by P. F. Ford
‘I thought you’d like that,’ said Watson, looking pleased to have lightened his mood, ‘but I can’t claim the credit, it’s the team, not me.’
‘Oh yes, I like that very much,’ purred Slater, happily. He had to admit he was very impressed with ‘the team’, as Watson called them, but he was feeling rather guilty that he had no idea who these people were, and he had never met, or even spoken to, a single one of them.
‘So tell me about this team back at base. What’s the story behind them?’
‘They’re what Mr Bradshaw calls his secret weapon,’ explained Watson.
‘What does he mean by that?’
‘Well, they’re not exactly what you might expect.’
‘In what way?’
‘They’re mostly civilians, not police officers.’
‘Civilians are being used more and more as backroom staff,’ said Slater, ‘so what makes this lot so special?’
‘They’re not what you’d call your average civilian. They’ve all got high security clearance, and they’ve all been rescued from the scrapheap by Mr Bradshaw, a bit like me.’
‘You need to stop talking about yourself like that,’ said Slater. ‘You were never going to end up on anyone’s scrapheap, you’re far too bright for that to happen.’
‘It’s very nice of you to say so, but I was going to be put out to grass,’ she said, ‘there’s no getting away from that. And then along came Mr Bradshaw. He keeps a list of names, all people from the military or police, all of whom have been forced to give up active roles through injury. The way he sees it, the fact that someone is no longer fully able-bodied doesn’t mean they can no longer think. He believes a good brain should be used, not discarded.’
‘I suddenly see him in a new light,’ said Slater, somewhat taken aback by this news. ‘I knew he’d rescued your career, but I had no idea he was doing it on a grand scale.’
‘It’s not a problem for you, is it?’
‘Are you kidding? I think he’s got it exactly right, and they’ve certainly convinced me they know what they’re doing. I want you to make sure you take me to meet them all once we get the chance. I owe someone a bottle of champagne. Shanaya, wasn’t it? I’d like to deliver it in person.’
‘I’m sure she would like that very much,’ said Watson. ‘I’ll do my best to arrange something once we’ve solved this case.’
‘That’s a date then,’ said Slater. ‘Now let’s go and see what the Randalls have to say for themselves this morning.’
Chapter 33
Alan Randall looked like a man who hadn’t slept in days when he opened the door to them. ‘What have you done?’ he demanded as soon as he set eyes on Slater.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You were here yesterday, weren’t you?’
‘We came to offer our apologies,’ said Slater.
‘Oh no, you did much more than that,’ snapped Randall. ‘She called me yesterday and told me you’d been here. She suffers from depression, you know, that’s why she gave up her job. You came here asking questions and you’ve tipped her over the edge. She tried to kill herself once before, you know.’
‘Mr Randall, there’s nothing anywhere in your wife’s service record to suggest she suffered from depression. It’s definitely not why she left her job.’
‘Of course it is,’ argued Randall. ‘She told me so herself.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, Mr Randall, but from what we’ve been told, your wife was advised to resign before a scandal ruined her career.’
‘Scandal? That’s rubbish. Who’s been spreading these rumours?’
‘Why don’t we go inside and ask your wife?’ suggested Watson.
‘She’s not here,’ said Randall, desperately. ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. She was gone when I got home yesterday evening, and she’s been out all night. I’ve been calling her mobile phone but it just goes straight to voicemail. I have no idea where she is. This is all your fault. You’ve pushed her too far.’
‘Can we come inside and talk about this?’ asked Slater. ‘I can see you’re worried about your wife. Perhaps we can help you find her.’
Reluctantly, Alan Randall stepped back to let them in. ‘Now what’s this rumour you’re spreading, and what reason can you possibly have for poking your nose into my wife’s affairs anyway?’
‘Perhaps you’d like me to write a list,’ said Slater, coldly.
‘I can’t believe you, Inspector Slater. Don’t you know who my wife is? She used to be a detective inspector, just like you!’
‘And that means what, exactly?’ asked Slater. ‘Are you suggesting that because your wife was a DI fourteen years ago, I should turn a blind eye to her suspicious behaviour? That may be how your wife used to work, but I’m afraid that’s not how I work.’
‘You’re just hounding her for the sake of it!’
‘No, Mr Randall, we’re not hounding her, we’re doing our job.’
‘But you’ve got no reason to be doing any of this. She’s already told you the body you found isn’t our son, and you told her yesterday you have DNA evidence that proves who the parents are.’
‘It’s true the DNA evidence proves who the parents are,’ agreed Slater, ‘but it’s not as simple as that.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘When we came here the first time, we showed you both some photographs,’ said Watson. ‘One of those photos was of a pendant found around the dead child’s neck. We believe your wife recognised that pendant.’
‘Rubbish!’ snapped Randall.
‘We believe the pendant is a family piece that was originally given to Diana’s great-grandmother and has been passed down through the generations. Diana is Catholic, isn’t she?’ asked Watson.
‘What about you Mr Randall, did you recognise the pendant?’ asked Slater.
‘My wife already told you, there must be thousands of those pendants.’
‘According to the makers, they actually made around five hundred,’ said Slater.
‘Well, that’s plenty isn’t it? Perhaps it was taken from our son and given to this dead boy.’
‘Ah, so now you’re saying it is Diana’s pendant?’ asked Slater.
‘I’m saying no such thing,’ said Randall. ‘Don’t you dare try to put words into my mouth, Inspector!’
Watson looked across at Slater and he nodded. ‘When exactly was your son born, Mr Randall?’ she asked. ‘Only we don’t seem to be able to find any record of your wife ever having taken any maternity leave.’
‘She didn’t take any maternity leave because she was in line for promotion. I worked from home so it was quite practical for me to look after the baby.’
‘So you put your career on hold so she could keep on climbing the greasy pole,’ said Slater. ‘That was very good of you.’
‘I was happy to do it,’ said Randall. ‘You do these things for people you love.’
‘I bet you must have been overjoyed when she decided to quit less than five years later.’
‘I told you, she was suffering from depression. It wasn’t a question of choice.’
‘And I’ve told you there’s no mention of depression anywhere in her records.’
Slater was staring at Randall, but the other man couldn’t maintain eye contact and soon looked away.
‘When was this, Mr Randall?’ asked Watson.
Randall had to think hard before he spoke. ‘In 2000.’
‘And what, she just popped the baby out one day and then went back to work?’
‘Don’t be absurd. Of course she had a few days off to recover.’
Watson shook her head. ‘Sorry, Mr Randall, but like I said a couple of minutes ago, there’s no record of your wife ever having taken any maternity leave.’
‘There must be some mistake.’
‘There’s no mistake,’ said Watson, with a sad little smile. ‘You see, there’s also no record of your wife ever having had a baby. No baby, no maternity leave.’
>
A look of horror took control of Randall’s face for a few seconds, and then he shook his head. ‘My God, you have got in for her, haven’t you?’ he asked sadly, his voice almost a whisper. ‘Why are you doing this?
‘You didn’t answer the question, Mr Randall,’ said Slater.
Randall gave Slater a look of sheer loathing. ‘If anything happens to her it’ll be on your head.’
‘Yes, I’m sure it will,’ said Slater.
‘I thought you said you were going to help find her, but you’re not interested in that at all, are you?’
‘Actually, Mr Randall, I really do want to find Diana, and I promise you we’ll be doing our very best to find her, but first you need to give us some answers. Why is it we can find no record of your wife ever having had a baby?’
‘Because the poor woman can’t have children!’ snapped Randall, glaring at Slater. ‘There, now you know. We adopted our son, all right?’
‘Ah! I see,’ said Slater. ‘So why have we only just been told this? Why not tell us that from the start instead of giving us a load of bull about her having a baby? And why is there no mention of this in the original inquiry into your son’s disappearance?’
‘Because it makes no bloody difference, does it? The poor kid was snatched. Who the birth parents are makes no difference whatsoever.’
‘So now I understand why you didn’t want to give us DNA samples,’ said Slater.
Randall said nothing.
‘Tell him, Watson,’ said Slater.
Randall looked surprised. ‘Tell me what?’
‘There’s no record of you ever adopting a child,’ said Watson, ‘but you knew that already, didn’t you?’
‘I don’t think I’m going to answer any more questions without my lawyer,’ said Randall.
‘I think that’s probably a good idea,’ said Slater. ‘In the meantime, I’ve arranged for you to be taken to Flipton Police Station where you will be held for further questioning. You can contact your solicitor from there.’
‘What about my wife? Are you going to find her?’
‘Don’t worry, Mr Randall,’ said Slater. ‘I can promise you we’re going to be looking everywhere for her.’
Chapter 34
‘D’you think he’s going to tell us much more?’ asked Watson as they began yet another three-hour drive back to their hotel at Ramlinstoke.
‘Unless I’m very much mistaken, that’s about all we’re going to get right now,’ said Slater. ‘I think he’s realised that without Diana there to tell him what to do, he’s already told us a lot more than he should have.’
‘That was good of DCI Lipton to help us out like that.’
‘Don’t forget it was his case originally, and he didn’t solve it,’ said Slater. ‘I think that’s why he wants to help. He always thought the Randalls weren’t very helpful, but he didn’t realise how much they were keeping back.’
‘But if his mob had done their job properly in the first place, they could have discovered the same information as us,’ said Watson.
‘Well, yeah,’ admitted Slater, reluctantly, ‘but then Diana was one of their own, why wouldn’t they take her at face value? Unlike us, they also didn’t know anything about Kylie Mason and David Hudson.’
‘Even so, it should all have been checked as a matter of course,’ insisted Watson.
‘Lipton knows that,’ said Slater.
‘Is he trying to buy you off by being helpful now?’ asked Watson.
‘I don’t think so. He knows we won’t hide anything when we come to write our report.’
Watson gave him a pointed look, and he couldn’t help but grin. ‘Okay, I stand corrected, he knows we won’t hide anything when you come to write our report, which I will then read through before signing.’
Slater watched from the corner of his eye as Watson’s frown morphed into a smile. He didn’t mind that she wanted to make sure they both acknowledged how things were really going to work around here, and anyway, he hated writing reports.
‘I think Lipton genuinely wants to help because he thinks he should, not because he’s hoping to gain some sort of advantage by it.’
Watson seemed happy to accept Slater’s opinion of Lipton and his motive. ‘So d’you really think Sonny Randall was actually Kylie Mason’s son?’ she asked.
‘It’s a possibility that has crossed my mind,’ admitted Slater. ‘He had to have been somewhere for all those years, and the Randalls don’t seem to be able to explain how they come to have a son.’
‘Yes, but how?’ asked Watson.
‘Maybe they bought him,’ said Slater.
‘You mean an unofficial adoption? But that sort of thing tends to involve orphans from abroad.’
‘I was thinking even more unofficial than that.’
‘You mean kids stolen to order?’ asked a horrified Watson.
‘Why not?’
‘You’d have to pay a premium price for a service like that.’
‘Money doesn’t appear to be a problem, does it?’
‘Yes, but even so, stolen babies? That’s going beyond the pale, isn’t it?’
Slater shrugged his shoulders. ‘Okay, so not necessarily stolen to order, but what about this for a scenario? Suppose you’re the sort of person who will stoop to any level. You know someone who’s desperate for a kid, has money, and has approached you because she knows you can supply what she wants. Then one day you get an opportunity to take a baby. What do you do?’
Watson thought about this scenario for a couple of minutes. ‘But we know Kylie was run down by a car.’
‘Thereby creating just the opportunity I’m talking about,’ said Slater.
‘You mean I run her down on purpose? Murder as well as kidnapping?’
‘Why not, if the money’s right?’
‘But if I was the driver, how would I make sure I didn’t kill the baby too?’
‘Maybe the baby’s in a pushchair and you can knock down Kylie without touching the pushchair.’
‘David Hudson said Kylie used to carry the baby in a sling.’
‘Okay,’ said Slater. ‘So you knock down Kylie, maybe even by accident, yet somehow the baby survives.’
‘Now you’re relying on good fortune and not murder,’ said Watson.
‘You just sounded as if you weren’t keen on murder.’
‘I’m not, but couldn’t I just take a baby from somewhere?’
‘Of course,’ agreed Slater. ‘But you want minimal risk. Kylie was out late at night on a quiet country road.’
‘What, and I knew she was going to be there?’
‘Okay, so it was an opportunist crime.’
‘This is getting too far-fetched,’ said Watson.
‘Maybe,’ said Slater, ‘but don’t forget, you’re going out of your way to think up reasons why it can’t work. There are just as many reasons why it does work.’
Watson considered this for another minute or so. ‘All right,’ she conceded, eventually. ‘It’s a crazy idea, but it might explain how Sonny came to end up with the Randalls. But how does he come to end up over a hundred miles from home in a ditch alongside his real mother?’
Slater glanced at Watson and smiled.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve worked that one out, too,’ said Watson.
‘It’s just an idea,’ said Slater. ‘What if Diana Randall had found out where she could buy a kid because she was a DI?’
‘You mean she turned a blind eye rather than paid money?’
Slater looked across at Watson again. ‘You’re getting the hang of this “what if” game, aren’t you?’ he said, appreciatively. ‘I hadn’t actually considered that, but it’s certainly a possibility.’
‘What was your idea, then?’
‘What I was thinking was maybe the person she got the kid from knew she was a DI and decided to blackmail her. It works with your blind eye scenario too.’
‘So, she was being blackmailed,’ said Watson, taking up where Slater had st
opped, ‘but what, she stopped paying and the blackmailer took Sonny?’
‘That would work,’ said Slater, ‘because if the blackmailer was the person who ran Kylie down and shoved her into that ditch, he would have known where to bury Sonny so that if he was ever found, the other one would be, too.’
‘But what would I gain by that?’
‘I dunno,’ conceded Slater. ‘If my theory’s going to work we’ve still got to work that bit out.’ He thought for a few seconds more before adding, ‘Or maybe I’m just over-thinking this whole thing.’
‘But something like that just might explain why Diana quit her job,’ suggested Watson. ‘Maybe the thought of the blackmailer exposing her secret was the real reason, and the rumoured affair was just a diversion.’
They drove on in silence for the next five minutes, both considering the merits of the theory they had developed.
‘Of course, it’s all pure conjecture,’ said Slater, at last. ‘I doubt we could prove any of it right now.’
‘I have a question,’ said Watson. ‘Where does the anonymous tip-off come into it?’
‘Maybe it was the blackmailer, because Diana had stopped paying,’ Slater said.
‘But I thought that’s why Sonny was taken.’
‘Uh? Oh yeah,’ conceded Slater, gloomily. ‘I thought that was all coming together rather too easily. But then, like I said, it might all be pie in the sky anyway if we can’t prove Sonny really was Kylie’s son.’
‘Is this how you solve all your cases?’ asked Watson.
Slater chuckled, quietly. ‘What, brainstorming? Once in a while I get it right, but to be honest Norm’s much better at it than me. He’s as sharp as a knife, whereas I rely on lucky guesses.’
‘Oh, I’m not letting the side down, am I?’ asked Watson, sounding disappointed.
‘Don’t be bloody daft, Sam,’ said Slater. ‘How could you possibly match Norm’s thirty years’ experience when you’re not much more than thirty years old?’
‘But it must be very different for you with him not being here.’
‘Oh, it is, believe me,’ said Slater. ‘If Norm was here now, my car would be like a rubbish tip. Our office would look as if a bomb had hit it and it would take me hours to find anything.’
