WARNING: Small spoiler for With no one as witness
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Acton Burrough College being on the way to the victim's house, they decided to begin their investigation there.
In Lynley's car, Barbara was watching the shops windows of High Street pass by. She'd not been back in Acton since she moved in Chalk Farm but she recognized some of the shops. Soon the car would reach the crossroad with Uxbridge Road where the campus stood. And going further down Uxbridge Road, there'd be Mr. Patel's grocery shop and the travel agency where she used to pick up the catalogs for her mother. And a little bit further her parent's home where she grew up and where life had become so unbearable after Tony's death. She had run out of the neighbourhood as soon as she had managed it in the hope that she'd be able to leave behind her the dreadful memories associated with Acton: her brother's death, the implacable vengeance she'd taken on her parents, and in the end their physical and mental decay. She'd been happy in Acton with her brother but she'd let her grief and resentment overwhelm her after his death. She'd become embittered, all rage and sorrow. It took her first investigation with DI Lynley to realize what she'd become and she hadn't like what she had seen. She'd made a clean sweep of the past, sold her parents' house, left Acton so she could heal and become the woman she knew she truly was. She'd been afraid that going back to Acton would bring back all the bad memories but, to her great relief, this was not the case. On the contrary she felt a bout of excitement at the view of the familiar places, at least the ones that had not been transformed yet by the never ending urban makeover of the metropolis. Yes, she could face her past serenely now, even if without pride, and she could do so because she was a new woman. And, without any doubt, this she owed to Lynley's influence on her life, though she would never admit it to him. She wondered if he had the slightest idea of the impact he'd had on her. But Lynley was already turning in Steyne Road, and soon he was parking on the campus. Students of various origins were striding towards red brick buildings. A rectangular building of modern architecture, all glass and steel, housed the library. The detectives followed the signs to the administrative building, a diamond-shape building standing at what must have been the center of the campus prior to the addition of the library. They found a secretary who ushered them to the Principal's office on the first floor.
- I'm sure that's a first for you sir, being summoned to the Principal's office, Barbara said to Lynley as they walked along the corridor on the upper floor.
- I've not always been a model of discipline, Havers. I've been punished more than once when I was a boy.
- So you're telling me you've experienced firsthand the tough disciplinary measures of the boarding schools? What, you've been caned?
- Don't be silly, Havers. Boarding schools are not torture centres where sadistic masters give free reins to their worst urges at the expense of frightened boys.
- Sounds like a lawyer's speech at a trial for abuse.
She seemed to reflect on his answer then added with a grin:
- Caning had stopped when you boarded Eton, hadn't it?
- Actually the last caning happened in 1984. I boarded a bit later, Lynley replied suppressing a smile.
The pincipal, Edna Cookson, was a plump woman in her fifties, wearing a rather strict grey trouser suit and a white blouse but with eccentric spectacles zigzagging around her eyes in a swirl of orange and purple. The furniture and decorations were modern and functional. Diplomas strategically hung on the wall behind the Principal, one couldn't miss them when talking to Cookson; on the desk were two pictures of a man and two adolescents, the husband and children Lynley thought, and on the filing cabinets by the window more photographs of Edna Cookson posing with various personalities. On one of them a gleaming Edna Cookson was standing next to the Prince of Wales at the inauguration of the new campus library.
- Thank you for taking the time to meet us, Principal Cookson, Lynley said as an introduction.
Not that she had much choice, Barbara thought, but she knew Lynley's words were simply a polite introduction and not the expression of his gratitude. He would have met Edna Cookson even if she hadn't wished to.
The principal gestured towards the chairs in front of her desk.
- Don't thank me, Inspector. Mr. Follett was a highly respected man. We've all been choked by the terrible circumstances of his death.
- How long did Mr. Follett teach at the College?
- Mark, Mr. Follett, joined us 4 years ago. Before that, he had held a post in a college in Buckinghamshire.
- Do you know why he had moved to London?
Cookson looked embarrassed. She took off her spectacles and considered the question carefully, biting the inside of her lower lip. Lynley didn't say a word, letting the silence grow but he kept his gaze on the Principal. She finally took her decision and put on her spectacles again to meet Lynley's eyes.
- I won't hold the truth back from you, Inspector, because there is nothing Follett should have been ashamed of but I am afraid you might become quite suspicious about him. Follett had been accused of sexual harassment by one of his student, a 14-year old girl. He has always denied the facts. He said that the girl was delusional, that she fancied him and had imagined the whole story when he hadn't responded to her overtures.
- There must have been an investigation.
- Yes, and the police have found absolutely no proof of misconduct and it seems that several students have testified to the girl's obsession. All the charges have been dropped but Follett didn't want to stay in the region. He said the climate was oppressive.
- You've never had any problem with him?
- None whatsoever, Inspector. Follett's conduct was irreproachable.
- He was teaching English, wasn't he?
- That's right. He was very much liked by his students. He also supervised the "Insider". That's the college's newspaper. It's entirely made by the students and it's published every other week. Professor Follett was a sort of editor-in-chief but not in an intrusive way. He was only there to help the students. He also taught adult classes twice a week at the Acton Community Center. He was very active in the community life. He believed in the power of instruction and in the possibility that one has to improve one's condition thanks to education.
- It seems that he had been involved in a fight some time before his death. He had several bruises on his face. Do you know what happened?
- Not really. As you can imagine, when he arrived at work in this state I asked him but he didn't tell me much. He just said that he'd been assaulted and robbed of his money. I know that some of his colleagues tried to learn more but to no avail.
- Was he particularly close to someone here, at the college?
- Well, I think you could speak to Blake. Timothy Blake is one of our IT teachers. He also gives a hand for the newspaper, for the editing, the layout, the graphics, that sort of things. He got along well with Follett even though they were not from the same generation. I know that Follett talked him into giving some classes at the Community Center. And, of course, there'd be Clare Davenport. Davenport is an English teacher too. I am not sure but I have the feeling that the relations between Follett and Davenport were more than professional, if you see what I mean.
- Yes, you're implying that they were in a romantic relationship, Lynley said matter-of-factly.
- I'm not totally sure but there were rumours and Davenport has been profoundly shocked when she learnt about Follett's death.
- Can you tell me where we could find these two teachers?
- My secretary, Mrs Clark, shall have all the information you need.
Lynley told Edna Cookson that he had no further question for the moment, so they all went to see Mrs Clark. She gave the detectives the timetable of both teachers and pointed out the fact that Blake was currently in the IT classroom whereas Davenport was on exceptional leave. She also gave them the address of the teachers, which Barbara noted down in her notepad, as well as a map of the campus with the location of the various classrooms.
The detectives thanked the principal and her secretary and left.
- So which one do we see first, sir? The good-mate-colleague or the girlfriend-colleague?
- We don't know if Follett and Davenport were lovers.
- Cookson said Davenport has been very shocked to learn about Follett's death. And she's on exceptional leave.
- On the other hand, it seems rather normal to be shocked upon learning that one of your colleagues has been murdered, doesn't it?
- I s'pose it depends on the colleague…
- Havers…
- Yeah, OK, no need to take your patronizing voice.
- I am not patronizing. But I do hope, even if we're not lovers, that should anything happen to me it'd have an effect on you.
Barbara shivered and she hoped Lynley hadn't noticed it. He was able to talk lightly about it but the very thought that something really bad could happen to him frightened her. She remembered how she had once snatched him from the clutches of a serial killer but that had been a close call. If she had not seen Lynley being abducted, if he had not dropped his car keys when the killer had tasered him, if, if, if…Yeah, and if wishes were horses beggars would ride, she thought bitterly. She had replayed the whole scene in her head over a million times and a lot of things could have turned bad and prevented her from saving Lynley but everything had ended wells so she needed to put this story behind her and hope that everything would always be fine.
Lynley saw the distress in his partner and despised himself for having raised such a foolish subject.
- I am so sorry, Barbara. Please forgive me. That was a stupid remark. One may think I should know better.
All right, so he did notice, she thought. She tried a humorous reply.
- It's OK, sir, but if you really are that concerned, maybe you'd want to consider putting me on your will. I think this could help me going through the grieving part, she replied with a mischievous smile.
- God bless my money! I shall have fewer friends without it.
- As you say, sir. What do you think of this sexual harassment case? Even if Follett wasn't guilty of anything, maybe someone thought he was and wanted to avenge the girl.
- After 4 years, it seems a bit far-fetched but you're right we need to consider every possibility.
- Do you want me to take care of that now?
- No, I'd rather you stay with me to see the colleagues and we need to have a look at Follett's office and home.
- So, back to my first question: where do we start?
Lynley had a look at the timetable.
- We have almost three quarters of an hour before the mid-morning break. Let's have a look at Follett's office.
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Mark Follett's office was in a building not far from the library. The detectives had a security agent to open the door for them and they entered the room. The office was rather small but perfectly tidy. The furniture was of the same type as the one in the principal's office. On the desk sat a laptop, a mug bearing the college's arms and two stacks of papers. Along the walls stood wooden selves full of books. Havers began to search them, opening each one of them and going through all the pages in case something was hidden in a book. There were all kind of books, from the great English classic literature (Shakespeare, Austen) to modern novels, from science-fiction (apparently Follett had a taste for Franck Herbert) to mystery novels. Barbara wondered briefly if Lynley would authorize her to borrow Ben Aaronovitch's latest book but there was little chance of that. Too bad, she was very fond of Constable Grant. She saw him as a Winston Nkata who would have studied at Hogwarts.
- Anything of interest, Sergeant?
- No, sir. Follett had very eclectic tastes, said she pointing at the books as she named them. Here's Pride and prejudice, there you have 50 shades of Grey and on this shelf the integral of Harry Potter! Do you think he made his students study them all?
- I have some doubts about the 50 shades of Grey, Havers.
- Damn. I think some students could have developed a sudden interest for reading, though. What about you? Did you find anything?
Lynley was searching through Follett's papers on the desk.
- No, nothing of interest: lectures notes, students' exercises, and the usual stationery. No personal mail, not even a photograph. We will bring the laptop to the lab at the Met but I doubt there'll be anything personal in it.
They left the room, went to Lynley's car to put the laptop in the boot and made their way to the IT classroom.
It was a narrow room, equipped with around 15 desktops and a whiteboard at one extremity. The students were leaving when they arrived and Blake was seated at his desk. He was a young man of about 25 years of age, of fair complexion with short blond hair and long thin fingers that ran swiftly over the computer keyboard. He was dressed in a casual style, wearing faded jeans and a light blue shirt. He rose as the detectives entered the classroom.
- Good morning. May I help you?
- I really hope so, Mr. Blake. I'm DI Lynley and here's DS Havers, said Lynley showing his warrant card to the man. We're in charge of the investigation on Mark Follett's death and we'd like to ask you a few questions.
- Sure. Anything you'd want, Inspector. Poor Mark was a friend of mine. What a tragedy. But do you mind if we go outside? I could really do with a coffee and a fag.
The coffee machine stood near the back door of the building. Blake took a cup of black coffee, offered to buy one to the detectives who declined, and they all went outside. The sun had pierced through the clouds and the building protecting them from the wind the temperature was really nice. Blake lit his cigarette and Barbara jumped at the occasion to light one herself (it was absolutely out of the question that she smoked in the Healey Elliott). She smiled as she noticed Lynley standing in a place where the smoke could not reach him. No one is as intolerant as a former smoker, she thought. Once she had her cigarette lit she took her notepad out of her bag and readied herself to take Blake's statement.
- What do you want to know, Inspector?
- You told me Follett was a friend of yours. Were you close?
Blake took his time to consider the question.
- I don't know if I could say we were close friends. It is sometimes difficult to draw the line between fellowship and true friendship, but compared to my relationship with my fellow teachers, Mark and I were good friends. That's the first year I have tenure as an IT teacher and Mark has, had took me under his wings if I may say. He was that kind of man. He was a good-hearted man. But what happened? He's been robbed and things turned badly?
- Follett bore the marks of more ancient blows. Did he tell you what happened?
- He didn't say much. He arrived in this state last week, last Tuesday, I'd say. He did not tell me exactly what happened. From what I understood he'd been attacked by a junkie looking for money. Blake took a deep drag. You think there's a connection? That the guy who'd beaten him had come to finish the job?
- Do you know if Follett had any clue as to the identity of his aggressor?
- He told us he had none. I asked him; Clare asked him; Principal Cookson asked him; even some of his adult students asked him, and let me tell you, Inspector, some of them are no angels. Mark only had to say the name of his aggressor and they would have felt upon him like God's wrath upon a bunch of sinners.
- You've mentioned one Clare. Would that be Clare Davenport?
- Yes, that would be her.
- What was her relationship with Follett?
- She'd know more on the subject than I, obviously, but she clearly fancied him and he seemed quite interested. There may have been a few dates; I don't know if there's been anything more than that.
- You said some students of the evening classes were ready to retaliate on behalf of Follett. May I conclude that he had no problem with his adult students then?
- None whatsoever, as far as I know. You see, the persons who attend evening classes are extremely motivated. They want to learn. It takes a lot of courage to register and even more courage, at the end of one's work day, to take two hours out of one's time to come and lock oneself in a classroom to learn how to read or how to improve one's IT skills.
Blake grew more and more animated as he talked. He was really enthusiastic and spoke with his hands as much as he could without spilling his coffee.
- These people are fantastic. They're there to learn and they are really eager to learn anything we can teach them. They're hardly a pain in a teacher's neck.
- What about the college students? Were they a pain in Follet's neck?
- Well, some of them I suppose. We've got all type of students: some are committed, some just don't care, some are nice teens, and some are real silly buggers. But it could be worse: we've no problem of violence on the campus.
Blake took a sip at his coffee and pulled on his cigarette again, frowning.
- You can't possibly think that a student killed Mark, can you? One brat against a man in perfect health?
Lynley didn't reply that his wife's murderer was a boy of only 12, younger than most of the college students. He took however a mental note to ask the pathologist if a teenager could have had the strength to fracture Follett's skull.
- Seriously, a student?
Blake seemed perturbed by the idea.
- Are you thinking about something, Mr. Blake? Maybe an incident occurred between Follett and a student?
Blake pulled on his cigarette with his head bent. He then threw the dog end on the ground and stubbed it out with his heel. When he looked up at Lynley the moment of turmoil was gone.
- No, nothing in particular. It's just that it's a rather disturbing thought.
- What about the parents of the students? Any problem with one of them?
- Nothing worth mentioning, really. They are not always very fond of us but I cannot imagine one of them as a killer.
- Principal Cookson told us about an internal newspaper Follett and you are involved in.
- That's right. The Insider is a newspaper entirely made by the students. Mark created it when he came to work here. He thought it was a good way to communicate about the college life while at the same time making the students learn a bit about journalism and edition.
- What was Follet role?
- He was some sort of editor-in-chief but in a consultative way. He was also acting as a beta-reader to remove the grammar and vocabulary mistakes. I myself give a hand for the page make-up, and all the IT related problems of course. But we try to intervene as less as possible to let our students be fully in charge.
- Have you ever had any problem about an article or a subject treated in the Insider?
- Not at all. It's about the college life exclusively, events calendar, match scores, there's also a brief CV of a teacher, that kind of things, nothing controversial.
- Are there any dedicated PCs for the newspaper or do you use the ones of the IT classroom?
Blake took his time to answer, gulping down the rest of his coffee.
- There's a specific room for the Insider with 3 PCs used exclusively by the students working on the newspaper.
- Did Follett use these computers?
- No. Mark always worked on his laptop. I think it's still in his office if you want to have a look at it.
- I have to ask, but it's purely routine, where were you last night between 12 and 6 a.m.?
- I was at home, under the blanket. And before you ask, I have a witness. I live with someone.
- May I have a name, please?
- Andrew Stilton. He's a clerk in a music shop on Uxbridge Road. Now, if we're done, I'd like to leave. My next lecture begins in 5 minutes and I'd like to go to the loo before.
- Of course. Thank you, Mr. Blake. Should you think of anything, please contact me. Even if you can't see how it could relate to the case it may be useful.
Lynley handed his card to the young man who put it in the back pocket of his jeans, threw his empty cup in a bin and retired to the building.
- What do you think of that, Sergeant? asked Lynley turning to his partner who had remained silent during all the interview as was her habit.
Barbara flipped her notebook closed. She threw her dog end, rummaged in her bag and pulled out her cigarette packet.
Lynley frowned.
- Don't you think you've blackened your lungs enough?
- Never let a job unfinished, that's my motto, sir.
Lynley sighed, annoyed.
- You really should quit smoking, Barbara. You're destroying your health.
- I'll give it a thought tomorrow, sir, said Barbara but she nonetheless put the packet back in her bag, untouched. He's holding back something. He seemed very much upset by the idea that a student could be involved.
- Exactly. And he also took his time to mention the room dedicated to the newspaper and its computers.
- Maybe Follett had a problem with one of the budding journalist?
- Possibly. I'd like to go to Follett's now. For the time being the picture I have of him is incomplete. We didn't find much about his personal life, apart from one possible romantic relationship that still needs to be confirmed. His office was all professional, nothing about the personality of its occupant, not even a photograph.
- Maybe he just compartmentalized between his professional and his personal life.
- Well, in this case let's hope a visit to his flat will help us get a fuller picture of the man.
