by P. F. Ford
‘Oh, him,’ said Norton. ‘Yeah, now you come to mention it, I do remember him. He was a nutter, punched me for no reason.’
‘Is that right?’ asked Watson. ‘It says here the magistrate thought he had good reason for thumping you. He only sentenced him because he had no choice. What do you say to that?’
‘What does a magistrate know? Sitting there like God, telling us how to do our jobs. I mean, what does he know? When did he ever have to deal with a nutcase like Hudson?’
‘You keep saying he’s a nutcase,’ said Watson, ‘but he seemed sane enough when we spoke to him the other day. Did you ever check his story out?’
‘Of course I did.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Watson, ‘Tell me about it.’
‘Gawd, I can’t remember. That was years and years ago.’
‘He came in to report his girlfriend and their baby were missing, does that help?’
‘Why are you asking me? If they were missing, there would be a report. Why don’t you look at that? It’ll all be in there.’
‘You mean the missing person report?’ asked Watson, who was really warming to her job now. ‘Well, I’d love to, but you see, that’s the thing that makes me think you didn’t do your job. There is no report.’
‘But there was no missing person!’ snapped Norton. ‘When I went to the cottage where he claimed she was living, the people there had never heard of her.’
‘That’s funny,’ said Watson. ‘First you couldn’t remember Hudson, and then you did. Then you didn’t remember anything about the case, and now you do. What’s going on here, Colin?’
‘What does it matter? It was years ago.’
‘It matters because we’re the team investigating the child’s body that was found in a ditch just outside Trillington,’ said Watson. ‘Well, it wasn’t really a body, he’d been there so long there were only his bones left. DNA testing proves David Hudson was the father. It’s actually quite lucky he punched you in the face, or we wouldn’t have had his DNA on file and we probably never would have known who the father was.’
Norton’s face was ashen, a picture of confusion. His eyes seemed to dart everywhere, but he couldn’t look either of them in the face.
‘So you see where we’re going with this, don’t you, Colin?’ asked Watson. ‘If you had done your job back then, and taken David Hudson seriously, maybe you would have found his girlfriend and her baby. Perhaps they might even have still been alive. Perhaps they might still be alive today!’
Watching Norton from alongside Watson, Slater got the impression Norton’s mind was on something else, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on why he thought that.
‘I’ve already told you, I went to the cottage and there was no sign of her,’ pleaded Norton.
‘Did you check with the landlord?’ asked Watson.
‘Eh?’
‘The landlord,’ asked Watson. ‘You know, the person who owns the cottage and rents it out.’
‘I dunno. I’m sure I would have, but I told you, I can’t remember.’
‘I think you can remember,’ said Watson, ‘but you’re choosing not to tell us the whole story.’
‘Look,’ he said, finally beginning to get a grip on his composure. ‘I thought the bloke was a time-waster, right? I mean he comes to us in December saying she disappeared in October. Why did he wait two months to tell us?’
‘Don’t you know?’ asked Watson. ‘If you had done your job properly, you would have known he was in the army. He had just come back from a six-month posting! Surely you asked him?’
‘I can’t remember everything.’
‘Well, I think you’d better start remembering something, Colin, because right now your selective memory is beginning to get on my nerves. I don’t know why you decided to treat David Hudson the way you did, but there’s no doubt you didn’t do your job. We’re supposed to be here to help people, but you didn’t help him, did you?’
‘Look, I thought he was a chancer. If this girlfriend did exist, it seemed pretty obvious to me that she had taken the guy for a ride and cleared off with someone else. I even told him so.’
Watson aimed a mirthless smile in his direction. ‘Yes, I know. And you told him you thought her baby wasn’t his, didn’t you? That’s why he punched your lights out.’
Norton was licking his lips again, and the leg twitch tempo had increased to twice the original pace. ‘Have we finished?’ he asked, almost defiantly.
‘I have,’ said Watson. She looked at Slater. ‘Have you anything to add, sir?’
Slater smiled his best crocodile smile. ‘Of course, you would have recorded your encounters with Hudson in your notebook, wouldn’t you, DS Norton?’
‘I can’t recall,’ he said, sullenly, ‘but I think I would have, yes.’
‘Even though you didn’t write a full report?’
Norton looked uncertain, thought about it for a moment, and then gave Slater a sly smile. ‘I’m sure I would have recorded it in my notebook, sir.’
‘Oh, good. In that case I’d like to see that notebook.’
Norton’s smile widened to a grin. ‘That must have been nearly twenty years ago. I’m sure it would have been destroyed by now.’
Slater grinned back at him. ‘You would have thought so, wouldn’t you,’ he said, ‘and in a lot of forces it would have been, but we checked with your records office. Luckily for us, your force is one of those that keeps everything for twenty-five years.’
The smile faded rapidly from Norton’s face. Suddenly he didn’t look quite so clever.
‘I’d like to see that notebook,’ said Slater.
‘But—’
‘Don’t argue with me, DS Norton. That’s not a request, it’s an order, understand?’
‘Yes. Sir. Can I go now?’
‘Yes, but you should be aware we know you’re hiding something,’ said Slater. ‘We don’t know what it is yet, but I promise you we’re going to find out, and when we do I’m going to come down on you like a ton of bricks. Now, get out of my sight, and don’t forget I want to see that notebook.’
Slater watched in disgust as Norton scuttled from the room. ‘How do you feel?’ he asked Watson.
‘Sordid,’ she said. ‘I think I need a shower.’
‘Yes, he’s not the most pleasant, is he?’
‘How can he live with himself?’
‘No conscience,’ said Slater. ‘You can understand why Hudson lumped him one, can’t you? I wanted to.’
‘There’s a queue,’ said Watson. ‘And I claim the first punch.’
Slater laughed and gave her a ready smile. ‘Only if I can watch,’ he said.
Chapter 20
Watson clicked ‘print’ and swung her chair round. She stopped halfway round to grab the two sheets of paper spewing from the printer, then continued swinging round until she was facing Slater. ‘I’ve got some updates,’ she said.
He swung his own chair round to face her. ‘Fire away.’
‘First, the St Christopher pendant: they’ve confirmed the hallmark belongs to Edmond Moynihan, a Dublin silversmith who started producing silver artefacts towards the end of the nineteenth century and on into the twentieth century through his son. Apparently there is still a jewellers bearing the Moynihan name, and the good news is, they have records going back donkey’s years. They say the pendant was their own design and was produced during a period either side of the turn of the century.’
‘I don’t suppose they have a list of buyers?’ asked Slater.
‘I’m afraid the records aren’t that good, but they did say they thought there were unlikely to have been more than a few hundred made.’
Slater sighed. ‘Well, it’s not proof, but it’s a start,’ he said. ‘I mean, what are the chances two little boys of similar age would be wearing the same pendant, when less than a thousand were ever made? If only we could find a way of linking Diana Randall to Dublin.’
‘I could ask them to check further into her f
amily background,’ suggested Watson.
‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,’ agreed Slater, trying to sound a bit more optimistic than he felt.
Watson had her notebook balanced on her knee. She made a quick note before continuing with her updates. ‘They can’t find any trace of Kylie Mason after October 2000. Up until then she was living in a flat in Winchester, but after that she just disappears without trace.’
‘That would tie in with what David Hudson told us,’ said Slater. ‘He said she was in a flat before they got the cottage, but where the hell did she go after that?’
He thought for a moment, mulling everything over. Watson stayed silent, as if she could see the cogs turning in his head.
‘Can you ask them to see if they can find her medical records, Sam? I think it’s probably safe to assume she didn’t have her baby at home on her own, so there must be a record of that little boy’s birth somewhere in the Winchester area. And ask them to check with the local registry office to see if they can find a birth certificate.’
‘That shouldn’t be a problem,’ she said, adding another note to her list. ‘Next on the list are Kylie’s parents. The team has confirmed they are still living at the same address.’
‘Let’s wait until we have the DNA results before we go and see them,’ said Slater. ‘We’ll look like a pair of idiots if we have to go twice.’
‘I’ve also had the guys looking for any road traffic accidents, or hit-and-run reports, involving a young woman, or a young woman and baby, on or around the latter part of October, but so far they’ve found nothing that looks likely.’
‘How wide’s the search?’
‘I told them fifty miles.’
‘I would have thought that would be wide enough,’ agreed Slater. He gave her an encouraging smile. ‘That’s good work. It sounds like you’ve covered just about everything.’
‘There is one other thing,’ she said, a little apprehensively. ‘You didn’t ask me, but I thought it might be an idea to see if we can find the landlord for the cottage in Trillington, the one that Kylie was supposed to have been living in.’
‘One step ahead,’ said Slater, appreciatively. ‘I like that.’ He was genuinely impressed with Watson’s initiative. He had known from the brief period he’d worked with her before that she was competent, but he was now beginning to realise just how efficient she really was, and how much harder his life would be without her here. He was lucky to have her alongside him, and he knew it. ‘And what did you find?’
Looking immensely pleased with herself, she held the third sheet of paper up for him to see, a big smile on her face. ‘You name it, we’ve got it. Name, address, DoB, I can even tell you his business is called Country Cottage Holdings, and his offices are no more than ten minutes from here, at the other end of Trillington.’
Slater smiled at her pleasure. He’d briefly forgotten they were in a small mobile office under a barn on a farm just outside the tiny village of Trillington so, of course, she was right; it would only take a few minutes to get there.
‘In that case,’ he said, ‘we’d better go and see him.’
Chapter 21
As Watson had said, Country Cottage Holdings was situated at the far end of the village, housed in a converted barn in the grounds of an expensive-looking house. Slater didn’t know much about buildings or architecture, but the house didn’t look very old and he guessed it had probably been built in the nineties.
The staff of Country Cottage Holdings consisted of the owner, Howard Glossop, and his secretary, Rosemary, who also happened to be his wife. Over the years they had managed to take ownership of some twenty rental properties, from which they made a very healthy monthly income. They were both in their sixties and appeared to be enjoying a comfortable existence without a care in the world. They had raised a son and daughter who had now moved on to live their own lives, and it seemed the Glossops were coasting towards a happy retirement.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Slater as he walked into the comfortable reception area. A small, slender, silver-haired lady sitting at the only desk in the room gave him a welcoming smile. Slater thought it rather strange he was immediately reminded of his mother, whom he hadn’t seen, or spoken to, in months.
Her welcoming smile quickly evaporated, however, when he showed her his warrant card. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Slater, and this is Detective Sergeant Brearley. We’d like to speak to Howard Glossop.’
‘I’m Rosemary Glossop. My husband’s on a telephone call at the moment, I’m sure he won’t be long. Maybe I can help in the meantime?’
Slater gave her a reassuring smile. ‘We’re looking into the disappearance of a young woman back in 2000. We understand she, and her future husband, had leased a cottage from Country Cottage Holdings in October that year. We’re trying to ascertain if this is correct, and if she ever actually moved in.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not going to be much help,’ she said, with an embarrassed smile. ‘I wasn’t working here in 2000. The business was much smaller then, and I was at home raising the children.’ Just as she finished speaking, a door opened off to one side, and a man’s voice could be heard before he poked his head around it.
‘Could you make me a cup of tea, Rosie?’ Then he noticed Slater and Watson. ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you had company.’
‘I don’t have company,’ she said. ‘You’re the one with company, Howard. It’s the police, they’ve come to see you.’
‘Me? Why would they want to see me?’
‘How would I know? I expect one of your dodgy deals has backfired or something. Why don’t you invite them into your office, and ask them?’ she snapped.
The man had manoeuvred halfway through the open door now. He was red-faced and sweating profusely. Large enough to make Slater’s former partner, Norman Norman, look relatively slim, he was in shirtsleeves, the top button of his trousers undone, and with the zip fly looking in imminent danger of giving up the struggle. Slater didn’t think braces ever looked good on anyone, but at least in this case he could see they served a purpose. He looked at Rosemary Glossop again, and then back at her husband, and wondered about their relationship. She had looked quite happy and serene until he had appeared, but now she looked anything but.
‘You’d better come through,’ said Howard. He turned sideways on so Watson would have to squeeze past, but she was wise to the ways of dirty old men who wanted to rub up against her, and after shaping to pass him, she settled for stepping on his toes as heavily as she could then stepped back and glared at him. He looked guiltily at Slater, who pursed his lips and inclined his head. ‘Really? In front of your wife?’
Rosemary sat at her desk, colour rising rapidly to her cheeks. From the look on her face, Slater wondered if she hoped they would arrest him and take him away to teach him a lesson.
‘Pull up a chair,’ offered the even more red-faced Howard Glossop as he closed the door behind them. He shuffled across to his desk as quickly as his bulk would allow and tried to ease himself into the leather chair behind his huge desk but failed miserable and dropped into it instead. The chair made a couple of sweaty, squeaky fart-like noises as he slumped into it. Slater caught Watson’s eye as they each dragged a chair across to the desk. She looked horrified and obviously wasn’t convinced it was Glossop’s chair the noises had come from.
‘Now then, what can I do for you?’ Glossop asked.
‘As I told your wife, we’re investigating the disappearance of a young woman in 2000.’
‘In 2000? Are you serious? It’s a bit bloody late now, isn’t it?’ asked Howard, sarcastically. ‘Have you got nothing better to do?’
‘To be honest I’d quite like to be arresting disgusting, dirty old men using any opportunity to rub themselves up against the nearest woman,’ snapped Watson, ‘but unfortunately we have to prioritise what we do.’
Glossop looked like he had angry response on the tip of his tongue, but he caught Slater’s expression and clearly thought better of it.
‘As DS Brearley says, we have to prioritise,’ said Slater, pointedly. ‘And since you mentioned the word serious, I should point out nothing is more serious to us than murder.’
‘Murder?’ asked Howard, not sounding quite so full of himself now. ‘So what are you doing here? I’ve not murdered anyone.’
‘I should hope not,’ said Slater.
‘Anyway, I don’t see how I can help,’ said Glossop. ‘I was far too busy building this business in 2000 to be worrying about missing women, and like I said, I’ve never murdered anyone. I think I’d remember, don’t you?’ He smiled at his own little joke, but neither of the two detectives smiled back.
‘Perhaps your wife will remember?’
‘No chance,’ said Glossop. ‘She has no idea about the business, and anyway she wasn’t working here back then, she was at home looking after the kids.’ It appeared he fully expected Slater and Watson to leave at this point, but when it became obvious they weren’t going to, he added ‘Anyway, if that’s all, I’m a busy man, and I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than waste my time.’
He gave Slater a thin smile, but all he got in return was a fixed, icy smile that gave off no warmth whatsoever.
‘Have you got a glass of water?’ asked Watson. ‘I’ve got a very dry throat.’
‘Not in here, you’ll have to ask Rosemary,’ said Glossop, grudgingly.
‘Thank you,’ said Watson with a sweet smile. ‘I’ll go and ask her.’
Slater waited until she had left the room before he spoke. 'How much pornography would we find on that computer of yours, Mr Glossop?' he asked.
‘What?’ Glossop’s body gave a sudden jerk and the colour slowly drained from his face. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘No, of course you don't,' said Slater, wearily. 'So you’d be happy for DS Brearley to take a look, would you?’
‘You can’t do that. Anyway, there’s a password.’
‘That won’t stop us,’ said Slater. ‘We’ll just take it away and hand it to our technical nerd unit. They’ll crack it in five minutes.’
