A Little Death Read online

  Lawrence Vickers was pacing as they came into reception. He turned to them, his fleshy face pale. Watts ushered him into the informal meeting room.

  Looking at Vickers, Hanson couldn’t decide whether he was fuddled from a few drinks or disoriented from some other cause. She breathed in. Alcohol. He was staring at the floor. A man with a lot on his mind. They waited.

  Corrigan broke the silence. ‘It was your choice to come here, sir. You have something to say to us?’

  Vickers opened his mouth then closed it again, making no eye contact.

  Watts gave an exasperated grunt. ‘You’re here, Mr Vickers. You might as well tell us.’

  Vickers spoke, his voice strained. ‘I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.’

  Watts’s eyes were on him. ‘I’m getting one already because you’re not telling us anything.’

  Vickers’ upper body slumped forward. He rubbed his eyes. ‘I saw her. That Saturday morning.’

  Tension spiked. Nobody moved. They knew who Vickers was talking about but he had to say it.

  ‘Who?’ asked Corrigan.

  ‘Elizabeth Williams. We had a tutorial that Saturday morning.’ The small room felt charged.

  ‘So, where’s the problem in acknowledging it?’

  Vickers stared down at his hands. ‘None as far as I’m concerned. But when you came to the college I thought that if I mentioned it you’d suspect I had something to do with what happened to her. So I was … less than forthcoming.’

  Watts looked deeply unimpressed. ‘Lied, you mean.’ Hanson saw Vickers flinch.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Watts demanded. Vickers remained silent. Watts glared at him. ‘Why lie about something that’s part of your job? Unless you know something about that tutorial. Did something happen inside your office?’

  Vickers’ gaze stayed resolutely on the floor, Watts’ impatience growing. ‘Come on, Dr Vickers. We could have you for obstruction. Start being forthcoming now or I’ll consider it.’

  Vickers began a halting account. As Elizabeth left his Friday afternoon lecture, he’d reminded her that they had a tutorial the following morning. She’d arrived at his office about five minutes late that Saturday morning.

  He continued, his face now grey, ‘She arrived in a rush and I noticed that she looked, I don’t know … excited. I told her to sit and calm down. I gave her a drink.’

  Watts looked like a Pointer who’d just spotted a rabbit. ‘What kind of drink?’

  ‘Juice.’

  Vickers looked down at his hands again. Hanson saw they were shaking. ‘We talked about her college work and then … I did something stupid.’

  Hanson felt Watts’s eyes on her. ‘What did you do, Mr Vickers?’ she asked.

  ‘I told her I found her very attractive.’ He covered his face with his hands. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I invited her to have dinner with me.’

  ‘And?’

  Vickers looked up at her. ‘That was it. She said she’d think about it. As soon as she left the room, I realised how stupid I’d been. The college frowns on that kind of thing. You’ll understand what I’m saying.’

  Vickers looked increasingly rattled in the silence that followed his outburst. ‘This is exactly what I expected,’ he finally said, filling the silence. ‘The reason I didn’t mention it. You’re thinking I did something to her. I didn’t.’

  Head propped on one hand, Watts fixed him with a look. ‘I’ll tell you what I’m thinking. After you saw us the other day, you thought about it and realised you were in a hole. We’d been told Elizabeth Williams had a tutorial that Saturday morning and being smart you realised we wouldn’t leave it alone, that we’d follow it up.’ He leant towards Vickers. ‘What wasn’t smart was not admitting it when you had the chance!’

  Vickers looked contrite. ‘I know. After you left my office I started thinking. I thought of the way she’d looked at me when I invited her out.’ He covered his face with his hands again, speaking through them. ‘It was embarrassing. As though she felt sorry for me. She said she’d think about what I’d said but I could see she wasn’t interested. I started to worry that maybe she’d tell some of the other students and the faculty would get to hear about it.’ He removed his hands from his face, looking worn.

  ‘It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. It had been an exhausting week, the academic year was winding down and that Saturday, for the first time in days, I was able to breathe. She arrived and she looked really nice.’ He paused. ‘I like tutorials.’ He glanced up; saw Watts’s eyes on him.

  ‘What I mean is, they’re enjoyable because they’re one-on-one …’ He stopped, releasing a shaky breath.

  ‘Did you get as far as arranging a time and place with her for dinner?’ asked Corrigan.

  Vickers gave a vehement headshake. ‘No! Of course not.’

  Corrigan studied him. ‘You didn’t volunteer any of this to the original investigation.’

  Vickers gave a mirthless laugh. ‘No way! When I heard that nobody had seen her after that weekend, I was shocked then worried in case she’d mentioned the invitation to somebody. I didn’t think she was the kind of girl to joke about something like that but there was no way I could be sure. I couldn’t very well ask anybody, could I? Those few days were the longest I remember in my whole life.’

  ‘What did you tell the police at the time?’ said Watts.

  ‘I told them I last saw her on the Friday. Then I waited for them to come back and question me again. Arrest me, even.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘They never did. I thought that was it and for a whole year, it was. Until last week when you phoned.’

  Watts looked unimpressed. ‘You should have gone to them. Told them what you knew.’

  Vickers stared at him. ‘I couldn’t. I would have put myself under suspicion when I hadn’t done anything, plus people, the faculty, would have found out what I’d said to her.’

  Hanson glanced at his wedding ring.

  ‘Does “people” include your wife?’ asked Corrigan.

  Vickers stared at the floor.

  ‘So why are you here now?’

  Vickers bowed his head. ‘Because it’s like the last time. Waiting for the axe to drop. I’m exhausted from thinking and worrying about it.’

  Watts’s eyes were still on him. ‘Just because you say you didn’t see her again doesn’t mean you didn’t.’

  Vickers looked up, horrified. ‘I didn’t! I didn’t lay a hand on her! For God’s sake, it wasn’t that serious an invitation. It was out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying and almost straight away I knew it was a bad idea. I thought of texting or emailing her to say, “Sorry let’s forget it”, but that would have got me in deeper still.’ He looked at them. ‘After you came to see me, I knew what I had to do. That’s why I’m here. I’d hardly come here and tell you all this if I’d killed her, would I?’

  Hanson took in the jeans, the longish hair, a tutor’s take on the trendy. You might.

  ‘Why was Elizabeth excited?’ she asked.

  Vickers looked confused. ‘What?’

  ‘You said that Elizabeth arrived in a rush and that she was excited. What was she excited about?’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask and she didn’t say.’

  She glanced at Watts, then: ‘Do you know if Elizabeth had arranged an internship?’

  He frowned, running a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t get involved with that stuff. All I know is, the students take what the college has on offer or they find their own.’

  Watts stood. Corrigan and Hanson did the same. ‘All right, Mr Vickers. Thanks for the information.’

  Vickers got up, glanced at each of them then back to Watts, his voice subdued. ‘Does what I’ve told you have to go any further?’

  Watts walked to the door and held it open. ‘I’ll arrange for somebody to take a witness statement from you. We’ll be in touch. On your way home you might think about whether to tell all this t
o your wife.’

  Hanson watched Vickers go. He looked like a condemned man.

  Hanson glanced around the high-ceilinged room with its subtly painted walls and bookshelves, wood shutters half-closed on falling darkness. Earlier in the evening, Corrigan had shown her around the rest of his home. She’d admired the maple cabinets in the kitchen, then gone upstairs to do the same for the grey slate walk-in shower and the master bedroom. The spare rooms were empty except for the one providing storage for Corrigan’s mountain bike. Everywhere there were hardwood floors in the American style.

  Rupe, the basset hound had followed them from room to room, with adoring looks for Corrigan. She thought back to how he’d acquired the hound during UCU’s previous case, one which had involved fine art and low duplicity, culminating in Corrigan being injured and Hanson fearful for his life.

  Downstairs again, she counted the dining table’s place settings as her two colleagues brought food to the table. ‘Who else is coming?’

  She heard the doorbell and found herself wondering if the caller was a woman, a friend of Corrigan’s.

  ‘I’ll get that,’ he said. She watched as he left the room, Rupe on his feet and following.

  Watts handed her a container of rice. ‘Relax, doc. Here you go.’

  She took it, ears straining. Recognising the visitor’s voice, she felt relief mixed with irritation. What was it to her who Corrigan might be seeing or inviting to his house?

  Julian came into the room. ‘This looks good. I’m starving.’

  Watts pointed at what was on the table. ‘I ordered for you, Devenish. I didn’t want to be bothered with cooking tonight.’

  Hanson recalled her doubts when Julian first began renting one of Watts’s spare rooms. They were so different: middle-aged cynic and academic youth. Against all the odds it was working. Spirits lifting, she spooned more rice onto her plate.

  Corrigan placed a drink on the table next to her. ‘One weak G & T, ice n’ slice.’

  For the next few minutes there was comparative silence as they ate, broken eventually by Hanson.

  ‘Can we talk shop for one minute? Where are we with Vickers?’

  ‘He’s a person of interest and depending on what he says when we see him next, he could be on his way to suspect,’ said Watts.

  ‘Because he lied about the Saturday morning?’

  ‘Because he admits he was trying to get off with a student almost young enough to be his daughter, a young woman who disappeared very soon after and was then murdered. He had motive. He had opportunity. I’d have expected you to have plenty to say about his inviting Williams out, given his age, that he’s married, plus you having a similar job and being a feminist.’

  Hanson eye-rolled. ‘I’m not any kind of “ist”. Women have the right not to be harassed. Liaisons like that are discouraged because of the power differential between tutor and student, but they happen.’

  She thought of Vickers and what he’d told them. ‘We only have his word that he and Elizabeth didn’t have that date. That field where she was left is no more than a couple of miles down the lane from the college.’

  ‘Anybody remember the colour of his office carpet?’ asked Corrigan.

  ‘Green cord, hardwearing,’ said Hanson promptly. ‘Question is, is there any cream wool carpet or rug in his life?’

  Watts reached for the naan bread. ‘That field’s off the beaten track. Remember the lane leading up to it? From the start of this case it occurred to me that whoever killed her was local. Somebody who knew that field. Look where Vickers is working: the college on Genners Lane. The same applies to Turner. I’m starting to see some light in this case.’

  Watts and Julian had left almost an hour before.

  ‘I should go,’ she said.

  Corrigan shook his head. ‘Have some more coffee.’ He poured it then sat with his hand on Rupe’s head.

  ‘We haven’t shared a meal in a while. I was reminded tonight of what a rewarding eater you are.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘You make these little sounds of appreciation when you eat.’

  ‘I don’t!’ she protested. ‘Do I?’

  ‘Yep. Sounds like this.’ She watched as he closed his eyes ‘“Mmm … oohh.”’

  She laughed. ‘You’re making it up.’

  ‘It’s cute and barely audible. The sound of someone who’s passionate about food and eating. It’s real nice.’

  ‘Pity it doesn’t translate to my cooking.’ She drank her coffee then glanced at her watch.

  ‘I have to go.’

  He fetched her jacket and held it for her as she put it on. She pointed to a nearby straight sided glass vase filled with flat white disks, each with a hole at its centre from which radiated petal-like markings.

  ‘What are those?’

  ‘They’re sand dollars. From a beach in California.’

  He reached inside the vase, lifted out two of them and placed them on her palm.

  ‘They’re beautiful,’ she said as she handed them back to him.

  ‘Take them.’

  She looked up at him, uncertain. ‘No. I couldn’t.’

  ‘Sure you can.’ He walked her to the door. ‘It was a nice evening.’

  ‘Yes. It was.’

  Hanson was home and feeling unsettled. Something had changed this evening although she wasn’t sure what. She and Corrigan had gone out as colleagues several times in the past to eat or for drinks. He’d come here with Watts and Julian for the kind of meal they’d had this evening. Maybe it was being inside Corrigan’s home which had made the difference? Whatever it was, she had a sense of some kind of line being crossed. One she hadn’t realised existed.

  That’s ridiculous. Corrigan comes here, you went there. So what? The thought stayed, resolute.

  She went up to her bedroom and took off her jacket. Reaching inside one of the pockets, she drew out the sand dollars and put them inside her bag. About to draw the curtains, she looked out of the window, recalling what she knew about him. Divorced, one daughter now adult. Traditional Boston-Irish Catholic upbringing, its emphasis on family. She sensed he was someone who valued commitment. She heard her own thoughts, delivered in her friend Celia’s voice.

  In which case, he’s not going to like the way you operate in relationships is he?

  The sky was patched with cloud. It looked like it was going to rain. She pulled the curtains closed and blocked it out.

  FOURTEEN

  Hanson came into UCU in the early afternoon.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked, picking up the downbeat atmosphere as she brushed raindrops from her hair.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Watts.

  Julian swivelled on his chair. ‘He’s got Michael Myers, Chris Turner and Lawrence Vickers as persons of interest and now he’s wondering how to work up a case against one or other of them.’

  ‘Thanks, Devenish. I can do my own talking. Switch the kettle on.’

  ‘Corrigan not here?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s with Armed Response giving taser training. Should be back soon.’

  She reflected on the persons of interest in the case and who she’d elevate to suspect, if any, starting with Chris Turner. Jess Simmonds had described him as abusive and controlling towards her. Hanson believed it. She also believed he had been much the same towards Elizabeth Williams. Belief wasn’t proof.

  She continued down the list: Lawrence Vickers, college tutor, married, attracted to Elizabeth to the point where he invited her out shortly prior to her disappearance, then kept it to himself for a whole year despite being questioned by the police at the time and now. They had only his word that things hadn’t progressed between him and Elizabeth.

  Michael Myers. A witness, as far as they knew. Yes, she was sympathetic towards him but she’d learned never to make assumptions about anybody. She glanced at Watts, wondering how receptive he might be to what she had in mind. His heavy face wasn’t encouraging.

  ‘What about coming at the case fro
m a different angle?’ she suggested as the door opened and Corrigan came in.

  Watts looked at her, his face all downward lines. ‘That angle being?’

  She pointed at the photographs on the board. ‘Elizabeth Williams herself.’

  She stood as Julian reached for the laptop. ‘Let’s start with the kind of person Elizabeth was. What were her strengths?’

  ‘Given her history, I’d say she was caring, loyal and responsible,’ offered Corrigan. ‘Intelligent. Independent-minded.’

  Watts raised his head. ‘Why independent?’

  ‘She wouldn’t settle for an internship provided by the college,’ said Julian. ‘She had her own ideas.’

  Watts frowned. ‘She sounded like an upbeat type to me. Energetic. Always on the go.’

  Julian typed and Hanson studied the words tracking their way across the board. ‘That’s Elizabeth’s upside. What about her vulnerabilities?’ They looked at each other.

  ‘Too trusting, according to her friend Jess,’ said Julian.

  ‘How about a bit too independent?’ suggested Watts. ‘If she’d stayed living with her aunt she might have been OK.’ He finger-pointed the screen.

  ‘Hang on, though. She was in a relationship with Turner, the boyfriend from hell. What does that say about this independence of hers?’

  Hanson thought about it. ‘From what we’ve been told, I think Elizabeth was independent but I also think she was naïve. Both characteristics could well be the result of her childhood experience.’ She looked at each of them.

  ‘I don’t know about you, but it’s hard for me to imagine what it feels like to be a child whose parent depends on you for daily care. I’ve tried to imagine Maisie in that role.’ She shook her head.

  ‘I can’t, yet she’s four years older than Elizabeth was when she became her mother’s carer. I’m not suggesting that that kind of situation is bad for a child. I can see a lot of gains, for example the independence we’ve identified, plus the chance to develop empathy and take responsibility.’ Hanson came to the table. ‘But remember what her aunt said about her? That Elizabeth soaked up whatever she did for her “like blotting paper”. And then there’s Jess Simmonds’ view that Elizabeth was taken advantage of at times. I think that despite Elizabeth’s strengths she could have been highly vulnerable to someone, a male who presented himself as caring and interested in her.’