Dave Slater Mystery Novels Box Set Three

by P. F. Ford

  ‘Okay, okay. If that’s what you want.’

  ‘It is. And I would like it to stay that way. Now, d’you want another beer?’

  Norman glanced at his watch. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, guiltily. ‘I said I’d be at Jane’s. Can I give you a lift home?’

  ‘No, you’re okay. I’ll walk. The exercise will do me good.’

  Chapter 7

  Steve Harris was a big man. At six feet four, he towered over both detectives. Even sitting down, it was easy to see he would be a force to be reckoned with. As Slater and Norman sat down opposite him, he gave them an appraising look.

  Harris studied Slater’s face.

  ‘My sister says you nearly married her.’

  ‘It was a long time ago.’

  ‘She reckons I should know you. Your face is vaguely familiar, but I can’t recall us ever being friends.’

  ‘You were in the Army,’ said Slater. ‘I think I only saw you half a dozen times.’

  ‘Ah, yes, that’s right. The Army was my escape from the old man. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but I had other plans. I did three years and hardly ever went home. He backed off in the end.’

  Harris studied the two faces again.

  ‘Debbie tells me you two are going to get me out of here. Is that right?’

  ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ replied Norman. ‘All we agreed to do was take a look at your case. We can’t make any guarantees about the outcome.’

  ‘Does that mean you think I’m guilty?’

  ‘It means we’re only just getting started, and at this stage, we have no opinion one way or the other,’ said Slater.

  ‘That’s not very reassuring.’

  ‘It should be,’ said Norman, ‘because it means we’re being honest with you.’

  ‘You two are ex-coppers, aren’t you?’ said Harris. ‘That means you’re probably going to agree with the original inquiry and say I’m guilty because it’s the easy thing to do, and it’ll keep your old mates happy.’

  Norman gave him a cold smile. ‘Actually, I think you’ll find neither of us have any “old mates” to keep happy. We had a habit of pissing people off because we didn’t always agree with them.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Harris sneered.

  ‘We’re not prepared to say we’ll get you out of here, because we’re not in the business of making promises we can’t keep,’ said Norman. ‘As for the original police investigation, yes, we’re aware of their findings, but we prefer to conduct independent investigations and draw our conclusions from the evidence we have gathered.’

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’

  ‘It means we’re going to start at the beginning and see where it takes us,’ said Slater. ‘When we’ve finished, we’ll know who killed your wife. If it isn’t you, we’ll do our best to get you out of here. If it is you, well ...’

  Harris glared at Slater and slammed his fist down on the table. ‘What do you mean “if it was you”? I didn’t kill my wife. How many more times do I have to say it?’

  ‘What my partner means is that we try to keep an open mind,’ explained Norman. ‘I’m sure you must realise if we took everyone who claimed to be innocent at face value, this prison would be empty. Right now, we’re all you’ve got, so losing your temper isn’t the best way of helping us to help you.’

  Harris gave Slater another dirty look, but Norman was right. They were his only hope. ‘Okay,’ he said, reluctantly, ‘I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, but don’t tell me I’m guilty, alright?’

  Slater held his hands up in a sign of appeasement but didn’t offer an apology.

  ‘In your original statement, you claim you were with Jackie Smith,’ he said. ‘So how come your car was seen near the scene of the crime. How do you explain that?’

  ‘I can’t explain it,’ said Harris. ‘The witness must have been mistaken. I say that because my car was at home, in my garage, on axle stands with the back wheels off, waiting for new brake discs.’

  ‘Did you do all your own maintenance?’ asked Norman.

  ‘Where possible. I enjoyed tinkering, lots of guys do. The parts were ordered, and I was waiting for them to arrive.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Slater, ‘the police checked. They say you didn’t order them until after Julie died. You would have had time to drive to Wales and back and then remove the wheels.’

  ‘But I didn’t,’ said Harris. ‘The discs were wafer thin. There was no way I would have driven four hundred yards, never mind four hundred miles. Anyway, I was with Jackie.’

  ‘The original case against you suggested your wife was leaving you and you were trying to stop her,’ said Norman.

  ‘Yeah, and I told them it was bollocks in court, and I’m telling you the same now. If she were going to leave, she would have told me. In fact, if she had wanted to split from me she wouldn’t have left – she would have kicked me out. I would have come home one day and found all my clothes outside and the locks changed.’

  ‘The police suggested your wife was scared of you,’ said Slater.

  Harris laughed. ‘Yeah, right. That was a load of cobblers too. My wife wasn’t scared of anyone.’

  ‘She wasn’t scared of you?’

  ‘Why would she be?’

  ‘You’re a big, strong, guy,’ said Slater, ‘and we’ve just seen you’ve got a bit of a temper. I understand you’ve had one or two scraps since you’ve been in here.’

  Harris gave Slater a pitying look. ‘Of course, I’ve got a bloody temper. If you had been locked up in here for ten years for something you didn’t do, I don’t think you’d be too happy, would you? And, for your information, I’ve never started a fight in here. When you’re a big guy like me, you become a target for anyone who’s trying to make a name for themselves as a hard man.’

  Slater knew this was true enough. ‘So, you’re telling us you were a pussycat where your wife was concerned?’

  ‘Look, I’d never been in a fight in my life until I got locked in here,’ said Harris. ‘Violence is not my thing, and it never was. Believe it or not, I loved my wife more than anything, and I would never have raised a finger to her.’

  ‘Why was she leaving you?’ asked Norman.

  ‘I already told you, she wasn’t leaving me.’

  ‘But she had a bag packed,’ said Slater. ‘She had it with her when she was found.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Harris. ‘I was asked to identify it. But if she was leaving, don’t you think she would have packed a bit more stuff? What she had was an overnight bag.’

  ‘If the bag didn’t mean she was leaving, what was it for?’ asked Norman.

  Harris shifted uncomfortably. ‘What do you think it was for?’

  ‘You think she was planning to spend a dirty weekend with someone else?’ asked Slater. ‘Only that would be enough motive for some men to—’

  ‘There you go again, assuming I’m guilty,’ said Harris.

  ‘I’m just saying jealousy is more than enough motive for a lot of husbands. Are you telling me you weren’t jealous?’

  ‘Sure, I was jealous, but I cheated on her often enough. I could hardly blame her for wanting to get her own back, could I?’

  ‘I’m finding it difficult to get my head around your relationship with your wife,’ said Slater. ‘You say you loved her, yet now you’re admitting you were cheating on her. Sleeping around was what for you? A hobby?’

  ‘Look, I like women and women like me. I can’t help it. It’s just how it is. My wife knew that. She didn’t like it much, but she accepted it, most of the time.’

  ‘And what about those times she didn’t accept it?’ asked Norman. ‘According to the information we have, you and your wife argued on a regular basis.’

  ‘Argued and fought,’ said Harris. ‘Yes, I can’t disagree with that. Whenever she suspected I’d been up to something, she’d create merry hell and make me pay for it.’

  ‘And that’s when you’d give her a good slap, right?’ ask
ed Slater.

  ‘No, you’re wrong. I never laid a finger on her. She was the one who did the punching and slapping.’

  ‘Oh, come on. She was barely five feet tall, and you expect us to believe she was beating you up?’

  Harris stared back at Slater. ‘I realise you don’t get it, but we were different from most couples, right? You can’t condemn me just because you don’t see how a relationship like that could work.’

  Slater didn’t understand how a relationship could be sustainable in a state of almost constant conflict, but he felt there was nothing to be gained by riling Harris any more than he already had.

  ‘I promise you she wasn’t averse to hitting me with any weapon that was handy,’ said Harris. ‘She even came at me with a kitchen knife once.’

  ‘What did you do to deserve that?’ asked Norman.

  ‘We’d been at a party. Julie caught me flirting with her sister. She didn’t say anything to me at the time, but when we got home, she went crazy. I swear if I’d had my back turned she would have buried that knife right up to the hilt.’

  ‘You make Julie sound like a psychopath,’ said Slater. ‘No one else mentions ever seeing these violent tendencies.’

  Harris gave a sad, but fond, little smile. ‘No one else lived with her and cheated on her, did they?’

  ‘So why were you flirting with her sister?’ asked Norman.

  ‘It’s just what I do, right? If I was a Hollywood celebrity, I could claim I was addicted to sex, and everyone would feel sorry for me as I went into rehab, but because I’m just some ordinary bloke I’m not allowed to use that as a reason.’

  ‘That’s not a reason,’ said Slater. ‘It’s a lame excuse used by people who get caught.’

  Harris glared at Slater.

  ‘Let’s go back to the weekend when Julie died,’ said Norman, hastily. ‘You said she was planning to spend the weekend with another man? What makes you so sure?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure at first,’ said Harris, finally tearing his eyes away from Slater. ‘She told me she was going to stay with an old friend, and I believed her. It was when they found her in that caravan with the bag that I realised what she must have been planning.’

  ‘What about the friend?’ asked Slater.

  ‘That was the thing. There never was one. It turns Julie was as good a liar as I was.’

  ‘And you never suspected?’ asked Norman.

  Harris smiled ruefully. ‘I trusted her. It’s ironic isn’t it?’

  ‘She left here on Friday afternoon, but you didn’t report her missing until mid-morning on Monday. Why was that?’

  ‘Because her sister Jackie was with me until Monday morning. I could hardly report my wife missing while her sister was there, could I?’

  ‘Jackie was still there?’ asked Slater. ‘That wasn’t perfect planning, was it? Unless, of course, you knew Julie wasn’t going to be coming back.’

  Harris glared at Slater again. ‘Are you sure you’re here to help me? Only you seem to be making everything I say into another reason to convict me.’

  ‘I’m here to find out what happened, and to point out all the glaring holes in your story – just like the prosecution will if you appeal.’

  ‘You might not like it, Steve, but Dave’s right,’ said Norman. ‘If you were expecting Julie back on Sunday night, why was Jackie still there?’

  ‘Because I couldn’t get her to leave. She didn’t want to go back home. It was probably my fault. We’d talked about me leaving Julie to be with her.’

  ‘This would be the Julie you love so much, right?’ asked Slater, his voice thick with sarcasm.

  ‘Yes, I loved her, but I also made her unhappy on a regular basis.’

  ‘And you think leaving her to live with her sister would have made her happy?’

  ‘I used to think it would probably be better for her if I were out of her life.’

  ‘And getting together with Jackie was suddenly going to change your sex addict ways, was it?’ asked Slater.

  ‘No, of course not. I probably would have made Jackie unhappy too.’

  ‘Let’s get back to Jackie,’ said Norman. ‘Why didn’t she want to go home?’

  ‘Because she was terrified of her husband.’ He looked pointedly at Slater. ‘Now there was a bloke who did like to knock his wife around.’

  ‘In that case, I should think her going missing for a weekend would have given him a good excuse to beat the crap out of her,’ replied Slater.

  ‘He didn’t know,’ said Harris. ‘He was away that weekend.’

  ‘I thought Jackie told everyone she was at home with him all weekend,’ said Norman.

  Harris sighed. ‘There’s no way she would have spent the weekend with me if he had been at home. He’s a control freak. He wouldn’t let her out for five minutes on her own, never mind for a whole weekend.’

  ‘Where was he?’

  ‘Probably with his mates at a football match.’

  ‘Until Monday afternoon?’ asked Slater.

  ‘He supports Newcastle United. Him and his mates have season tickets. They would often leave on Friday morning and be away until Monday afternoon. It was just an excuse for a three or four-day bender while his terrified wife was sitting at home waiting for him to come home and beat the shit out her.’

  ‘Why wasn’t this brought up at the trial?’

  ‘Because Jackie backed him up and insisted they were both at home all weekend. The police said that was good enough and didn’t bother to check it out because they had already made their minds up I was guilty.’

  ‘But you could have insisted—’

  ‘Look,’ said Harris, ‘I saw what he did to her when the police told him I was suggesting she was my alibi. Imagine what he would have done if I had insisted and she had been forced to admit she was with me? He would probably have killed her.’

  ‘You’re saying you’ve done ten years inside, so your sister-in-law wouldn’t get beaten up?’

  ‘The woman I loved had been murdered,’ said Harris. ‘I couldn’t let that happen to her sister too.’

  There was a brief silence as they considered this.

  ‘Does he still have a Newcastle season ticket?’ asked Slater.

  Harris gave him a grim look. ‘How the hell would I know? He’s not exactly a regular visitor.’

  ‘Yeah, of course, sorry,’ Slater said, chastened. ‘That was a stupid question.’

  ‘You say Eddie Smith used to go to football with his mates,’ said Norman. ‘Can you recall any names?’

  ‘I remember the James brothers,’ said Harris. ‘Billy and Ken. They’re a pair of hard cases, a perfect match for Smith – three thugs together.’

  * * *

  ‘It’s good to see you have the bit between your teeth,’ said Norman, as they drove away from the prison, ‘but don’t forget – we’re supposed to be proving this guy’s innocent. You were pretty hard on him back there.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose I was a bit,’ admitted Slater. ‘I want to make sure he’s not taking us for a ride, that’s all.’

  ‘And what have you decided? Are we being conned?’

  ‘There are a lot of holes in this case on both sides, so I’m keeping an open mind for now.’

  ‘What about this Eddie Smith?’ asked Norman.

  ‘Yeah, he sounds like a regular Mr Nice Guy, doesn’t he? Just the sort of man every father dreads their daughter ever getting involved with.’

  ‘He has to be a suspect. If he knew his wife was involved with Harris, maybe he killed Julie and framed Harris as revenge.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Slater, ‘but if what Harris said about him is right, Smith is the sort of guy who would be more likely to kill his own wife – especially if he had so much as an inkling she was even thinking about another guy.’

  ‘Even so, I think we should add him to the list of suspects,’ said Norman.

  ‘Oh, for sure. The man’s a thug. We certainly can’t rule him out.’

  Chapter 8
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  It was after 3 p.m. by the time they pulled into the car park outside the office. As soon as Norman switched off the engine, Slater swung his door open, but then stopped without climbing out.

  ‘Are you expecting visitors?’ he asked Norman.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Two people are waiting in a car outside your office, and they know who we are.’

  ‘Hey, don’t let them get away.’ Norman tried to squint past Slater to see who the visitors were. ‘If they’re clients, we can’t afford to lose them.’

  Slater watched the man and woman as they climbed from the car. The man was in his mid to late twenties, and everything about him said plainclothes police officer. He might as well have been wearing a sign. Slater guessed the woman was in her late thirties, or possibly early forties. Her hair was cut short, and she wore a smart suit. There was an air of calm authority about her that indicated she was the younger man’s boss. They both looked as though they hadn’t had much sleep.

  ‘I don’t think these two are clients,’ said Slater. ‘Not unless the local Constabulary are going to ask us to start solving crimes for them.’

  As he climbed from the car, Slater did his best to ignore the couple, but they were focusing on him. As he waited for Norman to unlock the office door, the man called out ‘David Slater?’

  Norman had the door half open, but now he stopped and turned to the couple. Slater looked the man up and down. ‘Who’s asking?’

  The man held up a warrant card. ‘DS Wesley.’ He indicted his female companion. ‘And this is DI Robbins. We’d like to ask you a few questions.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Can we come inside?’ asked Robbins. ‘It’s a bit cold out here.’

  Norman pushed the door open and led the way inside, Robbins following behind. Slater stepped back to let Wesley in, but the younger man waved him inside first.

  ‘Can I ask what this is about?’ asked Slater once they were inside.

  Wesley opened a folder and handed Slater a photograph. ‘Do you recognise this number plate?’