“What’s the magic word?”
Jim replied without turning to look back.
“Bollocks.”
Henry spat out, annoyed at Jim’s lack of sympathy.
“That’s the magic word.”
Jim replied sarcastically as he turned down the volume knob until it clicked, stopping the music completely.
“Have you got any pain killers?”
Henry asked while he waited patiently for the kettle to boil. Jim rummaged around in nearly all the kitchen drawers before finding an old packet of aspirin, which he threw over to Henry who winced in pain from his shoulder as he reached out to stop the packet sliding off the end of the table. In a sudden bout of realisation, Henry looked at his watch then cross checked it with the kitchen clock on the wall before letting out a loud groan while sinking back into his chair. Jim placed Henry’s breakfast down onto the table then sat down opposite Henry with a smug look on his face.
“What’s up Henry? You look totally pissed off.”
“I’ve missed a very big lecture this morning and I needed to listen to a very important guest speaker, the professor will kill me if I don’t include this man’s views in my thesis.”
“You owe me a pizza.”
Jim replied, completely ignoring what Henry had just said.
“Yes I know you didn’t get a pizza last night, I haven’t forgotten.”
Said Henry, more than a little annoyed at Jim’s selfish attitude.
“No, you owe me another pizza on top of that one.”
Jim added, grinning from ear to ear and looking very pleased with his self.
Henry was getting very annoyed, and the pain he felt gave him a very short fuse as he spoke through gritted teeth.
“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about and I’m not in the mood for childish games so I’ll ask this just once, why do I owe you another pizza?”
Jim, still grinning, put his hand into the side pocket of his jacket that was hanging over the back of his chair and produced Henry’s voice recorder, which he placed ceremoniously on the table in front of Henry who went from angry to puzzled in a heartbeat.
“Press play.”
Jim said, almost bursting with excitement at his little game. Henry played along and did as asked then sat open mouthed at what he heard. It was the voice of his professor introducing the guest speaker.
“You’ve recorded the lecture for me again, I could kiss you.”
Henry exclaimed as he animatedly pressed the fast forward button then the play button repeatedly, listening to snippets of dialogue.
“I’d sooner have a pizza if you don’t mind; anyway you’re not my type.”
Jim replied then blew Henry a kiss. Henry’s face suddenly dropped when he realised what Jim had done.
“You’ve not recorded over anything have you?”
He asked, suddenly rewinding the tape to check.
“No I haven’t, I made sure by turning the tape over to the blank side. Anyway what is all that shit you have one side one, it sounds very dodgy to me.”
Jim asked, curious for an answer. Henry chose not to reply instead he picked up a slice of toast and took a bite then washed it down with a large gulp of sweet tea before giving his answer.
“It’s private and probably best you don’t know, let’s just say it’s my safety net if things get any worse for me while I’m here.”
Jim leaned back in his chair, raised both hands palms forwards in acceptance of Henrys answer and without further question he stood up and returned to the cooker to check on the progress of his lunch.
Feeling better after his breakfast Henry returned to his bedroom and got dressed in black jeans, round necked t-shirt and a baggy grey sweatshirt, all of which took some time from the immobility of his sore shoulder. When he walked back into the kitchen Henry felt guilty at the way he kept Jim in the dark about the recording but Jim seemed ok with it all so he decided to close the matter.
Their attention was redirected when there was a knock at the front door and a female bodiless voice yelled,
“Henry, telephone for you!”
Henry replied with thanks as he walked to the door and opened it to reveal an empty lobby as whoever had answered the telephone had already returned to their flat. On the far wall Henry could see the receiver of the communal payphone hanging down at the end of its curly cord and spinning slowly waiting for Henry to pick it up. It was unusual to receive a call as the telephone was in almost constant use by the sixty or so residents that shared Henrys block; the display of doodles, hastily written phone numbers, and dozens of business cards including ‘Karl’s Kabs,’ ‘Joe’s Pizza,’ and the Samaritans bore conclusive evidence. Henry picked up the receiver and immediately held the foul smelling mouthpiece as far away as possible and still be heard in conversation.
“Hello, Henry Jackson speaking.”
“Ah Henry its Tyler, I’m calling from Carls new mobile phone I hope you can you hear me clearly. Listen I won’t be long as it costs a fortune to use and Carls having kittens that I’ll waffle on and on talking about the weather or the state of the government, generally nothing in particular without actually getting to the point.”
“What is your point Tyler?”
Henry asked, he was quite used to Tyler rattling on for ages without actually stating anything important and this was no exception.
“Sorry old bean, first thing is I hope you are feeling well enough to come over to Carl’s houseboat and peruse through the professors private papers that I procured earlier this morning. I think you are best qualified to ascertain whether they are of any use in solving our mutual problem. Also there is a huge amount of news to tell you which would take too long over the phone.”
“Certainly Tyler, I’ll set off right away.”
“Excellent Henry, see you soon. Oh I just remembered the other reason for calling, a certain Marion Masterson, George’s fiancée, has come for a surprise visit.”
Henry paused stunned as he took in the news then replied in a whisper,
“You’ve got to be ‘effing kidding me that’s all we need. You haven’t told her anything have you?”
“Of course not; we have everything in hand?”
Tyler answered, smiling forcibly at Marion and offering a tiny wave when she looked up and caught his eye. He was not sure if he had walked far enough away to be out of earshot when he made the call so he chose his words very carefully. He now walked back to the assembled group as he wound up the conversation. Henry did not have anything else to add, he just said,
“I’ll be there in ten to fifteen minutes, stay calm.”
“Jolly good, tatty bye.”
Ended Tyler as he pressed the stop call button and retracted the aerial of the house brick sized very expensive mobile phone that Carl bought to aid his illicit drug deals. Upon returning to the group, he handed it back to Carl who immediately returned it to his rucksack that went with him everywhere.
Henry hurried back into his flat to put on his trainers and ski jacket, grunting loudly as he slowly managed to put on both. Jim watched quietly then said,
“Shouldn’t you be resting or something?”
“No time, I’ll rest later. Do you know Jim, you’d make someone a lovely wife?!”
Henry replied as he dashed through the front door, closing it quickly behind him before Jim could reply.
“You never take me dancing anymore.”
Echoed Jim’s voice as Henry hobbled down the stairwell making him laugh out loud as he walked into the warm afternoon sunshine.
Jim had reopened the door then run to the top of the stairwell to shout his retort, ignoring the bemused look of a student already using the payphone who had stopped his conversation mid-sentence upon hearing Jim’s outburst. Jim played his part by placing one hand on his hip and minced back across the lobby then turned and blew a kiss before closing his door behind him.
Shielding his aching eyes from the glare of the sun Henry set off at a fast w
alk across the well manicured lawns adjacent to the main university building. He figured it would be quicker to cut through the building itself hoping for little pedestrian traffic rather than skirting around the longer route around the outside to the most northern end of the campus where Carl’s houseboat was moored. He accessed through an open service door to the auditorium, down the corridor passed the thronging cafeteria then finally down the stairs into the main entrance hall with hardly any delay. As he reached out to push one of the brass hand plates that adorned the exit swing doors, the high ceilinged and pillared lobby resonated to the voice of Dean Sutherland.
“Henry Jackson.”
He bellowed, stopping everyone in their tracks to look around for the source of the noise. What they saw was the dean standing at the top of the first flight of stairs at the point before they split and continued in opposite directions, rounding along the walls to finish neck and neck at the first floor balcony. He stood in super hero pose with both closed fists resting on his hips holding open his tweed jacket exposing his pot belly straining the buttons of his navy blue shirt. Henry paused, frozen in movement deciding whether to make his exit pretending not to have heard the dean; or turn to face the consequences. His fate was decided when the dean raised the volume with an ear ringing
“Mr Henry Jackson, do not ignore me.”
That only the profoundly deaf would fail to hear. Henry slowly turned around dropping his shoulders in resignation and walked across the lobby and up the stairs to where the dean waited.
“My chambers now,”
He growled in Henry’s face before slapping his hand on the poor man’s sore shoulder and marching him like a prisoner up the second flight stairs to his office. Fellow students stopped and stared sympathetically at Henry; knowing too well the deans bigoted attitude. The duo walked straight past Mrs Simpkins who stopped typing and immediately stood up to make some tea for the deans guests so she could eavesdrop on the conversation held within.
Henry stopped in his tracks, shocked to see a uniformed police officer waiting inside. He had his black notebook in his hand and was idly flicking over the pages, scanning his notes when they walked in.
“Sit down Mr Jackson.”
The dean ordered as he took his usual place behind his desk. Before the officer could speak the dean began with his own line of questions.
“Where were you between the hours of two and four o’clock this morning Mr Jackson?”
Henry looked stunned and before he could answer the officer cut in;
“If you don’t mind Dean Sutherland, I will be the one to conduct this line of questioning. Now Mr Jackson I am Police Constable Scarlett of the Oxten constabulary and I would like to ask you of your whereabouts regarding this morning’s incident.”
Henry looked baffled, he had no idea what the officer was talking about and he informed him of this.
“The milkman Jackson, are you thick or something, this morning the milkman.”
Dean Sutherland yelled, mainly out of temper from being told to be quiet in his own chambers by someone who was less than half his age. The officer was getting annoyed but tried not to show it, he could see that the dean was trying to persecute Henry and all this seemed to be a waste of time but he remained calm and began again.
“Dean Sutherland if you interrupt once more I will have to ask you to wait outside while I conduct this interview in private.”
The dean’s face turned purple with rage as he glared silently at the constable, his hands gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles turned white as he fought to keep his emotions under control. Satisfied that he had everything in hand the constable started again.
“Mr Jackson, Henry, can I call you Henry?”
Henry nodded allowing the officer to continue.
“An incident occurred this morning between the hours of two and three o’clock resulting in the death of Mr Dale Allen, a milkman who was on his rounds in the grounds of this university and it has been brought to our attention by Dean Sutherland here, that you might have some information regarding the incident; could you tell me of your whereabouts during that time?”
Henry was shocked at the news but wondered if it had any connection with the gathering so he chose his words carefully.
“Firstly I was not aware of any incident as I have been in bed all morning as I didn’t feel well and I only left my flat five minutes ago.”
The constable noted everything down, then asked another question.
“Do you have anyone who can confirm this?”
“Yes my flatmate Jim, James Hood.”
The dean scoffed at the statement and mumbled under his breath about being drunk, Henry jumped to his feet placed both hands on the dean's desk, leaned in and said,
“I don’t drink; not unlike some people I could mention.”
He turned his head to attract the constable's attention to a set of six crystal glasses surrounding a beautiful matching decanter half full of whisky that all sat on an ornate circular silver tray in the corner of the office. The dean snapped at the nonverbal accusation, also jumped to his feet, pointed to the door and roared,
“How dare you, get out!”
Henry stood his ground and looked at the stunned constable waiting for his approval. The constable then looked from one to the other now fully understanding how deep a hatred the dean had for Henry.
“One last question Mr Jackson, what happened to your hands?”
Henry paused for time as he looked down at his damaged fingernails.
“I was set upon by a gang of skinheads.”
He replied whilst looking back and forth from the dean to the constable.
“Did you report the incident Mr Jackson?”
The constable asked, more out of curiosity as he knew that they were straying away from the subject of his visit.
“Not yet, like I told you I was not feeling well and have only just got up.”
Henry replied, hoping not to be questioned about the fictitious incident any further and tripping up over the details.
Realising that all this was a waste of time, the constable closed his notebook and ended the interview.
“That will be all for now Mr Jackson, you can go.”
Henry did not need to be asked twice as he turned around and almost ran from of the office nearly knocking over Marge Simkins who was listening at the door. Dean Sutherland was ready to explode but the constable remained calm, replaced his notebook and pen back into his top pocket then said,
“You had better watch that temper of yours Mr Sutherland it’s bad for your health, I’ll be on my way now.”
“When I want your opinion I’ll ask for it PC plod, and my title is Dean Sutherland”
The constable ignored the comment, walked calmly from the office and closed the door behind him.
Henry was waiting in the lobby for the constable so he could explain his side of the story and as they walked to the patrol car the constable reassured Henry that he was well aware what was going on.
“I understand the bad blood between the two of you and it’s not the first time the dean's name has been associated with this issue. I think a meeting with our Sergeant Moses Inkambu will keep the dean in line.”
Henry thanked him and as soon as the constable had driven away he dashed off to meet the rest of the gang.
When he finally reached the houseboat he was quickly introduced to Marion then suffered the embarrassment of Mary clucking around him like a mother hen, examining his shoulder and finger tips, and then checking his pulse before stepping back satisfied that all was well. Within ten minutes he was left alone with Carl and the professor’s notes as the others had left together on Tyler’s sudden invitation to lunch and a private guided tour around Gisborne House, keeping Marion out of the way for the day allowing Henry and Carl time to study then meet later with Professor Appleyard.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Tyler was beside himself with glee at the thought of a whole afternoon
entertaining three beautiful young women. He was in his element, full show off mode, and he loved it. It started with his new car which had every accessory available, keeping everyone entertained en route. Then came the impressive vista as he drove up the private south drive to Gisborne Hall, the longest driveway and most impressive approach through the forest, which unexpectedly opened up to offer a full panoramic view of the house approximately four hundred yards away.
“This is the spot where A.P. Johnson created his most famous painting of the Hall and grounds in 1810, which we will see displayed in the aptly named Johnson gallery situated in the east wing a little later on.”
Tyler announced as they stepped down from his car to admire the view.
All three instantly recognised the scene and plagued Tyler with endless questions, which he answered perceptively as he moved into full tour guide mode. When they eventually reached the house they parked near Tyler’s private quarters and were treated to a special tour that included most of the general public areas then off the beaten track through private doors to see the real workings of one of the most opulent stately homes in the country.
“It was designed by the Little brothers, Edward and John, famous architects of the day and renowned throughout Europe. This in my humble opinion was their finest achievement, planned in 1562 with the exterior finished in 1571 and final completion sometime in 1579. Their flamboyance and flair in decorating every conceivable façade with ornate urns, statues, cherubs, and intricate designs to the stonework is unsurpassed and the building itself being a little smaller than Chatsworth House in Derbyshire gives it a more homely feel.”
Everyone stopped and stared as Chelsea began to laugh,
“Only Tyler Morgan could call a two hundred room stately house homely.”
She chuckled; winking at Tyler and watching him blush as the other two collapsed into a fit of giggles.
“As I was saying,”
He announced grandly, trying to regain his composure.
“The house contains a very impressive collection of masterpieces including The Hay Wain by Constable, Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh and The Night Watch by Rembrandt van Rijn.”
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