by Ford,P. F.
“That tosser can fly an airplane?” Slater was surprised Rodney Rodgers could even spell ‘airplane’. “It must be easier than I thought.”
“He made a good impression on you, then?” Norman asked, laughing.
“The guy’s a tit,” Slater said, shaking his head. “That’s why I remember him.”
On the way back to the station, Norman called Bob Murray. From what Slater could glean from the conversation, Murray hadn’t been best pleased to have his lunch interrupted. It seemed that he soon changed his tune when Norman told him why he needed to arrange a meeting so urgently, though, and Murray had agreed to see him when they got back to the station.
Chapter Thirty-One
As Norman was puffing his way up to see the boss, Slater was wondering how all those sticky notes seemed to attach themselves to his desk when he was out. Was there some sort of conspiracy going on? Did people wait until he was out before they called? Or did someone save up all the messages until he went out?
His glanced at the four notes. He discarded the first as a waste of time, but the remaining three required his attention. One said Ian Becks had called, and asked if he could return the call. The second said Dr McCall had called, and again, could he return the call. The third said Ian Becks had called, again. On the basis that Ian Becks was downstairs and wasn’t going to run away, Slater decided to call Dr McCall first.
The doctor was what Slater would have described as old school, and from the sound of his voice, he was probably in his 60s. The doctor didn’t like time wasters, and he didn’t like to be a time waster, so the call was soon over, but by the time he put the phone down, Slater was happy enough.
“Oh yes,” the doctor had told him. “I remember Dr Bressler, and Dr Fellows. They came to two or three of the conferences I arranged. It was an open secret that they were an item. They always had separate rooms, but she never slept in hers.
“It was damned embarrassing for everyone. We all knew what they were up to. It was even worse for me because I knew his wife. It made me very uncomfortable to tell the truth. It was like I was a part of their dirty little secret. It ended my friendship with Bressler.”
Next, it was the turn of Ian Becks.
“I understand you’ve been looking for me,” said Slater, when Becks answered.
“Why is it you’re never around when I have something to tell you?”
“It’s because I’m so popular,” Slater said. “I get to go out and meet all these interesting people. You, meanwhile, are stuck down there in your dungeon, where you belong, and where you can’t frighten members of the public. You should think yourself lucky I’m prepared to share any of my precious time with you.”
“Yeah, right, oh lord and master,” said Becks. “Thank you so much for sparing the time to call me back. Please accept my humble thanks. I wish you a short and painful life. And in case you’re wondering, yes, I am waving two fingers at you.”
“Just as long as you know your place,” Slater said, laughing. “So what have you got for me?”
“Your handwriting sample. It’s definitely not Sandra Bressler’s signature on those cheques.”
“I didn’t really think it would be,” said Slater. “Of course, now we’ve got to figure out who’s it is.”
“Sorry, mate. Can’t help you there,” said Becks. “It’s your job to find out who, and my job to do the clever stuff and confirm your findings using science.”
“Yeah,” said Slater ironically. “Of course we’re all idiots up here. But, it just so happens, this idiot has another sample for your handwriting expert.”
“Well then, you’d better get it down here quick, before they go.”
“It’s already on the way,” said Slater.
“Good,” said Becks. “Now, do you intend to carry on wasting my time, or would you like to hear what else I’ve got for you?”
“What? What else have you got for me?” Slater was puzzled.
“That DNA sample of Bressler’s.”
“Oh, that. I’d almost forgotten. We’ve got nothing for you to compare it with yet.”
“Ah, but you’re wrong,” said Becks triumphantly.
“I am?”
“To be honest, it wouldn’t have happened if it was down to me. I wouldn’t have had the time to do it, unless you’d asked of course.”
“You’re losing me, Becksy,” said Slater. “What are you on about?”
“If I was here on my own, as I usually am, I would have saved the sample and not processed it until you asked me to compare it with something else. Because, you see, normally I wouldn’t have the time.”
“Right.” Slater was still baffled. “So this means what exactly?”
“Nadira took the sample and processed it for me,” continued Becks. “And just because she had the two samples, and she had the time, she compared Bressler’s DNA with the sample from the little girl, Rose.”
Slater liked Ian Becks, but he had this annoying habit of going all around the houses before he got to the point. Sometimes it could get a bit tiresome.
“And?” asked Slater impatiently.
“And it doesn’t match.”
“What?”
“It doesn’t match,” repeated Becks. “Bressler’s not the girl’s father.”
“Bloody hell.” Slater was surprised. “I hadn’t bargained on that.”
“I thought so,” said Becks, knowing that he had made an already complicated situation even more complex. “That’s why I was so keen to tell you.”
“You’re sure about this?” asked Slater.
“Of course I’m bloody sure,” said Becks. “Are you suggesting we don’t know what we’re doing down here?”
“Well, no. Of course not,” said Slater, still shocked by what Becks had just told him. “I just wasn’t expecting it that’s all. We hadn’t even considered it.”
“Well perhaps you should have. Maybe you’re right about being an idiot,” said Becks, cheerily. “Life’s full of little surprises.”
“It certainly is,” agreed Slater, ignoring the insult. “Well thanks, Ian. I think.”
“My pleasure,” said Becks. “Anytime you idiots want the water muddied, just let me know and I’ll do my best to help.”
There was a click as Becks hung up the phone.
Slater thought about what Becks had told him. If Bressler wasn’t the father, then who the hell was? Obviously Sandra Bressler wasn’t quite the squeaky clean, innocent victim she first appeared to be.
“Is there anybody in there?”
Slater turned with a jolt, and saw PC Jolly standing beside him.
“Sorry,” he said. He had been totally lost in his thoughts. “I was just thinking.”
“That can be dangerous,” she said. “You never know what might happen if we all started doing that.”
She was hopping nervously up and down, notes in hand.
“Either you’re going to ask me if you can go and use the loo, or you’ve got some information for me,” Slater said. “You’ve never asked my permission to use the loo before, so you must have information. Am I right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You see. My amazing deductive powers. It’s almost uncanny, isn’t it?”
“Frankly, I’m surprised any criminals are left on the streets,” Jolly’s voice was heavy with sarcasm.
“Wouldn’t it be great if we could suss everything out that easily?” Slater sighed. “There wouldn’t be an unsolved crime anywhere.”
“In a perfect world.”
Slater shook himself and gave her a beaming smile.
“Meanwhile, back in the real world,” he said, “this case just seems to get more and more complicated. But something tells me you’re going to solve it right now, PC Jolly.”
“I wish I could solve it, Sir,” she said. “But what I think I’m about to do is complicate things even further.”
“Oh, deep joy.” He wasn’t sure how it could get any more complicated. Not after Ian Becks’ rev
elation. “Go on then, if you must.”
“Sandra Bressler,” she said. “You asked me to see if I could find any of her old friends, so I called her mum. She was obviously struggling to remember, but she did come up with two names. One of them has moved out of the area and I haven’t tracked her down yet, but I did manage to speak to the other one, Stella Grey.”
“Well done,” said Slater. “Did she remember anything about Sandra wanting to run away from Bressler?”
“She says Sandra never mentioned anything like that to her. But she did tell me something else that will interest you.”
“Oh, really?” said Slater. “Go on then, I’m listening.”
“According to Stella, Sandra had a secret.”
“Only it obviously wasn’t quite as secret as she thought it was,” Slater pointed out.
“Exactly,” said Jolly, enthusiastically. “Apparently Sandra was having an affair behind Bressler’s back.”
“Oh, was she now?” Slater thought of the DNA test. “Now that’s an interesting twist. She’s becoming less and less of an innocent victim by the minute.”
“It gets better. There’s more,” said Jolly. “It seems there was a suspicion that Bressler may not have been the father of Sandra’s baby.”
“There’s more than a suspicion, Jane,” said Slater. “It’s a fact. DNA tests have confirmed Rudy Bressler was definitely not the father of Rose Bressler.”
Slater pondered this new information for a moment.
“Of course, you realise you’ve opened the door to another potential suspect, don’t you, Jane?” he asked. “Does Stella know the name of Sandra’s secret lover?”
“She didn’t recall his name, but she remembered he worked at the local leisure centre. He ran the gym there. So I made some calls and did some checking.”
She looked immensely pleased with herself.
“Using your initiative. I like it,” Slater said, teasingly. “And did you get his name?”
“I did.” She was beaming now. “His name is Rodney Rodgers.”
There was a pause as Slater absorbed the name. He thought he’d come across it before, and racked his brains. Suddenly, he remembered. This name just kept on cropping up, but surely it couldn’t be the same guy, could it?
“Is this guy still working there?” he asked, but he was already quite sure what the answer would be.
“No. He left years ago.”
“See if you can find out exactly when Mr Rodgers left that leisure centre.”
“I already have,” she said. “According to my reckoning, it was roughly three months before Rose Bressler was born.”
“Do you know why he left?” asked Slater.
“They wouldn’t say anything specific,” said Jolly. “But I got the impression it wasn’t a promotion.”
“A sideways move.” Slater thought for a moment. “So he obviously did something to get a black mark. I would imagine getting a member pregnant wouldn’t exactly win him any prizes, would it?”
“Especially if that member’s husband made a lot of fuss,” added Jolly.
“Is he still with the same company?”
“Yes he is,” said Jolly. “It’s called ‘Leisure for Pleasure’. And you’ll never guess where he is now.”
“I hate to spoil your fun,” Slater said. “But that’s where you’re wrong.”
“I’m sorry?” said Jolly, looking puzzled.
“He works at the leisure centre in town, doesn’t he?” Slater smiled, enjoying her reaction.
“How did you know that?” Jolly said, looking crestfallen that he’d stolen her thunder.
“Don’t look so disappointed, Jane. I met him last week when the flasher was terrorising the old ladies down there,” Slater said. “He’s obviously been given a chance to redeem himself, and then managed to work his way up the ladder. He manages the whole place now.”
“Oh, poo,” said Jolly. “And there I was, thinking I’d done some brilliant detective work-”
“Ah, but you have, Jane. You have,” Slater interrupted, keen to recognise her good work. “It’s just luck on my part. And just this morning, we also discovered our new friend Rodney keeps a light aircraft up at Trapworth airfield. So that’s twice his name has come up today.”
“Now that’s what I call a coincidence,” said Jolly.
“Only if you believe in coincidences.” Slater didn’t. “With his connections to all our victims, this has to be more than a coincidence.”
“What’s he look like, this Rodney Rodgers?”
“He looks, and behaves, like a prize tit,” said Slater. “But if you mean, ‘does he have ginger hair?’ Then, yes, he does.”
“My money’s on him as the father, then,” Jolly said, smiling.
“And I think that’s a pretty safe bet.”
“Did you say he keeps a plane up at Trapworth?”
“It seems his name’s in the owners register up there.” Slater remembered what Steve Biddeford had found out.
“So, what if Sarah Townley somehow found out Rodgers is Rose’s father? Is he the type who would murder her and throw her out of an airplane?” asked Jolly.
“I’m not sure there is a ‘type’ who murders.” Slater pondered for a moment. “But it’s definitely a possibility.”
He had an idea.
“Do you fancy a little run out in the morning, Jane? It’ll only take half an hour.”
“What have you got in mind,” she asked.
“Take Sarah’s photo down to the leisure centre. Show the photo to some of the staff, but keep it low key. You just want to know if anyone recognises her. Maybe she did go looking for our friend Mr Rodgers.”
“Okay,” she said. “I can do that.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
On their way out to Bressler’s house, Slater thought about how to approach the upcoming conversation. At the briefing earlier, he and Norman had decided they shouldn’t wait any longer and they should start to lean on Bressler and Lindy Fellows. They were going to start by telling him about the DNA test results and how his daughter actually wasn’t his.
“I’m sorry you’re getting stuck with preparing all the briefings,” said Norman, looking guilty.
“It’s not a problem,” said Slater. “I realise you need to help Steve keep on top of that smuggling circle. It must be the first case like that he’s had to deal with, so he’s going to need some guidance. You are keeping on top of it, aren’t you?”
“Oh yeah. On the one hand, we could do with some extra resources, but right now there isn’t anyone to spare. On the other hand, because it’s such a small operation we’re not making lots of waves – which might work in our favour.
“Steve’s been working on the flight log and fuel log, and there seems to be a pattern emerging. With any luck, we might even be able to say when the next flight’s coming in and set up a welcome party. If we could just get this murder inquiry out of the way, we might be able to rustle up enough people to keep it in house.”
“As you’re asking so nicely, I promise to try extra hard to catch the killer.” Slater smiled broadly. “It just so happens I have a feeling today’s going to be a good day.”
Slater was relieved to find there was no sign of Cindy’s pink Mini Cooper. He hoped this meant she was out.
“If you’re looking for Cindy, she’s not here,” said Bressler, the moment he set eyes on Slater. “She’s out choosing decor for her new house. She’s about to move out of here and needs to get everything ready, but then I’m sure you already know that.”
Slater was caught completely off-guard and was totally lost for words. He felt his face turn a nice shade of pink to accentuate his embarrassment and his mouth flopped open in surprise.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Sergeant,” said Bressler. “I don’t have a problem with you seeing Cindy. After all, I’ve just about finished with her.”
Slater’s embarrassment quickly began to change to indignation. He wasn’t going to let Bressler talk abou
t Cindy like this. She wasn’t some sort of used goods.
A smug-looking smile crossed Bressler’s face.
“That’s okay,” said Norman, and Slater was slightly relieved he had stepped into defuse the situation. He didn’t think punching Rudy Bressler in his smug face would go down very well with the powers-that-be. “We’re not looking for Miss Maine. It’s you we wanted to talk to.”
“Oh, for goodness sake.” Bressler sighed, impatiently. “Have you people got nothing better to do? What is it this time?”
“The sooner you let us in,” said Norman, with an icy smile. “The sooner you’ll find out.”
“We value our time, too,” said Slater, recovering his composure and trusting himself to speak now. “That’s why there’s an offence called ‘wasting police time’.”
Bressler didn’t look impressed by Slater’s veiled threat, but he stepped back and let them into his hallway. It was quite clear that was as far as they were going to be invited to go.
“I’m not sure I like your attitude,” he said to the two detectives.
“Yeah, you said before,” replied Slater. “And I’m still not sure you understand the true nature of our investigation. So, once again, I’ll remind you we’re investigating the murder of two women and a child, all of whom were related to you.”
“I don’t need some jumped up little prick, who thinks a badge makes him God, to remind me my wife and daughter are dead, Detective Sergeant,” snarled Bressler, squaring up to Slater.
Slater felt himself getting angry again. Who did this guy think he was?
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Norman, breaking the tense silence. “Right now we’re only thinking about charging you with wasting our time, Mr Bressler. If you prefer we can stop thinking about it and actually do it.”
Bressler looked from Slater to Norman. Finally, he relaxed and took a step back.
“You have to admit,” Norman said to Bressler. “Sergeant Slater does have a point. You’re not exactly busting your balls to help us, now are you? To be honest, getting information from you is like pulling teeth.
