Dave Slater Mystery Novels Box Set Three

by P. F. Ford

  ‘Yeah, something like that,’ said Slater.

  ‘Well, she’s a lucky girl,’ said Brent.

  ‘And you say all the downstairs windows were open?’

  ‘You can see for yourself,’ said Brent, nodding towards the house. ‘We didn’t open them, that’s how they were when we arrived.’

  ‘Really?’ said Slater, puzzled.

  ‘Sorry if it’s not what you want to hear, but perhaps your girlfriend left them open.’

  ‘That’s not like her.’

  ‘It happens,’ said Brent, then he seemed to realise his opinion, honest as it may be, wasn’t helping the situation. ‘That’s probably not much help, is it? But I can only guess at the moment. If you let me have your phone number, I’ll give you a call when I’ve got something definite to tell you.’

  ‘I’d really appreciate it if you could,’ said Slater. He fished in his pocket and found a card. ‘Here you go.’

  Brent took the card without looking at it and slipped it into his pocket. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Right, thanks,’ said Slater. ‘I don’t suppose there’s anything left inside to rescue?’

  ‘I can’t let anyone go inside. We’re not even sure if it’s safe yet.’

  ‘What about the neighbouring houses?’ asked Slater.

  ‘We seem to have got here in time to stop it spreading,’ said Brent. ‘So hopefully they won’t have suffered any serious damage. We’re trying to contact the owners so they can come home and open up for us. I’ll feel happier when I’ve had a look inside the houses adjoining yours, especially up in the roof spaces.’

  ‘Right,’ said Slater, gloomily. ‘Is there anything I can do now?’

  Brent gave him a rueful smile. ‘Call your insurance company? Oh, and you’d better find somewhere to stay for a while.’

  ‘Bloody hell, yeah,’ said Slater. ‘I hadn’t even thought about that!’

  ‘Good luck,’ said Brent. ‘I’ll call you as soon as I have some news.’

  Slater walked back to Norman and Jenny.

  ‘Come on,’ said Norman, handing Jenny over to Slater. ‘There’s not much we can do here, is there?’

  ‘No, I guess not.’ Slater put his arm around the inconsolable Jenny and they began to walk towards his car.

  ‘I’ll drive,’ said Norman. ‘I think you probably need to sit in the back with Jenny. I think she needs someone to hold her.’

  He ushered Slater and Jenny into the back seat of the car, then mumbled something about needing to make a call. When he climbed into the driver’s seat a couple of minutes later, he turned to Slater.

  ‘There’s an empty room next to mine at the pub,’ he said. ‘My landlord says you can have it for as long as you want.’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Norman made sure the drive back was considerably more sedate than the frantic white-knuckle ride he had endured earlier. He totally understood why Slater had been driving that way, but even so, he had closed his eyes and prayed more than once on that journey. As he drove now, he couldn’t stop himself from taking an occasional surreptitious glance in the mirror at his passengers on the back seat. He couldn’t recall ever seeing Slater show so much concern for another person.

  He took them straight back to the pub where he lived, collected the key from the landlord, and led them upstairs to their room. The paramedic had given Jenny a sedative, so Slater put her to bed and then went across the landing to Norman’s room.

  ‘So, what happened back there?’ Norman asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Slater. ‘Eddie says he thinks the fire probably started in the kitchen. The downstairs windows were open so the fire spread quick.’

  ‘And he knows this for sure?’

  ‘No. It’s his best guess based on statistics. He wouldn’t commit to anything without having a good look inside.’

  ‘You don’t think Jenny left those windows open?’

  ‘I dunno,’ said Slater. ‘I know she likes to have the bedroom window open, but I can’t believe she had all the downstairs windows open. We make a point of keeping those closed and the doors locked, just in case anyone is still looking for her.’

  ‘D’you think that’s what’s happened? Has someone found her and decided to take care of her for good?’

  ‘At the moment, I’m trying to believe it’s just an unfortunate accident,’ said Slater. ‘I don’t want to jump to any conclusions about what happened, but I’m finding it hard not to.’

  ‘But if you’re right about the windows, this definitely wasn’t an accident.’

  ‘But that means they know where she is, right? If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be easier to get to her when we’re out running?’

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Norman, ‘but that would involve you too, and maybe they don’t want to involve anyone else.’

  ‘They’ve just burnt my bloody house down!’ said Slater, testily. ‘I think that sort of involves me, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, yeah, when you put it like that, sure it does. But what I mean is, if they had really wanted to hurt you as well, they could have burnt the house down at night with the two of you inside, but they chose not to.’

  ‘She didn’t think she was in danger any more. Her argument was that if they knew where she was, they would have got to her by now. I was going to get her a key cut today so she could come and go whenever she wanted. She says she feels like a prisoner.’

  ‘I suppose she has a point,’ said Norman.

  Slater sighed. ‘Yeah, I know, I just don’t want her getting hurt.’

  ‘You can’t keep her in a cage forever, you know. She’s a—’

  ‘I know what you’re going to say,’ said Slater. ‘She’s a strong-minded, independent woman who can look after herself. Can you imagine how many times she’s told me that over the last couple of weeks?’

  ‘Well, if she keeps telling you, maybe she has a point,’ said Norman.

  ‘Yeah, maybe, but don’t forget it was being strong-minded and independent that got her into this mess!’

  ‘And you told her so? Jeez, I bet she loved hearing that!’

  Slater looked suitably guilty.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Norman, ‘that’s all for you and her to discuss. What bothers me is what happened this morning and why.’

  ‘At the moment, it’s just an unfortunate accident.’

  ‘Except you don’t think she left those windows open?’

  ‘I’m not going to ask her while she’s still upset.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting you do,’ said Norman. ‘What I’m suggesting is we discount the accident theory and consider the alternatives, such as maybe it’s your turn to experience what happens when you upset a Serbian gangster.’

  Slater considered this for a moment. ‘But the guy who torched your place watched and waited until he knew you were out. He made sure there was no one inside.’

  ‘Maybe he watched you leave and didn’t know Jenny was in there?’

  ‘You don’t really think they still have a grudge against us, do you? I mean that was well over a year ago. Why come back and start it all up again now?’

  ‘I don’t have any answers,’ said Norman. ‘I’m just exploring theories. Anyway, if you dismiss that possibility and it’s not an accident, there are only two other alternatives. Either someone started the fire knowing Jenny was upstairs and she was the target, or someone started the fire to get you for Stevie Scanlon. Out of all those, I think I’d prefer it to be my first suggestion, or, better still, that it really was an accident.’

  Slater put his hands to his face and rubbed hard. ‘I can’t think about this now. It’s a bloody nightmare, and it’s making my head ache.’

  Norman looked at his friend. He certainly looked a little rough around the edges.

  ‘You know, I think you’re probably right. We might be wasting all this time on speculation when it was just a silly accident. Let’s wait until we get some news. In the meantime, my stomach is telling me I missed breakfast and
I really do need to eat. Do you want to come downstairs?’

  ‘I’m going to pass, if you don’t mind, Norm. I’m not really hungry, and I need to make some phone calls.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Norman. ‘Finding your home burnt down does tend to spoil your appetite. I’ll be back in a while.’

  He made his way quietly from the room, leaving a rather dazed-looking Slater with some space and time alone to sort out his thoughts.

  ***

  It was four-thirty that afternoon. Slater was sitting on the bed next to Jenny, holding her in his arms again.

  She looked up at him, her face pale and anxious. ‘Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Sure,’ he said, and her head tucked under his chin once again. ‘Ask away.’

  ‘Are you going to ask me to leave now?’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because I’m nothing but bad news. I don’t contribute anything, and now I’ve even burnt your house down.’

  ‘Well, yeah, I suppose there is that,’ he said, matter-of-factly. ‘And, worst of all, you did push me into a hedge the other morning.’

  This clearly wasn’t quite the response she had expected. ‘I mean it,’ she said, seriously. ‘I really think I should go.’

  ‘And where exactly are you going to go?’

  It seemed bizarre to be having this conversation while she was holding him like this and he was stroking her hair.

  ‘I don’t know. I just don’t think this situation is fair on you.’

  ‘I seem to recall it was my choice, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘I mean, you didn’t force me to get involved, did you? And if I chose to get involved, surely it’s up to me when my involvement ends, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is that a question?’

  ‘No, it’s a statement of intent.’

  She looked up at him, or at least at the underside of his chin. He leaned back, looked down into her eyes, and held her gaze.

  ‘You don’t need to go anywhere,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘I don’t believe that any more than you do. The time to go is when your confidence is at its peak, not when you’re down in a trough.’

  He was still holding her gaze, but she didn’t look away.

  ‘We both know I’m right,’ he said. ‘If you really feel you want to go, you can go as soon as you’re ready to face the world, and when that time comes I’ll give you my blessing if it’s what you really want to do, but in the meantime, I think you should stay, and you can stay as long as you like.’

  She looked down and rested her head on his chest for a moment.

  ‘In that case,’ she said, looking up again, ‘can I ask another question? Well, it’s two questions actually.’

  He sighed a big, exaggerated sigh. ‘Jesus,’ he said, still gazing into her eyes. ‘All these questions. It’s like an interrogation. Go on then.’

  ‘If I stay, can I have something to do? And I don’t mean cooking and cleaning. I don’t mind doing that, but I need to do something constructive and to feel as though I’m putting something in as well as taking out. Besides, if we’re going to live here in just one room, even if it’s only for a few days, I think I might go mad.’

  He pursed his lips as he considered her suggestion. ‘Yep. I can understand that,’ he said.

  ‘So?’

  ‘We’ll find something. I promise we will.’

  He waited for the second question. ‘What was the other question?’ he asked when it seemed she had forgotten.

  She had been dozing, and suddenly started when he spoke. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You had another question.’

  ‘Did I? Oh, yes, I don’t understand why you’re so calm about all this. Your house burnt down this morning, yet you’re so calm. How come? I’d be going spare!’

  He smiled. ‘I’ve had my eyes opened a lot recently. First, I was in Thailand and met my dad, then I watched him die, then I came back and got involved in the homeless shelter, and then I found you again. It’s made me realise what’s really important. Like I said before, it’s only a house. Once I got there this morning and knew you were safe, the house didn’t really seem to matter. It’s not the end of the world, is it?’

  ‘You’re weird, David Slater, do you know that?’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It beats being boring, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Mmm, it certainly do . . .’ She was asleep before she finished the sentence.

  Slater carefully took his arm from around her and pulled the duvet up to keep her warm. Then he slipped his shoes back on and made his way out of the room. More sleep wouldn’t do her any harm. As he made his way down the stairs and into the bar to join Norman, his mobile phone began to ring.

  ‘Oh, hi Eddie, thanks for calling. Have you found out what caused the fire?’

  ‘You didn’t tell me you weren’t working for the police any more.’

  ‘It’s true I’m no longer with the police, and yes, I didn’t tell you,’ admitted Slater, ‘but does it matter?’

  ‘I shouldn’t really be talking to you.’

  ‘But it’s my house that burnt down!’ argued Slater, quite reasonably. ‘Surely I have a right to know what you’re going to tell my insurance company?’

  There was a long pause, and Slater began to think there was something wrong with his phone. He took it from his ear, looked accusingly at it, realised how stupid that was, and then tried speaking into it.

  ‘Hello? Eddie? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, I’m still here. I’m just trying to decide what to do.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Can you get over here?’ asked Brent.

  ‘I can meet you at the house if you like.’

  Slater became aware of an awkward hesitation before Brent replied. ‘Err, no, I can’t do that. I think it will be better if you come here,’ he said, finally.

  ‘Can’t do it, or won’t do it?’ asked Slater. ‘Is there some sort of problem?’

  ‘We can talk about it when you get here—’

  ‘There is, isn’t there?’ insisted Slater.

  ‘I’m not discussing this over the phone,’ said Brent, before adding, ‘and I suggest you need to get here sooner rather than later.’

  ‘Yeah, but—’ began Slater, but Brent had hung up. He gave the phone another accusing look.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked Norman, who had been unable to avoid hearing Slater’s end of the conversation.

  ‘That was Eddie Brent.’

  ‘What’s he saying?’

  ‘I dunno, he says he won’t talk to me over the phone, and he won’t meet me at the house. I have to go to him.’

  Norman’s expression reflected Slater’s ominous feeling.

  ‘Ah right, I see what you mean. That doesn’t sound so good. D’you want me to come with you?’

  ‘Would you stay here in case Jenny wakes up? Whatever this is, it’s my problem and I have to deal with it.’

  ‘Okay, but if you need me you only have to shout, right?’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‘Before I tell you anything, I need you to know I’m not obliged to do this, and I’m doing it as a favour,’ said Brent.

  ‘Jesus, Eddie, this is all a bit cloak and dagger, isn’t it?’ asked Slater. ‘It is my house we’re talking about.’

  ‘Yes, well, the thing is, I should really go straight to the police.’

  ‘Why do the police need to be involv— Wait a minute! Are you telling me this wasn’t an accident?’

  Brent’s look confirmed Slater’s suspicions.

  ‘But you said it was a kitchen fire, right?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Brent, ‘but I did tell you that was just a guess based on statistics. My job is a bit like yours. When I’ve gathered all the evidence, I have to take a good look at what I’ve got and ask myself a few questions.’

  ‘What questions?’

  ‘Well, in th
is case, I have to ask myself – was it an accident every ring on the hob and the grill were on full blast? Was it an accident cooking oil was poured all over the hob? Was it an accident there are traces of an accelerant around the cooker? Was it an accident newspaper had been stuffed in the grill? Was it an accident all the downstairs windows were left open to provide plenty of airflow to fan the flames?’

  Slater couldn’t quite make sense of what he was hearing. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’ he asked, foolishly.

  ‘I never joke about arson,’ replied Brent, solemnly. ‘If someone hadn’t called 999 when they did, your house would have been destroyed along with every other house in that row.’

  ‘But Jenny said she was only in the bathroom for half an hour . . . ‘

  ‘How well do you know Jenny?’ asked Brent suddenly.

  ‘What? You’re not suggesting she started the fire, are you? Why the hell would she set fire to the only place she can call home?’

  ‘Is she worried about anything?’

  ‘She’s not bloody suicidal if that’s what you mean,’ said Slater. ‘That’s a ridiculous idea! And anyway, if that was her intention, why did she jump out of the window?’

  Brent shrugged. ‘Maybe what she’s telling you is bullshit. Can she prove any of it?’

  ‘Does she need to?’

  ‘She might have to when I go to the police.’

  ‘Whoa,’ said Slater. ‘Now hang on a minute. You can’t just go accusing her like that. Christ, she used to be a barrister.’

  ‘Harold Shipman was a doctor,’ replied Brent.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ demanded Slater angrily. ‘He was a bloody serial killer!’

  Brent held his hands up. ‘I’m sorry if that offends you, but I wasn’t trying to compare them. All I was trying to suggest is someone’s position in society doesn’t necessarily make them incapable of committing a crime.’