A Complete Fiasco

by P. F. Ford

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  A Complete Fiasco

  Adapted from the Alfie Bowman novella ‘A Handsome Stranger’

  By

  P.F. Ford

  © 2015 P.F. Ford

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events in this book are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real life counterparts is purely coincidental.

  DS Dave Slater Mystery Novels

  Death of a Temptress

  Just a Coincidence

  Florence

  The Wrong Man

  The Red Telephone Box

  The Secret of Wild Boar Woods

  P.F. Ford links:

  P.F. Ford website

  P.F. Ford’s Author Central page

  P.F. Ford on Goodreads

  Introduction

  I’ve often been asked where my characters come from. The truth is they just seem to pop into my head out of nowhere. My first coherent attempt at writing fiction featured a character called Alfie Bowman. The original Alfie story, An Unlikely Hero, started off with no particular plot in mind and just sort of meandered along as I was writing.

  As I began the story, more and more characters came along and so the story grew. It’s genuine ‘seat of the pants’ writing, and I’m pleased to say I no longer write that way. Nowadays I have a plot, and a backstory (although these are flexible) and I tend to figure it all out before I start, rather than as I go along.

  In that original story, the characters had to live somewhere, so I dreamt up a small town called Tinton which was based roughly on some of the places I have lived.

  I wrote five Alfie Bowman novellas, and in one of those stories the police became involved. One of these police officers was DS Dave Slater. Little did I know he was going to become a hero in his own right and star in his own series!

  In the first Dave Slater novel, Death of A Temptress, the story starts with Slater suspended from duty at the hands of the Serious Crime Unit. Maybe you wondered how he came to be in this unfortunate position. This story, adapted from the Alfie Bowman novella A Handsome Stranger tells the story of the botched operation for which Slater became the SCU’s sacrificial lamb.

  I hope you enjoy it.

  Peter (P.F.) Ford

  Chapter One

  Detective Sergeant Dave Slater was not having a good morning. It had started well enough but events had taken a turn for the worst the moment he had arrived for work. Three days ago, a major alert had been instigated and for a day the whole station had been in uproar. Apparently, some heavyweight London gangster was on the run and according to the smartarses in London’s Serious Crime Unit, he was somewhere in the Tinton area.

  The general feeling among the police officers down in Tinton was that this scenario was highly unlikely, and they were just going through the motions, using it as an excuse to clock up some easy overtime and delay the laborious form filling that had become such a huge part of their lives.

  To a man, they were quite convinced it would blow over in a week or so when the smartarses finally realised no self-respecting London gangster was going to waste his time in a tin-pot little town like Tinton. The atmosphere in the station had been almost holiday-like for the last couple of days, but Slater realised things were about to change big-time as soon as he arrived for work and was told he should report to the briefing room.

  ‘And if I were you,’ warned the duty sergeant, ‘I would forget about collecting a bacon sandwich and cup of tea first.’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’ said Slater.

  ‘You’re already ten minutes late for work.’

  ‘Yeah, but who’s counting?’

  ‘Chief Inspector Smartarse from the Serious Crime Unit is upstairs now waiting to hold a briefing. He was ready to start at 7am when all of you lot should have been coming on duty. I don’t know how much patience he has, but as only two out of six have bothered to turn up so far, I’m sure we’re going to find out very soon. You walk in there carrying your breakfast and how do you think that’s going to look?’

  ‘Ah, right. I see what you mean. But why didn’t anyone bloody warn us he was coming?’

  The sergeant glared at Slater.

  ‘Because we didn’t bloody know he was coming until he walked in here at 6.30 this morning, that’s why. You obviously don’t have a bloody crystal ball, so why the hell do you expect me to have one?’

  ‘Ok, Bill. Point taken,’ said Slater hurriedly. ‘Blimey, who’s pulled your string this morning?’

  ‘Perhaps instead of complaining that you weren’t warned the guy was coming, you should consider the fact that if you lazy buggers were doing your jobs properly and getting here on time, I wouldn’t have got my balls chewed off by the chief inspector when he arrived today. The man’s not an idiot. He knows you lot have been sitting on your arses waiting for this alert to blow over. He knows it, I know it, and you all know it, so don’t be surprised if the first thing he does is kick your backsides all over the shop.’

  The duty sergeant pointedly turned his attention away from Slater and back to the paperwork he had been studying before he had been interrupted. There was an embarrassing silence as Slater accepted his guilt. It was true, none of them had taken this thing seriously, and now they were going to have to take the bollocking that was coming.

  ‘Well, go on,’ snapped the sergeant. ‘Get moving. I’ve had my balls chewed off, now you can go and get yours done.’

  ‘Right. Yes. Better not keep him waiting any longer.’

  What a great way to start the day, thought Slater, as he reluctantly climbed the stairs up to the briefing room.

  The bollocking was delivered, with great purpose, by Chief Inspector Smartarse (or whatever his real name was). It was obviously designed to make them all feel small and ineffective, although in Slater’s eyes all it really succeeded in doing was driving an enormous wedge between the Tinton officers and the Serious Crime Unit.

  Apparently, the officers at Tinton were all lazy, useless, and pathetic. They wouldn’t last five minutes in a place where they do real police work, like the Serious Crime Unit, Chief Inspector Smartarse assured them. This insult might have been more effective had it not become common knowledge that the SCU was also known as the Serious Cock-up Unit due to their inability to actually solve any of the serious crimes they investigated, despite having one of the biggest budgets in the entire police force.

  The speech wasn’t so much peppered with ‘f’ words as slathered with them. Even DC Richie Weir, who could swear with the best of them, looked a little taken aback by the sheer ferocity of it.

  ‘I thought I could swear,’ he whispered to Slater, ‘but this bloke makes me sound friggin’ polite.’

  Then the chief inspector announced he was going straight to see the chief constable to make his feelings known. As he stalked to the door, his face puce, he shouted back over his shoulder at a man who had been standing beside him silently during his rant.

  ‘You take over, Jones.’

  The door slammed behind him, and Slater listened to the footsteps stomping down the corridor.

  The man introduced himself as Detective Inspector Jimmy Jones. Slater didn’t envy the man having to
follow the chief inspector. Picking up the pieces and trying to create some team spirit and unity wasn’t going to be easy. Slater almost felt sorry for him.

  ‘Right, gents,’ he began, looking at the motley collection of detectives. His eyes roved over the six officers in front of him, and he raised his eyebrows. Slater stifled a grin – DI Jimmy Jones was obviously used to having a much bigger team to choose from. Welcome to Tinton.

  ‘Before we try to sort out this shambles,’ he said, rolling his eyes, ‘I suggest we all grab a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich. Then, when you come back we’ll get started. It’s a much smaller team than I’m used to working with, but once we know for sure our man’s here we’ll maybe draft in some expertise from Serious Crime.’ Jones looked at the clock before turning back to them. ‘Right. Go and sort yourselves out and do whatever you need to do. I want you all back here for a proper briefing at 8am sharp. You will be wide awake and ready for action. Everybody got that?’

  He looked around the room. Nobody spoke.

  ‘Thank you, gentlemen.’

  Well, there goes his chance to make a good impression, thought Slater, as the atmosphere in the room lowered to an icy silence. The only sound was that of chairs scraping as the team stood to leave the room.

  ‘Which one of you is DS Slater?’

  ‘That’s me.’

  ‘Could I have a word, please?’

  Slater’s face fell as he saw his chance to grab some breakfast disappearing.

  ‘It’s okay, I’ll get it for you,’ called his young partner, DC Steve Biddeford. Slater flashed a grateful smile at him – Biddeford was turning out to be a decent guy. Young, but willing to learn. And anyone who volunteered to get him breakfast wasn’t a bad egg in Slater’s eyes. He made his way across to Jones, who was sorting through a pile of paperwork on the desk in front of him.

  ‘Sir?’ said Slater, showing the necessary respect for the other man’s superior rank.

  Jones looked Slater up and down.

  ‘I’m told I can rely on you,’ he began. ‘Of course that remains to be seen, but you’ll have to do for now. I shall be leaning quite heavily on you because you have the local knowledge that I don’t have. Okay?’

  ‘Err, yes, Sir.’

  ‘You don’t look very happy about that, Sergeant. Is there a problem?’

  Slater toyed with telling him that yes, indeed, there was a massive problem and it was standing right in front of him. But he also knew better than to antagonise a senior officer, especially one who already thought he was dealing with a bunch of idiots.

  ‘Well come on man, speak up. You won’t hurt my feelings.’

  The words ‘you’re an arrogant git’ were on the tip of Slater’s tongue, but he bit them back. It really wasn’t the best time.

  ‘You don’t like my attitude do you, Sergeant? You think it would be better if I used a softly, softly approach to win you all over. Is that it?’

  ‘Err, well,’ said Slater awkwardly. ‘I’m not sure telling us we’re a shambles is really the best way to make friends.’

  ‘I’m not here to make friends, Slater. I’m here to find and catch a dangerous criminal. A very dangerous man. Yet, when I get here I find no one seems to be taking this very seriously. It’s like carnival week at this station. Perhaps you think we don’t know what we’re talking about at Serious Crime. It’s as if you think you know better than us and we’ve got it all wrong. You’re all behaving as if it’s Coco the bloody Clown who’s on the loose!’

  He almost shouted the last few words as he paced up and down, his face red and his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Slater felt his own face redden. Jones was right to be angry. Slater felt distinctly embarrassed, because he had been as guilty as anyone of failing to take this thing seriously.

  Gradually, Jones calmed down and finally stopped pacing up and down. He reached for a folder, which he handed to Slater.

  ‘Go and have a look through that file. It will tell you what you need to know about the man we’re after. When I do the briefing I want you up at the front with me, and I expect you to back me up. Is that clear?’

  Slater nodded.

  ‘And make sure you get everyone back here by 8am.’ And with that, Jones marched out of the room.

  Having had a quick look through the file, Slater made sure everyone was back in the room, ready and waiting. At exactly 8am on the dot, Jones was back. He marched to the front of the room and handed Slater a pile of files to hand around.

  ‘Right, gentlemen,’ he began. ‘Before we go any further, let’s get something clear. I’m sure some of you don’t like me or my attitude. Well, guess what? I couldn’t give a toss. The fact is, you lot are a shambles, and if any one of you had walked into this situation at this station, as I have done, you would agree with me. So, before you start to question my attitude you might first consider your own attitudes and ask yourself this question: do you think I would have anything to complain about if you had all approached this as the professionals you are supposed to be?’

  No one said a word, but there was no need. The guilty faces said it all. They squirmed as Jones examined each face in turn before he began speaking again.

  ‘Now, I know you all think I’m a total arsehole coming in here like this, but as I already said, I really don’t care what you all think. As I explained to Sergeant Slater, I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to get a job done, and you’re all going to help me to do it.’

  Again he paused, and studied the officers in front of him.

  ‘However, I’m also not one for brooding. I’ve told you what I think and that’s an end to it. As far as I’m concerned we’re starting from scratch now. Balls it all up again and I’ll bollock you all again. Do your job like professionals and we’ll get on just fine.’

  Once again he paused to let this news sink in.

  ‘Right. Let’s get down to business,’ he said, waving one of the folders in the air. ‘You all have one of these folders in front of you.’ He turned to Slater. ‘DS Slater is going to give you a quick run through now, but I expect each and every one of you to read it thoroughly. You have a very dangerous man on your patch. You need to make sure you know who you’re up against, and then we need to find him. So no more pissing around, right?’

  This time there were nods and noises of assent. DI Jimmy Jones had just raised his popularity several notches. Slater was duly impressed. Maybe the guy wasn’t such an arrogant git after all.

  Turning to his presentation board, Slater turned over the cover to reveal an enlarged head shot of the villain in question. He looked like a 50s or 60s film star – certainly not the usual type of criminal they saw in Tinton. Biddeford squinted at the picture, his gaze questioning.

  ‘So this is the man,’ began Slater. ‘Don’t be fooled by the film star looks. This guy is the real deal. His name is Antonio-’ he squinted at the surname for a moment and then thought better of it. ‘I’m not going to even try to pronounce his surname – you’ve all got the file. He’s known to everyone as Slick Tony. He originates from Serbia…’

  Chapter Two

  Slater’s phone buzzed and he glanced down at the screen, smiling slightly when he saw the name pop up. His finger hovered over the screen as he debated whether or not to answer. He was still hacked off at Alfie Bowman after the last time they had seen each other. On the other hand, conversations with Alfie were usually pretty entertaining, and he was in the mood for light relief.

  He answered the call, keeping his tone curt. He wanted Alfie to know he hadn’t forgotten what had happened.

  ‘Ah, there you are at last. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for ages. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.’

  ‘No,’ replied Slater. ‘I’m not avoiding you, it’s just that sometimes my job needs my full attention. Right now I’m only answering because I’m on a break, but I’ll warn you now, if you’ve called just to feed me another one of your fairy stories I’m going to hang up.’

  ‘A
ctually I just phoned to see how you are, and to find out if you’re still pissed off with me, but I think I’ve already found that out.’

  Slater felt a grim sense of satisfaction. Of course he was still pissed off. Who wouldn’t be? He’d let himself get embroiled in one of Alfie’s schemes. Alfie and his sidekick, Pete. He’d turned up at the scene of a major incident to find the terrible twosome there, the situation mysteriously resolved but both of them swearing they had no knowledge of what had happened. Slater knew when he was being told a tale, but he had hit a brick wall trying to find out the truth.

  ‘I don’t like someone I thought was a friend treating me like I’m stupid. Is that so surprising?’

  ‘How about we meet up and I’ll buy you a beer.’

  ‘Not much chance of that happening in the near future.’

  ‘What? You’re not in trouble because of our evidence are you?’

  ‘What? No, don’t be daft. It’s nothing like that. I haven’t even written my report yet. All the usual stuff’s been put on hold. We have a major alert going down right now so everyone’s working non-stop. No chance of a social life.’

  ‘Wow!’ said Alfie, ‘What’s the big deal?’

  ‘It’s all hush, hush, mate, so I can’t really tell you. But I can tell you this much: if you read the newspapers, you should be able to work it out. We’ve even got a big noise from London down to show us how to do our job properly. In fact, now I’m thinking about it, you’d probably get on well with him – he thinks we’re all bloody stupid too.’

  ‘Ouch!’ said Alfie. ‘That’s uncalled for. I don’t think you’re stupid as it happens, and you know it.’

  Slater sighed.

  ‘Yeah, right,’ he said, ‘so you said before. But that’s not how it feels.’

  ‘Look, you caught the villain red-handed, and you rescued the victim. What more do you want?’

  ‘Alright,’ Slater agreed reluctantly. ‘That much is true, but you owe me big-time if you want to put this right.’