John knew the area well. If the vehicle had driven originally along the road and into Barnham and then travelled around the block via Lake Lane, that would have taken about seven minutes. Then again, it could have taken maybe twelve minutes thought John, especially if the level crossing at the junction with Yapton Road was shut. It was something he thought of. He watched some time and assumed it was nothing. Just a different vehicle. As the clock slid past one in the morning, John drifted into a very light sleep.
*
Vilf was still awake, now ensconced in his new lodgings; a pleasant little bed and breakfast hotel close to the sea front. What he had heard on the prom had made him reconsider his options. One thing disturbing his sleep was how he would proceed from now on.
45
Friday 10th June 2011
There was very little noise during the night other than a few nocturnal birds moving about and calling to each other, but as the dawn was shortly due, even that stopped. John knew that there was usually about an hour between the birds of the night settling down and the dawn chorus starting up. Someone once called it ‘the blue period’, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember who. He woke up just prior to his little alarm’s activation which was about to buzz at 5.30am and turned it off. It was a habit that he always set an alarm for whatever time, day or night he wanted to wake, and then awoke just prior to its commencement, and in time to stop any excessive noise assailing his ears. For some unknown reason, if he didn’t set an alarm, he could not wake at a set time no matter how urgent it was that he did so. Dropping the glove box lid, he checked the screen of the Sat Nav which showed absolutely no activity at the ‘trembler’.
Again, he left the car to relieve himself of the last vestiges of his ‘livener’, before entering via the driver’s door. He assumed that no one would be so stupid or blatant enough to remove, or go near the camera with a ladder in daylight, so he took his coat off and threw it onto the backseat. The car purred quietly as it glided off to join the occasional early morning commuter traffic all totally oblivious to any speed restrictions. It wasn’t long before he drove into Chichester Police Station and abandoned his car in it’s usual position among the rubbish.
In the changing rooms, which were in the bowels of the station, he showered and completed his ablutions before taking a fresh set of clean clothes from a locker. He tried to keep at least a few pairs of socks and underpants in the locker with one emergency shirt and a pair of trousers and shoes: and an old jacket which had hung in there since the day he’d arrived at Sussex Police. Checking the jacket, he noticed a slight musty niff. It had been there too long without having been moved. Time to have it cleaned and aired. Placing his wash bag on the shelf, and his dirty clothes in a linen laundry bag, he dressed putting his blue tie and dark blue suit back on before going up to the ground floor canteen.
He was earlier than he expected. There was fifteen minutes still to wait before it was officially opened at seven by the lady who was already there fussing about with pots and pans and the milk and bread delivery of 6.45. John found a newspaper dated the previous day on a table amongst the dirty plates and cups which had yet to be collected to be washed up and recycled. Picking the paper up, he resumed his normal seat, rocking it back on two legs and started to read. A lot of the contents he considered irrelevant filler and glossed over them. Crime interested him and he soon found some stories to occupy his attention.
The canteen lady erupted from behind the servery with a trolley, and started noisily clearing away the dirty crockery and then squirting a spray of some unknown detergent on each table before giving them a cursory wipe with an old dish cloth before moving on. She called cheerily to John addressing him by name and said she would bring him a coffee as soon as she could. John always meant to find out what her name was, but never seemed to get round to it or remember it if he heard it. The Polish man who was the pot washer, had got the water machine turned on and ready as he awaited his first trolley full of crockery. It was going to be him taking the trolley round for the rest of the day and enjoying the banter with some of the customers who tried to teach him better English, and him trying to teach them just a couple of words of Polish.
*
Alison had not slept at all well that night having been woken by her cat running into her room and jumping onto her bed at about the same time as John was drifting off to sleep in his car. Hannibal, her cat, slept at night in a basket lined with an old blanket in the kitchen. Normally from the time he was summoned indoors at night until just before Alison rose and fed him in the morning. An occasional patrol of the flat was his only night time excursion. Then, before going out for the day to work, Hannibal was required to leave the flat at the same time as Alison either by his own free will or by Alison’s hand. The cat knew the score.
She had not been happy when she threw him off her bed onto the floor. As she had woken with such a start, she spent the rest of the night tossing and turning and drifting in and out of sleep. Hannibal on the other hand had very quickly fallen asleep on the floor by her bed where he stayed for the rest of the night. The morning saw her grudgingly feed the cat and then expel him as soon as he had finished.
As Alison entered the canteen at about 7.30, John looked up to see her approaching and noticed she did not look her usual immaculate self although her clothes were right as was her appearance and makeup. She plonked herself down on a chair facing him.
“My bloody cat was lucky to live last night. I am knackered!”
John went and got her two cups of tea and said, “Go on then. What happened?”
Before she replied, she had sunk the first cup and was sipping the second. It was all divulged with passion and some strong expletives about Hannibal thrown in for good measure, but Alison could see John was just humouring her although she felt all the better for baring her soul. When she had completed her story, John truthfully revealed how he liked cats and would have to pop round and see Hannibal sometime. Dismissively she flung in an aggressive aside he would be lucky to get anywhere near her demented pet as he hated strangers. Alison sensed John was starting to take a more attentive interest.
She grew more bellicose as she got into her stride. In order to reinforce her current displeasure about her erstwhile pet now she appeared to have his apparent full attention, Alison related her grandmother’s old vase being smashed by Hannibal in his speedy exit from the flat. Swearing blue blind at the fact that her cat had managed to find a way into her flat yet couldn’t find his way out wound her up even more. As if to finalise the point she concluded her narrative with one last full blown diatribe directed at the defenceless animal. That made her feel so much better. Slowly she calmed herself down and paused to draw breath before slurping the cold dregs of her tea.
Alison thought she perceived John’s demeanour change just slightly, but she could not be sure. Perhaps she had gone a bit over the top in slagging off her pet which she still loved if the truth be known. Maybe she had actually upset him if he was a true cat lover. She may have threatened to have killed her pet in horrendous ways, but they were just words. She didn’t actually mean them.
He unexpectedly pronounced, “Do you want breakfast? I think I am going to have some. I’ll just pop up stairs and let Paul know where we are” and he was out of his seat and towards the exit.
She could not fathom out what he was up to as Paul knew that they always started in the canteen before going up to the office. Within three minutes, John came back into the canteen with a piece of A4 paper that he had grabbed from the first office along the corridor and scribbled a note on. As he approached her, he held a finger to his lips to silence her and handed her the paper.
46
Friday 10th June 2011
She took it and read:
Under no circumstance say a word until you have read this.
Do not mention your cat again until we can speak confidentially. I will let you know when within the next hour.
Do not mention anything conten
tious about the enquiry. Again within the hour.
Possible that we are being monitored.
Categorically, nothing to be said until I check it’s safe.
Just general chit chat for time being.
Alison read it twice and then looked up quizzically at John who again put his finger to his lips. She turned the paper over, and with a parker pen, not a basic charity biro like John’s, wrote:
What the fuck has my cat to do with anything?
What are you on about?
John read as she wrote, and immediately responded with his cheap biro:
I promise to fill you in within the next hour. Please say nothing as overleaf.
We must use my vehicle today so please do not object.
John said, “Right Paul knows where we are. Let’s see what’s for breakfast”.
He ambled across to the servery and ordered exactly the same as he always had if he ate in the canteen. Alison also went to the servery, and ordered as healthy a breakfast as possible, casting the occasional puzzled glance at John. They sat at the table eating and talking about inconsequential items that John had read about in the paper and things that Alison had watched on Television. She bought a second coffee for him and a third tea for herself and when they had finished, John put the now screwed up piece of A4 into his pocket and they both went upstairs to the office.
They found Paul and Doreen were chatting amicably between themselves with a mug each of their favourite brew and on her desk, were a selection of ‘dunking biscuits’ lying on a tissue awaiting their fate. Both quickly declined the offer of a drink as Paul broke off and reminded both about the alarm engineer being at the bungalow in the afternoon and said Jimmy would be there at 2ish. To her surprise, John stated that they had a couple of brief enquiries to complete but would definitely be there. Paul knew better than to ask what they were. Alison could not have told him even if he had asked. Unfolding the screwed-up paper, John fed it into the industrial sized shredder that ate the A4 sheet in a second as if an appetiser.
They headed for the yard and his car. He went straight to the boot and opened it first with the key and then ran his hand under part of the offside bumper seeking a small push button which he found and pressed. The boot lazily rose displaying the yawning compartment. Refraining from comment, Alison watched him take out a basic square brown wooden box with each side about a foot long with an eye and hook clasp securing the lid. John had to give it a tug because it was wedged snugly between bags filling the whole space. Unlocking the passenger door of the car once he was inside, she got in and immediately started to say something but was loudly over talked by John.
“Right let’s go and see this person who says he knows who did this murder.”
He started the car and let it idle for thirty seconds, and then pressed one of the rocker switches and held it as a white light above the switch turned red. Holding his finger to his mouth for her to be silent, he opened the box.
Inside, the wooden box was filled with a mushroom coloured foam which had some shapes cut out, and in one was a small silver box about twice the size of a matchbox with three lights and a small switch on the top with an aerial that John extended fully just four inches. He pressed the switch and all three lights came on for a few seconds, one red, one yellow and one green. The green went out leaving the red and yellow still glowing. Alison had watched the light on the dashboard illuminate, and now watched the illuminated red light on the box.
John said, “Where’s my pad with the address?” She could see, and assumed that red was obviously not good. He took a small beige covered note book out of his pocket and wrote:
Red means there is a radio transmitting from within the car.
Yellow is likely a tracker.
I know it is not me, and it is not in the car as I have all the electrics isolated.
It is somewhere on you.
Do not be offended but I am going to scan you.
Please say nothing.
Alison was slowly starting to become irritated and annoyed, but did not know what to say or do. John took out a layer of foam from the box which revealed a small paddle like table tennis bat from another lower cut out section and touched a button on the handle as he held it over her bag. A small green light came on and remained illuminated. He held it about six inches above her head and then ran it down her left side and the light stayed green, then ran it up her right side and still the light stayed green. John did not understand, he was sure there was a ‘bug’ on her somewhere, and was certain the equipment provided by Ian would work properly. She was fuming as she picked up his note book and wrote:
Happy?
John thought for a moment as to what to write in reply, and then took the note book back intending to write his thoughts. As he put the paddle on the dash board with the intention of picking up his pen, the light turned red and there was a short sounding bleep. They both heard it and saw it: and they both saw it was an inch from where Alison had placed her mobile phone.
John wrote:
Logical. Should have checked it first.
Now we know where it is, leave it in the car.
Then he said, “I think I must have left the details upstairs. You coming back up?”
As if on cue, but still sullen and openly annoyed, she replied. “Yeah, why not” and they both got out of the car leaving the phone on the dash board.
47
Friday 10th June 2011
They both walked away from the car towards the old Police football pitch which now resembled an uncut meadow and away from the main building.
“We need a long talk but not here. Whoever put that bug in your phone will expect us within a few minutes to get back in the car and go and see this witness who does not exist. Last night I was followed by a foreign, swarthy looking man in a bronze BMW. I would expect to be followed again now, so we are going to go for a roundabout ride towards Singleton. When we go along the valley from Charlton, I will jam any signals being emitted, but to be sure can you take the battery and sim card out of your phone when I signal to you.”
Alison said, “What the hell is this all about?”
“I promise I will tell you as soon as we get past Singleton. In the meantime, follow my lead and still general chit chat.”
They both strolled back to the car and got in, John now completely satisfied with how things were, and Alison totally confused and slowly losing her temper but hanging onto it well.
“Right” said John, “We’re going to be a bit early so we can take our time.”
He returned the two items to the wooden box and placed it on the back seat because he was going to need it to check again later. Driving slowly through the yard to the exit leading out onto Basin Road, he stopped to let a woman with a push chair cross in front of him. A small puff of black smoke shot from the rear of a dark Audi parked down by Chichester Basin as it was started up. John thought the problem with nicer hire cars is that they get ‘hammered’ and the engines suffered as a result and often kicked out smoke when the accelerator was pressed at ignition. It would have been easier if the guy had stuck with the bronze BMW, but it really didn’t matter at the moment.
They chatted about nothing in particular as John took a different route out of Chichester to get to the A27, and then he stuck at fifty as he headed towards Fontwell. He smiled contentedly to himself as the Audi tried to drop a long way back as no one else on the road was doing less than seventy. He knew from training and experience that it is very difficult going so slow and not showing out to the ‘rabbit’. At the approach to the junction of Britten’s Lane, John gave a nice long clear left-hand indicator signal in case his pursuer did not have full tracking capabilities and turned up towards Eartham. Going even slower than the forty mile an hour speed limit, the Audi struggled to go slower still and dropped nearly half a mile back just clipping vision on the bends occasionally. John followed the road to the junction with the A285 and signalled right. There was no sign of the Audi in his rear view mirror
which meant the driver did not know the area or have a map immediately to hand otherwise he would have closed up on the approach to the junction.
He waited, and as the Audi came into view made the turn slowly going up the hill and indicated left straight away for the junction about half a mile ahead into Selhurstpark Road. The driver of the Audi accelerated hard to the junction and saw the Vauxhall crawling slowly going up the hill with the left indicator signalling. As soon as John made the turn the Audi followed up the hill to the junction and saw the Vauxhall dawdling along the top road towards Goodwood race course. Another car came up the hill and the Audi was forced to complete the left turn and pulled straight into an open area car park so as not to get too close.
John saw all this in his mirror and said, “There’s a really nice pub down in the valley on the right at Charlton, shall we stop?”
Alison said, “If you want. I’m easy.”
John hoped this would slow the Audi more and he started to signal right nearly a mile before the turning into East Dean Hill. The driver of the Audi was still in the car park and was looking at a paper ordinance survey map and he saw a PH sign in Charlton. He had been led to believe the radio transmissions from Alison’s phone in built up areas were good for about half a mile and 2 miles in open country. Now he believed he could hang even further back and take his time. Confidence was high.
An Urgent Murder Page 14
