The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2567 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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“I didn’t tape the conversation with the finance department neither did they, I’m sure. I have however taped this one.”

“Without my consent,” he was almost apoplectic.

“You lot do it all the time.”

“We have a dispensation to do so often backed up by a court order or warrant.”

“If I had told you, you wouldn’t have shown me how much you despise me just because I’m different.”

“Different doesn’t cover it, try weird.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t particularly like you either, Chief Inspector, because of your arrogance and rudeness, not to mention your old fashioned attitudes towards people who don’t meet your very narrow stereotypes despite the police having guidelines for dealing with transgender persons.”

“You just said you were female.”

“I am, I have bits of paper to prove it.”

“You’re as arrogant as I am,” he complained.

“I suppose being made a professor does tend to suggest I’m cleverer than most people but it is also implicit in being a professor that I use my cleverness to help other people develop theirs—which I hope describes a vocational reason for teaching.”

“Yours for being in the police?”

“I got sick of punks doing what they wanted and sod everyone else. My grandmother died after being mugged by a couple of punks. I wanted to make sure no one else died for four measly quid, not on my watch.”

“An admirable ambition but I can assure you that I’ve have never mugged anyone nor am likely to. I have had one or two people try, but so far they haven’t succeeded.”

“So I saw in your notes.”

“My notes?”

“We keep notes of incidents—that’s where you get your incident number to give to your insurers. We then do analyses of those. Your name seems to occur with monotonous regularity. Things happen to you or around you more than any other thousand people.”

“I think someone must have wished me an interesting life.”

“It certainly worked. Now what about this conspiracy...”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell him everything I knew—especially where I’d cut corners to save time. He suggested we pooled our knowledge which means, he expects me to tell him everything while he feeds me crumbs I already know. I agreed with him to do so but told him nothing he didn’t already know, then he did the same. We both knew we weren’t being entirely honest but neither of us was prepared to challenge the other. That might come later.

“You’ve got no evidence yet have you?”

“Not of a concrete form, but it will come. What I need to make a case before council is less than you need for a court of law.”

“Do I get a copy of this tape?” he waved his finger about my office.

“There is no tape, without your permission it would be inadmissible as evidence.”

He narrowed his eyes at me; swore, then chuckled. “In lots of ways I’m sorry I arrested you except to see you roused. You’re an attractive woman, professor.”

“For a boy, you mean?”

“No, full stop.”

“I doubt I’m your type, Inspector, far too expensive to run—all that silicone needs replacing every so many years...” I enjoyed watching him blush.

As he left he asked me to inform him of anything I discovered about the case he was investigating, but especially that of the murder of Bernard Black.

He’d not long gone when I heard rumpus outside my office. I opened the door and Delia was trying to remonstrate with an angry young woman who looked a little too old to be a student.

As she saw my door open, she pushed Delia aside, “You bitch, you killed my Dave, now I’m gonna kill you.” She withdrew a large kitchen knife from her bag and stepped towards me, Delia froze and swore under her breath.

“Please put the knife away, Delia, could you make us a nice cuppa, oh and don’t call the police. I tried to save your Dave from incriminating himself, come and sit down and let’s talk about this like two adults.”

“While she calls the police?”

“I won’t prefer charges, besides she knows when you hear what happened, you’ll see I meant neither Dave nor his family any harm, in fact I was giving him a chance for an out which he took. If he’d given evidence I would have had to prove he either lied or was mistaken, neither would have looked good on his record, especially a criminal one.”

“But he said you’d finished him.”

“I did no such thing, I gave him a chance to leave the meeting which he did. Now, let’s have that cuppa.”

To my astonishment she put the knife back on her bag and followed me into my office. “I’m glad you agreed to talk rather than act, it would have made things much worse for your children, who’ve already lost one parent.”

“What d’you care about my kids?”

“I’m in education because I care about young people, I have children myself.”

“Dave said you used to be a boy, so how’ve you got children unless you’re their dad?”

Seems like my history is always paraded out as an opening gambit. I wanted to help this young woman, she would certainly need help to raise two small children but she wasn’t making it easy.

“You have two under fives, I believe.”

“What of it?”

“So have I, one I’m still feeding.”

“Feeding—like breast feeding?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re a boy?”

“Am I, or does saying I am make it easier to hate me?”

She paused for a moment and nodded. “We were going to France at Easter, Dave had booked a campsite...”

“I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe he killed himself.”

“Nor I.”

“He thought you were out to get him, said you’d hi-jacked the university council to do so.”

“Dave was a pawn in a much bigger game. He took my advice and stopped before he broke the law. Any interest I had in him would have been to discover who set him up to make a false report. He might have had to give evidence but I had no interest in him beyond that. I certainly wished him no harm.”

“He said you were vindictive.”

Delia arrived with tea and chocolate biscuits. I thanked her and offered a biscuit to my guest. She refused. I advised her that some sugar after an emotional episode helped to ground one. She took one and ate it gingerly.

“I don’t even know your name,” I announced.

“Lisa Fellman.”

“You were Dave’s wife?”

“Yeah, we got married last year.”

“What have you got boys or girls?”

“One of each, James and Cassie.”

“An expensive combination.”

“Yeah, not much I can reuse for Cassie.”

“I’ll try and make sure the university helps you as much as we can.”

“Why? Dave said they was trying to bring you down, said you’d got too big for your boots.”

I looked down at the pair I was wearing, brown leather knee high boots with three inch heels. “Um—no, they still fit me.” She smirked at my silliness.

“Who was Dave trying to help—to bring me down?”

“I don’t know, he never said any names.”

“Did he have a diary?”

“The police have taken all that—suspicious death, I s’pose.”

“D’you think he killed himself?”

She looked at me with tears rolling down her face and shook her head. “Neither do I, and I hope to prove it.”

Sniffing back tears, she wiped her face with her fingers, “How, if the police can’t?”

“I have my ways—now, are you okay for money?”

“You can’t buy me, I’m not a charity case.”

“No, I appreciate that and I’m not trying to buy you I’m aware that at times like this money in the bank is a useful ally, it’s one less thing to think about and you do have two children.”

“My parents will help as they can.”

“Is that where your children are now?”

“Yeah.”

“I promise I’ll do all I can to find out who is responsible for Dave’s death. If you need help financially, let me know, my husband works for a bank, he could probably organise a low interest loan.”

“I can’t believe you want to help me and I just wanted you to suffer, like we are.”

“I lost a little girl about three years ago. We were out cycling and she crashed. She had a brain aneurysm and died instantly. I know about loss.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I, Lisa, for your loss. If I can help or you think you remember anything about who Dave was working for, please let me know.”

“Is it true you’re Lady Something?”

I nodded.

She rose and thanked me. I thanked her for coming and she left quietly. Delia came in and played hell with me.

“She could have killed you,” she ranted.

“Delia, she wanted to make me hurt, her husband’s death has done that. Now I want to know who killed him.”

“But it was suicide.”

“Was it or a clever murder?”