One Last Lesson (20 page)

‘Right sir, I’ll get that organised
.’

Sally Graham was about to speak when
Steve O’Donnell came back into the room.

‘Great news,’ he said. ‘Mike Ferris has
just been arrested.’

Two men walked through the main entrance to Lewes University and while one headed towards the enquiries desk, the other sauntered over to the notice board. DS Gerry Hobbs didn’t go to university and had never really considered going either, despite gaining three A-Levels at Six-Form College. His father was an engineer at a large food manufacturer in Pontefract and it was expected he would follow in his footsteps but he didn’t, and instead joined the police force.

Some students were scurrying about as
if late for a morning seminar, while others were sauntering along or leaning against a wall and chatting as if they had all the time in the world. He turned to look more closely at the notice board and was pleased to see that after the murder of two students, warnings were now posted instructing girls not to venture out without a companion. Their tone was paternal without too much panic and with the Easter holidays due any day now, it would give many students the chance to get away and forget about it for a while.

DC Seb Young strode towards him, exhibiting little trace of the easy humour that normally creased his face. ‘Right, we’re checked i
n. We can go up and see him now that is, if you’re not too busy trying to decide between a Tai Chi class or doing a bit of creative writing.’

‘Yeah, I’m finished. I was just getting a feel of the place. Let’s go.’

Jon Lehman’s office was small and it was a tight squeeze to fit in two extra bodies with such a big desk, numerous filing cabinets, cupboards and large piles of paper and magazines. Lehman had been expecting them and by the look on his surly, ashen face it was not a meeting he was looking forward to.

Hobbs
liked the occasional flutter and would have taken 3-1 that Lehman was worried about saying something that might incriminate himself but a more cautious man than he would also entertain the possibility that he was suffering from a hangover, evidenced by trembling hands and bloodshot eyes. Hobbs, like any gambler, continually searched for information that would shorten the odds in his favour and after shaking hands with the lecturer, he knew his initial assumptions were correct, as he could not detect the smell of booze.

‘As I explained on the phone,’ Hobbs said in the calm, measured way he liked to start an interview, ‘I am in charge of
the team investigating the death of Louisa Gordon, a student from this university whose body was found in bushes on the grounds of West Hove Golf Club, a week last Saturday.’

‘Yes, I understand,’ he said.

‘Even though Louisa was a student of Sociology and unlikely to be taught by you...’ He looked at him for confirmation.

‘Yes, that’s right, she wasn’t in any of my classes.’

‘However, she does appear as a model on the academic-babes website, a website owned by you, Alan Stark and Dominic Green.’ He paused. ‘And I don’t think you need reminding Mr Lehman, so was Sarah Robson.’

‘Yes, I was aware of that.’

‘Have you anything to say about these two murders, sir. I assume you can see why we believe they are both connected?’

‘I don’t know, I don’t know,’ he said nervously running fingers through thick, black hair. ‘Somebody is obviously targeting the girls on the site but I don’t know why. Why would I know? We’ve looked and looked but can’t find anyone in our web site community who dislikes any of the girls
, or me or the other founders, so much that they would want to murder those girls... those students. I just can’t see it. I can’t get my head round it.’

‘What about Mr Green, surely he must have some serious enemies. He
’s been mixed up with some fairly rum characters in the past.’

‘You probably know more about him than I do, but it’s true, he is the type of guy
that likes a bit of danger and mixes with some unsavoury people. I know he’s been looking at this too and there’s a good chance he’ll come up with something.’

‘Isn’t it just a tiny bit convenient for you to blame
it on Mr Green and say it’s nothing to do with me? What about you sir, you must feel some responsibility?’

‘Of course I bloody do!’ he exploded
. ‘I think about this every day, every damned day if you must know.’ He spun round on the chair and stared out of the window at the early spring landscape. His office was at the back of the university with views over a small patch of ground that included a few trees and bushes and an area of grass, replete with fading daffodils and snowdrops.

‘Let’s talk about Louisa Gordon.’

He turned back to face them. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘We know she was a third year student of sociology, she lived in a big flat with five other girls and
a bloke in the Queens Park district of Brighton, her parents live in Cardiff, that’s about it.’

‘She’s tall, short black hair and big in so many ways; big boned, big personality, always spoke her mind, and if you talk to people who
have taught her, a brilliant student. She liked to get involved in everything, whether it was rag week, the sociology annual bash, even showing visitors around on open days, it didn’t matter.’ He paused, staring into space. ‘What a waste.’

‘So how did she get involved with the web site?’

He smiled at the memory. ‘I first saw her in the university bar; she was so tall and striking. I don’t know why I never noticed her before.’ He paused, fiddling with some papers. ‘How we met was more or less the same as any other girl that worked on the site. We spoke, we got to know one another better and later on, I asked her if she wanted to make some extra money, and she said yes.’ He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, ‘who wouldn’t?’

‘So where were you
on the night she was killed, Monday 25
th
March?’

Hobbs looked down at
his notes although he knew them, more or less off by heart. She had spent the evening in the Preston View, a pub overlooking Preston Park, the largest park in the city with tennis courts, bowling green, cricket pitch and a lot more besides. It was a place he knew well as the Rockery across the road was where he and wife had pictures taken after their wedding at a hotel nearby.

Louisa was with a group of students
who lived in a house close to the pub and were taking part in a regular karaoke night, as she loved singing. They usually stayed until closing time before heading back to someone’s flat for more karaoke and more booze, but over the last few weeks she had been leaving early to check on an old woman who lived in the flat below the one she shared with two other girls in Queens Park, as only last week she had fallen over and broken her leg.

She left the pub at ten to walk down
the hill to the bus stop on Preston Road, the main road at the front of the park. She never made it and was never seen alive again and CCTV coverage at that end of town was practically non-existent, as much of that area is open parkland. Like Sarah, she had drunk more than was good for her and again, like Sarah, she was alone when she disappeared, strongly suggesting the killer was intimately familiar with their leisure-time routines and by implication, knew them well or perhaps was just bloody lucky. As a betting man, he would give short odds on the first and mighty long odds on the second.

Lehman picked up a desk dia
ry but didn’t really look at it, either because he was so well rehearsed or he had been looking at it so often it was now memorised. ‘I worked at the university all day until six. In the evening, I took tea in the coffee shop downstairs and then I went to the bar, where I stayed until the death and ended up legless, it’s what I do after a bad day. I spent a good part of the evening with a psychology lecturer at the university by the name of Kingsley Marsden and spent the night at his place, on the settee.’

Hobbs noted this down and underlined Mar
sden’s name a couple of times, this was one alibi he wanted to check personally.

‘I was hardly capable of finding my way to the toilet in that maze of a house he lives in, so how could I drive a car, when I don’t
even own one, and go and abduct poor Louisa and all the while the Marsden family were sleeping?’

‘Does your wife not object to y
ou staying out all night, sir?’ Young said. ‘I’m sure mine would.’

‘Annabel and I are now separated and I live in a flat in Lewes, so I can come and go as I please. On that particular night, I decided it was safer for me to stay where I was rather than try to make my way
back to the flat.’

‘Very sensible sir,’ Hobbs said. ‘Mr Lehman, in order for us to fully investigate the connection between your web site and both girls, I now would like you to supply me with a full list of all
the university students that have appeared on the site and the names and addresses of all your UK-based subscribers.’

He was about to interrupt when Hobbs held
up his hand. ‘I haven’t finished yet, sir. As an interim solution, I would ask you and your associates to take this web site down until our investigation has been concluded.’

‘The first part, the names of the girls who have been models and a list of
the UK subscribers has already been done.’ He reached across his desk and handed Hobbs a sheaf of papers. ‘So that you don’t think we are totally heartless, I have personally spoken to all the girls that have appeared on the site from the university and warned them to be on their guard. As for analysing the list of subscribers, I wouldn’t know where to start, short of talking to every one.’

‘We
may have to do that but as a first pass, we’ll run the list through our computers and see who’s got form.’

‘That will be an interesting analysis, I’m sure but as for closing the site, I’m afraid we can’t.’

‘Can’t or won’t?’

‘There was a meeting of the
um, directors and we decided it should remain up as we can’t see any value in closing it down.’

In his opinion, the tame academics were out-voted by
a greedy bastard called Dominic Green, more like. Making money was clearly more important than any sympathy they once felt for the victims.

‘I’m astonished to hear you say that sir, quite frankly. Two girls have died and the
main thing that connects them together, other than their attendance at this university, is their pictures have appeared on your web site. Whatever the reason for their murders, how could you live with yourself if another girl is killed?’

He paused a few seconds, his face dark and gloomy. ‘That’s a chance we’ll
just have to take Detective but um, we are of the opinion that this psycho’s plan has already been formulated and it wouldn’t make any difference if the site was running or not.’

He
nderson left the office at four-thirty and entered the Royal Sussex County Hospital for what he hoped was the last time. Rachel was already dressed as he approached her ward and hobbled towards him on crutches and gave him a clumsy hug and a big kiss.

‘Hey Henderson,
’ she said into his ear, ‘I’ve missed this.’

Her hair smelled clean and fresh and for a moment
, it took away the institutional aroma of disinfectant and cooking that pervaded the air in here at most other times. A minute or so later, she pushed him away, balanced on one leg, turned and hooked the crutches firmly under her arms. ‘Let’s go get my stuff before we make a spectacle of ourselves.’

‘You’re getting good on
those,’ he said as they walked across the ward. ‘It won’t be long before you’re sprinting across the room faster than Usain Bolt.’

‘I might be getting the hang of it but
it doesn’t half wear me out.’

‘Did your folks turn up yesterday? Your dad said to me the
other day he might have trouble getting away.’

‘He couldn’t
make it in the end but mum did and she made one last push to haul me back in the family nest but I resisted.’

‘I know.’
She called him soon after she left the hospital and despite a calm tone, she was tearing her hair out with worry about the invalid and questioning if he was capable of taking care of her, as she didn’t believe Rachel could do it on her own. It was touch and go, but a determined session on the crutches gave Rachel the confidence to realise she wasn’t as immobile as she feared, and took the bold decision to return to her own flat and avoided the trial and trauma of going back to the parental home.

‘You might not be so
confident when you’ve been cooped up in your flat for a couple of weeks, unable to get out.’

‘
In that case, you’ll be receiving a frantic phone call, mate, don’t you worry. C’mon let’s make a move.’

He picked up her bags and on the way out, stopped at the nurses station to thank all the staff for their help and attention, particularly a nurse called Gina,
the one that gave Rachel the confidence to walk when all she wanted to do was lie in bed. Slowly they made their way to the lifts and stood with all the other partially broken and wounded people, and even though she was one of the lucky ones as she was getting out, it didn’t feel that way at the moment.