DS Jessica Daniel series: Locked In/Vigilante/The Woman in Black - Books 1-3 (88 page)

She didn’t think she’d had one conversation in the last week that hadn’t involved the weather in one way or another. Jessica’s parents lived further north and she spoke
to them once a fortnight or so. She had spoken to them the previous night but all they wanted to talk about was the weather. ‘I like it hot,’ her mother had said. ‘But not
this
hot.’ Considering her mum had spent large parts of the winter saying how cold it was, Jessica wondered if there was a magic temperature where it was just fine. Half a degree
hotter or colder and it would be too far the other way again.

Before she knew it, Jessica had arrived at Michael Wright’s house. She was familiar with the place as it wasn’t too far from where she used to live when she first came to the city
with Caroline. As she got out of her car, she realised that would have been roughly the same year the rugby photo was taken.

Jessica rang the man’s doorbell and, before the chime had finished, the door was yanked inwards. Jessica thought of the way Jacob had described his former coach and, as much as she hated
herself for thinking it, it was hard to disagree with the picture he had painted. Michael Wright was shorter than she was and wore black thick-rimmed glasses. As he stepped backwards to let her in,
he had a clear limp, as if one leg were shorter than the other. He was completely bald and stammered as he spoke. ‘Can I, I, I see your identification please?’

Jessica took her identification out from her jacket pocket and let him examine it. He held it close to his face and, for a moment, she thought he was going to lick it. Much to her relief, he
didn’t and handed it back. ‘C-C-Come in.’

As much as you were trained to treat and judge people on their actions and words, police officers were still human beings and made snap first impressions like anyone else.

The front door opened immediately into a living room and, as Jessica sat in the armchair the man offered to her, she could see why the team had picked on him. She remembered being at schools and
in clubs herself and knew there was always one teacher or helper who the children targeted. For her there was the geography teacher who would stand and wait for the class to go quiet but, when she
was younger than that, she remembered a form tutor dashing out of registration in tears because no one was listening to her.

Michael stood in front of her rocking slightly from one leg to the other. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea or something?’

‘If it’s not too much trouble, that would be fab. No sugar though, just milk.’

Jessica didn’t really want one but figured if he was in the kitchen, she could have a proper look around his living room. It was a trick one of the men she first worked with had taught
her. He had told her off for turning down a hot drink and then, when she’d told the person she’d changed her mind, they had scuttled off and her colleague had proceeded to look at every
photo, even opening a few drawers.

With Michael out of the room, Jessica stood and peered at a couple of pictures around the room. Nothing appeared to be recent. A couple of photos seemed to be of a group of people who looked
like teachers. Jessica could clearly see Michael standing on the end, leaning slightly to one side. There were two even older photos of a couple getting married whom she assumed were the
man’s parents. The only picture that jumped out was on the mantelpiece behind another frame. She had to pick it up to see it properly but it was of a rugby team. She looked to see if either
Ed Marks or Lewis Barnes was a part of the side but it didn’t look like it. Jessica put the frame back down and returned to the armchair.

The whole room looked like a throwback to twenty years ago. The carpet, sofa and armchair all had flowery patterns, the wallpaper sporting an awful raised print design. It had been painted over
and was flaking in some parts. When she looked properly, Jessica could see the windows were single-glazed too with flimsy looking wooden frames. It was the kind of house she had grown up in but
even her parents had redecorated at least twice since.

Michael walked back into the room with two china teacups clinking on saucers next to a teapot on a tray. It didn’t surprise her to see the crockery had a flowery pattern too. He put
everything on the coffee table and sat on the sofa. ‘I hope I didn’t put t-t-too much milk in.’

Jessica took a sip just to be polite and assured him it was fine. ‘Thanks for inviting me around, Mr Wright. I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about some of your former
students, if that’s all right?’

‘I’ve not taught for over ten years I’m afraid, I’m not sure h-h-how much use I can be.’ He pushed his glasses up higher on his face but seemed far too nervous to
actually look at Jessica.

‘If I ask you about a couple of people, could you tell me if you recognise the names?’

He made something approaching a gurgling noise before saying that was fine.

‘Do you remember a student called Edward Marks?’

The man’s reply was instant. ‘Yes, he took A-levels in English Literature, Communication Studies and Art. He had a brother called Charles.’

Jessica was a little startled. ‘How do you know that?’

‘If I’ve taught someone, I remember everything. Edward got two C’s and an A for Art if I remember correctly. He played hockey and rugby too. He was a pretty quick winger from
what I remember.’

Jessica noticed his stammer had gone and he suddenly sounded confident. ‘How about Lewis Barnes?’

‘English Literature, History and Geography. Two B’s and a C. He also played rugby, open-side flanker, and was a keen swimmer.’

‘Jacob Chrisp?’

‘Government and Politics, History and Communication Studies. B, C, D. Inside centre.’

Jessica tried to remember one of the other names from the photo. Izzy had matched as many first names to surnames as she could and they had identified all but three of the players, although
hadn’t contacted anyone except for Jacob.

‘How about Rory King?’

‘No idea, not one of mine.’

‘Timothy Davidson?’

The man shook his head emphatically. ‘Nope.’

Jessica gave him a few more names; some of them he knew, some he didn’t. ‘I’ve got to ask again, how can you remember all this? It’s astonishing.’

The man sounded nervous but somewhat proud. He had stopped stammering. ‘It’s just something I can do. If I’ve taught or coached someone, I remember things like that. Those
names weren’t too long from before I retired but I can go back a lot further.’

It almost sounded like a challenge. If he was involved in any way, surely showing off this kind of knowledge of the victims would be an odd thing to do in front of a police officer? Looking at
him, she felt guilty herself for thinking he was a bit odd but he didn’t seem capable of hacking off a hand. Her instincts were telling her he was just someone who had been caught up in
something unsavoury a few years ago but was harmless enough.

‘I understand you were a teacher and rugby coach?’ Jessica asked.

‘And hockey – plus I worked for the scouts for a while too.’

‘Why did you stop?’

The man leant forward and picked up the teacup, taking two large sips and then returning it to the tray. His hand was shaking and the hot liquid spilled on his hand. He barely reacted, wiping it
on the sofa. Still staring at the carpet he finally spoke. ‘After I got out of hospital I couldn’t face it any longer.’

Jessica suddenly felt awful; there was such pain in the man’s voice. She didn’t want to ask the question but the words came out anyway. ‘Why were you in hospital?’

Michael drank some more tea before answering. ‘An acc-acc-accident with some of the rugby players I was coaching. It wasn’t the first time and things weren’t right at the
college either. They offered me some m-m-money to go and I took it and quit everything else too.’

Jessica didn’t know what else she could get from the conversation. The man’s stutter had returned and he was clearly upset. The picture seemed pretty clear without him filling in the
gaps. Given years of bullying from the very people he had spent a career trying to help, he had finally reached the end of his tether.

‘I’ve just got one last thing. Do you ever see your students out and about?’ It wasn’t the exact question she should have asked but she didn’t want to upset him
further.

‘One of them was my postman for a little while b-b-but unless they’re on TV or in the paper, I wouldn’t really notice. I d-d-don’t often go out.’

Jessica could have continued to talk to him but, despite his almost autistic knowledge of former students, he seemed a little pathetic. As he stood to show Jessica out, a thought occurred to
her. Ever since they had looked at the first CCTV footage, they had been assuming the figure in the black cape was a woman. She didn’t think the former teacher was involved but perhaps
another male with his stature could be. If they were confident enough to walk in heels, she thought someone as short and slight as him could just about pass as female.

After saying her goodbyes, Jessica drove back to the station. Clouds had started to form and taken the edge off the heat. She walked through reception into her office which was hot and empty.
Jessica was planning on running a few more checks on the former teacher. She suspected he may have had a breakdown at some point and, though the police didn’t have open access to
someone’s medical records, there could be something in their system that could reveal more about him.

Her desk was messy at the best of times but there was a pile of post on Jessica’s seat that would have been left by someone from the mail room. Although that was what the officers called
it, it was essentially just a cubby hole connected to the admin and Human Resources department. She flicked through a couple of letters, before seeing an object that sent a chill through her. A
large brown envelope with a printed name and address was at the bottom of the pile. Jessica could see it matched the package that had been sent to the station containing the severed finger but,
unlike that one, this was addressed directly to her.

Jacob Chrisp downed the rest of his pint and looked across the table at the man opposite. ‘Oi, Fred, your round, fella.’

‘Who got the last lot?’ the man asked.

‘I got the first round, Stevo got his, Legs was next and now it’s your turn. Get moving.’

Fred stood and stepped out from under the giant parasol that extended over the table they were sitting at. ‘Same again, lads?’

The three men nodded. Jacob stretched out from under the umbrella to make sure the upper half of his bare torso was in the sun. ‘Bloody lovely weather, this.’

One of the other two men rolled up the sleeves on his T-shirt to make it more like a vest, moving further into the evening sun. ‘Aye aye,’ he said, nodding his head towards the beer
garden’s entrance. The pub was the closest to the office they were clearing. It wasn’t great but the beer was cheap and, with weather like they were having, the patio at the back was
perfect for drinking after work.

Jacob and the third man glanced towards where their friend had nodded to see two women sitting on opposite sides of a wooden table a few yards away. One had short blonde hair and was wearing
denim shorts with a small white vest top, the other had on a short skirt and bikini top.

‘Whew, that is top quality,’ Jacob said. He gave a low whistle and raised his eyebrows as the two girls looked over. ‘Evening, ladies.’ The two females ignored him, each
lighting a cigarette and stretching their legs into the sun. ‘Probably lesbians,’ Jacob said, looking back to his friends. ‘They look the type.’ He coughed loudly.
‘Dykes.’

The two men around him laughed. ‘Who was the redheaded one you were with earlier?’ one of them asked.

‘Some chick from the Old Bill.’

‘What did she want?’

Jacob didn’t know what to think of the two detectives who had visited him and couldn’t figure out what they wanted. Were they saying he could be a target because of something to do
with his rugby team or were they just after information? Either way, he had no intention of telling his friends about it. ‘I saw some car accident last week. They were taking a
statement.’

‘What were they like close-up? They looked tidy from a distance.’

‘Oh, you definitely would. The red-head was a stunner but there was something about the other one too.’

Despite his bravado, Jacob had been a bit spooked by the officer with the dark blonde hair. Maybe it was the way she had completely dismissed him but he got the feeling there was something she
wasn’t telling him. The comments about two of the players being hurt were cryptic but he hadn’t wanted to ask too many questions in case they had come back with more inquiries of their
own. As far as he was concerned, the less said about the tours their rugby team had gone on, the better – and it was years ago anyway. Aside from the odd one, he hadn’t seen any of the
players for ages and, as for the two detectives, he had given them the name of the freak coach but knew they wouldn’t get too much from him, even if they could find him.

Jacob’s thoughts were interrupted by Fred returning with a tray of drinks. ‘You took your time.’

‘Yeah, just some bloke being a dick and trying to cut in line at the bar. It’s heaving in there. I’ve never seen the place so busy.’

As he spoke a man walked across, standing behind him and putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘You all right, fellas? I just wanted to apologise for jumping the queue inside. I don’t want
any trouble or anything. Can I get you all a drink to make up for it?’

Fred looked at the man and then glanced across to Jacob, who shrugged, thinking he had something vaguely familiar about him. ‘No worries, buddy, we’re all on lager here so a pint
each and we’ll say no more about it, yeah?’

‘Sure, I’ll be right back.’

The man disappeared back into the pub as Jacob and the other two men stared at Fred. ‘What did you say to him inside?’

Fred seemed slightly confused. ‘Nothing, I just sent him packing. I guess he saw us and figured he didn’t want a scrap. Can’t blame him really.’