The Red Telephone Box (DS Dave Slater Mystery Novels Book 5)

by P. F. Ford

  ‘DI Goodnews,’ she said into the phone.

  Slater tuned her voice out until it was just a quiet mumble in the background and focused his attention on his computer and the number he had written on the pad in front of him. For the next five minutes, he said nothing, then he sat back in his seat and tossed his pen down on the desk.

  ‘This is bloody weird,’ he said.

  ‘You, too?’ said Goodnews, who had just finished her phone call.

  Slater looked at her enquiringly.

  ‘I’m pulling rank,’ she said. ‘You go first.’

  ‘This international number,’ he said. ‘It’s an Interpol number. He’s been getting regular calls from Interpol. It’s the first I’ve heard about it. What the bloody hell’s he doing talking to Interpol?’

  ‘Was he working a case that involved them?’ asked Goodnews.

  ‘I would have known if he was.’ Slater was puzzled. ‘Any case like that he would have told me. We didn’t have any secrets where work was concerned.’

  ‘Maybe he did have a secret,’ said Goodnews. ‘Perhaps there was something Murray wanted you kept out of.’

  ‘But why would they do that?’ asked Slater. ‘Didn’t they trust me?’

  ‘We’ll go and ask him in a minute. But first, listen to this. Jimmy Jones, former DI with the Serious Crime Unit, is no longer in prison.’

  ‘What?’ cried Slater in disbelief. ‘He was sent down for years, he can’t be out already.’

  ‘Apparently he’s now a protected witness,’ said Goodnews, grimly. ‘So, although I know he’s out of prison, I have no idea where he is, or who he is. It seems he’s been given his freedom, and a new identity, in exchange for his testimony.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Slater and Goodnews burst into DCI Murray’s office, causing him to look up with a start from the papers he had been gathering. He had clearly been getting ready to leave – and a glance at his watch told Slater it was much earlier than was usual. He had noticed lately that Murray was often impossible to find of an afternoon, and had the growing suspicion his boss was sneaking off early an increasing amount. Coupled with the weary way with which Murray had gestured at them to sit down, Slater wondered if he was losing interest in his job.

  ‘What do you mean we don’t need to know?’ an incredulous-sounding Goodnews asked Murray. ‘If he’s been communicating with Interpol, and now he’s missing, how can you possibly say it’s not relevant? Or have you forgotten he’s missing?’

  Slater waited for the explosion that would surely be coming his way if he had spoken to Murray like that, but Murray merely shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was almost as if he was frightened of Goodnews. Or perhaps he didn’t quite know how to cope with a strong woman like her. Slater couldn’t quite work it out.

  ‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Come on. We all know this isn’t standard procedure, so why were Interpol talking to Norman?’

  Goodnews was normally quite pale, but right now her cheeks were burning an angry red and her eyes shone with an intense ferocity. She had warned Slater her fuse might be long but the explosion was huge, and now he knew she hadn’t been joking.

  ‘It can’t be relevant to this inquiry-,’ began Murray.

  ‘This is my bloody inquiry,’ she interrupted. ‘I’ll decide what is, and isn’t, relevant.’

  ‘But-,’ he began, again, but Goodnews spoke over him as if he wasn’t even in the room.

  ‘We haven’t got time to bugger about like this,’ she told Slater. ‘Come on, let’s go and ring that number and ask them what’s going on.’

  They made to leave but Murray called them back.

  ‘Wait!’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you what it’s about, but you’re wasting your time. What he was talking to them about has nothing to do with his disappearance. It’s not relevant.’

  Slater looked at Goodnews for a decision.

  ‘Okay, let’s hear it,’ she said. ‘But we’ll decide what’s relevant.’

  ‘There was a case,’ began Murray. ‘It was months ago now. Slater, here, and Norman were investigating the death of a girl who had been pushed from a light aircraft. The most likely suspect was a Serbian girl who ran a cafe in town, but Slater wouldn’t have it, because he was dating her. And because of that he dragged his heels over taking action and she got away.’

  ‘That’s bollocks, and you know it.’ Slater shook his head furiously. ‘I knew her, but I wasn’t dating her. And she wasn’t a confirmed suspect. I believe she was kidnapped, or she might even have been murdered. We don’t know because she hasn’t been seen since. Anyway, you told us that case was closed and we couldn’t waste any more time on it.’

  ‘I had to tell you that,’ insisted Murray. ‘You wouldn’t accept the evidence that pointed to her being guilty.’

  ‘That’s because there was a bloody sight more evidence that suggested she wasn’t guilty,’ snapped Slater.

  ‘Just remember who you’re speaking to.’ Murray’s voice was dangerously low.

  ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa.’ Goodnews stepped in between them as Slater and Murray glared at each other. ‘We can argue about the rights and wrongs of an old case another time. Let’s not forget we’re supposed to be trying to find Norman.’

  She turned to Murray.

  ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘I need to know what’s been going on.’

  ‘The suspect girl’s father is a Serbian gangster known as Slick Tony. We were sure he and his daughter were behind it all and that they had fled the country. We had an Interpol alert out to try and track them down. Norman got updates from them every two weeks.’

  ‘Don’t I know this Slick Tony?’ Goodnews asked, turning to Slater. ‘Isn’t he the guy you were telling me about?’

  ‘The guy who escaped on my watch?’ Yeah, that’s him. I was the fall guy for that particular botched operation thanks to ex-DI Jimmy Jones and his SCU buddies.’

  Goodnews turned to Murray.

  ‘Can you explain to me how this is not relevant to our investigation?’

  ‘I can’t see how it could be,’ said Murray.

  ‘Really?’ asked Goodnews. ‘Isn’t this guy a particularly nasty piece of work who’s known to have no qualms about bumping people off?’

  ‘Well, yes. But-’ began Murray, but Goodnews was like a dog with a bone.

  ‘But, my arse,’ she interrupted. ‘You’ve sanctioned Norman to pursue a known nasty bastard through Interpol, and now he’s disappeared under very suspicious circumstances, and yet you think there’s no possible connection? How long have you been a police officer? Even my six-year-old niece would be able to see a possible connection there.’

  Murray opened his mouth to speak, but he wasn’t quick enough and she was off again.

  ‘And what about DS Slater, here?’ she continued. ‘Don’t you think he has a right to know when you’re putting his life at risk?’

  This time Slater was sure Murray would explode. Goodnews had surely gone too far now. But, again, the Old Man didn’t bite back. Slater couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Murray really was frightened of her. Admittedly, she was pretty fierce now she’d got so wound up, but even so. Murray was the senior officer of the two. Wasn’t he?

  ‘So, what was the last report from Interpol?’ she asked. ‘Have they tracked him down yet?’

  ‘No,’ Murray said, sighing. ‘They don’t seem to have the faintest idea where he is.’

  ‘What? No idea at all? So he could be here, right now, holding one of our officers.’

  ‘I think that’s very unlikely,’ blustered Murray. ‘Why would he come back here?’

  ‘I’m sure he won’t be here in person,’ said Goodnews. ‘But I’m equally sure he must have people based here in the UK. And the reason he would utilise them is because he’s being pursued by Norman, as sanctioned by you. Do I really have to spell it out?’

  Murray hung his head and looked like a defeated man. Slater was amazed.

  ‘I want Norman’s contact over t
here,’ she said. ‘I want to speak to whoever it is.’

  ‘That’s not a good idea,’ said Murray. ‘Norman is convinced someone from Interpol is on Tony’s payroll. It’s how he always manages to be one jump ahead.’

  ‘Oh, Christ, I don’t believe this!’ said Goodnews. ‘It just gets worse and worse. And as for you. Well, I just don’t know what to say to be honest. I think it’s probably best if we leave now, before I say something I regret. Come on, Dave, we’ve got work to do.’

  They left Murray looking rather like a schoolboy who had just been made to stand in the corner. Slater almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ‘Can I ask a question?’ asked Slater, as they walked down the stairs from Murray’s office.

  ‘You can always ask,’ Goodnews said. ‘But you have to remember there are some questions a lady just doesn’t have to answer. And then, of course, there’s always my privilege of rank.’

  ‘That thing with Murray. He’s the DCI and you’re the DI, yet there’s no doubt you were in charge. How does that work?’

  ‘Ah. Yes,’ she said, mysteriously. ‘I’m afraid that’s one of those questions I don’t have to answer.’

  ‘Don’t you trust me?’ Slater asked.

  ‘Believe me, it’s not that,’ she said. ‘The thing is, other people have put their trust in me. Would you expect me to break their trust just to satisfy your curiosity?’

  ‘Ah. Right. I see. No, of course I wouldn’t expect you to do that. Is the Old Man on the way out?’

  Goodnews smiled at him, but didn’t answer. Instead, she changed the subject.

  ‘So now we’ve gone from having no suspects at all, to having three,’ she said. ‘So let’s hear where you think we should go from here.’

  Slater was itching to know more about Goodnews and Murray, but he didn’t want to push his luck. She had quickly calmed down, but he didn’t want to risk pushing the launch button again. It would keep… for now.

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘We have no idea where Slick Tony is, or might be. I agree with you he’s unlikely to be here in person, so really we have no idea who we’re looking for. We don’t exactly know where Jimmy Jones is, but we do know he’s still in custody. While it’s not impossible he’s involved, again he won’t be here in person. So, once more, we don’t know who we’re looking for. Tommy Howes, on the other hand, shouldn’t be that hard to track down. We can make a start with Norman’s wife.’

  ‘We’re on the same wavelength, then. That’s good to know,’ she said.

  She looked at her watch.

  ‘It’s just gone three. Do you fancy driving up to the big city now?’

  ‘Why not?’ said Slater. ‘My car, or yours?’

  ‘You can have the pleasure of driving up there,’ said Goodnews. ‘It’s one of my pet hates.’

  Slater’s phone started ringing just as they reached the incident room door.

  ‘It’s Becks,’ said the voice in his ear when he answered. ‘Are you in the building?’

  ‘I was just going out,’ he replied.

  ‘I’ve got the results from your cigarette butts.’

  ‘Brilliant. I’ll be right down.’ Slater had almost forgotten about the evidence he had found at the bottom of the tree outside Norman’s house.

  He turned to Goodnews.

  ‘Becks has got the results from my cigarette butts. If you can hang on a few minutes, I’ll go down and get them.’

  ‘I need to see what’s going on before we go,’ she said. ‘That’ll take a few minutes.’

  ‘I’ll be five at the most,’ he promised her and rushed off to the basement.

  Goodnews pushed her way through the door into the incident room. Steve Biddeford was waiting for her. She sat down at her desk and looked wearily at the pile of post-it notes.

  ‘You’ve done well, Steve,’ she said, picking up the first note. ‘We’re going up to see Norman’s wife, so don’t hang around any later than you have to. We’ll catch up with everyone in the morning.’

  Biddeford hovered nervously by her desk. He obviously wasn’t in any hurry to get away. She looked up at him.

  ‘Was there something else?’ she asked.

  ‘Err, well. It’s a bit awkward,’ he said. ‘Is Dave still here?’

  ‘He’s downstairs in the dungeon with his weird mate from forensics,’ she said. ‘Why? Have you got a problem with him?’

  ‘I think it’s more the case that “we” might have a problem with him.’

  ‘Explain,’ she said, curtly. She hoped this wasn’t going to be Biddeford telling more tales to score cheap points at Slater’s expense.

  ‘Before I tell you,’ Biddeford said, ‘I want you to know I find it hard to believe.’

  ‘Just tell me, will you?’ Goodnews sighed, impatiently.

  ‘Well, I interviewed that old boy from Little Balding, Major Ray,’ he explained. ‘It seems he’s not quite as old-fashioned as he appears. He’s set up a remote wireless camera to keep an eye on his precious telephone box overnight.’

  ‘He didn’t tell me that,’ said Goodnews.

  ‘He said he didn’t tell you because he didn’t think you were taking his vandalism problem seriously.’

  Goodnews pulled a face.

  ‘Well, I suppose he was right about that,’ she said.

  ‘The thing is, his camera caught something the night before Norman disappeared,’ continued Biddeford.

  ‘To be honest,’ said Goodnews. ‘I’m still not interested in his vandalism problem. Now, if he’s got a photograph that’s relevant to our investigation, such as one of Norman going into that phone box the day he disappeared, then I might be interested.’

  ‘The camera only works between 9pm and 6am,’ said Biddeford. ‘But this still might be relevant. You’d better take a look.”

  He handed her a fuzzy photograph.

  ‘What’s this?’ she said. ‘Do we know who it belongs to?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s DS Slater’s.’

  Goodnews stared down at the photo.

  ‘What d’you want to do about it?’ asked Biddeford.

  ‘I think you should go and have your break,’ she said, ‘and when you come back I want you to go to Little Balding and double check this and make sure it’s for real. Call me when you’ve confirmed it. In the meantime, I don’t want anyone else to know about it.’

  Biddeford was obviously disappointed with her reaction, but did as she asked and went on his way.

  Less than a minute later Slater rushed in.

  ‘We’ve got a hit from my cigarette butts,’ he announced. ‘Becks has even managed to get a good enough profile to suggest the origin of the smoker. He reckons our man could well be Serbian. He’s certainly from that region of the world.’

  Goodnews couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm, given what Biddeford had just told her.

  ‘And this is good news, how?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a connection with Slick Tony,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not convinced he’s involved yet,’ said Goodnews. ‘Like you said before, wouldn’t he be after you as well?’

  ‘You said yourself I might be next,’ said Slater, looking puzzled by her downbeat attitude. ‘I thought you’d be pleased we were making progress.’

  ‘If that is progress,’ she said. ‘Maybe it’s part of some elaborate deception.’

  ‘What? Where’s that come from? Is there something you want to share with me?’

  ‘Not right now,’ she said. ‘It’s just an idea at the moment. Privilege of rank and all that. Perhaps tomorrow it’ll all be a wee bit clearer.’

  ‘Oh. Right,’ he said, looking at her intently. ‘Whatever you say. You’re the boss. Is there anything else you want me to do before we go?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I just need to visit the ladies room and I’ll be ready. I’ll meet you down by the car.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ he said, cheerfully.

  He smiled at her, but she
couldn’t smile back, and after a second his face darkened slightly and he left the room without another word.

  Goodnews watched him as he left and wondered. There was no denying they’d had a bumpy start, but she had thought he was someone she could trust and work with.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Slater had hoped Goodnews would be in a better mood once they got going, but his hope was short-lived. She was affable enough, but despite his efforts to make conversation, it was hard work, and he knew she was just putting on an act. Their journey was likely to take a couple of hours or more, but in less than ten minutes he’d given up trying to be sociable and instead focused on his driving and trying to work out what had gone wrong. Obviously, somewhere along the line, he’d pissed her off big-time, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he’d done.

  After another half hour, he even gave up trying to figure out why, and focused instead on the road ahead. He decided he would wait until they were on the way back, and if things were no better then, he was going to have to take the bull by the horns and ask her what the problem was.

  Drayman’s Terrace, Hackney, was, as the name suggested, a narrow street lined with Victorian terraced houses which seemed to stretch away into the far distance until the street finally disappeared round a bend in the road. More by luck than judgement, Slater had arrived at the right end. Norman’s wife lived at number 24, just a short distance ahead.

  ‘I’ll lead,’ said Goodnews, as they walked up to the front door.

  Slater nodded and knocked hard on the door. After just a few seconds, the door opened. Slater did a very obvious double take at the woman stood before them. She looked just like… He noticed Goodnews staring at him and rearranged his face into a bland expression.

  ‘Mrs Jean Norman?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ replied the woman. ‘What can I do for you?’

  Goodnews and Slater held up their warrant cards.

  ‘DI Goodnews and DS Slater from Tinton CID,’ Goodnews said. ‘We’d like to ask you a few questions.’

  ‘What about?’ she asked, sounding surprised.