by P. F. Ford
"Yeah, that would be good," agreed Norman. "What we need is a a bit of leverage, but he's pretty much squeaky clean, isn't he?"
"It feels disloyal, talking like this," said Slater, gloomily.
"Yeah, I know what you mean," said Norman. "But there's a limit to how much shit people can be expected to take, and he's gone way past that limit now."
Slater thought that was a pretty good assessment of the situation.
"Can I ask a question?" he said.
"That's what we do," said Norman. "Ask away."
"Where are we going?" asked Slater. "We can't just keep driving aimlessly around all day. We're not going to solve anything that way."
"Come on now," said Norman. "Give me some credit. I'm not driving aimlessly around. I'm driving back to the crime scene. Maybe another look into Diana's house will give us some fresh insight."
"Oh, right. That actually sounds quite convincing," said Slater. "But what you really mean is if we stay away long enough the Old Man might cool down a bit."
"Well yeah," conceded Norman. "And that, too."
Chapter Sixteen
“Crap," said Norman as Diana Woods' house came into view.
"What?" asked Slater.
"How the hell are we going to get in?" said Norman. "The guard's been removed and we don't have a key."
"How come the guard's gone? Who authorised that?" asked Slater.
"Can't you guess?" said Norman. "As far as he's concerned the case is solved, remember? So having a guard on duty here is a waste of resources."
"Oh, for frank's sake," cursed Slater.
"Is that a new curse?" asked Norman. "I haven't heard you use that one before."
"I'm test driving it," said Slater. "It still means the same thing, but it doesn't offend anyone."
"It might offend Frank," said Norman.
"I'll try and remember not to say it in front of him," promised Slater.
Norman pulled up outside the house and they sat in silence for a moment.
"Let me call Jane, see if she knows what's going on," said Slater.
"I'll have a wander around the house," said Norman. "Maybe I'll find a window open."
"But no breaking in," said Slater. "We don't want to have to explain a broken window, alright?"
Norman grinned at Slater, but said nothing as he climbed from the car and wandered towards the house.
Slater was just going to call Jolly when he noticed a movement in the wing mirror. A small woman was making her way along the lane towards the car. A large, hairy dog, of indeterminate breed, walked obediently alongside her. He didn't recognise her as one of the neighbours so he assumed she was just walking her dog and returned to his phone. He was just about to press 'call' when a rap on the window right next to his head made him jump. The small woman was glaring at him, so he wound the window down. The dog had sat down next to her, and he raised his head to take a sniff at Slater as the window came down.
"Can I ask you what you're doing here?" she asked him in a lilting Irish accent. "And why there's a fat man wandering around that house. Is he something to do with you?"
"Police," he said. He rummaged in his pocket for his warrant card and showed it to her. "We're investigating the death of Diana Woods."
"And that fat man's police, too?" she asked in surprise. "He hardly looks fit enough to chase any villains."
"He doesn't do chasing, he uses his brain instead and out-thinks them," said Slater.
"Well, I hope his brain's sharper than his suit," she observed. "Anyway, why is he casing the joint? He looks like he's planning to break in."
"You ask a lot of questions," said Slater. "Anyone would think it was your house."
"That's my house, next door," she said. "So anyone acting suspiciously in this area is of interest to me."
At the mention of the word suspiciously, the dog shifted his position so he could see Slater more clearly and cut off any attempt at escape.
"Is he going to tear my leg off if I get out of the car?" asked Slater.
"Only if I tell him too," she said with a grin.
Slater looked at the dog again. He didn't look particularly vicious, but he seemed to have enormous teeth.
"Where did he get those teeth?" asked Slater. "They're not all his are they?"
"Oh for goodness sake," she said. "What are you a man or a mouse? Sure, he's as soft as you like, unless I tell him otherwise."
Slater climbed gingerly from the car, all the while keeping a careful eye on the dog, which, in turn, kept a careful eye on him. It waited patiently until Slater closed the car door and couldn't escape before he made his move. In one quick movement he was all over Slater, slobbering all over him, and giving his suit trousers a liberal coating of free hair.
"There. See? He likes you," said the woman.
"How come we haven't seen you before?" asked Slater.
"We've been away on holiday, the dog and me," she explained. "We only got back yesterday. It's a pity I was away. I might have heard something, or seen something. I was shocked to hear what had happened. But, I'll tell you one thing, that woman wasn't the saint everyone around here would have you believe. I've lived here for years and during that time I've seen numerous men coming and going whenever Woody has been away. I often wanted to tell him, you know? He was such a lovely feller and she was treating him like shite all the time."
"So why didn't you tell him?" asked Slater.
"How could I?" she said. "He adored her. It would have broken his heart if he'd known, and he probably wouldn't have believed me anyway. He was the worst one for thinking she was perfect. But when she started bringing this latest one round here at lunchtimes, I always thought it would only be a matter of time before he found out."
"Can you describe this man?" asked Slater.
"He was a big, fat, man. A bit like your friend there, but taller, and not as scruffy," she said.
"Can you hang on a minute?" asked Slater. "I need my colleague to hear this, too."
Norman was just heading back towards the car.
"Hey! Norm," he called out. "You need to come and hear this."
The woman waited patiently while Norman puffed his way over to them. The dog gave him the slobber and hair treatment, and then satisfied he'd ruined a second suit, he retreated and sprawled out across the lane.
"There's no windows open," said Norman.
"D'you want to get inside?" she asked.
"Well, yes," admitted Slater, reluctantly. "But we don't have a key."
"I've got one," she said. "She gave me a key when Woody left. I kept an eye on the house for her when she was away. I've never had to use it but I don't suppose I need to now, do I?"
"This is, err, I'm sorry, I didn't ask your name," said Slater.
"Mary O'Connell," she said.
"Mrs O'Connell lives next door," Slater explained to Norman. "She's been away. That's why we've not seen her before."
He turned back to Mary.
"Could you tell my colleague what you just told me about the man who comes here at lunchtime," he asked her.
"Big, fat, man," she said. "Built like you, but taller. Always wears a smart suit. Sometimes they'd come in her car, and sometimes they'd come in this little white van."
"A van?" echoed Slater.
"It didn't seem to be the right vehicle for a man like that," she admitted. "You'd think he'd be driving a Mercedes or something similar, but no, he had this little van. It used to amaze me he could fit inside it, the size of him."
Neither detective wanted to stop her talking, so they waited patiently while she stopped for a moment's reflection, but it was only a few seconds before she spoke again.
"I've had to live here watching that lovely man gradually being worn down by her," she said. "Sometimes I wanted to slap him, he was so blind to what she was doing. But then I think maybe he did know what she was up to but he never wanted to face up to it."
"But all the neighbours say they've never seen anything untoward," said Sl
ater.
"Was Amanda Hollis one of those neighbours, by any chance?" she asked. "She ought to worry about her own shite husband before she starts running down poor old Woody. Now there's a man who could tell you all about Diana, but Amanda's as blind as Woody when it comes to her husband and what's going on right under her nose."
"You mean him and Diana were-" asked Norman.
"You'd have to ask him," she interrupted. "But I can tell you this, he's done several little jobs around the house for her since Woody left, and he doesn't do it for cash. And Amanda has no idea. She thinks he's just being a good neighbour. But I suppose that's part of the problem, isn't it? We usually see what we want to see, hear what we want to hear, and miss what's really happening."
"That's pretty much how it is for a lot of people," agreed Slater. "It always amazes us how witnesses give different versions of things, but that's exactly the reason why. It's human nature to try to make events fit in with our beliefs and expectations."
"That's exactly what I mean," she said. "If a small white van comes down the lane and turns into Diana and Woody's drive, everyone expects it to be Woody coming and going because he's been doing it for years. They assume it must be him, and because of that assumption, they don't take much notice. The result is they miss the details."
"Such as?" asked Norman.
"Well, Woody's van is a Citroen. The one that used to visit before Woody caught them at it, was a Peugeot. They're exactly the same van. Same shape, same style, same colour. It's just the badges and logos that are different, but if you don't look closely, you don't notice these things."
"How come you noticed?" asked Slater.
"I like Woody a lot. I used to talk to him a lot. Every opportunity I got, to be honest. He told me about the difference last time he changed his van. He used to have a Peugeot you see, and I couldn't see the difference when he first got this van."
"You talked about his new van?" asked Norman.
"I know. Sad, isn't it? But, like I said, I liked him. A lot. I really miss him. It would have been much better if he'd kicked her out, but even after he caught her red-handed he couldn't bring himself to make her suffer. She cheats and she gets to keep the house. How's that right?"
"But she'd dead now," said Slater. "Do you think that's right?"
"If you play with fire, you know you risk getting burnt," she said. "What's happened to her isn't right, but if Woody's found guilty because of the crap she's told everyone about him since they split up, that won't be right either. She'll not be going to heaven that's for sure."
She suddenly seemed to think she'd said more than enough.
"I'll just get you that key," she said. "I won't be a minute."
"Now that was a very interesting conversation, don't you think?" asked Norman, once they were inside Diana Woods' kitchen.
"Yeah. We got more from her than we've had from the rest of them put together," agreed Slater. "It's a pity we couldn't speak to her before."
"She definitely had the hots for Woody," said Norman.
"Sounds that way doesn't it," said Slater, absently sliding open kitchen drawers and peering inside.
"That could be seen as a motive for murder," said Norman.
"Only if you want to put your money on a rank outsider," said Slater. "She's been in France for two weeks."
"Yeah. I admit that would make it difficult," agreed Norman. "And it's certainly easy enough to check."
"I'm more interested in the white van," said Slater. "That van we saw at Rochester's was a Peugeot, wasn't it?"
"It certainly was," agreed Norman. "And according to our new witness Rossiter used to drive one. Now that's a coincidence, don't you think?"
"It can't be a coincidence, can it?" smiled Slater. "You know how much I hate them. I reckon Mrs Turner didn't see Woody in a white van. She assumed it was Woody, because that's what she expected, but we know it wasn't him because Susie Brennan says he was at her house and that's miles away. I reckon Mrs Turner saw Rossiter driving the white van. We already know there's a discrepancy between when he says he got home and when his wife says he got home. He had plenty of time to drive out here, kill Diana, take the van back, and then go home."
"But we know he didn't have sex with her that lunchtime, because he was up in London, so who did?" asked Norman. "We need to find out who that was, because whoever it was is still a possible suspect."
"According to Mary, John Hollis had become a regular visitor," said Slater. "Now he told us the other day that he had been working the late shift. So, presumably he would have been at home for lunch."
"And it's only a short stroll across the lane," agreed Norman.
"He fits the bill, doesn't he?" continued Slater. "Woody told us Diana liked to screw the husbands of her friends, and she especially liked having his mates. Hollis claimed to be Woody's best mate, so he fits the profile on both counts."
Norman walked across to the front door, opened it and looked across the lane.
"He's got to be the prime candidate," he said. "And his car's over there. Why don’t we go over and see what he has to say?"
Slater was staring intently into one of the kitchen drawers and didn't reply.
"Dave," said Norman. "I said, let's go and talk to Hollis now."
"What? Oh, sorry," said Slater. "Yeah, sure."
"You have that look," said Norman, coming across to see what Slater was looking at. "What have you found?"
"I don't know," said Slater. "Something just doesn't seem right."
He slid the drawer shut.
"Maybe it'll come to me later," he said.
"Mr Hollis," smiled Norman, when John Hollis answered his front door. "We were hoping you might be able to spare us a few minutes. We have a couple of questions."
"Oh. Err, right," said Hollis, obviously caught of guard. "Yes, of course, come on in."
"Is Mrs Hollis here?" asked Norman, following Hollis inside the house.
"No, I'm afraid not," said Hollis. "She works from ten until two. Did you need to see her?"
"Actually it's you we need to speak to, Mr Hollis," said Slater. "It's probably better that she isn't here."
"Oh?" said Hollis. "And why's that?"
"Because we want to ask you about your relationship with Diana Woods," said Norman.
Hollis went a little pale, and licked his lips nervously.
"We are, sorry, were, just neighbours," said Hollis. "And friends, of course. Well, it was Amanda and Diana who were friends. Woody and I sort of became friends through the girls."
"Oh yes," said Slater. "That's right. Didn't you say you were Woody's best friend?"
"I'm one of the few real friends he's got," said Hollis. "Woody doesn't trust people easily."
"And why do you think that is?" asked Norman.
"I think he's been let down a few times," said Hollis. "With Diana."
"Have you let him down, Mr Hollis?" asked Slater.
"I don't think so," said Hollis, uncertainly.
"You're sure about that, are you?" insisted Slater. "Only we have a little problem. You see Diana had sex with someone on the day she died. We thought we knew who that was, but now we know we were wrong."
Hollis was looking worried, but he didn't say anything.
"But it's okay," said Norman. "Because whoever it was left us lots of evidence inside her, so we have his DNA, and of course, DNA is unique. So we're thinking it would be a good idea to take some DNA samples and do some comparisons. If we do that, are we going to find you're a match?"
"No you won't," said Hollis. "I always use a condom."
"Ah. So you admit you've been there," said Slater.
"But I only did it the one time," blurted Hollis, desperately. "Oh God, if Amanda finds out she'll kill me. You won't tell her will you?"
"We can't make promises like that," said Slater.
"And you're sure it was just once, are you?" asked Norman.
"Alright, alright," said Hollis. "But it was just an occasional thing. It was
n't serious."
"Try telling that to your 'best mate', Woody," said Slater.
"But he's not even with her anymore," said Hollis. "What difference would it make to him?"
"I suppose you were just looking after her for him, were you?" asked Slater.
"So when did it start?" asked Norman. "Was it after Woody left her?"
Hollis looked distinctly uncomfortable, now.
"It was while he was still with her, wasn't it?" said Slater. "Well, isn't Woody the lucky one? I'm glad you're not my best mate."
"It wasn't like that," pleaded Hollis. "I didn't plan it. I didn't even like her that much. It just sort of happened, and once it had, I just had to come back for more whenever I got the chance."
"Oh well, that's alright then," said Slater. "I wonder if Woody thinks you only 'sort of' betrayed him. You do realise you're not the only bloke she's been doing it with, don't you?"
"Of course I bloody do," snapped Hollis. "I know she was just a sad old slapper. I wasn't under any illusions about that."
"Don't tell me," said Norman. "It was just sex."
"That's all it ever was for Diana," said Hollis. "She had no need for love or affection, but she craved sex like some sort of addict. She didn't care who with, and she wasn't even that fussy about where she did it."
"You mean to say you knew she was like that, and you still did it?" asked Norman, incredulously.
"That's why I used condoms. I insisted, even though she didn't like them," said Hollis.
"That was very noble of you," said Norman. "But I'd still go and get yourself checked out if I were you. And don't forget, if you have caught something, the chances are you've passed it on to your wife."
"And good luck trying to explain how that happened," said Slater, with an evil grin.
It was obvious Hollis had never even considered the possibility before, but now the ramifications were becoming crystal clear.
"Oh my God," he said. "She wasn't was she?"
"I'm afraid we're not at liberty to divulge that information," said Slater. "I'll just say I'm glad it's not my problem."
"Oh God, no," wailed Hollis. "What will Amanda say?"
