Читать книгу Missing Pieces - K L Harrison - Страница 6

Early September

For a split second there was a stunned silence but very quickly there was loud applause and lots of “Good on you Rog,” and “Well done mate” and “Congratulations, Roger.”

Roger Davidson stood up, beaming like a Cheshire cat, nodding and raising his hand to thank the well-wishers. Gradually the noise died down. Patricia Patel stared at Roger Davidson as if she was examining his soul. She eventually gained his attention, smiled and ran her fingers slowly across her breasts. Without realising it, Robert Hamsby came to Roger Davidson’s rescue.

“Right, let’s get this show on the road. Enrolments this year are up, and our A level results were pretty good again. So looks like I can’t get rid of any of you for the time being. So much for the headmaster’s autonomy.”

Good hearted laughter followed.

“I’m going to hand over to our new Deputy Headmaster to set out the beginning of term organisation and the like. Mr Davidson, sir.”

As Roger Davidson stepped up to the front of the room, he dropped some papers, grabbed them quickly and nervously began his spiel about revised bell times, Year 7 orientation and all the other fascinating elements that go to make up the beginning of the school year.

“What a fucking joke! Roger Davidson of all people. What the hell is the boss thinking of?”

Charlie Page was not a happy man. He was venting his spleen to Toby Curtin who happened to be unlucky enough to be sitting next to him in the back row.

“Always trying to be ‘king of the kids’, playing stupid drama games in class and pretending to be everyone from Robin Hood to fucking John Kennedy.”

“Get over it Charlie, your turn’ll come.”

“It’s just not fair Toby. That should have been my job, mine. Bastard!”

Charlie Page was not the only person in the room who was unhappy and not everybody had called out their best wishes. Roger Davidson might be a great teacher, and might have impressed his headmaster, but there were those who were less impressed. Fran Wilcox was seething; she knew she was good, and obviously age was not something the headmaster was concerned about. Many, though not Deidre Palmer, were convinced the job was Tim Hawkins’. Tony Wilkes just shook his head in disbelief, and made no attempt to hide it when Robert Hamsby made his announcement. Shane Tott just stared, and snapped his pencil into smaller and smaller pieces. English teacher Christine Sumner’s folded arms said it all. Trevor Manston, head of Art, simply got up and walked out.

Roger Davidson continued.

“We’ll break into faculty groups now, same rooms as usual. Could department heads check through allocations, class lists etc. Let me know as soon as you can if there are any issues that need fixing up.”

Roger Davidson picked up his papers and watched the different staff groups head off to their meetings. He did not notice that Patricia Patel had walked over to him.

“Well done Roger, on the up and up.”

“Thank you Tricia.”

“So is that why you decided to jettison me? Was I going to make life too complicated for you? Where did the pressure come from, Hamsby or that bitch of a wife of yours?”

“Tricia, please, it’s over. It was good while it lasted but –“

“Good? I think your words were ‘I never knew sex could be this fucking amazing’. I do not get dropped Roger. And I know you still want me. I actually pity you having to get into bed with that wife of yours. Explains your ‘interesting’ extra-curricular activities I suppose.”

Patricia Patel let her last comment hang in the air. Anyone observing the two of them could not have failed to appreciate Roger Davidson’s discomfort as he shuffled from foot to foot and studiously avoided looking Patricia Patel in the eye.

“Make no mistake Roger, we are destined to be together and I always get what I want. I’ll give you a couple of days to get on top of things. Make some excuses to your dear Felicity. I expect you at my place after school on Thursday. I’ll leave the back door open. I will be waiting for you upstairs.”

She began to walk away but then turned back to him.

“And don’t disappoint me Roger, and don’t dare humiliate me. Who knows, maybe I’ll have a little extra for you? I’m always willing to try ‘something new’.”

Patricia Patel headed off to her meeting, not aware that Felicity Davidson had been watching the whole thing. Roger caught his wife’s gaze but was again saved by Robert Hamsby.

“Roger, let’s go to my office, couple of things we need to fix up.”

The two men sauntered to the headmaster’s office, deep in conversation.

Deirdre Palmer walked over to Felicity Davidson. She wasn’t keen on Felicity but felt it would be churlish not to make some congratulatory comment.

“One for the Davidson family Felicity. He’s done very well for himself.”

“Sure. While I do all the housework, look after Becca, cook, teach my classes, he swans around bullshit educational conferences. Still if he’s going to be boss by thirty five and head into Ofstead or similar, we’ve got to start shoving him up the ladder.”

“Ambitious Felicity. Woodlands not good enough for you?”

“Deidre, please. Do you think daddy would allow my husband to rot in a place like this?”

As Felicity Davidson walked away, Deidre said to herself, “Poor Roger.”

Mid November

Spence decided that a beverage at his favourite pub, The Brewers Arms at Wanborough, was needed before he could face the barrage of information that he knew Nigel Ferguson would have for him. As he slowly sipped his pint of Arkells 3Bs, he was thinking about Roger Davidson.

“Now Rog, mate, what have you done that would make someone want to slit your throat? Jealous school colleague? Possible, and we’ll certainly be checking out the staff but I think Bob Hamsby is probably right there. So what can it be? Jealous wife? Jilted lover? Homosexual imbroglio? Unpaid gambling debts? Wandering psychopath passing through town? Maybe Roger you started supporting Oxford United instead of the Town? Now there’s a possibility.”

Spence finished his beer and with great reluctance headed to his car. It was a brief drive to police headquarters, ironically situated on the Oxford road. He smiled to himself.

Spence strode in to the outer office, threw his coat on a chair and called Ferguson over.

“Right Ferguson, what have you got for me? And I want the Len Deighton version not the John Le Carré one.”

As usual, Ferguson did not have a clue who either Len Deighton or John Le Carré was. For such an intelligent man he was amazingly ignorant, thought Spence. But Spence also knew that within fifteen minutes he would know everything there was to know about this case thus far.

“For a start Spence, Roger Davidson suffered more injuries than we first thought. Looks like this blow was handed out after his throat had been slit.”

Nigel Ferguson was looking uncomfortable and Spence could not help himself.

“Genitals?” asked Spence.

“Our murderer had given them a good blow. Josie thinks it was a solid kick but he wouldn’t have known anything about it.”

Spence went quiet and stared at the floor. His case had suddenly become even more interesting.

“And Josie found rohypnol in his bloodstream.”

“Ah, the date-rape drug. So Davidson lets someone or someones into his home. They have a drink. He’s drugged, and once he’s out, his throat is slashed and after that he’s given a solid kick in the balls. And the place is left spotless and untouched. This is a fascinating one Ferguson. We’re going to enjoy this case.”

Ferguson always felt uncomfortable when Spence spoke like this; he felt even more uncomfortable when he realised he was feeling exactly the same.

“Oh, there’s something else Spence. Roger Davidson had welts across his backside. Looks like he had been given an old-style school caning.”

Now Spence ‘was’ intrigued. “Last night?”

“No. Josie said the marks were several days old, maybe even a week.”

“Curiouser and curiouser.”

Spence did not bother to make any reference to Lewis Carroll.

“So, what do you think Ferguson? Our victim liked a bit of B and D?”

“Could be Spence.”

Spence was impressed. Ferguson actually seemed to know what B and D was. At that point, he saw Joanna Grant walk past his door. “WPC Grant, can you come here please? DS Ferguson informs me that you have some top secret information to tell me that is going to have the entire case solved in less than ten hours.”

“Well sir, I don’t know –“

“WPC Grant! Close the door, phones off, can’t be too careful.”

She dutifully closed the door; Spence was enjoying himself.

“So Constable, let’s have it.”

“Just after you left sir, I asked Mrs Davidson if she would like a glass of water, she was still very upset. She was sobbing quietly and nodded. When I returned, I stood at the door. She was totally composed and was talking on her phone as if nothing had happened. When she noticed me, she suddenly returned to sobbing and said she had been talking to her mother about what had happened.”

“But her –“

“But her mother is seriously ill in hospital.”

“Interesting Constable. And your conclusion?”

“Perhaps she was putting on that she was so upset.”

“And the phone call? Ferguson, I think we need to return to the scene of the crime as soon as possible. We need to go through Roger Davidson’s home, organise the paper work. I want it done immediately. Constable, would you like to rummage through a dead man’s possessions?”

Joanna Grant was lost for words.

“Of course you would. Okay Ferguson, 4.30 at the Davidson home. You’ll need a couple of extra uniform. See if you can get hold of Felicity Davidson’s phone. We can always return it later. Apologise. Say it got caught up with other stuff. I want to know who she was speaking to. Anything on Roger Davidson’s finances?”

“Not yet Spence. I’ve got Traynor checking bank accounts, pension plans, property and the like. We’ll have it all by the end of the day.”

“Good. A Deputy Headmaster earns about forty five grand. His wife would be on somewhat less. They presumably have a bloody great mortgage. I am still mystified how they are able to live as they do. No doubt all will be revealed soon. Get Traynor to check for any private accounts Felcity Davidson might have.”

“Already on to it Spence.”

“Of course you are Ferguson,” thought Spence to himself. He really did have to admit that there were considerable advantages having Ferguson on the team.

“Tomorrow morning, let’s say 8.30, I want you, Traynor and WPC Grant at Woodlands. We get to work quizzing the staff. I’ll give Bob Hamsby a ring to have things organised. We interview everyone. Keep it general. I doubt a staff member is behind this but we might pick up a few useful scraps. Civvies WPC Grant, but modest ones. We’re going back to school!”

As Ferguson and Joanna Grant were leaving, Spence’s phone rang.

“Spence!”

Spence was smiling broadly. “I see. So he had got the days mixed up. And it wasn’t his fault after all. And where are you now? At Joel’s place. Dare I ask which room?”

Spence quickly took his phone away from his ear. His daughter’s reaction to his last comment was as predictable as he expected. He walked over to his computer and started googling Woodlands Academy. He laughed as he read that “Mr Robert Hamsby is one of the West Country’s leading educational practitioners.” Spence had no doubts about his friend’s ability, but he wanted to know where was the reference to the man’s drinking skills?