their base was near my house and they must have gone off on just such a night to go to fight in the ‘D’ Day landings in France. A lot of people just like us, going off to fight a war and get killed just to support some political beliefs or ideals that they didn’t necessarily share. Sometimes I suppose you just have to go along with things in spite of your better wishes. Even though my father was a kind man, he spent all those years perfecting nerve gases and biological weapons that could be used to kill millions. He was just like you, Ralph. I admire the way that you helped to track down Jack Royston’s killer.”
Ralph was at a loss to reply. He was tempted to tell her about his conversation with the VC, but decided to keep his own counsel. He also needed time alone to reflect on what he had agreed to do.
“I expect that if those American soldiers had a chance they might have wanted to simply go home without having to go to France. But then once you are with your pals it means that all that politicking and ideals business seems less important. And I’m not so sure that I’m all that nice of a guy at all. It was as much my interest in actually solving the case as my devotion to Jack that brought out the sleuth in me,” he said with a laugh.
They were soon driving slowly up the gravel driveway to Jean’s cottage. The car came to a halt and as he stepped out to open the passenger door he was struck by the silence of the countryside. Just the crickets and the hooting of an owl against the pale moon.
“Coming in for a nightcap, Ralph? You must need a break from all that driving.”
“No I’d better be getting back. But let me see you to your door and make sure that you are safely home. Besides, I wouldn’t want to make Lance jealous,” he said smiling.
As he said it he realised that it might put Jean in an awkward position, but it was too late.
“Thanks Ralph. It was a wonderful evening. Next time it’s my treat and I promise to get you home by midnight.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Jean. Perhaps I could find out what goes on in the mind of a modern Florence Nightingale?”
“Not much, really. But happy to share what I have with you.”
They laughed as Ralph waved goodbye and walked down the path to his car. In no time he was back sitting in his leather chair in his apartment in Surbiton. With Classic FM on the radio and a whiskey and water in his hand, the tensions of the past few weeks soon faded. It was the Prelude to Tannhauser, one of his favourites. After what seemed like only a few minutes, he glanced at the clock on the mantle and was surprised to see that it was almost midnight. After checking the security lock on the front door and turning off the lights, he poured what was left of his drink down the sink and put his glass in the dishwasher before heading off to bed. He was soon fast asleep and dreaming of conducting an orchestra made up of the VC and Rupert Granger. The music was not good.
***
Ralph had come to dread Wednesdays. His schedule meant that he lectured from 9 until 5 with only a 45 minute break for lunch. The different student groups provided variety and challenges and the more eager students made it all worthwhile, but at times he felt that for the majority it was just an alternative to sitting in the student lounge drinking coffee. He often caught himself thinking that many of them viewed lectures as an opportunity to answer emails from their friends and to catch up on their sleep even though he realised that cynicism was an indulgence best avoided.
It was the end of a long day when he finally got back to his office. He sat back in his comfortable chair scanning the ever growing list of emails. Amy in the admin office was having a baby. Albert had cycled 100 miles for his favourite charity and wanted the sponsorship money. Another staff meeting next week. The college bus timetable had been reissued. Raj Kamil couldn’t submit his assignment because his grandmother was ill in Mumbai. Facilities management was investigating the lack of hot water in the staff restrooms. Not exactly riveting information, to say the least. But there was one from Jean thanking him for a wonderful night out. For some reason that made him think of Jane. He wondered what she was doing at that very moment. Discovering some ancient hieroglyphics in a tomb on the Nile? Then there was Katie. Was she staring out of her cell window onto the courtyard of Holloway prison? Dreaming of walking in the park? He decided that he would visit her later in the week. A sharp knock on the door brought him out of his reverie. David stepped in and threw a folded newspaper onto his desk.
“So. I see you’re a dark horse. You certainly know how to keep a secret from your pals. That’s presuming we are your pals Next you’ll be bucking for promotion. I never thought you would sell your soul to the devil. I’m not sure if I should be congratulating you or commiserating. What on earth made you do it, Ralph?”
Ralph had never seen David so angry.
“Steady on. What’s all this about?”
“Just read the paper old chap. The sordid story is printed there for the whole world to see. I hate to think what Jack Royston’s wife, let alone your friends, if you have any left, will make of this. Read it for yourself,” he said with an exasperated flourish of his hands.
Ralph picked up what he saw was the mid-week edition of the local paper, the Surrey Comet. The headlines stared back at him. He could see that David had ringed his name with a red board marker. Standing in front of the open window he stared at the bold print.
UNIVERSITY REFUTES LINK BETWEEN ATTACK ON EX-STUDENT AND EXAM SCANDAL
In a press release issued by the University early on Monday the University confirmed that an internal enquiry into the exam scandal, reported in this paper last week, had been completed. The enquiry into an incident that occurred some 20 years ago involving Sir George Rainton who was studying at the University at that time, unearthed some irregularities in procedures. It revealed that an administrative error in processing the exam results had occurred. Professor Rupert Granger admitted to the enquiry committee that he had covered up the error in a misguided attempt to protect a junior administrator who had made a simple recording error. He also confirmed that no other person or persons had been involved or were aware of the cover up. Professor Granger accepted full responsibility for his actions. The administrator was no longer employed at the University. The committee further confirmed that the University would take internal disciplinary action concerning Professor Granger. Professor Ralph Chalmers confirmed that Doctor Jack Royston’s resignation at the time had been engineered by Professor Granger and that senior management had been deliberately kept out of the affair.
The article went on to say that Doctor Royston’s murder and the attack on Sir George Rainton could be linked to the incident and that Arthur Berick’s trial for the murder of Doctor Royston was scheduled for later that year. The final paragraph reported that the police were seeking information leading to the wherea
bouts of Ted Berick as he may be able to help in their enquiries.
Ralph was shocked by what he had read.
“Damn that VC. He must have had that press release written before he spoke to me on Saturday night at the concert. He knew that I would have to go along with what he wanted reported, but he has gone too far this time. I’m not going to be a pawn in their game anymore”.
As he spoke it struck him how quickly a calm world could be shattered.
“Look Ralph, are you saying that you didn’t know about all this?”
Ralph decided to confide in his friend and told him about what had transpired during the interval at the concert. After hearing what had happened and the position the VC had put Ralph in, David began to calm down.
“From what I can see of it, Ralph, the VC put you in an untenable position. He is obviously trying to protect Sir William, and more importantly, the University. Getting those funds is pretty important right now what with all the cuts going on in education, and if Granger is willing to take the fall, well, good luck to him.”
“But you of all people should be able to see that I am facing a moral dilemma here. If I do nothing, then Jack’s name and the truth behind the actions of Sir William to push all of this under the carpet will never come out. On the other hand, if I buck the establishment, that would jeopardize everything that we have been working for here for
the past 30 years,” Ralph said. “Not to mention all the students who may not get the chance to study for a degree. Getting that money from that Saudi investment banker could be a lifeline for a lot of ‘Ted Berick’s’ who are out there struggling to rise above their backgrounds or circumstances.”
“I must admit that you have a point,” David admitted. So you’re saying you’re willing to just go along with it and the ends will justify the means?”
“Well it seems the only right course. I guess you might say it is one of those ‘lesser of two evils’ choices we all hope we won’t have to make.”
“Sorry about storming in here on my high horse like that, old chap. I guess we have been good friends for too long for me to doubt that your motives could be anything but honorable. And as you say, there are only a handful of people left other than you and Peter and myself, and poor old Granger, who have any knowledge of what really went on.”
“I probably would have reacted the same way if the tables were turned,” Ralph said. “But I think I’ll pay a call on Jack’s wife and tell her what is going on. She’s discrete, and I feel that she will agree that we are doing the right thing. Do you realize David, that I am now doing exactly what Jack did all those years ago? My God! I’m starting to support the establishment. Next thing you know I’ll be running for Parliament. Who knows, I might get an MBE or knighthood after all. Sir Ralph Chalmers. It has a certain ring to it.”
The two friends laughed as they made their way to the staff bar. Fame at any price, Ralph thought as they stepped out into the summer’s evening.
***
Two weeks later the whole affair had blown over. It was time for some serious planning for the upcoming banquet and celebrations at Hampton Court. Ralph had called a meeting of those who were involved.
“So Joe, any thoughts about what we need to do in the way of the catering and how to weave things around it?”
“Well the catering is not a problem,” Joe said. “I’ll need to put together at least 30 dishes if we are truly meaning to recreate a Tudor feasting atmosphere. The food is not a problem as the kitchens used in Henry VIII’s time are still intact. Naturally everything will be modernized behind the scenes, but the result should mimic a sixteenth century royal banquet quite authentically. I will need to know how you want things set out, the number of guests and preferably the seating arrangements. Oh, and whether there will be entertainment and if so how you want the serving to slot in around it.?”
“Don’t forget that drinking was just as important as eating to the old Tudors,” interjected Peter.
“I was under the impression that I was solely responsible for the catering and you were responsible for the music,” said Joe with a touch of annoyance in his voice.
“Look, I’ve asked Lance here to do some research on medieval banquets for us,” Ralph interceded. “We need to get the right balance. Everyone has enough to do with their own areas and unless what one of the others is doing will directly impact, it is probably best to let the experts in each field just get on with it.” Ralph hoped that there wouldn’t be too much head butting once everyone got stuck in. It was important that the University make a favourable impression on its would be benefactors.
“Well those guys really knew how to throw a party,” Lance said. “They used events just like this to do all their dirty political work. Some used it as a chance to promote themselves while others just saw it as a chance to chase the girls. Some researchers have even found references that suggest that Greensleeves was a euphemism for the prostitutes who often had green patches on their dresses through cavorting about on the grass.”
Ralph was starting to regret getting Lance involved, but it was too late now.
“A lot of food and drink, music and entertainment seemed to be the order of the day,” Lance continued. A few jugglers and jesters should keep the guests happy while the food is dished out.”
“”No problem there. The University is knee deep in jokers,” Peter exclaimed with a laugh.
“Okay. Good work, Lance. It looks as though we’ll need to get some professional group in for the entertainment. Lance, could you check with some of the London agencies? There must be a group that specializes in that sort of thing,” Ralph said as he tried to move on.
“You used to box at Cambridge, didn’t you, Ralph? Maybe you could put on a boxing match as part of the entertainment? There’s a big space outside the Palace gates. As Granger and his guests get off the barge you could have a fight going on,” said Peter starting to warm to the whole affair.
“That was a long time ago, Peter,” Ralph replied. “And I hardly think anyone would fancy seeing me in my kit at this point,” he added.
“I done a bit of boxing in the army. And you’re right, it could be quite a spectacle,” added Joe as he started to recognize a kindred spirit in Peter.
“I boxed in New Zealand and won a few amateur fights,” Lance chimed in. “Put my name down, Ralph. I could do an exhibition 3 rounds with Joe here,” he added.
Ralph could see that the meeting was now getting a bit out of hand and decided to wrap things up.
“Look Lance, if you could get something typed up and circulated, that would help. Best to get hard copies rather than email. I want to make sure that we all have a chance to read it and think about what we want to go forward with. And Joe, if you can get something written up about the timing for the food I can tie that in with the entertainment.”
“Look, I’m a caterer not an academic. So don’t expect me to be able to do the stuff that you blokes do.”
“Don’t worry, Joe,” Ralph said. “Just scribble down the general order of the food and the approximate times the various courses will be served and my secretary, Janice, will pop down and collect your notes and type them up for the proposed order of the programme. Is that okay?”
“No, that’s not a problem just as long as your secretary can make it sound like it should. I can have that ready for her after the lunch rush tomorrow afternoon,” Joe replied.
Ralph was not sure if he was any further along in preparing for the festivities. A lot was riding on this event. Everyone, including the VC and Rupert Granger were relying on its success to draw a line under a bad year for the University. And so was Ralph.
Chapter 13
It was unusually warm for July. With temperatures hovering in the mid 90’s everyone was out in the park or lounging by a swimming pool. In London, finding a shady spot under a leafy oak tree had turned into a competitive sport. Not so for prisoner 804725, Professor Katie Eggerton. Along with the other female inmates she had to endure the
oppressive heat. The comfort level of inmates had not been a feature of Victorian prison design. The nights were the worst. They began at 9pm when they were locked in their cells.
Holloway prison was on the flight path from London Heathrow Airport and as she lay on her mattress Katie could hear the drone of the planes as they headed for far off places. She imagined the noisier ones were heading for Australia, her true home, the first class passengers sitting back sipping a glass of chilled champagne and nibbling at some smoked salmon as they reached to adjust the air vent. For the prisoners a fitful night would pass before the routine of the next day presented itself. She recalled that line from a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, ‘the punishment fits the crime’. Was it Trial by Jury or HMS Pinafore? She couldn’t remember which.
She had shot and almost killed one of her colleagues. She knew she had no legal excuse, but at the time she had been desperate to find enough money to pay the ransom the terrorists were demanding for the safe return of her husband when the government failed to obtain his release, and she knew that after his big win at Monte Carlo Jim Stocker might possibly be the answer. The fact that she only intended to threaten Jim when the gun went off was no excuse. And it had all been for nothing. Jim was seriously injured, her husband had already been murdered and she was paying the price for her rash attempt to save him. But that was in the past. And in a few short weeks she will have paid her debt to society. Then what? She could kiss goodbye to any notions of Kingston restoring her status – it didn’t need a convicted felon on the staff, especially with all the murder and mayhem going on under its nose right now. Still, anything would be better than rotting away in prison. She still had her brain and her wits and she reckoned she would find somewhere to put both to work.
***
Rough Justice In Academia (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 2) Page 11