Randle crossed one leg over the other, his ankle perched on his knee. “You’re right.”
“Not sure what I’m supposed to be right about.”
“The investigation will affect DI Finch’s work. What have you got her on right now?”
“She’s SIO on the Laurence Thomms murder, and she’s still working the Magpie case.”
“I want her taken off that.”
“Which?”
Randle gave her a look. “Magpie. If she’s under investigation for potential involvement in the corruption case, then she shouldn’t be anywhere near associated investigations.”
“We already identified the organisation that planted the bomb at the airport. Or rather, Anti-Terror did. We don’t believe the New Street one is the same bunch.”
“I don’t care. It’s linked, it all is. Organised crime, people trafficking. She shouldn’t be anywhere near it.”
“She’s my best detective.”
“DI Dawson has six years’ more experience as a DI.”
“Experience isn’t everything. And his team has a full caseload right now.”
“Take her off the Magpie investigation. She’s got enough to focus on with this murder.”
“DS Uddin’s been working with her, he’s got a good relationship with DS Griffin in Organised Crime. I’ll second him to Dawson’s team, just part-time while they’re working on this case.”
“I don’t think so.”
“He knows the case. He’s been working on this for months.”
“He’s Zoe’s oldest friend. He’ll tell her what he’s working on.”
Lesley felt heat rise up her neck. She scratched the skin. “You underestimate him.”
“I’m being realistic. Take both of them off the case, DCI Clarke. That’s an order.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Jenson wasn’t in his flat. Rhodri knocked on the next door along, which was opened by a shirtless man rubbing his eyes.
“Hey.” The man stretched his arms above his head. “You after Jenson?”
“Yeah. You know where he is?”
“Probably at his place in Selly Oak.”
Rhodri worked to conceal his surprise. “Right. Course. Remind me the address, will you?”
“Er…” The man yawned. “240 Umberslade Road. Tell him he owes me a fiver, will you?”
“Sure.”
Once again, Rhodri had changed his clothes before coming here. He’d brought his grungiest t-shirt and a pair of jeans as well as a battered leather jacket into work and stashed them in his locker. He could pass for a civilian, not that he was planning on lying about it.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah.” The man closed the door and Rhodri heard another loud yawn behind the wood. He yawned himself.
“Get a grip, Hughes,” he muttered to himself.
He hurried out of Boulton Hall and towards his Saab. The boss’s Mini was parked a few spaces along; she would still be with the warden. Rather her than me.
He started the car after a couple of tries then drove to Selly Oak. Umberslade Road was lined with narrow terraced houses and there were no parking spaces. He drove round the block twice, wishing he’d left his car on campus and walked. Eventually he found a spot three streets away.
It was a chilly night, the air fizzy with the threat of rain. Rhodri pulled his collar up as he walked towards Jenson’s house. Why would a man with a free flat on campus need a house? It made Rhodri more suspicious.
Number 240’s front door had flaking green paint. The windows were made of cheap PVC, the seal broken and the panes misted up. A grimy lace curtain was drawn in the downstairs bay.
Rhodri rapped on the knocker, then took a step back to look at the upstairs windows. A light came on on the first floor. He looked back at the door, waiting.
A short man wearing a blue shirt threw the door open: Jenson.
“I’m not in,” he snapped.
“Looks like you are, mate.”
Jenson scowled. “You’re not Vic.”
Rhodri held up his ID. “DC Rhodri Hughes. My boss sent me for a quick chat, like. You got a mo?”
Jenson eyed him then shrugged. “Come in.”
Rhodri followed him to a narrow kitchen at the back of the house. Something foul-smelling bubbled on the stove and dishes were piled up in the sink. Jenson opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, then flicked the top off and swigged from it.
“Not offering me one?”
“You’re on duty. It would be immoral of me.”
Rhodri laughed. “Fair enough.”
“What is it this time? I’ve had the tall redheaded woman, then the little Asian guy. Now I’ve got you, the Welsh wonder.”
“We found out some stuff about you.”
“Yeah?” Jenson swigged at the bottle. “What kind of stuff?”
“The drugs, and the stalking.”
“Both untrue.”
Rhodri raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“You see anything on my record? You see them stopping me being a residential tutor? Course not. There’s no way they’d give you a job like that if you were a stalker.”
“And the drugs?”
Jenson shrugged. “Someone got their wires crossed, mate. I don’t do drugs.”
“None at all? Not even the occasional joint?”
Jenson stared back at Rhodri, saying nothing.
“Fair enough. You’re pure as the driven snow. Tell me about April Hulse.”
“She was some bitch on my course. Fancied me, and got pissed off when I didn’t return the favour. So she decided she’d try to wreck my life.”
“You didn’t go out with her?”
“One date. Bloody disaster.”
Rhodri surveyed the young man as he swigged from the bottle again. The boss might want him to track April down, check Jenson’s story.
“So because you dumped her after one date, she told the university you were stalking her?”
“Women, eh?” Jenson sniffed loudly then spat onto the floor.
“What about Kayla Goode?”
Jenson bristled. “What about her?”
“You seeing her?”
“What difference does it make if I am?”
“You’re her residential tutor.”
“We’re both adults.”
“You like to sleep with women you’re supposed to be looking after?”
A shrug. “I live in a hall of residence, mate. Plenty of women, you’d be tempted too.”
“So not just Kayla.”
“I’m not a monk, if that’s what you’re saying.”
“OK. So is this your house?”
“It’s my mate’s. I crash here sometimes, when I want a bit of freedom.”
“Does the warden know you’ve got two addresses?”
“Like I say, this is my mate’s place.”
Rhodri wondered what it would be like to have this snippy man as your residential tutor. If Laurence had been victimised, if Kayla and Becca had been scared, would he have given them support? Or just made them feel worse?
“Anything else you want to grill me on?” Jenson tossed the bottle into a bin and grabbed another from the fridge.
“Becca MacGuire. Did you tell anyone about her?”
“About what she said Laurence did?”
Rhodri nodded.
“My job involves keeping confidences, mate. What do you think?”
“That’s not an answer.”
Laurence leaned in. “No. I did not tell anyone. Happy?”
“So how come everyone knew?”
“Maybe Becca told them. I dunno.”
“Was Laurence being victimised?”
“Victimised? Because he got too handsy with the women?”
“If everyone knew what he’d allegedly done, it would have made him unpopular.”
“I don’t get involved in that stuff. The undergrads can sort out their own little soap operas. I only wade in when I have to.” Jenson gulped down more b
eer, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Now if you don’t mind, Constable, I’d like to get back to my evening.”
“Fair enough.” Rhodri turned away from Jenson and walked to the front door. The door to the front room was open a crack. He could see a bed inside and a couple lying on it.
“Which is your room?” he asked Jenson.
“I told you. Not my house.”
Rhodri nodded, not believing him. He turned to Jenson.
“Thanks for your time.”
Jenson grunted. “My pleasure.”
Rhodri swallowed down his irritation and walked out to the street. He had a frozen pizza waiting for him in his new flat, and no company as Izzy was out with her mates tonight. There was a six pack of Foster’s in the fridge, at least. Watching Jenson drinking had made him thirsty.
As he turned in the direction of his car, he spotted movement in the shadows opposite the house. He stopped, his eyes adjusting to the dark. The house opposite had a rambling hedge in the front garden. Someone was behind it.
Rhodri considered crossing the road to see who it was, then thought better of it. Probably just someone coming home after a few too many in the pub. He took a deep breath and walked to his car, wishing he had something better than Papa John’s to look forward to.
Chapter Forty-Nine
The warden lived in a modern house tucked in behind Boulton Hall. Zoe hadn’t known these houses existed: perk of the job, she supposed. She wondered if any of the students ever got to see inside. Or postgrads like Jenson.
She pressed the buzzer and peered through the glazed front door, seeing movement beyond. After a moment of what sounded like keys being sought out, a tall black man with light grey hair opened the door.
“I’m here to speak to Doctor Edwards.” Zoe held up her warrant card. “DI Finch, West Midlands police.”
The man nodded, his breathing shallow. “I’m Doctor Edwards, but I imagine it’s Sheila you need. The other one.”
“Is she at home?”
“We’re eating our dinner.”
“Sorry to disturb you. It is important.”
“Sure it is.” He grimaced. “That poor boy. Come on through, she won’t mind.”
Zoe followed the man through a narrow hallway into a wide kitchen that had clearly been knocked through or added to the house. Full-height windows filled the wall ahead of her and the bright lights of the room reflected back at her. She blinked in the glare.
The warden sat at a long kitchen island, a bowl of pasta and a book in front of her. She folded over the corner of a page and placed the book next to her bowl.
“DI Finch.”
“Sorry to interrupt. I need to ask you a few more questions.”
Dr Edwards sighed. “Of course you do. Mind if I finish my meal while we talk?”
“Not at all.” Zoe approached the island.
“Can I get you a drink?” the male Dr Edwards said. “We’ve got a bottle of Sancerre open if you’d like some.”
“A coffee please, if it’s going.”
He tipped his head. “Good idea. Probably should stay off the vino myself. Not quite the weekend yet, huh?”
He turned away to pour water into a complex looking machine and Zoe pulled out a tall chair along from the warden. She raised her eyebrows at the woman, who nodded for her to sit.
Zoe waited, her gaze on the marble worktop, while the warden’s husband brewed coffee. The warden sat beside her in silence, eating her pasta. The couple weren’t speaking to each other, but it didn’t feel awkward: one of those relationships where the two of them could be at ease in conversation or in silence.
After a few moments, the male Doctor Edwards placed a mug in front of Zoe. “Enjoy.”
“Thanks.” She took a sip: it was good.
He placed another mug in front of his wife and kissed the top of her head. She nodded acknowledgement and cleared her plate. She pushed it away from her, grabbed a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her mouth.
The door closed as her husband left them alone.
“So,” said the warden, “what’s so urgent it can’t wait until the morning?”
“We’ve been given more information about Jenson Begg.”
“Jenson? What’s he got to do with it?” Doctor Edwards sipped her coffee and closed her eyes momentarily.
“He was given a warning after being found with Class A drugs, and he was accused of stalking by a fellow student.”
“Stalking? When?”
“A year and a half ago.”
“He would have been an undergraduate. Final year.”
“Did he live at Boulton Hall then?”
“No. He lived in for his first year, then he shared a house. Selly Oak somewhere, I think. Most of them do.”
“I know. I live on Tiverton Road.”
The warden winced. “Poor you.”
“I like it.”
A shrug. “So you’re wondering why I gave Jenson the residential tutor job when he’d been accused of stalking.”
“Did you know about it?”
“I did not. Did the young woman involved go to the police? I assume it was a woman?”
“It was. And no. She reported it to her tutor. Not the police.”
“So it can’t have been upheld. Otherwise it would be on his record, and he wouldn’t have been eligible for the tutor role.”
“I thought that would be the case,” Zoe said. She watched the warden closely for signs she might be lying.
Doctor Edwards gave her a look as if she’d been reading her mind. “I knew nothing about this. It would be beyond my integrity to—”
“I believe you. What about the drugs? Have you seen any evidence that Jenson might be using or supplying drugs to students?”
“Don’t be absurd. If I had, d’you think he’d still be in that flat?” She jerked her head in the direction of the main building.
“Are you aware of any drug dealing or possession in Boulton Hall?”
“You’ve already asked me this. We did a sweep the day after Laurence died. Found a couple of bags of grass, small quantities for personal use. Nothing more. No meth.”
“What happens to students who are caught with drugs in the building?”
“They’re given a warning the first time. If it happens again, there’s a process. Outcome depends on how much, and if they’re dealing.”
“And did you search the postgrads too?”
“The postgrads helped with the search.”
“So you didn’t search them.”
“No.”
“Does it occur to you that maybe you should?”
“Detective, those young men and women are in a position of trust. They receive board and lodging in return for their work, it’s an employment contract. The protocol for searching their homes for illegal substances is quite different from with the undergraduates.”
“By their homes, you mean their flats in Boulton Hall.”
“I do.”
“Which you have jurisdiction over.”
The warden scratched her head. “Jurisdiction is a strong word. I have a duty of care.”
“Very well, Doctor Edwards. Would you be amenable to conducting a search of Jenson Begg’s flat for drugs now?”
“On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that he knew about the allegation against Laurence, and more importantly that he’s previously been caught with drugs.”
“He was never charged.”
“A slap on the wrist. I think it’s gone a little further than that, don’t you?”
“I’ll happily talk to him, ask him if your people can look. But I’m not mounting surprise searches on the postgrads.” The warden sharpened her gaze on Zoe. “If we did him, we’d have to do them all.”
“In that case, I’ll get a warrant.” Zoe held the warden’s gaze, knowing that Lesley would never give her one on the basis of a years-old case that wasn’t taken to the police and led nowhere. But the warden didn’t know that.
“You do what you want, Detective. Remember, I have friends in the Law School. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes.”
Zoe felt her heart grow heavy. Why was this woman protecting Jenson Begg? Did they even have proper grounds to suspect him?
Either way, she wanted to know more about Begg and his relationships with the female undergraduates he had responsibility for.
“Very well, if you aren’t going to cooperate.”
The warden slid down from her stool. “I’m cooperating fully, Detective. But I’m not about to let you railroad me into subverting my student’s legal rights.”
“What can you tell me about Jenson Begg’s relationships with the students he looks after? What about Kayla Goode?”
The muscle under the warden’s left eye twitched. “What about Kayla Goode?”
“Is he seeing her?”
“There’s no reason a residential tutor can’t date an undergraduate.”
“So he is.”
The warden turned to Zoe. “Detective Finch, I have no idea. Don’t you think I’ve got enough to worry about with all these students in my care and a subject to teach? Especially now that one of those students is dead.” She lifted her wrist, revealing an expensive watch. “It’s getting late and I’ve got a seminar to prepare for. Is there anything else?”
Zoe dug her thumbnail into her palm. “No.”
The warden nodded. “Thanks. Frank will see you out.”
Chapter Fifty
“It’s alright, I’m coming.” Kayla heaved herself up from her bed and opened the door. She’d been trying to read Persuasion but had dozed off.
Jenson was on the threshold, looking agitated. “Let me in.”
“OK. What’s up?”
He shoved past her and slumped onto the bed. “Fucking police again, that’s what’s up.” He stood up to stand a few inches in front of her, looking down at her. “Did you give them my address?”
“What? What address?”
“The house in Selly Oak. I don’t want the police there, that’s the whole point.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She raised her hand to his shoulder.
Deadly Reprisal (Detective Zoe Finch Book 5) Page 15