The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3223 by Angharad Copyright© 2017 Angharad

As I entered the office Diane smiled and nodded towards someone reading a newspaper in the outside office. “Who’s that?” I whispered.

“A detective inspector.”

“What does he want?”

“I thought they asked the questions, but he wants to see you.”

“Give me a moment and send him in, any chance of some teas or coffees?”

“I’m just a slave here you know.”

“Nah, but if we stopped paying you, you would be.”

“How much cyanide per coffee, boss?”

I hurried into my office and covered up any paperwork, not that there was much to see, but it’s still confidential to the department. I’d barely seated myself behind my desk when Diane knocked the door and announced, “Detective Inspector Old to see you, professor.”

I glanced up, he had a beard. “Toby? Is that you under the fuzz?”

“I am the fuzz, Cathy, if you remember.”

“Tea’s on its way,” said Diane closing the door behind her.

“What are you doing here?”

“Working, unfortunately.”

“Well so am I.”

The fur cracked open and his white teeth showed in a broad smile. Diane appeared with the cups of tea and some Lotus biscuits—damn, she’d found my secret stock. We sat on the settee and sipped teas; he let me relax before he asked the first question. “You knew this Ben Smithers, chap?”

“I’ve already answered that question half a dozen times and why are you asking it, I thought they said it was suicide after he killed his wife?”

“That’s what they want you to think.”

“I beg your pardon. Are you telling me he didn’t kill himself?”

“That’s the latest theory.”

“Oh, so what happened?”

“I thought you might like to play Watson to my Holmes again.”

“But the papers think the bank and the university hounded him to death.”

“Wouldn’t you like to prove them wrong?”

“It would be more interesting than signing letters.”

“Get a stamp—with your signature on it then your secretary could do them.”

“The computer can print them with my signature for matter of fact things.”

“There’s your answer then...” he smiled again looking like something between a badger’s backside and a bear, the grizzled hair making the association in my mind.

“You’ve gone a bit greyer.”

“It’s several years, Cathy, since old Edwards was killed.”

“I suppose it must be.” I glanced up at him again. “So what do you want me to do, and do we need Trish?”

He snorted, “Hawkeye Watts?”

“Well she did spot the moved stone at the pond.”

“So she did.”

“She has phenomenal powers of observation.”

“Should we get her then?”

“You haven’t told me what we’re doing.”

“Thought we could take a wander to the Smithers’ house, let you see the crime scene.”

“That’s not going to get you into trouble is it?”

“Nice of you to care, but no.” Twenty minutes later we parked his Saab outside a house in Cosham. A Ford C-max stood on the driveway.

“Whose car is that?” I enquired half expecting to see a Jag.

“Smithers, why?”

“He told me he had a Jaguar.”

“Not according to the information we have.”

“The lying toad, he told me he had...”

“Cathy, it doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t like being lied to.”

“He’s dead, someone killed him—he’s hardly going to apologise, is he?”

I shook myself, why did it feel important, his total cock and bull story, wasn’t it just a manifestation of the man’s mental state? “Yeah, okay.” A ripple of cold shivered up and down my spine and I trembled just a little—what was all that about?

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just feel a bit uncomfortable looking around someone else’s house while they’re out.”

“If they weren’t out, they’d be a bit smelly by now.” His eyes twinkled but I didn’t laugh at his joke. I suppose he’s more used to this sort of thing than I am.

We entered through the front door to which he had a key and he bid me look around to see if anything felt out of place. It was initially creepy but I soon entered the spirit of the task. It was a normal semi-detached, three bedroom house, circa 1980s. The kitchen had been refurbished a few years ago judging by the colour scheme and I opened and glanced inside the cupboards. Nothing felt unusual.

The lounge diner was tidy with a modest sized television, complete with Sky box and a shelf full of DVDs. The furniture was reasonable quality and looked about ten years old, a blue leather three seater sofa and two armchairs. The wall unit was a mixture of books and photographs, including one of his wife and he together. She was quite a pretty woman and now she was dead—why?

Upstairs the small bedroom was his study or office. He had a desk with two computers on it and there was a third on a table behind. The shelves on the wall were full of text books and computer journals. “Have they checked these?” I pointed vaguely at the computers.

“Don’t think so, the only reason we’re here is because the pathologist found some bruising on the back of his neck.”

“Didn’t he hang himself?”

“It predated the bruising from the noose, he was possibly unconscious when he was hanged.”

“So did he kill his wife?”

“I don’t know and from our enquiries it would have been completely out of character.”

“So why did people swallow it before then?”

“Because it was a well staged crime and he had a history of mental problems.”

“But he wasn’t a paranoid schizophrenic or anything like that?”

“We’re still awaiting all his medical records, but not as far as we know. He was a depressive and they’re more likely to hurt themselves.”

“Quite—so where did he do it?”

“In the garage. Want to see the other bedrooms first?” We did a quick tour but they were just ordinary bedrooms with beds and wardrobes and photographs of the couple. I felt closer to him than I’d ever been, just what had happened here?

“Would you like my daughter to have a look at the computers?”

“Nah, our people will go through them with tooth combs.”

“She’ll find things they won’t.”

“A twelve year old?”

“No my daughter the computer expert—she does the bank’s security and occasionally helps MI5.”

The badger’s arse cracked open again, “Is there anything you lot aren’t into?” he smiled.

“She is very good.”

“Hold on.” He wandered off and i heard him speaking on his mobile phone. “She works for MI5—great, yeah, I’ll keep the cost to a minimum.” He came back smiling again. “We have permission for your wonder daughter to open these machines.”

Now it was my turn to wander off and use my phone, all I needed was her to refuse because she was too busy. “Hello, darling, look I need your help with a computer or two.”

“Can’t Trish see to it for you?”

“Uh not really, it’s a police matter.”

“So get them to do it for you.”

“Sammi, this is a murder case and one of the victims was a computer buff, worked at the university.”

“Okay, be there tonight—if it’s something the cops could have sorted...”

“I’m willing to bet it’s not.”

“Right, see you tonight then, if there’s a laptop take it home, I’ll make a start tonight.”

I cleared it with Toby and took it down to his car. Next we were going to visit the garage. I wasn’t looking forward to that one bit.