Dave Slater Mystery Novels Box Set Three

by P. F. Ford

  ‘You remember how she always used to be at work by seven every morning? Well, you were there this morning and where was she? Apparently she didn’t appear until midday.’

  ‘Maybe she’s decided they’re going to get rid of her when Tinton closes and she doesn’t care any more,’ said Norman.

  ‘That would certainly explain some of her more obscure operational decisions,’ said Darling. ‘The other day she had us CID officers out on the streets doing the sort of stuff liaison officers should be doing.’

  ‘So why doesn’t someone say something?’ asked Norman.

  Darling laughed. ‘They’re all frightened of being turned into frogs, I think.’

  ‘What about you? You’re not frightened, are you?’

  ‘I need a good reference,’ she said, ‘so no, I’m not frightened, but until I get away, I’m treading pretty carefully. Trust me, though, once I’m out, I’m going to get my own back on the evil cow.’

  ‘How long is it now?’ asked Norman.

  She smiled and let out a contented sigh. ‘Just one more week. Promise me you’ll come to my leaving party.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ said Norman. ‘Count on it.’

  ***

  Out in the car park, Slater had just caught up with Jenny.

  ‘Jen, wait,’ he said, but she ignored him and continued walking.

  He placed a hand on her arm, and now she stopped dead in her tracks. She looked down at his hand as if she was deeply offended by it, then she looked up at his face.

  ‘Take your hands off me,’ she said, her voice icy.

  He took his hand away as if her arm had suddenly become red hot.

  ‘Now you listen to me,’ she said. ‘I know I owe you far more than I can ever repay, and I’m more grateful than you’ll ever realise. Through you, I’ve learnt to trust again, and up until a couple of hours ago, I would have trusted you with my life, but that just makes it all the more disappointing to find you don’t trust me.’

  ‘What do you mean up until a couple of hours ago?’

  ‘I’m afraid everything changed the moment you made it clear you don’t believe what I told you. How can I have complete trust in you when you don’t trust me?’

  ‘But what about us?’

  ‘I’m not sure I believe there is an us.’

  ‘But don’t be silly—’

  ‘Silly? I’ll tell you what’s silly. Silly is me thinking I can trust any man. In the end, you’re all the same.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I can’t do this now,’ she said. ‘I just need to be on my own for a while.’

  ‘But it’s not safe.’

  ‘Right now, I don’t care,’ she said. ‘And if you follow me, I’m going to scream my head off and cause such a scene the police will be here in minutes.’

  ‘You know you wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘Do you want to try it and see? I mean it. Just back off and leave me alone. I need to think, and I’m going to do it on my own.’

  She turned on her heel and stalked off, leaving Slater watching helplessly. He wondered if should he follow her, but then his mobile phone began to ring. Out of habit, he raised the phone to his ear without looking to see who was calling.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ said the familiar voice of DCI Marion Goodnews.

  Slater looked skywards and swore softly to himself. Why hadn’t he checked caller ID before he’d answered the call? He knew he needed to speak to her, but he hadn’t planned on it being tonight. He wondered how quickly he could get rid of her, or was this going to be a rant about what happened this morning, and then yet another of her attempts to convince him he should never have stopped going out with her?

  ‘Hi,’ he said casually.

  ‘I heard about your house fire,’ she said, her voice filled with warm concern. ‘I was worried about you. Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, Marion,’ he said, wearily. ‘I’m fine, thank you.’

  ‘I heard your house was gutted. If you need somewhere to stay, I’ve got plenty of room.’

  ‘Marion, don’t,’ he warned.

  ‘But I have!’

  ‘I’m fine. There’s a spare room at the pub where Norm lives.’

  ‘That’s going to be a bit cramped, isn’t it?’

  ‘I haven’t exactly got a lot of stuff left to fit in there, so it’ll do fine for now.’

  ‘What about what’s-her-name, your friend? Is she all right?’

  ‘Her name’s Jenny, as you well know,’ said Slater. ‘And yes, she’s fine too, thank you.’

  ‘Oh!’ She sounded confused. ‘She didn’t get caught in the fire, then?’

  ‘She was actually in the bath, but luckily she kept her wits about her and managed to escape through the back window,’ said Slater.

  ‘Oh, I see, that was was lucky. Good for her,’ she said, unconvincingly.

  ‘You almost sound as if you would have liked her to have been hurt.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I wouldn’t.’

  In his head, Slater could see those words being forced, one at a time, through fiercely gritted teeth.

  ‘Has she found somewhere to stay? Although, I suppose it doesn’t matter. When you’re used to living on the street, you can just go back whenever you want!’ She almost spat the last sentence.

  ‘No, she’s not back on the street,’ he said, sounding far more patient than he was feeling. ‘She’s with me.’

  He was sure he heard a muffled curse, but he ignored it. However, the warmth had completely disappeared from her voice, which was now icy cold.

  ‘I don’t understand what you see in her,’ she snapped.

  ‘I’ve told you before, she’s just a friend in need of some help,’ he said, reasonably.

  ‘She ruined us,’ she spat.

  Slater sighed. Here we go again.

  ‘Listen, Marion, us was over before Jenny appeared on the scene, and you know it,’ he said, interrupting what he knew would be a long monologue about how wonderful their relationship had been until ‘that awful, dirty, street bitch’ had come along and turned his head. ‘I’m going to end this call now, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me again. If there ever was anything between us, it’s long over, and I can promise you there’s no chance it will ever happen again. Goodbye.’

  He ended the call and glared at the phone, almost as if it were the phone itself that had upset him. Then, remembering why he was out in the car park, he took off along the alleyway and out into the High Street, where he stopped and looked frantically in both directions. There was no sign of Jenny anywhere. He guessed she would have turned left, so he headed off in that direction, jogging along to try to make up for lost time.

  In the end, he walked the streets for two hours, but it proved to be a futile exercise and eventually he conceded defeat and headed back to the pub. All the way back, he hoped she would be there, curled up in bed fast asleep, but when he got back, the room was cold and uninviting in its emptiness. Exhausted and worried sick, he slipped into bed, and after an hour’s tossing and turning, he finally slipped into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Slater woke very slowly, at first unsure where he was, and then a sudden, urgent need made him reach out for Jenny’s familiar, warm body, but her side of the bed was refrigerator cold. He sat up in panic, then it all came flooding back to him and he recalled the argument and how she had walked off and left him. He reached for the bedside lamp and jumped out of bed. He had to start looking; she couldn’t have got far with no money.

  And then he noticed the folded note tucked under the lamp, where he couldn’t miss it. He sat down on the bed and reluctantly unfolded the sheet of paper to reveal a note written in her beautiful, flamboyant, handwriting.

  Dear Dave,

  By the time you find this letter, I’ll be gone. I know you think I set fire to your house, but I promise you I didn’t do it. I think it’s the people who have been chasing me. I always thought I would
have to go if they came for me and endangered you, but the longer I have been with you, the more I’ve been hoping I would never have to make that decision. Yes, it’s funny isn’t it? In just a few short weeks, the feisty career girl of old fell in love with you and become so settled she even began to hope there might be a different future ahead.

  But none of that matters any more because now they’re here, I know what I must do. It’s heart-breaking, but last night has actually made the decision a little easier, if no less upsetting. I think we both know we would have had no long-term future if you really don’t trust me. It doesn’t matter how much you love someone, you can’t share a life without trust, can you?

  I think this is best for both of us, so please don’t try to find me.

  Love you always,

  Jen

  P.S. Sorry, but I’ve borrowed twenty pounds from your wallet. I will pay you back for everything one day, I promise.

  Slater read the note twice, then set it carefully on the bedside table before flopping onto his side and curling into a ball.

  ***

  Slater slowly became aware someone was knocking on his bedroom door. He sat up and looked around, feeling slightly dazed and disoriented. The bedside clock told him it was eight o’clock in the morning.

  ‘Dave? Are you okay?’ called Norman through the door.

  ‘It’s not locked. Come on in.’

  ‘I didn’t want to come bursting in on you two lovebirds,’ said Norman as he slowly opened the door and poked his head around it. He stopped talking when he saw Slater’s face.

  ‘Jesus,’ he said, coming into the room. ‘What happened? Where’s Jenny?’

  Slater handed Norman the note. ‘Read that.’

  Norman unfolded the note, his eyes widening as he read. ‘Jeez, I’m sorry, Dave,’ he said, sitting down on the bed next to Slater. He placed a consoling hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘When did this all happen?’

  ‘We had a row last night,’ said Slater.

  Norman recalled seeing Jenny storm out of the pub with Slater chasing after her.

  ‘Yeah, I kinda guessed that,’ he said. ‘Is that what all this not trusting her stuff is about?’

  ‘I went and spoke to the neighbours,’ said Slater. ‘One of them told me he saw Jenny going into my house just before the fire started, but according to her, she never left the house after we got back from our run, and she said she had been in the bath before the fire started.’

  ‘And what did she say when you told her what the neighbour had said?’

  ‘She denied it,’ said Slater.

  ‘And you said you didn’t believe her?’

  ‘Well. . .’

  ‘Please tell me you didn’t accuse her of starting the fire,’ said Norman.

  ‘I wouldn’t have minded if she had admitted it,’ pleaded Slater. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t be pleased to find she had started the fire, but she’s been through a lot. We could have got her some help . . .’

  ‘Didn’t it occur to you that maybe accusing her wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had? You said yourself she’d been through a lot, and then just as she’s starting to think she’s actually found her forever hero, he turns on her as well!’

  ‘But what else am I supposed to think?’ wailed Slater.

  ‘Are you sure this guy was right?’

  ‘He knows her. He’s seen her out running. He described her running stuff.’

  ‘I thought she only went out running with you.’

  ‘Well, yeah,’ said Slater. ‘So did I, but he says he recognised her because he’s seen her out running on her own, and he recognised her gear. He said he saw her running up to the house and letting herself in.’

  ‘I thought she didn’t have a key. I thought you lost the spare one.’

  ‘Well, maybe it wasn’t so lost after all,’ said Slater.

  ‘You mean she had it all the time?’

  Slater sighed. ‘Yeah, it seems that’s another lie.’

  ‘But that can’t be right, can it? That key was missing before she moved in, wasn’t it?’ asked Norman.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t you remember? You told me there was a spare key in that kitchen drawer when you went to Thailand, but it wasn’t there, was it? We searched the house for it when you came back but we couldn’t find it anywhere, so how come Jenny managed to find it?’

  Slater raised a hand to his mouth. ‘I’d forgotten about that. But the guy said he saw her with a front door key, and she let herself in!’

  ‘Did it occur to you to that maybe he was wrong?’

  ‘Why would I think that? What’s he got to gain?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Norman, ‘but maybe you should have asked yourself that question when you were accusing Jenny. Reading this letter, it looks to me like she was hoping you might ask her to become Mrs Slater. How would burning your house down help her achieve that?’

  ‘We need to look for her,’ said Slater, determinedly.

  ‘And where do you propose to start?’

  Slater was puzzled, and then he realised what Norman meant. They didn’t have the resources they used to have at their disposal.

  ‘What about Naomi? Would she look for me?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure she would keep her eyes open for you,’ said Norman, ‘but I wouldn’t be in such a hurry to start a major search. If Jenny’s right and these people are responsible, they might well have someone on the inside who’s looking out for just such a search to appear on the database.’

  ‘Shit, yeah, you’re right,’ said Slater.

  ‘You’re also forgetting Jenny’s done all this before. She knows how to disappear, and how to stay disappeared.’

  ‘But she can’t go back on the streets!’

  ‘Oh, but she can,’ said Norman. ‘And my guess is she already has.’

  ‘And it’s all my fault. What have I done?’

  Norman patted Slater on the shoulder.

  ‘I think you should have a shower and clean yourself up,’ he said. ‘We’ve got work to do, and I suggest we start with this witness and find out what he’s up to.’

  Chapter Thirty

  Slater steered his car slowly past his house, the front door and windows now boarded-up.

  ‘Let me handle this,’ Norman said as they pulled up outside the house Slater had pointed out. ‘I think it would be fair to say you’re a little stressed right now.’

  Slater climbed wearily from the car, followed Norman up to the front door, and stood to one side as his friend rang the doorbell. It was probably no more than ten or fifteen seconds before they heard someone moving to the door, but for Slater, it seemed more like ten or fifteen minutes. Finally, the door opened just enough for the man to show his face. He looked uncertainly at Norman, but then recognised Slater standing to one side.

  ‘Oh, it’s you again,’ he said, relaxing and opening the door wider.

  ‘Err, yeah, I’m sorry to disturb you again,’ said Slater. ‘This is a bit awkward.’

  ‘It’s Tom, isn’t it?’ asked Norman.

  The man nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s right.’

  ‘Last night you told Dave here you saw his girlfriend going into his house at ten o’clock on the morning the fire started.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Tom. ‘I was just leaving for work. She’d been out for a run.’

  ‘Are you absolutely sure it was her?’ asked Norman.

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve seen her running in the area before. Slim girl, always wears black running gear.’

  ‘And you’re sure it was her?’ asked Slater. ‘Only she says you were mistaken and it wasn’t her.’

  ‘Of course I’m sure. She ran up to your front door and let herself in. Who else would it be?’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing,’ said Norman. ‘In our line of business, we make plenty of enemies.’

  ‘What? With a front door key? You’re kidding, right?’ asked Tom, staring at Norman in disbelief.

  ‘It’s not tha
t long ago my own flat was turned into an oven,’ said Norman, matter-of-factly. ‘The arsonist let himself in with a duplicate key. They had to evacuate an entire block of flats because some idiot wanted to warn me away from an investigation we were involved in.’

  Now Tom turned to Slater. ‘You think someone set fire to your house?’

  Slater shrugged.

  ‘Bloody hell! I thought that sort of thing only happened in movies. Is that really what happened here?’

  ‘We don’t know exactly what happened yet,’ said Norman. ‘That’s why we need you to be absolutely certain you saw who you think you saw. Have another think. Can you describe the face you saw?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t actually see her face,’ said Tom, awkwardly, beginning to blush. ‘I wasn’t exactly looking at her face. I mean that running gear is a tight fit, and she has a really ni—’ He stopped, embarrassed.

  ‘Nice arse?’ suggested Norman. ‘Is that what you’re trying to say? You were staring at her backside?’

  ‘Well, yeah,’ he admitted, guiltily, but then rallied. ‘There’s no law against it, is there?’

  ‘Actually, I’m not interested in your guilty little secrets,’ said Norman. ‘I’m only interested in who you saw going into the house that morning.’

  ‘It was her. I told you, I recognised the gear she wears, and the blue hat. She always wears that blue hat.’

  This was just the spark Slater needed.

  ‘She doesn’t have a blue hat!’ he snapped, taking a step towards Tom. ‘She doesn’t like hats, whether they’re blue, red, or any colour!’

  ‘Yes, she does,’ argued Tom. ‘Every time I see her she’s wearing it.’

  ‘Listen, mate,’ snarled Slater. ‘I live with her, and I run with her at six o’clock every morning. Don’t you think I might have noticed if she had a bloody hat?’

  ‘Whoa, steady on, Dave,’ said Norman, placing himself between Slater and Tom. ‘Just keep it calm now. Tom’s just telling us what he saw.’ Then, turning back to Tom, ‘It’s just he might not have seen quite what he thought he saw.’

  Tom was looking confused and had taken a step back to keep away from the advancing Slater.