The Teacher: A shocking and compelling new crime thriller – NOT for the faint-hearted! (6 page)

‘You better pray they finish you in less than eight hours, that’s how long you have until the drugs wear off!’

‘You’re sick!’ Ian shouted, but then emotion took him over and he began to cry, aware that the darkness was almost upon him. Suddenly a white-collar prison wasn’t looking so bad. He knew if they came looking for him at the house they would find his reservations for the plane to go to South America and just assume that he had done a bunk, which was in fact precisely what he was planning on doing. No one would look for him and people rarely ventured into these woods, so the chance of someone happening by within the next hour or so was next to impossible. He watched as his only hope of survival disappeared into the forest. He was alone, all hope was gone.

The Widow

‘Come on, then, we’re up.’ Grey slammed a lukewarm cup of coffee on the desk in front of Adrian. She groaned and drank the contents of her own mug with a contorted grimace on her face. ‘Some woman keeps calling about her husband, said he’s gone missing and cleared out all her accounts.’

‘And that’s the reason I’m never getting married.’

‘Sure it is.’ Grey pulled Adrian’s chair backwards so his feet slid off the desk on to the floor. ‘Come on, I’ll get you some real coffee on the way.’

‘OK fine, goddamnit.’ Adrian pulled himself out of his chair, his head still throbbing after the many shots he had downed the night before. ‘You should probably drive.’

‘I should definitely drive.’ She snatched the keys from his hand.

Despite Adrian’s first impression of DS Grey she was surprisingly motivated – scratch that, annoyingly motivated. Any case, regardless of whether it was some illegal fly-tipping or a serious violent assault, was awarded the exact same amount of professionalism and attention. They had worked together for three weeks now, settled into their respective roles within the relationship. Adrian let her boss him around and she let him be the butt of all her jokes, everyone was happy. This was the first female partner Adrian had ever had, he had worked with both DS Mike Daniels and DS Jonathan Fraser in the past, and he had never really been much of a team player. He knew that this time he had to play the game. He was under the microscope and he couldn’t afford to make any more enemies. Besides, Grey was easy to work with, somehow they just fit.

In the unmarked police car Adrian put his shades on and rested his head against the window, a position he would soon regret. Grey drove as if she were in hot pursuit of a bank robber, pedal to the metal. You could get away with that kind of driving in the city but in this part of the Devonshire countryside you may as well just cut out the middle man and drive straight into a ditch.

‘Jesus, don’t they have country lanes in Plymouth?’ Adrian felt something twang in his neck. ‘You are giving me whiplash.’

‘Quit being such a baby, Miley, you are fine.’

‘What’s your hurry? The only other case we have on at the moment is the lawnmower theft.’

‘I want to clock off early today, I’ve got a date.’

‘Seriously? I thought you were a … what’s the word for a female with no privates, not a eunuch?’

‘Please stop thinking about my junk, Miley.’ She swerved into the driveway and they were confronted with a large art deco house.

‘What a dump!’ Adrian muttered.

‘How the other half lives.’

On the luxurious cream velvet sofa the lady sniffed into her tissue, her eyes puffy and red.

‘He calls me every day, well, he used to.’

‘And he just stopped?’ Adrian asked as Grey wandered around the room, fingers hovering above every surface. It was so clean and shiny, it looked like a show home, every item carefully placed and the only personal effects an alarming array of cat ornaments.

‘Yes, he stopped. I haven’t heard from him in well over a week.’

‘But you’re separated?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Do you know anyone who would want to harm your husband?’

‘Besides me, you mean?’

‘It was a bad break-up?’

‘It was and there’s a long list of people who want to hurt Ian, he stole money, a lot of money from a lot of people. The auditors are still neck deep in the mess he left behind.’

‘How much money are we talking?’

‘Thousands? Millions? Who knows?’

Grey finally sat down next to Adrian and leaned back into the deep sofa until she was almost horizontal. He half expected her to put her feet on the coffee table, but instead she folded her arms and stared at Deborah Markham.

‘You have to appreciate what this looks like,’ Grey said.

‘I know what it looks like, I’m not an imbecile, Officer.’

‘So what is it you want us to do exactly?’ Grey remained in her relaxed pose, looking more like a sullen adolescent than a police officer. She seemed to be unnerving the lady and Adrian could see the anger emerging from behind the tears.

‘I want you to find the bastard! He’s buggered off to bloody Rio or wherever and I am left to deal with the shit storm!’

‘You don’t think he’s hurt then? This is purely about the money?’ Adrian asked, he saw Grey smiling out of the corner of his eye.

‘This is purely about nothing! I’ve lost everything! Why does he get to go away and pretend like nothing’s wrong? I’ve had threatening phone calls and hate mail!’ The tears had gone and Deborah Markham’s face was alight with anger. ‘He took so much from so many people. They see me here like this and think I’ve got their money or something!’

Grey sat forward and rested her elbows on her knees, she picked up a crystal cat, part of a set that was arranged carefully on the olive wood coffee table.

‘Have you got their money?’ Grey smiled as she ran her fingers across the prism-like cat ears.

‘This house belongs to my aunt, she’s letting me live here while I get back on my feet to save my dignity, it’s the only thing he left me with.’ She choked back the tears again.

‘OK, Mrs Markham, we’ll look into it.’ Adrian interrupted before Grey could open her mouth again. He stood up but she remained seated, eyes fixed on Mrs Markham.

‘Where’s he been living?’ she asked. Deborah Markham pulled out a set of keys from the handbag at her side.

‘There’s a converted barn on the road that leads to the estuary, the address is on the fob.’

Adrian took the fob and Grey put the cat down. He felt like he had just witnessed a hostage negotiation. The air was thick between them as they walked out to the car.

‘What the hell was that?’

‘She was full of it.’ Grey smiled.

‘She was distraught.’

‘Distraught my eye, she’s still got money, and plenty of it. Did you see the way she was groomed? Those are this season’s clothes, new shoes – really expensive shoes – and you can’t get that bag for less than a grand. I wouldn’t be surprised if this disappearance isn’t some kind of scam.’ Adrian looked at her with surprise.

‘How do you know about the clothes and stuff?’

‘You think I don’t know about fashion? What are you saying, Miley?’ she said incredulously, a fake look of indignation on her face.

‘Nothing, you just don’t strike me as that kind of woman.’

‘And what kind of woman do I strike you as?’

‘I don’t know, you dress like Tony Hawks,’ he said, before adding, ‘the multi-millionaire skateboarder, not the comedian.’

‘What the hell does that mean?’

‘Just drop it, it doesn’t matter.’

‘OK, let me ask you a question.’ She sat forward.

‘OK, shoot.’ Adrian sighed, what had he done?

‘What car do you drive?’

‘You know what car I drive, I drive a Granada.’

‘A Granada? Right, Jesus, Miley, they stopped making them like fifteen years ago.’

‘She has sentimental value!’

‘Whatever, I bet you know what a Mustang is, or a Ferrari, I bet you watch the lame car programmes on TV. I bet you think you know a lot about cars.’

‘That’s different.’

‘I know a lot about clothes, specifically high-end, expensive clothing. You can tell a lot about a person by the way they dress.’

Adrian couldn’t help but look her up and down, instantly regretting this decision as he saw that smile on her face again. He was beginning to understand that she only smiled like that when she had won some imaginary battle in her mind. Every time he saw that smile he would be reminded that she wasn’t the scruffy slacker that she presented herself to be.

‘The way I dress is a choice, calculated, Miley. I know what I’m doing.’

‘You want everyone to think you’re a dyke?’

‘Maybe I am a dyke.’

‘Pfft, please … I know you’re not, I have seen you checking me out.’

‘In your dreams!’ She smiled and thumped him on the arm, a little flushed in the cheeks. ‘Mostly I don’t want people to think I am too competent. I don’t want people to put their faith in me. I want them to think I am a washout and I want to prove them wrong.’

‘It’s very complicated in your head, isn’t it, Grey?’

‘I like it when people think they are superior to me, people let their guard down more when they don’t feel threatened, they are easier to confuse.’

‘That explains your amazing display of passive aggression back there.’

‘Whatever gets the job done!’

‘Is that why you got transferred out of Plymouth?’ Adrian asked. It was a genuine question although the look her face assumed put paid to any notion Adrian may have had about them being comfortable with each other. She put her hands in the ten to two position and focused on the road ahead. The connection was lost. The conversation was over.

The barn was large and impressive. They walked up the gravelled driveway and knocked on the door, noting the incredible framing of pink sky around the house; it felt so completely secluded out there.

‘Mr Markham?’ Adrian called out.

Grey walked around the side of the house and disappeared from Adrian’s view. Adrian tried every key on the bunch Deborah Markham had given them until he found the one that corresponded with the lock. He could tell from the absolute silence that they were alone here.

‘Mr Markham? Ian Markham?’ he called out again, just in case. The house was bare, stripped of furniture, a few lopsided pictures hung on the walls and a rug or two lay here and there.

‘Looks like he’s had some kind of bonfire out back.’ Grey was standing in the doorway holding a document box. ‘Left in a hurry, too, by the looks of it.’

Adrian took the box from Grey, a handful of papers remained in the bottom. Some tickets from various bookmakers, some shredded paper they could get the lab to reassemble, a couple of invitations to local fundraising functions but nothing massively incriminating.

‘Bag it all and we’ll take it back to the station.’

‘Check this out.’ Grey pulled out a Visa bill, one of the recipients was listed as LHRBOOKINGS. ‘LHR is the abbreviation for Heathrow, as in long-distance destinations, as in anywhere in the world non-extradition kind of thing. He’s in the wind.’

‘We’ll take it back anyway, fuck it, you have anything better to do?’

They walked out of the barn house and looked again at the beautiful surroundings. No doubt the house would be repossessed and resold. The sun had muted in the afternoon sky and a cool breeze drifted through the air making the surrounding trees pulse as if they had their own heartbeat. The forest in the near distance looked like an underline for the beautiful orange sun.

Adrian breathed it all in before heading back into the city to deal with the Saturday-night binge drinking shift, part of his penance for messing his colleagues around before he got suspended. He wasn’t proud of the fact that he had got people to lie for him, about his whereabouts, about how sober he was or wasn’t, about a lot of things. He had so much to make up for and a lot of people to apologise to. He had promised to help Denise deal with the drunks on the desk on Saturday nights. He owed her a lot more than that but it was a start. Grey beeped the horn impatiently and he got in.

The Outsider

Sally waited at the door wagging her tail, knowing her master was approaching; she knew him by his walk, by the sound of his breathing, by his smell. Parker walked in and was greeted with an extremely happy Labrador Retriever. Sally was his life companion, his best friend, the one who would never forsake him. Parker and Sally had met almost seven years earlier and it was love at first sight, they needed each other and they knew it.

His house was a true reflection of his character, books on every surface, a stack of black leather notepads teeming with words, a small brown sofa which was obviously Sally’s favourite place to sit, judging by the layer of golden fluff on it. He fed Sally immediately, and as soon as she had finished her food he took her for a walk, walking past the museum that he had returned to this to town for. He saw Abbey leaving work and walked over to her.

‘Abbey, this is my Sally.’ Abbey turned and smiled at the dog, a big full smile, Parker had not seen that smile before, he felt just by looking at it that he was invading her privacy; it was not intended for him. Abbey knelt down and rubbed the dog’s ears affectionately.

‘She’s lovely … Parker, I hope I didn’t offend you earlier. I was worried when you rushed off.’ She looked at him seriously while he racked his mind for what she could be referring to.

‘Oh no, you didn’t, I had to dash. I’m sorry but she barely forgave me for coming home late last night, I wouldn’t want to be in trouble two nights on the trot. I thought I could make it home and back before you left.’ He wasn’t lying. He had explained earlier how Sally had been so unimpressed with his late arrival the night before she had left a present for him on the living room floor. ‘I um … I wanted you to meet Sally.’

‘I see. Well, then, I understand completely.’ She beamed at him, the same smile she had used just moments before, he hoped she couldn’t notice his cheeks flushing in this light.

‘Can we walk you home?’ Parker asked. Abbey took Sally’s lead from him, her warm fingers brushing against his hands. He smiled back and put his hands in his pockets, walking behind them.

Parker wasn’t good with people, he knew it, they knew it; unless you were two hundred years old and furry then there was little chance of him being able to connect with you on any level. Parker was deliberately aloof. He didn’t like people to get too close, he didn’t like the idea of anyone seeing beneath the veneer, the thin layer of personality that was between his mind and the rest of the world. This had been true for almost everyone he had ever met, but this girl, Abbey, was different.

Parker watched as Abbey kept her distance from him, head turned firmly away, he knew she didn’t want to get close to him, she was just as happy as he was with prolonged silences – normally people feel the need to fill them with idle talk about God knows what. In some ways Parker was a little offended by her lack of interest in him, he was used to people wanting to understand him, which was funny because they never could, he made sure of that. Maybe there was something about dealing with the dead that made people like them bond, a kind of salute to a fellow enthusiast. But no, that wasn’t it, she was different. He recognised the signs of a broken spirit immediately; the way she held herself told him more than any amount of words could. He didn’t want to put her off, she had a sweetness about her. She wasn’t like most of the girls he met, she was quiet, insular and guarded. He knew it wouldn’t take much to push her away but he liked her for her shyness and he liked her instinct to be wary of people – he understood that feeling all too well.

Parker felt strange walking with Abbey. Again they did not talk, just walked, with her holding on to Sally’s lead and Sally happily accepting her new controller as she bounded towards the river with her usual zeal. They crossed the Iron Bridge and headed towards the town, past the smattering of old pubs and tattoo shops that were long overdue for some cosmetic attention. This time it was Parker who felt the need to fill the silence as he searched his mind for a topic.

‘Have you worked at the museum long?’ Best to stick to talking about work.

‘Five years,’ she said, and that seemed to be the end of the conversation as she crossed the busy road and headed down South Street. He increased his pace to catch up with her.

‘And you have no professional qualifications?’ She looked at him with a raised eyebrow then turned and carried on walking. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound rude, you really have done a great job, not that you need my approval or anything.’ He should probably shut up now.

‘Well it’s not a well-funded museum, a friend of a friend got me the interview and I just convinced the director, Mr Lowestoft, that I knew what I was doing, they get to pay me a lot less than the going rate and I get to do the job I love. I know taxidermy isn’t very fashionable any more but …’ She turned back and smiled at him. He could tell she really did love the job, he had looked over the work she had done so far and been impressed.

Abbey stopped outside a dusty weather-beaten black door, she handed the leash back to Parker.

‘Say thank you, Sally,’ he said to his dog, who was still panting vigorously at Abbey.

‘I would invite you in but I’m not allowed animals in the building.’

‘I wouldn’t call myself an animal!’ Parker displayed his best mischievous smile in an effort to get her to reciprocate. She didn’t. She just looked at her feet uncomfortably. She took her keys out and entered the building as he stood and watched.

‘See you tomorrow,’ he heard through the door, and breathed a sigh of relief. He looked down at Sally who was panting far too much considering they had barely walked three miles.

‘Yeah, I like her too,’ he said to Sally as he tugged at her lead, prompting her to carry on walking.

The next morning he found himself walking past Abbey’s door on the way to work, it was not on his route but something compelled him to make it part of his course. He arrived at work before her and had to wait for her to arrive before he could get into the rooms they needed to work on today. Gemma, the girl on the front counter, was just settling into her seat for the day. ‘Hey!’ she proclaimed, a little louder than she needed to. He walked over.

‘I’m Parker, I work in the archives.’ He offered his hand. Gemma was one of those people who were friendly to everyone, an overabundance of chirpy goodwill seemed to flow from her every pore. He guessed that’s why she was on the front desk.

‘I wondered when you were finally going to introduce yourself to me. How are you getting on? Those rooms creep me out, all those dead things, ew.’

‘At least they don’t talk back.’ He smiled awkwardly and she laughed louder and harder than his quip deserved. He noticed Shane watching him from across the room. When they thought no one was looking, he knew Gemma and Shane would sneak into the back rooms for some privacy. He could feel Shane’s jealous eyes ablaze with anger.

‘You getting on OK with Abbey?’ she finally said when she calmed down, and he could tell she was asking even though she already knew the answer, and there was a hint of mocking in the way she said Abbey’s name. He realised for once he wasn’t the strangest person in the building.

The women who worked in the canteen could be heard gossiping almost non-stop when you were at their end of the building. Sometimes he caught the words but mostly it was the sound of inane exchanges, last night’s soap operas, who was leaving ‘the jungle’, anything to make the time go by. Shane and Gemma would huddle together no matter what they were doing, either fighting or flirting, always in a whisper. Mr Lowestoft was occasionally seen roaming the halls looking at the progress and talking to the decorators who had somehow become invisible. Between the lady who gave the tours on the days they had school visits and the porters who moved the artefacts around silently when no one was looking, Parker realised he had never really seen anyone else talking to Abbey. The reason he got on so well with Abbey, if you could call it that, was because they were both the outcasts. In fact, for once, he thought it was possible he was the normal one.

‘Yes, speak of the devil.’ They both looked up as Abbey ambled through the large double doors. Parker smiled, more comfortable with Abbey’s awkward stare than he had been with Gemma’s overfamiliarity, he could sense Gemma sneering as he walked over and took Abbey’s heavy bag before following her in silence through the unlit passageway to the area they needed to be in for today. As he walked beside her he watched her face. She was focused.

‘If you start in that corner then I can get on with these guys today,’ she said, he felt like she was fobbing him off.

‘Can I ask you for a small favour?’

‘OK.’ She turned and faced him with a no-nonsense stance. Abbey was a no-nonsense girl, he wondered what she considered fun.

‘It’s a strange request, considering we’ve not known each other very long, but I need to ask you if you could look after Sally next weekend. I have a family thing to take care of and I don’t like putting her in kennels. The address is on the key fob, you may as well take it now while I remember.’ He handed her a key to his place. She just stared at his hand but he continued to hold the key out, unwavering. ‘Just put some food in her bowl and take her for a walk, if you don’t mind.’

‘Oh …’

‘I wouldn’t ask but I don’t know anyone else around here any more, and Sally really likes you … I like you … I mean, I trust you with Sally.’ He felt stupid saying it, knowing also that now was not the right time to attempt one of his disingenuous smiles, he knew she could see through all of that. Abbey blushed again and took the key from him. Her hand brushed against his and he was surprised at how warm her skin was. She snatched it away self-consciously as he kept his eyes on her. Parker didn’t feel the same need to be normal with her as he did with everyone else, he didn’t feel the need for fake smiles and he didn’t feel the need to speak when she was silent. He had noticed it more and more since they had first met; his ever decreasing need to be false with her. In fact, anything other than honesty was becoming hard. In all the scenarios he had imagined when he returned to this city, a genuine connection wasn’t in one of them. He hadn’t planned for this.

‘We had better get on with it, they want this room cleared in a couple of weeks ready to redecorate it for the centenary celebrations,’ she interrupted his thoughts.

She scuttled off to her corner of the room, stuffing his keys into her back pocket. He took that to mean she accepted his request.

Parker could make women fall for him, it was possibly because he was clever, women like that, but he was also good-looking in an awkward way. He had no interest in relationships. He was often more comfortable spending time with women because he was not the average man. Comfortable was maybe the wrong word, a little strong for the way anyone made him feel. The only time Parker couldn’t get a woman to fall for him was when he actually liked the girl in question, not a situation that arose often. He had the gift of manipulation, something he had watched people around him possess as he had grown up. He had made a promise to himself, though, that he would only use it when he absolutely had to, he didn’t want to become like the people who had influenced him the most. He had seen those people lie and lie again to get what they wanted, no matter who they hurt. No, he wouldn’t indulge the part of him that wanted to deceive, manipulate and corrupt; he wanted to be better than that, he wanted to be good. He seemed to repel the women that fascinated him, maybe because he was trying to flirt, not something he was good at. He knew his ham-fisted attempts at light humour were never received in the spirit he intended them to be. The girls he had known before had all wanted to fix him and so he pushed them away, knowing full well that he was unfixable. Also he noticed something all the girls he liked had in common: they were good, too good for him. He always thought too much of them to inflict himself on them. That was his ‘type’, a girl he could never allow himself to be with. He put it down to his innate desperation to sabotage any chance for happiness he might be able to grab on to in the future. His past had been so dark, so unthinkably bleak that sometimes he thought he felt more comfortable in situations where there was absolutely no hope.