by Ford,P. F.
“And then we do get something out of you we find some of it just isn’t the truth. That makes us think you don’t want to help us. When people don’t want to help us, it makes us suspicious, and then we start to think they probably have something to hide. It would make life a whole lot easier for you, and for us, if you were to tell us everything you know.”
“I’ve got nothing to hide, and I have told you everything,” cried Bressler, sounding exasperated.
“Oh, really?” said Norman. “You might want us to believe that, but do we really look that stupid?”
Now Bressler was beginning to look uncomfortable, but he said nothing.
“I had a nice little chat with your friend Dr McCall yesterday,” began Slater. “Or did I get that wrong? I mean you’re not actually friends any more, are you?”
“I haven’t seen him in years,” said Bressler. “Sometimes friends just drift apart, you know that.”
“And sometimes friends get driven apart when one of them behaves in a way the other finds intolerable,” continued Slater. “Which is why Dr McCall no longer regards you as a friend, isn’t it?”
“McCall’s an old fool,” said Bressler, dismissively.
“He didn’t sound like an old fool to me,” said Slater. “Old school, maybe. Old morals, definitely. Old fool? I don’t think so. He didn’t approve of you cheating on your wife, did he? And he especially didn’t approve of you making him part of it by flaunting it in front of him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” snapped Bressler.
“Yes you do,” said Norman. “He’s talking about you and Lindy Fellows. Dr McCall might have turned a blind eye when he couldn’t prove your affair, but you made a big mistake sharing a hotel room with her at his conference. That made him part of your little conspiracy behind your wife’s back, and that was a step too far for him.”
“He’s mistaken,” said Bressler, calmly. “We had separate rooms. I knew Lindy as a fellow doctor attending a conference. That’s all there was to it.”
“Yeah, right,” said Norman. “We know she was booked into her own room. The problem for Dr McCall is she never actually slept in that room. The biggest problem for us is it’s getting hard to sift the truth from the fiction where you’re concerned.”
“Why don’t you ask her if you don’t believe me?” Bressler’s face was like thunder.
“Oh, we will,” said Norman. “You can count on it.”
“You go away a lot on business, don’t you?” Slater changed the subject, suddenly.
“Yes, two or three times a month. You already know that.”
“Where?” asked Slater. “Where exactly do you go?”
“All over Europe, and South East Asia. Sometimes to the USA,” replied Bressler.
“Do you use commercial flights?”
“Of course.”
“Same airline, every time?”
“That depends on where I’m going.”
“I think this is more fiction,” Norman piped up.
“I don’t have to put up with this,” said Bressler, angrily. “This is just harassment. I think this interview is over.”
“I don’t think so,” said Slater, calmly. “You see, the problem Sergeant Norman is having here, is believing your suggestion that you leave the country two or three times a month. The thing is we can check facts like that quite easily. And we have.”
He let Bressler think about this for a moment before he continued.
“According to the very efficient constable who checked this out, you left the country just six times in the last 12 months, and we’re pretty sure three of those trips were holidays, because Miss Maine was on the same flights.”
Slater could see Bressler was struggling to come up with a plausible answer.
“Of course,” continued Slater. “It could be that you’ve somehow got lost in the system. Maybe your records have become corrupted somehow.”
“Yes,” Bressler clutched hopefully at the straw. “That must be it. One little glitch and a whole record can be wiped clean.”
“But, of course,” said Norman with a smile, clearly enjoying Bressler’s discomfort, “if you show us your passport, we’ll be able to see all those nice little stamps that prove where you’ve been.”
“Ah. Yes,” Bressler was evidently struggling again. “The thing is-”
“Don’t tell me. You’ve lost it,” said Norman, his voice thick with faux-helpfulness.
“Since I came back from my last trip,” said Bressler, desperately, “I can’t seem to find it anywhere.”
“Oh dear, how inconvenient.” Slater was really piling on the sarcasm now. “Well, I hope you find it soon, because if you can produce it and it proves our system doesn’t work, and we’re wrong to keep bothering you, you’ll have grounds to make a real complaint about harassment. But if you can’t produce it, we’ll just have to carry on hassling you until you tell us the truth.”
He looked at Norman, and they began to move towards the front door as if they were about to leave.
“Oh. One more thing I nearly forgot,” said Slater, turning back to face Bressler. “Remember that DNA sample you allowed me to take? Well, we finally got it analysed. And then we compared it to the DNA sample we have from Rose. She’s not your daughter.”
Slater watched Bressler’s face carefully. It seemed to crumple for a second, and a look of desperate sadness passed across his face. But then it was like he got a grip of himself, and his face returned to its usual, stony expression.
“You know she’s not your daughter?” asked Slater.
“Of course I didn’t know-”
“Oh, come on, Bressler,” Norman said, sighing. “Quit messing around. We saw it on your face. Have you always known?”
Slater saw resignation pass across Bressler’s face.
“I knew from the timing I was unlikely to be the father,” he began. “I had been away more and more, and Sandra was unhappy about that. Then she started to be out of the house more and more whenever I called. She was having an affair with some fitness guy at the local gym.”
“You knew who he was?” asked Norman.
“It didn’t take a lot of working out,” said Bressler. “I made a complaint about him and he was transferred away somewhere else, but it was stupid of me really. The damage was already done, you see.”
“So how come you didn’t kick Sandra out?” asked Slater. “Or divorce her?”
“Have you never been in love, Sergeant?”
“Not like that, he hasn’t,” said Norman. “But I know what you mean. You just wanted to try and carry on because you couldn’t see a life without her, right?”
Bressler nodded his agreement.
“But it was never the same after that,” he said. “I tried to love that little girl, but I just couldn’t. And that drove another wedge in between Sandra and me. Of course, Sandra’s mother thought I was the father and couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to know her. Home became a sort of hell and I began to stay away longer so I didn’t have to face all the dirty looks and snide comments. That’s when I started my first affair.”
He fell silent. He looked genuinely distressed, and Slater almost felt sorry for the man. Then he reminded himself that they had just found yet another motive for Sandra’s murder – and that Bressler was now their number one suspect.
“If it was so bad, how come you and Sandra moved here so you could make a fresh start?” Slater asked.
“I told you before. She suggested if we moved away and escaped her mother, we could try to wipe the slate clean and start again. I genuinely believed she meant it, but then she disappeared as soon as we got here, and then I didn’t know what to believe any more.”
Slater said nothing, but he thought they had just chalked up yet another motive.
Bressler had gone quiet again. Slater exchanged a glance with Norman. It was time to go. He turned and opened the door.
“We’ll leave you to it then, Mr Bressler,” he
said. “We’re going to need to talk again, so please don’t leave the country.”
“But then you can’t can you?” Norman said, smiling at his parting shot. “Not without your passport.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
When they got back to the office, Slater and Norman set about planning their next move. The plan was to arrive at Lindy Fellows’ house with a search warrant. Slater had suggested going in mob-handed to unsettle her, but in the end, he and Norman agreed to take just one female PC to keep an eye on Lindy while they conducted their search. Their chosen female PC was the increasingly impressive Jane Jolly.
While they were collecting the search warrant, Slater had a quiet word with Tony Ashton.
“You know his car,” said Slater. “Just park up the road where you can see if he leaves the house. Take someone with you and stay out there for as long as it takes. I want you to call me the moment he gets in that car and I want you to follow him wherever he goes.”
“I’m on it,” said Ashton, gathering his things and heading for the door.
As Slater and Norman headed across the car park for their car, PC Jolly drove in.
“PC Jolly.” Slater smiled at her. “Perfect timing. We have another little job for you. As a special reward, you get to accompany both myself and DS Norman.”
She parked her car and climbed into the back of their unmarked car, pushing piles of rubbish aside to make room for herself.
“Don’t you ever clean this car?” she asked, sounding dismayed.
“We can’t decide which one of us is the responsible driver,” said Norman from the driver’s seat. “And we’re both the same rank so it’s a difficult to allocate such a menial task. If it worries you, we’re quite happy to wait while you-”
“On your bike,” she interrupted him. “You clean your own car. There’s no way I’m cleaning up your mess. You can come up with an excuse for not doing anything, can’t you?”
“It’s a gift I seem to have been blessed with,” Norman said, clearly doing his best to look modest.
“So how did you get on this morning, Jane?” asked Slater, returning them to more official business.
“Two witnesses both claim to have recognised Sarah,” she said. “They say she came in asking for Rodgers.”
“Aha,” said Slater. “Now we’re getting somewhere. He didn’t see you, did he?”
“You picked the right day,” she said. “It’s his morning off.”
“Now that’s gotta be a good sign,” Norman said, smiling. “Maybe our luck’s starting to change at last.”
“It gets better. They also say they saw him take her into his office.”
“Oh yeah.” Slater liked the way this was going. “Better, and better still.”
He turned to Norman.
“If Steve can prove, from that fuel log, that Rodgers was flying the night Sarah was killed, he’s got a lot of explaining to do, don’t you think?”
“I sure do,” said Norman. “You can expect us to be looking very closely at that just as soon as I get back.”
Lindy Fellows was remarkably calm when they arrived at her house. There was a trace of alarm when Norman waved the search warrant in her face, but it didn’t seem to dent her calm facade for long. While Slater and Norman began their search, and PC Jolly made tea, Lindy Fellows sat quietly at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper.
Slater was pretty sure she had been expecting them. He was quite sure he could guess who had tipped her off, too.
“Just a bit too laid back, don’t you think?” Norman asked him as they made their way through the lounge.
“She knew we were coming.”
“But she wasn’t expecting the search warrant,” Norman said. “I’m sure she will have been told to hide anything obvious, so I don’t know what we can expect to find, but there’s got to be some sort of clue here somewhere.”
“He’ll have told her to hide things, for sure.” Slater sighed, irritated. “You start down here, I’ll take upstairs.”
Their search didn’t take very long, and it didn’t reveal anything seriously incriminating. But then, Slater didn’t really think it would. However, there’s only so much you can hide in a short time, and there was more than enough evidence on display to suggest Bressler was a regular visitor
“Did you find what you were looking for?” asked Fellows, as Slater and Norman came back into the kitchen.
“I would have to know exactly what I was looking for to be able to answer that question,” replied Slater. “But I can say it was quite a revealing search.”
“Find some items of interest in my underwear drawer, did you?” she asked. “I hope you haven’t helped yourself to anything.”
“There was nothing in there that would fit me.” Slater knew she was trying to goad him. “But I did find some men’s underwear in the drawer below. There were items of interest in your wardrobe, too. Like men’s shirts, jackets, and trousers. And, of course, there’s all the shaving stuff in the bathroom.”
“I sometimes have men friends come to stay,” she explained.
“And would these friends all happen to be the same size, in their late 50s, about six feet two inches tall, and keeping themselves in good condition?”
“I like all my boyfriends to be in good condition,” she replied. “Size is immaterial, and age is just a number. As long as they can do the business, that’s all that matters to me.”
“They’re Bressler’s clothes, aren’t they?” Norman asked.
“I’ve told you. I have men friends who come and stay.”
“So you’ll be able to give me their names.” Slater produced a notebook and pencil, and made a big show of looking expectant.
“I’ll do no such thing,” she snapped. “My private life has nothing to do with you.”
“We could quite easily carry on this conversation down at the station if you prefer,” said Slater. “You might want to think about that.”
“Look,” said Norman. “We know you and Bressler were doing much more than just attending conferences together. Dr McCall told us how he fell out with Bressler over your affair.”
“Dr McCall is an-”
“Old fool,” interrupted Slater. “Yeah, we know. That’s exactly what Bressler said, and I bet that’s what he told you to say.”
“I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again.” Lindy Fellows looked furious now. “I didn’t start sleeping with Rudy Bressler until a few months after Sandra left him. I lived with him for five years and then we split up. You know about this stupid contract of his. That’s all I was, just another Sandra substitute. I haven’t seen Rudy in years.”
“But you speak to him regularly,” said Slater. “We’ve seen his phone records.”
“He wants us to get back together,” she said, sighing wearily. “He keeps calling me about it. Quite honestly, he’s becoming a pest.”
“And you’re not interested?” asked Norman.
“What? And become Sandra substitute number five, or whatever number he’s on now? I don’t think so.”
“Surely you’d be too old for that role now.”
Slater winced inwardly at Norman’s remark. It had obviously been designed to get under her skin. He decided to step in before she could recover herself enough to reply.
“I see you have a pilot’s licence,” he said.
“That’s not illegal now, is it?” She grimaced, still looking daggers at Norman.
“Do you have a plane?”
“Good heavens, no,” she said, laughing. “Now that would be an extravagance. If I get the urge to fly, I hire one from Trapworth airfield. So much more sense. Anyway, what’s my being able to fly got to do with anything?”
“One of our victims was pushed from a light aircraft,” said Norman. “So having a pilot’s licence has quite a lot to do with anything.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, with great irony. “Now I understand why you’re poking your noses so far into my private life. You see me as a murde
r suspect. How exciting.”
She clapped her hands together.
“I’m really flattered to receive all this attention,” she said, sighing theatrically. “But I’m afraid you’re looking at the wrong girl. I haven’t flown for at least three months.”
She frowned.
“In fact,” she said, “it might be even longer than three months. I honestly can’t remember. But I’m sure I’d remember if I had pushed someone from an airplane in flight, don’t you think?”
The last few words were spat out, and Slater let the silence hang in the air for a few moments before speaking.
“Who’s the nice looking girl in the photo?” he asked, nodding towards a graduation photo on the kitchen dresser.
“That’s my niece,” Lindy said. “Please tell me you’re not going to accuse her of murdering someone.”
“Pretty girl,” said Slater, ignoring the comment. “When did she graduate?”
“Last year.”
“Was it a real degree, or one of those cop out ones, like media studies, that aren’t worth tuppence because there are so many of them?”
“Oh no,” said Lindy, proudly. “Melanie’s a very bright girl. She speaks six different languages.”
“Good university?” asked Slater.
“Doesn’t get better than Cambridge, does it?” she said, smiling proudly.
“When we get back, Jane,” said Slater, turning to Jolly in the back of the car as they pulled away from Lindy Fellows’ house. “can you-”
“Check out the niece?” finished Jolly.
“Now why would I want you to do that?” Slater asked, teasingly.
“Because she has pale skin and ginger hair,” said Jolly. “And if she’s just graduated, she would have been about the same age as Rose Bressler.”
“You have a very suspicious mind, Mrs Jolly,” said Norman, sounding impressed. “You’d make a great police officer.”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, you know.” But she smiled, sweetly. “I’m still not cleaning this mobile rubbish tip for you. Besides, I’m already a great police officer.”
