Lewis giftfic: The Harder They Fall
Story: The Harder They Fall
Characters: Robbie Lewis, James Hathaway, Jean Innocent, OCs
Rated: G
Summary: An obnoxious git gets his comeuppance
Written for sasha1600, who correctly guessed my lewis_challenge Secret Santa fic, and who asked for exactly what the summary states ;) Hope you like this! Many thanks to uniquepov for BRing and for an excellent suggestion.
The Harder They Fall
“What do we know about this bloke?” Robbie asks as they climb the wide stairs leading up to the offices of Beaumont College’s more important people.
James tilts his head in Robbie’s direction in order to keep their conversation private. “Professor of modern history, with expertise that could be described as all the important men in the Western world and none of the women; meteoric rise up both the academic and college hierarchies; currently head of the university’s history department and considered next in line for a vice-mastership at Beaumont.”
“And connected to our victim how?”
“Peripherally, most likely.” James is sounding sceptical. “His name was in the contacts on her mobile phone, but she only made one call to him in the last month. But, since we haven’t got anything else to go on until the warrant comes through to examine relevant emails on the University system...”
“Yeah, all right.” Robbie pauses, glancing at the names on the doors. “Looks like this is it.”
James’s eyebrows climb up. “He’s got an anteroom. Must be important.”
“No secretary, though,” Robbie comments, glancing around at the few chairs lining the walls and the absence of a desk. “Not that important.”
There are voices coming from the inner office and, since they’re not in that much of a hurry, Robbie gestures to the chairs. They could wait.
Abruptly, one voice grows louder: a woman, clearly angry. “...if you won’t, I’ll make a formal complaint!”
“It’s your word against mine, my dear. I really wouldn’t advise it. You’re applying for jobs, and you need me as a reference.” That has to be Professor Laughton, the man they’d come to see. Robbie dislikes him already.
“You-”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some important work to be getting on with. Good day to you.”
There’s a pause, and then the door opens and a young woman marches out, looking furious. Robbie catches James’s eye and jerks his head; James immediately goes after the woman, while Robbie strolls into the obnoxious professor’s office.
The man’s the sort who’d consider himself God’s gift to women: that’s Robbie’s first impression. Early forties, smooth good looks - aided, Robbie strongly suspects, by hair-dye and other grooming products - and clothes that send the message that the wearer’s just one of the boys. If he didn’t already dislike the bloke from the overheard conversation, Robbie’d have taken against him on sight.
He taps on the door-frame. “Professor Laughton?”
“Yes?” Laughton looks up. “Can I help you?”
“Detective Inspector Lewis, Oxford CID.” He flashes his warrant card. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you’ve got time.”
“The police?” Laughton assumes a mock-alarmed look that, Robbie concludes, is intended to disarm. “It must be important if they’ve sent an inspector.”
“It’s about the murder of Dr Carlton. I believe you knew her?”
“Oh!” Laughton’s expression rearranges itself into one of regret and sadness. What a fraud. “Linda, yes, of course. What an awful thing to have happened.” He shakes his head. “I really don’t see what help I can be to you, however, Inspector. I didn’t know her all that well.”
“Well enough for your number to be programmed into her mobile, sir.”
Laughton’s brows crease. “Well, I am in somewhat of a senior position here at Beaumont. I have been called upon to deputise for the Academic Vice-Master on occasion. Many of the staff would have my number, including Linda, I’m sure.”
“She telephoned you about three weeks ago, according to her phone records.”
Laughton frowns again. “It’s possible. I do get a lot of telephone calls from members of college. I don’t remember the conversation, though. I’m sorry I’m not able to be of much help, Inspector.”
“Well, if you remember anything else, Professor...” Robbie hands over his card, at the same time glancing at the surface of Laughton’s desk. Expensive accessories: a pen-holder and paperknife that look like they’re actually gold-plated, a fountain-pen he’s sure James would be able to cite the precise value of, and a calfskin portfolio, among other things.
Jogging down the stairs a few seconds later, Robbie feels as if he needs a shower.
“Smarmy git.”
“You’re so kind, sir.” James pretends to look upset.
“Laughton,” Robbie almost growls.
“Add to that: a serial sexual predator and an academic thief.” There’s an angry note in James’s voice that’s rare. Whatever the woman told him, it’s got his sergeant’s dander up.
“Tell me more.” Robbie leans forward across his desk. “Think there’s a chance he could be involved in Linda Carlton’s death?”
“Sadly, no.” And that attitude, too, is unusual for James. “I spoke to Christine Devin - the woman who left Laughton’s office in such a hurry. She was his PhD student for almost four years. During that time, she estimates that she fended off at least a dozen sexual advances from him, at least two of which would have been enough for her to register a sexual harassment complaint.”
“But it would have ruined her chance of passing the PhD?” Robbie suggests.
“Oh, she’d have done it anyway, but it would’ve been her word against his. He was always careful enough to do it where there were no witnesses. She did tell me that he’s - in her words - been through most of the young, pretty postgraduates and junior lecturers in the college. One of whom, it seems, may well have been Linda Carlton. Christine didn’t know Linda, but recognised the description, and says Laughton was with someone answering that description until about a month ago. He’s always the one who ends it, apparently, and often without even telling them.”
“So he lied,” Robbie growls, and relates what Laughton told him.
“He’s a thoroughly nasty piece of work.” James is scowling again. “Christine told me that he stole some work of hers and published it under his own name.”
“What?” Robbie’s eyes widen. “She must be able to prove that. It was different in the days before everything went electronic, but now...?”
“Trouble is, although the journal it’s published in only came out this week, she sent her draft article to him eight months ago from her Oxford account, while she was still at Beaumont. She no longer has access to that account, so she can’t prove that she emailed it to him. Yes, she has the draft on her computer, but he told her he’ll say he gave her a copy of his draft for a second opinion.”
“So he gets away with it?”
“Looks like it.” James’s mouth turns down. “She’s not afraid of going up against him, but she needs evidence, and unfortunately she’s got none.” He drums fingers on his desk. “I’m thinking of putting her in contact with a forensic textual analyst.”
Robbie nods. “Should help.” He sighs. “But, in the meantime, we have a murder, and it’s not going to solve itself while we chase around after tossers like Laughton.”
The murder does get solved, and relatively quickly, too; a witness comes forward with new information, and an ex-boyfriend of Linda Carlton’s is arrested. Robbie spends no more than half an hour in the interview room with the bloke before he confesses.
Very pleased with himself, Robbie jogs back up to his office in search of James, who wasn’t around when the murderer was brought in. James is there, and he actually grins when Robbie comes in. “We’ve got him, sir!”
“I know. He’s just confessed in interview with me.”
“Oh!” James looks taken aback. “I wasn’t... Tell me later, sir. I meant we’ve got Laughton.”
Raising an eyebrow, Robbie leans against James’s desk. James explains. “While Gurdip was going through Linda Carlton’s emails, I asked him to keep an eye out for any from Laughton - and he found a few dozen, which prove beyond doubt that they were having an affair, and that Laughton instigated it.” James pulls a face. “Honestly, do women really fall for the sort of clichéd compliments he was feeding her? There’re more tasteful comments on soft porn websites.”
Robbie shrugs. “If I’d tried anything like that on Val, she’d either have laughed at me or belted me one.”
“Anyway,” James adds, “I used that as justification to get Gurdip to search Laughton’s email - since he did have a relationship with Linda, he became a suspect.”
“And?” Since Laughton’s not the murderer, clearly James has found something else.
“Look and see.” James turns his monitor towards Robbie, and Robbie smiles.
“Professor Laughton? Sorry to disturb you, but Detective Sergeant Hathaway and I just had a couple more questions.”
“Really?” Laughton looks irritated. “I thought you people had caught the man who murdered Dr Carlton.”
“Oh, we have. This is about something else.”
“First of all, it’s really not a good idea to lie to the police, Professor,” James says, in his most forbidding tone. Robbie’s proud of him, he really is. “That constitutes a criminal offence. In fact, we have several to choose from: obstructing the police in the course of their duties, perverting the course of justice, wasting police time... have I forgotten any, sir?”
“You never do, Sergeant.” Robbie comes around Laughton’s desk and looms over him. “But you’re not worth wasting our time over, Professor. In any case, you’re going to have enough trouble on your hands as it is.”
“What?” Laughton’s face is turning purple. “Look, this is harassment. If you don’t leave my office right this minute, I’ll be phoning your superior officer.”
“Oh, yes, another bullying tactic. Just like the one you used on Christine Devin. And, in fact, on Linda Carlton, and on a number of other women, from what we’ve seen.” Robbie shakes his head. “Unfortunately, none of that’s anything we can arrest you for, though I suspect if a few of them got together they’d have a good harassment case. That’s if you’re still employed at the University once Christine Devin’s finished with you.”
“What?”
“Oh, didn’t we say?” James drawls. “We had a warrant to review all emails on the Oxford University server related to Linda Carlton, or anyone who had significant contact with her. As a result, your email account was searched - and by pure coincidence, an email was found which proves that Christine Devin sent her article to you for feedback. Oh, and another that shows you emailed substantially the same article to a refereed journal two weeks later.” He smiles slightly. “I may have accidentally left printouts of those emails on my desk when Christine came in to give a statement at the station.”
Laughton’s now gone pale. “You can’t - I’ll sue-”
“You’re welcome to try, sir. You can even complain to Chief Superintendent Innocent, if you like.” Robbie hands over Innocent’s card. “I should warn you, though, that she takes a dim view of members of the public who lie to the police, and also of people who use their position to bully and intimidate.”
Laughton’s mouth opens and closes. Robbie turns to James, tilting his head towards the door, and James nods.
“Well done, sir.” James nudges Robbie with his shoulder as they stroll down the stairs.
“Didn’t do so badly yourself, sergeant.” Robbie grins. “Pint?”
“Pint.”
“Good morning, gentlemen.”
Robbie looks up at Innocent, who’s just walked into their office two days later. “Ma’am?”
She sighs, a long-suffering sound. Robbie wants to sigh, too - what now? “I’ve just had a phone call from a very irate professor at Beaumont College.”
“Let me guess.” Robbie just manages not to roll his eyes. “Professor Laughton?”
“The very same.” Innocent just looks at the two of them, gaze steely - until, suddenly, she smiles. “Good result.”
James grins. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“I’ll deny I said it if he goes to the Assistant Chief Constable - but I might be persuaded to consider a warrant for attempting to pervert the course of justice.” She turns to leave, then glances back. “Oh, and a contact of mine at Beaumont hinted that there might be a major sexual harassment complaint any day now - coincidentally involving Laughton. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Robbie looks at James, and then the two of them look back at Innocent, poker-faced. “No, ma’am.”
Innocent nods. “Job well done.” Stifling a grin, she leaves.
James looks back at Robbie again, and bursts out laughing. It only takes two seconds before Robbie joins him. Job well done, indeed.
Characters: Robbie Lewis, James Hathaway, Jean Innocent, OCs
Rated: G
Summary: An obnoxious git gets his comeuppance
Written for sasha1600, who correctly guessed my lewis_challenge Secret Santa fic, and who asked for exactly what the summary states ;) Hope you like this! Many thanks to uniquepov for BRing and for an excellent suggestion.
The Harder They Fall
“What do we know about this bloke?” Robbie asks as they climb the wide stairs leading up to the offices of Beaumont College’s more important people.
James tilts his head in Robbie’s direction in order to keep their conversation private. “Professor of modern history, with expertise that could be described as all the important men in the Western world and none of the women; meteoric rise up both the academic and college hierarchies; currently head of the university’s history department and considered next in line for a vice-mastership at Beaumont.”
“And connected to our victim how?”
“Peripherally, most likely.” James is sounding sceptical. “His name was in the contacts on her mobile phone, but she only made one call to him in the last month. But, since we haven’t got anything else to go on until the warrant comes through to examine relevant emails on the University system...”
“Yeah, all right.” Robbie pauses, glancing at the names on the doors. “Looks like this is it.”
James’s eyebrows climb up. “He’s got an anteroom. Must be important.”
“No secretary, though,” Robbie comments, glancing around at the few chairs lining the walls and the absence of a desk. “Not that important.”
There are voices coming from the inner office and, since they’re not in that much of a hurry, Robbie gestures to the chairs. They could wait.
Abruptly, one voice grows louder: a woman, clearly angry. “...if you won’t, I’ll make a formal complaint!”
“It’s your word against mine, my dear. I really wouldn’t advise it. You’re applying for jobs, and you need me as a reference.” That has to be Professor Laughton, the man they’d come to see. Robbie dislikes him already.
“You-”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some important work to be getting on with. Good day to you.”
There’s a pause, and then the door opens and a young woman marches out, looking furious. Robbie catches James’s eye and jerks his head; James immediately goes after the woman, while Robbie strolls into the obnoxious professor’s office.
The man’s the sort who’d consider himself God’s gift to women: that’s Robbie’s first impression. Early forties, smooth good looks - aided, Robbie strongly suspects, by hair-dye and other grooming products - and clothes that send the message that the wearer’s just one of the boys. If he didn’t already dislike the bloke from the overheard conversation, Robbie’d have taken against him on sight.
He taps on the door-frame. “Professor Laughton?”
“Yes?” Laughton looks up. “Can I help you?”
“Detective Inspector Lewis, Oxford CID.” He flashes his warrant card. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you’ve got time.”
“The police?” Laughton assumes a mock-alarmed look that, Robbie concludes, is intended to disarm. “It must be important if they’ve sent an inspector.”
“It’s about the murder of Dr Carlton. I believe you knew her?”
“Oh!” Laughton’s expression rearranges itself into one of regret and sadness. What a fraud. “Linda, yes, of course. What an awful thing to have happened.” He shakes his head. “I really don’t see what help I can be to you, however, Inspector. I didn’t know her all that well.”
“Well enough for your number to be programmed into her mobile, sir.”
Laughton’s brows crease. “Well, I am in somewhat of a senior position here at Beaumont. I have been called upon to deputise for the Academic Vice-Master on occasion. Many of the staff would have my number, including Linda, I’m sure.”
“She telephoned you about three weeks ago, according to her phone records.”
Laughton frowns again. “It’s possible. I do get a lot of telephone calls from members of college. I don’t remember the conversation, though. I’m sorry I’m not able to be of much help, Inspector.”
“Well, if you remember anything else, Professor...” Robbie hands over his card, at the same time glancing at the surface of Laughton’s desk. Expensive accessories: a pen-holder and paperknife that look like they’re actually gold-plated, a fountain-pen he’s sure James would be able to cite the precise value of, and a calfskin portfolio, among other things.
Jogging down the stairs a few seconds later, Robbie feels as if he needs a shower.
“Smarmy git.”
“You’re so kind, sir.” James pretends to look upset.
“Laughton,” Robbie almost growls.
“Add to that: a serial sexual predator and an academic thief.” There’s an angry note in James’s voice that’s rare. Whatever the woman told him, it’s got his sergeant’s dander up.
“Tell me more.” Robbie leans forward across his desk. “Think there’s a chance he could be involved in Linda Carlton’s death?”
“Sadly, no.” And that attitude, too, is unusual for James. “I spoke to Christine Devin - the woman who left Laughton’s office in such a hurry. She was his PhD student for almost four years. During that time, she estimates that she fended off at least a dozen sexual advances from him, at least two of which would have been enough for her to register a sexual harassment complaint.”
“But it would have ruined her chance of passing the PhD?” Robbie suggests.
“Oh, she’d have done it anyway, but it would’ve been her word against his. He was always careful enough to do it where there were no witnesses. She did tell me that he’s - in her words - been through most of the young, pretty postgraduates and junior lecturers in the college. One of whom, it seems, may well have been Linda Carlton. Christine didn’t know Linda, but recognised the description, and says Laughton was with someone answering that description until about a month ago. He’s always the one who ends it, apparently, and often without even telling them.”
“So he lied,” Robbie growls, and relates what Laughton told him.
“He’s a thoroughly nasty piece of work.” James is scowling again. “Christine told me that he stole some work of hers and published it under his own name.”
“What?” Robbie’s eyes widen. “She must be able to prove that. It was different in the days before everything went electronic, but now...?”
“Trouble is, although the journal it’s published in only came out this week, she sent her draft article to him eight months ago from her Oxford account, while she was still at Beaumont. She no longer has access to that account, so she can’t prove that she emailed it to him. Yes, she has the draft on her computer, but he told her he’ll say he gave her a copy of his draft for a second opinion.”
“So he gets away with it?”
“Looks like it.” James’s mouth turns down. “She’s not afraid of going up against him, but she needs evidence, and unfortunately she’s got none.” He drums fingers on his desk. “I’m thinking of putting her in contact with a forensic textual analyst.”
Robbie nods. “Should help.” He sighs. “But, in the meantime, we have a murder, and it’s not going to solve itself while we chase around after tossers like Laughton.”
The murder does get solved, and relatively quickly, too; a witness comes forward with new information, and an ex-boyfriend of Linda Carlton’s is arrested. Robbie spends no more than half an hour in the interview room with the bloke before he confesses.
Very pleased with himself, Robbie jogs back up to his office in search of James, who wasn’t around when the murderer was brought in. James is there, and he actually grins when Robbie comes in. “We’ve got him, sir!”
“I know. He’s just confessed in interview with me.”
“Oh!” James looks taken aback. “I wasn’t... Tell me later, sir. I meant we’ve got Laughton.”
Raising an eyebrow, Robbie leans against James’s desk. James explains. “While Gurdip was going through Linda Carlton’s emails, I asked him to keep an eye out for any from Laughton - and he found a few dozen, which prove beyond doubt that they were having an affair, and that Laughton instigated it.” James pulls a face. “Honestly, do women really fall for the sort of clichéd compliments he was feeding her? There’re more tasteful comments on soft porn websites.”
Robbie shrugs. “If I’d tried anything like that on Val, she’d either have laughed at me or belted me one.”
“Anyway,” James adds, “I used that as justification to get Gurdip to search Laughton’s email - since he did have a relationship with Linda, he became a suspect.”
“And?” Since Laughton’s not the murderer, clearly James has found something else.
“Look and see.” James turns his monitor towards Robbie, and Robbie smiles.
“Professor Laughton? Sorry to disturb you, but Detective Sergeant Hathaway and I just had a couple more questions.”
“Really?” Laughton looks irritated. “I thought you people had caught the man who murdered Dr Carlton.”
“Oh, we have. This is about something else.”
“First of all, it’s really not a good idea to lie to the police, Professor,” James says, in his most forbidding tone. Robbie’s proud of him, he really is. “That constitutes a criminal offence. In fact, we have several to choose from: obstructing the police in the course of their duties, perverting the course of justice, wasting police time... have I forgotten any, sir?”
“You never do, Sergeant.” Robbie comes around Laughton’s desk and looms over him. “But you’re not worth wasting our time over, Professor. In any case, you’re going to have enough trouble on your hands as it is.”
“What?” Laughton’s face is turning purple. “Look, this is harassment. If you don’t leave my office right this minute, I’ll be phoning your superior officer.”
“Oh, yes, another bullying tactic. Just like the one you used on Christine Devin. And, in fact, on Linda Carlton, and on a number of other women, from what we’ve seen.” Robbie shakes his head. “Unfortunately, none of that’s anything we can arrest you for, though I suspect if a few of them got together they’d have a good harassment case. That’s if you’re still employed at the University once Christine Devin’s finished with you.”
“What?”
“Oh, didn’t we say?” James drawls. “We had a warrant to review all emails on the Oxford University server related to Linda Carlton, or anyone who had significant contact with her. As a result, your email account was searched - and by pure coincidence, an email was found which proves that Christine Devin sent her article to you for feedback. Oh, and another that shows you emailed substantially the same article to a refereed journal two weeks later.” He smiles slightly. “I may have accidentally left printouts of those emails on my desk when Christine came in to give a statement at the station.”
Laughton’s now gone pale. “You can’t - I’ll sue-”
“You’re welcome to try, sir. You can even complain to Chief Superintendent Innocent, if you like.” Robbie hands over Innocent’s card. “I should warn you, though, that she takes a dim view of members of the public who lie to the police, and also of people who use their position to bully and intimidate.”
Laughton’s mouth opens and closes. Robbie turns to James, tilting his head towards the door, and James nods.
“Well done, sir.” James nudges Robbie with his shoulder as they stroll down the stairs.
“Didn’t do so badly yourself, sergeant.” Robbie grins. “Pint?”
“Pint.”
“Good morning, gentlemen.”
Robbie looks up at Innocent, who’s just walked into their office two days later. “Ma’am?”
She sighs, a long-suffering sound. Robbie wants to sigh, too - what now? “I’ve just had a phone call from a very irate professor at Beaumont College.”
“Let me guess.” Robbie just manages not to roll his eyes. “Professor Laughton?”
“The very same.” Innocent just looks at the two of them, gaze steely - until, suddenly, she smiles. “Good result.”
James grins. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“I’ll deny I said it if he goes to the Assistant Chief Constable - but I might be persuaded to consider a warrant for attempting to pervert the course of justice.” She turns to leave, then glances back. “Oh, and a contact of mine at Beaumont hinted that there might be a major sexual harassment complaint any day now - coincidentally involving Laughton. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Robbie looks at James, and then the two of them look back at Innocent, poker-faced. “No, ma’am.”
Innocent nods. “Job well done.” Stifling a grin, she leaves.
James looks back at Robbie again, and bursts out laughing. It only takes two seconds before Robbie joins him. Job well done, indeed.