Missing Pieces. K L Harrison
“Shane Tott seemed an odd one, very taciturn, but from what I was told his teaching is fine and he is well organised. He was reluctant to say much about Roger Davidson at all but I sensed he was not keen on him. Martha Cox, Geography teacher of the old school, now she certainly would not be taking crap from the kids. Janice Turner, PE, about to go on maternity leave. She said Roger Davidson was really helpful organising her leave.”
WPC Grant then intervened, “One of the maths teachers, Cynthia Wicks, was obviously besotted by Roger Davidson, but I got the impression that she had never even got up the courage to even speak to him.”
Traynor continued.
“I had a bit of a chat with Miss Tims, the headmaster’s secretary.”
“Very brave Constable,” said Spence.
“I’d say this woman knew more about the school than even Robert Hamsby. She didn’t think too highly of Roger Davidson. She thought he was a nice enough person but she also believed Robert Hamsby had erred in appointing him deputy. However, she thought it inconceivable that one his colleagues could have murdered him.”
Ferguson now spoke.
“There was Barry Cotter, young PE teacher, bit of a martial arts freak. Not too many brains if you ask me. Tony Watkins in Maths, hates his job and can’t wait to get into a stockbroking firm. Juan Rodriguez, the ethics teacher.”
“Ethics, bloody hell.” Spence was not impressed.
“Actually I rated him rather highly Spence. This guy cares about his students. He liked Roger Davidson, praised him for getting the tougher kids into their studies.”
Spence stood up again.
“Okay, well done everyone. So, we still don’t have a bloody clue. I can sense Superintendent Marks breathing down my neck; she has already been on my back for our slow progress on this one. But that’s my pleasure. Get your reports on my desk as soon as you can so I can have another look. I’ll get Patricia Patel in here this afternoon. Meanwhile, Traynor, check those finance figures again and have another look through Josie’s report. WPC Grant, go over the information uniform gathered after the door-to-door enquires. Ferguson, widen things a bit, start checking to see if there has been anything similar to Davidson’s murder a bit further afield.”
As they all broke off to work alone, Spence punched Bob Hamsby’s number into his phone.
“Bob? Winston. First of all, thanks for last Saturday night; I had a great time. How did someone like you end up with a gem like Jill?”
There followed a few minutes of friendly banter.
“Bob, I am going to have Patricia Patel brought in for questioning this afternoon. Can you get her off class for me? Great. Give me some background on her will you?”
After about ten minutes, Spence had what he wanted.
“Thanks Bob. I’ll need to come out to the school again in a day or two.”
Spence eyed the notes he had just taken. Patricia Patel was 28, fluent in French and German, and of course Hindi. Parents came to the UK in the early 70s after Idi Amin had expelled the Asians from Uganda. Usual migrant story, industrious, ambitious but keen to keep their culture which is why Patricia Patel could speak Hindi. But they were progressive. Patricia Patel was obviously very smart and a clever linguist, honours from Manchester University, been working at Woodlands for three years. Previous to that interpreter work in Paris for a British company.
“Gives up Paris for Cirencester and Swindon. Takes all sorts I suppose,” Spence mused.
Later that afternoon
“Officers, this seems just like a scene from a television police drama. Can I assume DI Hargreaves is watching through the glass.” She smiled in Spence’s direction and crossed her legs so that her skirt was deliberately pulled up. She had Spence thinking of Sharon Stone in ‘Basic Instinct’. This lady was not the least intimidated.
“Should I have legal representation Detective Sergeant?”
“Do you think you require it Miss Patel?”
She smiled. She was clearly enjoying herself.
“Fire away Sergeant.”
Ferguson got straight to the point. “Miss Patel, could you please describe the nature of your relationship with Roger Davidson?”
“As I told your Inspector, Sergeant, Roger and I had an amicable working relationship. I respected him. He was easy to get along with.”
Joanne Grant now spoke up. “How often did you and Roger Davidson see each other outside of school?”
“Oh clever,” thought Spence. “Force her to duck around a direct answer.”
“Well as I said, we had a working relationship. I never saw Roger outside of work, except when we had school functions. I think his wife kept him on a rather short leash.”
WPC Grant persisted.
“So you did not meet outside of school? Roger Davidson never went to your home?”
“No, of course not. He did give me a lift home once after a parent-teacher evening, but nothing more.”
Ferguson was not having any of this.
“You do realise that we are carrying out a murder investigation Miss Patel. You do realise that lying to the police during our investigations is a serious offence. Now I will ask you again? What was the nature of your relationship with Roger Davidson?”
Patricia Patel knew how far to push her luck. She stared at the two officers for a moment and then spoke.
“I felt sorry for Roger. He was married to that awful woman, Felicity. He was obviously crying out for some affection and passion. I found him very attractive. Very. He was good looking, intelligent, good company and as I was to discover, he was fantastic in bed. Pent-up frustrations I presume. We saw each other for about four months but he ended things when he gained the Deputy’s job.”
Ferguson persisted.
“How did you feel when Roger Davidson dumped you Miss Patel?”
Patricia Patel leant forward and spat out her words.
“I burned inside with anger and humiliation, Sergeant. From that moment my sole aim in life was to bring down that man. He would regret having, “dumped” me. I planned to make sure that he would rue the day he cast me aside.”
She leant back and smiled.
“I assume that is what you wanted to hear Sergeant. You’re new at this aren’t you?”
Ferguson’s icy coolness was diminishing by the second.
“And before you ask me for an alibi, Detective Sergeant, on the night that Roger was murdered, I was staying at the Menzies Hotel in town, shagging one of your superiors.”
She looked towards the glass.
“And no Sergeant, it was not DI Hargreaves. I am a woman who has very high standards.”
The interview continued for another fifteen minutes but was going nowhere. Obviously Patricia Patel had tried to keep her relationship secret; obviously she had failed miserably. Eventually Ferguson told her she could go. As she was about to leave, Ferguson had one more question.
“Miss Patel, did you and Roger Davidson ever indulge in any bondage and discipline activities?”
“Oh no, that’s not for me. Roger was obviously into it, and so I guess that must also have been Felicity’s sort of thing. Why, does it interest you Sergeant?”
And with that she was gone.
CHAPTER NINE
Late November
“Good