Dave Slater Mystery Novels Box Set Two

by Ford, P. F.

  ‘He didn’t tell me that,’ said Goodnews.

  ‘He said he didn’t tell you because he didn’t think you were taking his vandalism problem seriously.’

  Goodnews pulled a face.

  ‘Well, I suppose he was right about that,’ she said.

  ‘The thing is, his camera caught something the night before Norman disappeared,’ continued Biddeford.

  ‘To be honest,’ said Goodnews. ‘I’m still not interested in his vandalism problem. Now, if he’s got a photograph that’s relevant to our investigation, such as one of Norman going into that phone box the day he disappeared, then I might be interested.’

  ‘The camera only works between 9pm and 6am,’ said Biddeford. ‘But this still might be relevant. You’d better take a look.”

  He handed her a fuzzy photograph.

  ‘What’s this?’ she said. ‘Do we know who it belongs to?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s DS Slater’s.’

  Goodnews stared down at the photo.

  ‘What d’you want to do about it?’ asked Biddeford.

  ‘I think you should go and have your break,’ she said, ‘and when you come back I want you to go to Little Balding and double check this and make sure it’s for real. Call me when you’ve confirmed it. In the meantime, I don’t want anyone else to know about it.’

  Biddeford was obviously disappointed with her reaction, but did as she asked and went on his way.

  Less than a minute later Slater rushed in.

  ‘We’ve got a hit from my cigarette butts,’ he announced. ‘Becks has even managed to get a good enough profile to suggest the origin of the smoker. He reckons our man could well be Serbian. He’s certainly from that region of the world.’

  Goodnews couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm, given what Biddeford had just told her.

  ‘And this is good news, how?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a connection with Slick Tony,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not convinced he’s involved yet,’ said Goodnews. ‘Like you said before, wouldn’t he be after you as well?’

  ‘You said yourself I might be next,’ said Slater, looking puzzled by her downbeat attitude. ‘I thought you’d be pleased we were making progress.’

  ‘If that is progress,’ she said. ‘Maybe it’s part of some elaborate deception.’

  ‘What? Where’s that come from? Is there something you want to share with me?’

  ‘Not right now,’ she said. ‘It’s just an idea at the moment. Privilege of rank and all that. Perhaps tomorrow it’ll all be a wee bit clearer.’

  ‘Oh. Right,’ he said, looking at her intently. ‘Whatever you say. You’re the boss. Is there anything else you want me to do before we go?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I just need to visit the ladies room and I’ll be ready. I’ll meet you down by the car.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ he said, cheerfully.

  He smiled at her, but she couldn’t smile back, and after a second his face darkened slightly and he left the room without another word.

  Goodnews watched him as he left and wondered. There was no denying they’d had a bumpy start, but she had thought he was someone she could trust and work with.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Slater had hoped Goodnews would be in a better mood once they got going, but his hope was short-lived. She was affable enough, but despite his efforts to make conversation, it was hard work, and he knew she was just putting on an act. Their journey was likely to take a couple of hours or more, but in less than ten minutes he’d given up trying to be sociable and instead focused on his driving and trying to work out what had gone wrong. Obviously, somewhere along the line, he’d pissed her off big-time, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what he’d done.

  After another half hour, he even gave up trying to figure out why, and focused instead on the road ahead. He decided he would wait until they were on the way back, and if things were no better then, he was going to have to take the bull by the horns and ask her what the problem was.

  Drayman’s Terrace, Hackney, was, as the name suggested, a narrow street lined with Victorian terraced houses which seemed to stretch away into the far distance until the street finally disappeared round a bend in the road. More by luck than judgement, Slater had arrived at the right end. Norman’s wife lived at number 24, just a short distance ahead.

  ‘I’ll lead,’ said Goodnews, as they walked up to the front door.

  Slater nodded and knocked hard on the door. After just a few seconds, the door opened. Slater did a very obvious double take at the woman stood before them. She looked just like… He noticed Goodnews staring at him and rearranged his face into a bland expression.

  ‘Mrs Jean Norman?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ replied the woman. ‘What can I do for you?’

  Goodnews and Slater held up their warrant cards.

  ‘DI Goodnews and DS Slater from Tinton CID,’ Goodnews said. ‘We’d like to ask you a few questions.’

  ‘What about?’ she asked, sounding surprised.

  ‘It’s about your husband, Norman,’ said Slater, now recovered from his initial shock.

  ‘Ex-husband. He doesn’t live here anymore.’

  ‘We know that,’ said Goodnews. ‘But we’re hoping you can help us. Norman’s gone missing, you see.’

  A flicker of concern crossed Jean Norman’s face, but she quickly recovered.

  ‘I haven’t seen him, or spoken to him, in ages,’ she said. ‘I don’t see how I can help.’

  ‘He was your husband for nearly thirty years,’ said Goodnews. ‘You might know things that can help us find him.’

  ‘You think?’ She sniffed. ‘I suppose you’d better come in then, but you’re probably wasting your time.’

  As she stepped back to let them inside, Slater had the feeling this was going to prove to have been a wasted journey. It soon appeared he was right. To his great disappointment, Jean Norman didn’t seem to give a damn where her former husband might be, and skilled as Goodnews was with her questions, it soon became obvious they were getting nowhere fast.

  ‘Do you know a man called Tommy Howes?’ asked Goodnews.

  ‘I know him, yes.’

  ‘I understand he’s living with you,’ Goodnews said.

  ‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip. It’s more often untrue than true.’ Jean Norman looked and sounded irritated.

  ‘So, are you telling me he’s not living with you?’ asked Goodnews.

  ‘I’m not telling you anything,’ she said. ‘It’s none of your business.’

  ‘I’m afraid it is my business when Mr Howes is known to have a grudge against Norman, and Norman’s missing.’

  ‘I can tell you Tommy’s got nothing to do with that. I already told you, you’re wasting your time.’

  ‘It would be good if you could prove that,’ said Goodnews.

  ‘When did it happen?’

  ‘We need to know where he’s been for the past four days and nights,’ said Goodnews, keeping it vague.

  ‘That’s easy,’ said Jean. ‘He’s been working nights and sleeping all day.’

  ‘Is he here now?’ asked Goodnews.

  ‘No. I don’t know when he’ll be back. He’s gone shopping, but he’ll be back before he goes to work.’

  ‘We need to check that alibi,’ said Goodnews. ‘Where does he work?’

  ‘I’ll write it down for you,’ said Jean Norman, reaching her hand out to Slater for his notepad.

  ‘She wasn’t very helpful,’ said Goodnews, as the door slammed behind them.

  ‘At least we got an alibi to check out,’ said Slater.

  They headed for their car.

  ‘We still need to speak to this Tommy Howes,’ said Goodnews.

  ‘Well then, we might just be in luck.’ Slater nodded his head towards a figure wandering down the street towards them. ‘Isn’t that him?’

  He was big man, but not in the same way Norman was big. Howes was probably six feet two inches tal
l, and he had obviously made use of the gym during his time inside.

  ‘My, my, that’s handy,’ said Goodnews.

  They waited while the man, who was squinting at the back page of a newspaper as he walked, continued to approach them, clearly quite unaware of their presence. Slater thought he certainly had the washed out and tired appearance of someone working nights.

  ‘Tommy Howes?’ asked Goodnews, as the man drew level with them.

  ‘Who’s askin’?’ said Howes.

  ‘DI Goodnews.’ She flashed her card. ‘And this is DS Slater.’

  ‘Oh Gawd,’ said Howes. ‘Don’t you people ever give up? I learnt my lesson. I’m straight now. I’ve settled down and I’ve even got a proper job. Go and find someone else to stitch up. Whatever it is you’re going to try and accuse me of, I didn’t do it, alright?’

  ‘We’re not going to accuse you of anything Mr Howes,’ said Goodnews. ‘We’re from Tinton CID.’

  ‘Tinton? Where’s that?’ he asked. ‘I’ve never even heard of it.’

  ‘Hampshire,’ said Slater.

  ‘That means you’ve got no jurisdiction up here, then,’ said Howes, with a grin. ‘So if you’ll just get out of my way, I’ve got to work later and I need my dinner before I go. I’ve been working nights all week and I’m knackered so-’

  ‘It’s about DS Norman Norman,’ interrupted Goodnews. ‘I believe you know him.’

  ‘That arsehole,’ said Howes. ‘His is a name I’d rather not hear. Still fitting people up is he?’

  ‘Actually, he’s disappeared,’ said Goodnews.

  ‘Disappeared?’ Howes smiled cruelly. ‘Doing magic tricks now, is he?’

  ‘This is no laughing matter,’ snapped Goodnews. ‘He could be in danger.’

  ‘Well, now, what a shame,’ Howes said with a sneer. ‘I won’t lie to you and say I give a damn, but I don’t see why you think I should know anything about it.’

  ‘I heard you have a grudge,’ said Goodnews.

  ‘Well, you heard right,’ said Howes, defiantly.

  ‘So, what can you tell me about him disappearing?’

  ‘Why would I want to make him disappear?’

  ‘Revenge?’ suggested Goodnews. ‘Maybe you want to hurt him?’

  Howes grinned broadly.

  ‘Do you really think I could hurt him any more than I am already?’ he asked.

  Slater was puzzled for a moment, and a glance at Goodnews told him she was, too.

  ‘Think about it,’ said Howes. ‘He lost the woman he loves and now she’s with me. I call him every now and then, and send him the odd text message, just to let him know how happy me and his ex-missus are. Do you really think there’s any better revenge than making him suffer like that?’

  Slater thought Howes was probably right. If you wanted to get to Norman, that would be the best way.

  ‘We need to know your movements, for the last four days and nights,’ he said.

  ‘That’s easy,’ said Howes. ‘Like I just said, I’m on nights, so it’s work and sleep, and no time for anything else. You can check if you like.’

  ‘Oh, we will, Mr Howes,’ said Goodnews. ‘You can count on that. What’s the name and address of the company?’

  If she was hoping to catch him out, she was left disappointed. He told her exactly what Jean Norman had written in Slater’s notebook.

  ‘One more thing,’ said Slater. ‘Can you tell me your mobile phone number?’

  ‘No,’ said Howes. ‘Can you tell me yours?’

  ‘I just want to check it against his phone records. You said you’ve been calling him and texting him. If I know which is your number, it’ll help.’

  ‘Find it out for yourself,’ said Howes. ‘Now, as you’ve got no reason to detain me any longer, can I go, please? Officer?’

  He looked down menacingly at Goodnews.

  ‘Aye. On your way,’ she said, holding her ground and staring defiantly back up into his face.

  It took barely two minutes to track down the company Howes worked for.

  ‘It’s only five minutes away,’ said Goodnews. ‘We might as well go and check it out while we’re up here.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Slater. He started the car and put it into gear.

  ‘So tell me,’ she said. ‘You looked like you’d seen a ghost when she answered the door back there. What was that all about?’

  ‘Ah, yes. That was a bit weird,’ he admitted, as he followed the Satnav directions to the factory. ‘She’s got a double, Norman’s missus. They could be twins.’

  ‘Who could be twins?’

  ‘Jean Norman and PC Jane Jolly,’ said Slater. ‘It’s uncanny, they’re damned near identical.’

  ‘I haven’t met PC Jolly, have I?’ asked Goodnews.

  ‘No. She’s on leave. A family holiday, I think. She’s normally part of our team. Me, Norm, and Jolly Jane. She’s very good at digging around on the internet and stuff like that.’

  ‘But she’s just a PC?’ asked Goodnews. ‘How come she’s not CID?’

  ‘She’s a family woman, married with three kids,’ explained Slater. ‘She feels the demands of the job are bad enough as it is. CID would keep her away from her family too much.’

  ‘She’s probably bloody right about that. Do you think it’s relevant that she looks like Norman’s wife?’

  ‘Relevant? How do you mean?’

  ‘Blokes often go for the same type of woman,’ said Goodnews. ‘If Norman had lost his wife, did he turn to Jolly?’

  ‘What?’ said Slater, in surprise. ‘Norm and Jolly Jane? No way. I mean they get on alright. The three of us get on, but there’s no more to it than that.’

  ‘You’re sure about that, are you?’ asked Goodnews. ‘Only you were sure Norman would have told you if he was in touch with Interpol.’

  ‘That’s different,’ he said, on the back foot now. ‘I’d know if there was anything going on.’

  ‘If you say so,’ said Goodnews, but she obviously had her doubts. ‘Just remember, if this turns out to be a jealous husband, I’m gonna be reminding you about this conversation.’

  ‘It won’t be. It can’t be. Jolly and her husband, and the three kids, have gone away.’

  He pulled into the factory car park and waited while Goodnews went inside.

  ‘Bugger,’ she said five minutes later, as she got back into the car. ‘He was telling the truth.’

  ‘You were really hoping it was him, weren’t you?’ asked Slater.

  ‘Aye, I was, but it would have been too bloody easy, wouldn’t it?’ said Goodnews. ‘Now I’ve got a nasty feeling I could end up with a real dilemma on my hands.’

  ‘Is that what you were on about earlier?’ he asked. ‘Do you want to run it past me?’

  ‘Not right now,’ said Goodnews, grimly, staring straight ahead.

  ‘Okay,’ said Slater. ‘Suit yourself.’

  And suddenly, just as Slater had thought the ice was breaking, they were back to the silent, nothing-to-say routine again. It stayed that way for the best part of an hour until the ringtone of her mobile phone shattered the silence.

  Goodnews looked at the caller ID and Slater saw her face darken.

  ‘Goodnews,’ she said.

  Sat next to her, pretending to be focused on his driving, Slater was trying to listen in to the call in the vain hope he might glean something that would tell him what the problem was, but with only half the conversation to listen to, and with Goodnews being mostly monosyllabic, it was impossible.

  All he heard was a series of ‘aye’s, and ‘really’s, one vehement ‘shit’, and then finally an ‘okay, good idea. Let me know if you find anything,’ to finish off. She ended the call with a huge sigh, and stuck the phone back in her pocket.

  ‘Anything I need to know about?’ he asked, when it became clear she wasn’t going to share what the call was about.

  ‘I’ll tell you later,’ she said.

  Slater glanced over in her direction, but she stared resolutely ah
ead, avoiding his gaze.

  Sat next to her, Slater had had enough. This has got to end, he thought. He couldn’t work like this.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘Have I done something to piss you off?’

  Now he had her attention.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ she said, turning to look at him, at last.

  ‘I thought we were getting great,’ he said. ‘We were working as a team, talking to each other, sharing ideas. We even confronted the Old Man together, just like a real team, and then suddenly it was like someone had erected a bloody great wall and you didn’t want to know me. If I’ve done something wrong, I’m happy to apologise and try to put things right, but if you don’t at least tell me what I’ve done, how can I put it right?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, you do. We’ve been shut in this car for nearly four hours now and we’ve hardly exchanged two words. What you have managed to say I’ve almost had to force out of you. I tell you, if this is your idea of working as a unit, you can stick it. I know we don’t have to be best mates, but you won’t even discuss the case with me now.’

  Goodnews stared ahead through the windscreen. A sign on the left said ‘Services 1 mile’. ‘You’re right, we do need to talk,’ she said. ‘Pull into the services up ahead and we’ll grab a bite to eat and a cup of coffee.’

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‘The deal is you don’t get to ask anything until we’re sat down,’ Goodnews had instructed Slater as he parked the car and shut down the engine.

  Slater thought he could happily manage to keep quiet for another couple of minutes if it meant he would finally find out what he had done wrong. But, in fact, by the time Goodnews had made a visit to the ladies, and then made a couple of phone calls, it was closer to 15 minutes before they even got to join the queue at the coffee counter. Then it was another ten minutes before Goodnews handed him his coffee.

  ‘I’ll pay,’ Slater offered at the till.

  ‘Trust me, we’ll both pay if I get this wrong,’ she warned him, mysteriously, as she handed over her cash.

  He didn’t have a clue what that was supposed to mean, but as soon as he tried to ask, she raised a finger to silence him.