by Ford, P. F.
‘Go on.’ Slater knew Norman well enough to know this would probably be worth hearing.
‘Okay, this case was ten years ago. Small, blonde girl, eight years old, disappeared after school and was never seen again.’
‘What, not even a body?’
‘Not a thing. They never had any idea what happened, and they still don’t.’
‘Where did this happen?’
‘Romsey, on the edge of the New Forest,’ said Norman.
‘It’s a bit vague,’ said Slater. ‘And Romsey is bloody miles from here.’
‘It’s not beyond the realms of possibility. It’s not much more than an hour from here by car.’
‘I’ll grant you that,’ said Slater. ‘So why do you think they might be connected to Chrissy Morrison?’
‘Maybe I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except for one thing. It happened on the 20th October.’
‘Now that’s not so vague,’ said Slater. ‘Can we get hold of the case file?’
‘I’ve done the paperwork, but it’ll be better if you send it. They’re more likely to move their backsides for a fellow officer rather than a civilian, but look at the time. We’ll be lucky to even get a response before morning.’
‘Send it across to my desk and I’ll send it now,’ said Slater. ‘You never know we might get lucky and find someone on the night shift who’s willing to help.’
Norman moved his mouse and clicked send.
‘It’s on its way to your desk, as we speak. When you’ve done that you might as well get off home. I can tidy up in here.’
‘I could certainly do with a good night’s sleep,’ said Slater. ‘Are you going, too?’
‘You get off. I’ve just got a couple of things I need to sort out before I go.’
‘Mr Fisher?’ Darling showed her warrant card. ‘My name’s DC Darling, from Tinton CID. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions.’
John Fisher stood in the doorway to his flat and looked suspiciously at her. He had the air of someone who had reason to be suspicious of the police – a misspent youth, perhaps.
‘What questions?’
‘It’s about Monday afternoon.’
‘What about it? I was at work.’
‘You’re not in any trouble. I just need you to corroborate something I’ve been told.’
‘What’s that mean?’
Darling sighed quietly and took a deep breath. If she wasn’t careful, she could see this job, which she had thought wouldn’t take more than a few minutes, might turn out to be hard work. Perhaps she needed to start again and ask her questions in a way that didn’t provoke another question in response.
‘Let me start again,’ she said. ‘Do you know Michael Crump?’
‘We’re not exactly best mates, but I know him. We work for the same cleaning company.’
‘Right,’ said Darling. ‘Mr Crump says you were supposed to pick him up from outside St Xavier’s school on Monday afternoon. Is that correct?’
‘There wasn’t a definite arrangement,’ he said. ‘I drive along that stretch of road, at about the same time, every day. He asked me to pick him up, I said I would if I saw him, but I never saw him.’
‘And what time was this?’ she asked, opening her notebook.
‘I finish one job at 3.30, and then I drive to me next job. I have to go past the school to get there, you see.’
‘So you would normally pass the school at what time?’
‘It takes me about five minutes to get to the school,’ he said.
‘So you’d normally pass between 3.35 and 3.40, would that be about right?’ Darling looked up from her notebook when Fisher didn’t reply, and saw he was smirking. ‘Is there something funny?’
‘Have you met him?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you know personal hygiene isn’t exactly his thing,’ he said. ‘To put it bluntly, he stinks. Would you want him in your van?’
‘So, what are you saying?’ she asked. ‘Was he expecting you to pick him up, or not?’
‘He was expecting me, yes, but I finished my first job ten minutes earlier than normal, so I passed the school earlier than I normally would.’
She looked questioningly at him.
‘I only agreed to pick him up if he was there, and if I saw him, didn’t I?’ he explained, with a broad grin. ‘But I didn’t see him, did I?’
‘I see. And you think that’s funny do you?’
‘No one else would want that dirty, smelly bugger in their van, trust me.’
‘Do you have many friends, Mr Fisher?’ she asked, pointedly.
‘No. I find people difficult to get on with.’
‘I wonder why that is. ‘
‘I dunno,’ he said. ‘Luckily, I don’t care either.’
‘Now there’s a surprise,’ said Darling, putting her notebook away.
‘Is that it? Have you finished?’
‘Yes, I think you’ve told me all I need to know for now,’ she said, turning to go. ‘We’ll be in touch if we need to ask you anything else.’
When Darling returned to the station, she was relieved that Slater’s car was no longer in the car park. Hopefully she could get in and out of the incident room, and off home, without bumping into him. It didn’t matter how much DCI Goodnews thought Slater would be able to help with her development, her experience so far had told her he was just a miserable sod who wanted all the glory for himself and didn’t seem to have any time for her, or her ideas.
She made her way upstairs to the incident room and gingerly pushed at the door. Cautiously, she peered through the resulting crack. As far as she could see, the room was empty, so she pushed her way through the doors and walked quietly across to Slater’s desk. She just needed to write up her notes, and then she could get out of here.
‘And just where have you been, young lady?’ called a voice, close behind her.
She swung around in alarm. Norman beamed innocently at her.
‘You’re late,’ he said. ‘You won’t impress anyone by doing long hours just for the sake of it.’
She let out the breath she had been holding and smiled at Norman. At least he wasn’t a miserable git.
‘Jesus, Norm, you frightened the crap out of me.’
‘If you hadn’t been creeping around like some sort of burglar you would have noticed me when you came in.’
‘I just wanted to get in and out without DS Arsehole having another go at me.’
‘I take it you’re talking about Dave Slater?’
‘That’s him,’ said Darling. ‘Miserable sod.’
‘You think?’ Norman was looking at her intently.
‘Well, he certainly doesn’t seem to like having me around.’
‘And you’ve known him how long?’
She looked at him, suspiciously.
‘You know very well, I’ve only just started here.’
‘And how long have you been in CID?’
‘Three months. What’s your point?’
‘My point,’ said Norman, ‘should be quite obvious. You don’t know anything about Dave Slater, and yet you feel you’re qualified to judge him.’
‘Oh, I get it.’ Darling sighed. ‘You and him are mates, right?’
‘Yeah. Of course we are, we’ve spent the last couple of years working together.’
‘So you’re going to tell me what a great bloke he is, and how it’s all my fault we don’t get on. I suppose that’s what he’s told you, is it?’
‘Actually, he hasn’t told me anything, except to say you’ve had a disagreement.’
‘And he didn’t tell you how I messed up his interview?’
‘He never mentioned what exactly happened at the interview,’ said Norman. ‘He just told me it had been a disaster. You really think he goes around telling tales about his partner?’
Darling wasn’t sure what to say. She was sure Slater had been bad-mouthing her all over the station, and she was surprised to learn he hadn’t been.
‘Well, yeah,’ she admitted. She had been told to keep quiet, after all.
‘Well, if there was a plan and you kept to it, you couldn’t have messed it up, could you? And I know damned well if he’d messed up himself he wouldn’t try to blame someone else.’
Darling shifted awkwardly. She was feeling quite uncomfortable now.
‘Right,’ said Norman. ‘I think I’m beginning to get it. There was a plan, but you didn’t keep to it. Am I right?’
She sighed heavily.
‘I was just trying to help. He seemed to have run out of things to say.’
‘And with your three months’ experience you thought you knew better than a guy with fifteen years, and a pretty good success rate?’
Darling hung her head slightly. She was beginning to feel like she had been the one in the wrong.
‘So what happened?’ Norman asked.
‘The suspect’s solicitor realised we had nothing on the guy,’ she said. ‘So we had to let him go.’
‘And what did Dave do?’
‘Nothing. He just let the guy walk out.’
‘But he was pretty pissed off, yeah?’
‘And then some.’
‘What did Goodnews say?’ Norman was still staring at her intently.
‘I don’t know. I wasn’t invited to sit in on that discussion.’
‘So why do you think that was?’
Darling was confused. She hadn’t really thought about it.
‘Why do you think he kept you out of that meeting?’ asked Norman. ‘Come on, you’re an intelligent young woman. Why do you think? I mean, has Goodnews said anything to you about it?’
‘Well, no.’
‘But you have seen her since it happened, right?’
‘Well, yeah.’
‘So, don’t you think she might have mentioned it to you, if she knew what had happened?’
‘Ah,’ she said, as the penny slowly began to drop.
‘Right,’ said Norman. ‘So d’you think maybe she doesn’t know it was you that messed up?’
‘You mean he-’
‘He just wouldn’t drop you in it,’ said Norman. ‘I think you’ll probably find he told Goodnews it was his fault as he was leading the interview, and as leader of the team, he would have gone in there to take the blame, and the bollocking that went with it.’
‘But he let that bloody solicitor have a go at me.’ She knew, though, that she sounded like a petulant child.
‘Yeah, perhaps he did,’ said Norman, ‘and that was probably humiliating for you, but maybe it taught you a lesson you’ll remember for a while. Anyway, whatever that solicitor said isn’t going to make or break your career, is it?’
She looked down and shuffled her feet, feeling foolish. Finally, she looked up at him.
‘So you think he’s a good guy, then?’
‘Naomi, I don’t just think he’s a good guy, I know he is. If I was in a fight, and I could only choose one person to help me, it would be Dave Slater. Sure, he can be a pain in the arse, and he wants you to follow his lead right now, but why wouldn’t he? He’s never worked with you before and he knows nothing about you. Whatever you might think of your own ability, you’re as green as grass, and he has to look out for you. Trust me, once he knows he can trust you, he’ll be asking you for your opinion.’
‘Really?’
‘Just make sure when he starts cutting you some slack you don’t take so much you hang yourself.’
‘And you’re really sure about this?’ she asked.
‘If you keep questioning everything he says the way you’re questioning everything I say, it’s no wonder you piss him off,’ said Norman. ‘Trust me, I know what I’m talking about, and I know Dave Slater. He won’t want to fight you, but he will if you make him feel he has to.’
She stared at Norman, wonderingly briefly if this was some sort of test.
‘So,’ she said, ‘assuming you know what you’re talking about, how do I put it right?’
‘That’s easy enough. Just make sure everything’s up to date before you go home, and make sure you apologise for getting carried away yesterday.’
‘And that’s it?’
‘If you really want to get on his good side, he’d probably appreciate a cup of coffee and a bacon sandwich when he comes in tomorrow.’ He winked at her. ‘But I didn’t tell you that, right?’
‘You mean bribe him?’
Norman smiled and started to clear his desk for the night.
‘I’d call it a peace offering,’ he said, ‘but maybe you have a problem with that sort of thing.’
She thought for a moment.
‘There’s a lot to be said for the arrogance of youth,’ Norman said, as he slipped on his jacket, ‘and I admire your confidence in your own ability, but one day you’ll realise it doesn’t hurt to show a little respect to those who’ve been around the block a few more times than you.’
‘Respect is a two-way thing,’ she said, sulkily.
‘Sure it is,’ said Norman. ‘And when you start showing him some, I’m sure he’ll start showing you some. Acknowledging you were in the wrong would be quite a good way to start that process.’
Sergeant Sandy Mollison gave the woman who had just entered the reception area his best, friendliest, and most reassuring smile. Unfortunately, it wasn’t reciprocated, and her aggressive stance made it quite obvious she hadn’t come in for a friendly chat.
‘Good evening,’ he said, wondering not for the first time why he had agreed to life as the night duty sergeant. ‘How can I help you?’
You can start by telling me why my house has been turned upside down,’ she snapped. ‘And then you can tell me where my husband is?’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Mollinson, patiently. ‘Perhaps if you could be a bit more specific.’
‘My neighbour tells me you lot descended on my house earlier today. Apparently you carted off my husband and then an army of thugs went inside and smashed the place up.’
Mollinson made notes on his pad as she spoke.
‘And what’s the address where this incident occurred?’
‘23 Laurel Close.’
Mollinson thought that address rang a bell, and then, almost at the same moment, he realised why. He stopped writing and looked at the woman in front of him.
‘And you are?’
‘Melanie Crump,’ she said.
‘Ah, yes. Mrs Crump.’
‘Yes, that’s right, I’m Mrs Crump. So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?’
‘Just one moment,’ he said, reaching for the phone. ‘Let me see if I can find someone who’s dealing with that case. They’ll be able to tell you much more than I can.’
‘Someone had better start telling me something, and soon.’ She glared at him.
Mollinson ignored the implied threat and waited for someone to answer the phone. Just when he was about to give up, a young woman answered, announcing herself as DC Darling. She must be new, Mollinson thought. The name was unfamiliar. He nodded to Melanie Crump.
‘Ah, good, there’s someone up there,’ he said, then spoke into the phone. ‘It’s Sergeant Mollinson, on the front desk. I have a Mrs Crump here. Apparently she’s just come home to find her husband’s missing, and her house has been wrecked. I figure, from the address she’s given me, that it must be something to do with your inquiry, so I wondered if perhaps someone directly involved would like to come and talk to her.’
‘Do I have a choice?’ asked Darling, sounding weary.
‘What do you think?’
Darling heaved a big sigh.
‘Alright, I’ll be right down,’ she said.
As Darling came down through the doors into the reception area, she thought Melanie Crump looked quite an attractive woman, but there was a feisty, aggressive, quality about her that suggested she wasn’t the sort you would choose to get on the wrong side
of. Whereas her husband didn’t seem to care about his appearance and looked some ten years, or even more, older than he actually was, Melanie obviously went to great lengths to try and disguise the fact she had long ago waved goodbye to her forties. Tall and willowy, she wore expensive, figure-hugging jeans and a designer jacket that Darling knew for a fact must have cost the best part of two hundred quid.
‘Mrs Crump?’ she asked, extending a hand. ‘My name’s DC Darling.’
Melanie Crump ignored the outstretched hand and placed her hands on her hips.
‘So what’s going on, then?’ Her words were spat at Darling, almost like bullets.
Darling smiled pleasantly. If this woman thought she was going to run for cover, she was very much mistaken. Darling had had a pretty crappy day one way or another, and she wasn’t about to let anyone make it worse just as she was ready to go home. If Melanie Crump wanted to do rude, that was fine by her. Ignoring the question, she very deliberately turned her back on Melanie Crump and turned to face Mollinson.
‘Is there a room we can use, Sarge?’ she asked.
Mollinson grinned at her. He obviously had Melanie Crump worked out.
‘Number one’s free.’ He nodded his head in the direction of a door off to the far side of reception.
‘I demand to know what’s going on.’ Melanie Crump obviously didn’t take well to being ignored.
‘Yes, I’m sure you do, Mrs Crump.’ Darling indicated the room. ‘And if you would like to come this way, I’ll tell you want I can.’
‘Is this an interview room?’ asked Melanie Crump as soon as they entered the room.
‘Yes.’
‘Why am I being interviewed?’
‘You’re not being interviewed, Mrs Crump,’ said Darling, far more patiently than she felt. ‘You’ve asked for some information, and I’m going to try and help you. This is just somewhere quiet where we can talk without interruption.’
‘Oh, right. Well, go on then, tell me what’s going on. Why have you been in my house? And where’s my husband?’
Darling held up a hand.
‘Please,’ she said. ‘We’ll get on a lot better if you try to be a bit less aggressive and actually give me a chance to speak.’
‘I’ve every right to be aggressive. I go away for a few days, and when I come back I find my husband’s been carted away and a herd of elephants appears to have been through my house. How would you feel?’
