by P. F. Ford
"You didn't think his reaction was a bit weird when you told him what Jim Brennan had told us."
"I saw the colour drain from his face when he realised Brennan had placed him at the scene," replied Norman. "If that's not a sign of guilt, I don't know what is."
"But that's not what you saw," argued Slater. "He wasn't feeling guilty about being at Diana's. He was actually relieved when you said Brennan had told us he was going there."
"You must have been looking at someone else," said Norman. "I only saw a guy looking guilty."
"You need to take those blinkers off, Norm. You're so focused on him being the killer you're missing the more subtle stuff."
"Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?" asked Norman, testily.
"I'm just saying there's more to this than meets the eye," said Slater. "Sure, he's guilty of something, but I'm sure it's not Diana's death."
"So you think you know how to do this job better than me," said Norman. "Despite the fact I've been doing it nearly twenty years longer than you."
"Aw, come on, Norm," said Slater, hoping to appeal to his colleague's better nature. "You know I don't think that. It's just that you seem to have made your mind up already. Let's be honest, we've barely scratched the surface of this woman's life so far. There could be any number of skeletons in the cupboard, and any one of those could be a reason why she's dead."
"So now you're saying I'm cutting corners," complained Norman.
"Now you're twisting my words, and applying a meaning that's not there," said Slater. "You're not hearing what I'm saying."
"Oh, I hear it loud and clear," said Norman, indignantly. "You think you know better than me and that I should do what Detective Sergeant High and Mighty Slater says without thinking for myself, right?"
"Wrong, actually," said Slater, wondering what the hell had happened to their relationship all of a sudden. "I've never suggested anything of the sort and you know it."
"What I know," said Norman, rising from his chair. "Is that I'm getting pretty pissed off with your superior attitude. And why is it you're always poking your nose into my business? Right now I've had enough. I'm going home."
He marched from the room, leaving Slater wondering what had just happened. They had always been able to kick ideas around before, and they'd even argued before now without falling out. He was quite sure he hadn't done anything wrong, so what the hell was going on?
It was just gone six as Slater trudged his way slowly back to their incident room via the canteen. He had been quite sure if he arrived bearing coffee and cakes he could make his peace and they could get back on an even keel, but when he pushed his way through the doors, Norman wasn't even there.
"Where's Norm?" he asked Jolly, as he placed the tray of coffees on the nearest desk.
"I assumed he was with you, interviewing Ian Woods," she said.
"Oh. Right. So he has gone off home then," said Slater, wearily.
"Has something happened?" asked Jolly, taking in Slater's face.
"I'm not quite sure," he said. "We seem to have fallen out over this case. Or maybe I should say Norm's fallen out with me over this case."
"Why?" asked Jolly, in surprise. "I've never known you two to fall out before."
"Yeah. Quite," said Slater. "But now, apparently, I'm suggesting he doesn't know what he's doing, and I'm expecting him to do whatever I say, and if he doesn't agree with me he must be wrong."
"That doesn't sound like you and Norm," said Jolly. "What's brought this on?"
"He seems adamant that Woods is guilty, and I'm saying we don't have enough proof," said Slater. "We've had these differences plenty of times before without falling out, but this time he seems to be taking it personally for some reason. And he reckons I'm always poking my nose into his business."
"Well I know that's not right," said Jolly. "I've watched you. You always hang well back if he's making a personal phone call. That's hardly poking your nose in, is it?"
"I don't even ask about his wife these days," said Slater. "I know it's a sore point so I avoid it unless he brings it up. I don't know what's going on. Maybe he's just having a crappy time and needs someone to take it out on."
"Was there anything in particular that prompted this explosion?" asked Jolly.
"It was after we'd finished interviewing Woods," said Slater. "It didn't go well, and I told Norm I thought he was too focused on Woods being the killer. There was one incident in particular that I thought was really strange, but Norm didn't even notice it."
"And you thought he should have seen it?" asked Jolly.
"He told Woods that Jim Brennan had said he'd been going on somewhere after he finished at Southampton," explained Slater. "Woods went pale. He looked guilty as hell."
"Which he would, if he was guilty," suggested Jolly.
"Right," said Slater. "I quite agree. But at that stage he didn't know where Brennan had said he was going. But when Norm told him Brennan had said he was going to Diana's, he actually looked relieved. Now, how weird is that?"
"So he would rather we thought he was at the murder scene than where he actually was," Jolly surmised.
"That's how it looked to me," said Slater. "But Norm seemed to miss it completely."
They both stopped to think and sip their coffee, before Slater continued.
"But what would Ian Woods feel so guilty about that he would rather be suspected of being at the murder scene?" he asked.
"You mean you haven't guessed?" asked Jolly. "It seems obvious to me. He was with a woman he shouldn't have been with, and he wants to keep her out of it."
"But he doesn't have a girlfriend," said Slater, stupidly.
"You mean he doesn't have a girlfriend you know about," said Jolly. "That's not quite the same thing, is it? Perhaps he's seeing someone's wife. He wouldn't go around telling everyone about that, would he?"
"Of course," said Slater. "How could I have been so stupid not to think of that myself? You see, Jane, that's why you're such an important part of this team."
"I just have a different perspective, that's all," said Jolly, modestly. "So all you need to do is ask Ian Woods who she is."
"We can't even approach him now," Slater told her. "After our interview this afternoon went pear-shaped, all future communications have to go through his solicitor."
He thought for a few seconds.
"But Jim Brennan might know," he continued. "I get the impression he's more than just a boss to Woods, and they're actually good friends. Maybe Woods confides in Brennan."
"I wouldn't rely on Brennan telling you anything if that's the case," said Jolly. "Good friends can keep a confidence you know."
"But a good friend might also feel it's worth sharing a confidence to avoid a murder charge," said Slater, sorting through the papers on his desk. "I've got his card here somewhere. I'll give him a ring."
"Right," he said, five minutes later. "Jim Brennan will talk to me if I meet him first thing in the morning, so I'll be a bit late getting here."
"That's fine," said Jolly. "I'll be here. Perhaps I can have a little chat with Norm and see what's eating him."
"Just tread carefully," said Slater. "I don't want him thinking I came up here telling tales behind his back."
"You didn't," said Jolly stepping away from her desk and getting ready to go home. "You came here because you were concerned. That's quite different."
She slipped a jacket over her shoulders.
"I'll see you when you get here," she said as she slipped through the door.
"Goodnight Jane," smiled Slater.
Chapter Five
Jim Brennan didn't make the world's greatest cup of tea, but at seven in the morning, Slater was grateful for anything that was warm and wet.
"There won't be anyone here for at least an hour," he explained to Slater. "That's why I come in this early every morning. It's a bit of 'me' time. I get a chance to catch up on any outstanding paperwork in peace. Or sometimes I just watch the news on the TV. Anyw
ay, you didn't come here to find out what I do with my mornings, did you? So what can I do for you?"
"It's about Woody. He needs your help," said Slater.
"From what I hear," said Brennan. "All you have is a lot of innuendo, and no actual proof that he'd done anything wrong. If you're looking for me to help you convict him, you're wasting your time."
"He's not as safe as you seem to think," said Slater. "It really wouldn't take much to tip the balance against him, and he's not helping himself with his story. According to what he's told us he had plenty of time to have killed Diana because there's a gap of a couple of hours he can't account for, or rather there's a gap of a couple of hours he won't account for. My colleague thinks it's because he was at Diana's, but I think he was somewhere else. I think it's possible he was with another woman and he's protecting her identity. You're his friend. Has he confided in you about an affair?"
Brennan had been listening intently to Slater, but now a wry smile crossed his face.
"I wouldn't be much of a friend if I was prepared to share such things without asking him if he wanted me to, now would I?" he said.
"Look," said Slater. "If he was with a woman, she can give him an alibi for that afternoon, and he's off the hook. Right now he's still very much in the frame."
Brennan was shaking his head.
"You don't know much about Woody, do you?" he said. "Come to that, you don't seem to know much about Diana, either."
"So, help me out," suggested Slater. "Tell me about Woody and Diana. All I've heard so far is about how she was a saint and he was a bully."
"Ha!" said Brennan. "Yeah. That's the fictional version of their marriage that's been pushed around locally since they split up. You have to remember it's very easy to spread disinformation when the subject of that disinformation is well out of the way and unable to contradict it. Mind you, I think Woody's so glad to have escaped he doesn't really care what she says about him."
"I'm not sure I really understand what you're saying," said Slater.
"Then let me make it simple for you," said Brennan. "Diana Woods was a lying cheat. She was a slapper who would sleep with anyone who was prepared to buy her a drink. She has all these women friends who think she's such a wonderful person, but what they don't realise is while they're so busy being dazzled by her shining light, she's busy working her way through their husbands. She's shagged half the blokes in Tinton, and she's especially fond of Woody's mates. I suppose it's the excitement of the risk, or perhaps she just can't help herself, like one of those sex addicts."
"But that's the complete opposite of what her friends have told us," said Slater.
"Yes, I'm sure it is," said Brennan. "But that's the clever part, see. She was so nice to everybody, they thought she couldn't possibly be anything but an angel, could she? And, of course, none of the husbands were going to tell their wives the truth, were they?"
"Did Woody know?" asked Slater.
"Woody's a lovely bloke but where she was concerned he was a fool," said Brennan. "I'm sure he must have known, but he didn't want to believe it, you know? He loved her, and he had this stupid idea that if he hung on in there she would stop messing around and become the wife he wanted her to be, but all that happened was she got to despise him for being so weak and letting her get away with it. The longer it went on, the worse she treated him. I watched him going downhill for years. If he'd stayed with her she would have broken him completely."
"But if he was so intent on hanging on in there, why did he eventually leave?" asked Slater.
"Because you can always deny your suspicions as long as you don't actually find any proof," explained Brennan. "But once you find the proof on display right under your nose, you can't deny it anymore, and that's when you suddenly realise what a bloody fool you've been for all those years."
He looked at Slater, but Slater just returned his gaze. He was pretty sure Brennan was just about to fill in the blanks for him so he didn't feel the need to pass comment.
"It was a few months ago now," began Brennan. "We had this special job he was supposed to be doing for me. We sat here all morning waiting for the customer to say they were ready to go, and then at about midday they decided they weren't going to be ready and they postponed the job until the next day. Woody was well browned off having sat here all morning for nothing, so I sent him home for some lunch. When he got there, Diana's car was parked outside. She should have been at work, so he knew something was up.
"He thought maybe she was ill, or something, so he let himself in as quietly as he could. As soon as he went in the front door, he could hear them at it upstairs, grunting and groaning like a couple of pigs. They were so busy shagging they didn't hear him coming up the stairs. The first thing they knew was when he slapped the guy's bare arse as hard as he could."
"Who was the guy?" asked Slater, wincing at the thought of how much that slap must have stung.
"Her boss," said Brennan. "Apparently they'd been at it for a couple of years, but they usually went to his house at lunchtime on the days when his wife was at work. Maybe she wasn't working that day, or maybe they just couldn't wait, or maybe Diana just got careless. Whatever the reason, it was a step too far, and even Woody couldn't stay in denial after that. That same afternoon he packed his bags and moved out. Within two weeks he'd left the area and found himself a place to live in Wales."
"So, if anything, the abuse and cruelty came from Diana and not from Woody," said Slater.
"I think it's fair to say she was torturing him for most of their marriage," agreed Brennan.
"And everyone thinks she's a saint," sighed Slater.
"If she's such a saint," said Brennan. "Why did she proposition me?"
Slater didn't know what to say to that.
"I'll tell you why," continued Brennan, who was in full flow now. "It was because she thinks I've got a bit of money and I'd be prepared to spend it on her in exchange for a shag. She tends to think just because a bloke has a bit of cash he's willing, you know? To my mind that's nothing more than prostitution when you think about it. And before you ask, no, I did not take her up on her offer."
"And all this stuff about Woody beating her up-" began Slater.
"Is complete bollocks," finished Brennan. "That's all rubbish she'd been putting around since they split up to make sure she looked like the victim and he looked like the villain. She couldn't have her 'little miss perfect' image ruined by the truth coming out, now could she?"
"Shit," said Slater, almost to himself. "Fancy putting up with that for all those years."
"Yeah. Not many blokes would, would they?" said Brennan. "But ask yourself this - If he was going to kill her, don't you think he would have done it the day he caught her out? If it was me, I would have killed them both, I can tell you. But Woody's not like that. He didn't want revenge. He didn't even tell the other bloke's wife."
"Your logic is flawless," said Slater. "But unfortunately it's not really much help if he doesn't have an alibi. Are you sure there's not another woman in his life?"
"In a way I wish there was," said Brennan. "The poor bloke deserves a bit of happiness. But even if there is another woman in his life, I can assure you he's never told me about it."
As Slater drove away from Jim Brennan's office he felt that at least now, he'd managed to fill in a few blanks about Woody and Diana's past. But he was still none the wiser when it came to where Woody had been on the afternoon Diana was killed.
"Morning, Jane. Morning, Norm," said Slater as he pushed his way through the doors into the incident room.
Both Jolly and Norman were at their desks, Jolly looked up and smiled when he walked in, but Norman merely grunted, keeping his head down and his back to the door. Slater's spirits were, in turn, raised by Jolly's smile, and then depressed by Norman's back.
"Good morning," said Jolly. "I'm glad you're here. I've got some messages."
"I hope they're good news," he said.
"One of the neighbours along Bishops Com
mon claims to have seen a white van in the lane around the time of the murder, and DCI Murray would like an update on the case so far, as soon as you're ready."
Oh great, thought Slater. Norman's going to be gloating, and Murray's probably going to be griping because the budget's run out and we haven't made an arrest yet. What a way to start the day.
"What time does the Old Man want to see us?" he asked.
"Oh you've got a good half hour," said Jolly. "I'll go and get some coffees."
She stopped at the door and, catching Slater's eye, she nodded towards Norman. The message was clear enough.
"I'll just be a couple of minutes," she announced, as she left the room.
Crap, thought Slater. How do I start this conversation?
But it was Norman who swung his chair round to face him and take the initiative.
"Err, I think I owe you an apology," he said awkwardly. "I was well out of order yesterday, snapping your head off like that. It's just that, well, I have some personal stuff going on right now, and I let it get to me yesterday. It's a piss poor excuse I know, and I'm sorry I took it out on you."
"It's okay," said Slater, with a big sigh of relief. "I can be pretty snappy myself at times, so I can hardly make a big deal if you get your own back now and then."
"But I've never seen you stomp off home like a five year old," said Norman. "That was unforgivable behaviour on my part. I'm sorry."
"Hey, look," said Slater. "It's done, and it's forgotten. If there's anything I can do to help with your problems, you only have to ask. And that's not interfering, right?"
"I know, I know," said Norman. "And don't think I'm not grateful for your offer, but this is something I have to deal with on my own."
"Okay, whatever you say," said Slater. "But the offer stands. You only have to ask."
Jolly backed her way through the door bearing a tray of coffee and bacon sandwiches. She studied their faces as she came in and she was pleased to see they seemed to have cleared the air while she was gone.
