Dave Slater Mystery Novels Box Set Two

by Ford, P. F.

  ‘It wasn’t that bad, was it?’ asked Slater.

  Norman smiled wistfully. ‘It was a close thing. I was getting pretty desperate, I can tell you. I’d lost the wife I had loved with all my heart, I’d lost my home, I had no friends, no one wanted to even work with me. I’m pretty sure if things hadn’t changed for me, I would have hit rock bottom before much longer. But I got lucky, see? I had a job, and I got offered the chance to make a fresh start. Then I got even luckier and got teamed up with a guy who was prepared to give me a chance and trust me. I’ve never looked back.’

  He turned away from Slater, but not quite quickly enough to hide the glistening in his eyes. He headed across the room towards the kitchen. ‘Come over and join us when you’re ready,’ he called over his shoulder.

  As Slater watched his friend walk easily and comfortably towards the kitchen, he realised he had been the guy Norman was talking about. He had been the one who had been prepared to partner with Norman and give him a chance to resurrect his career and regain his self-respect. He had always known Norman had been at a pretty low point back then, but he had never realised just how low that had been.

  ‘Hey, Franky!’ Norman called across to the greatcoat as he walked. ‘What have I told you about coming here drunk?’

  The man in the greatcoat seemed suddenly galvanised and a crooked smile broke out across his face. He raised a hand to acknowledge Norman.

  ‘I’m sorry, Norm,’ he called, cheerfully. ‘It won’t happen again.’

  The scruffy man with the wild hair suddenly moved towards Norman and raised his hand in the air. For a moment, Slater thought he was going to slap his friend, but then he felt foolish as he realised they were simply exchanging high fives. He watched as Norman exchanged greetings with the man, hugged him, and patted him on the back. It was obvious he was totally at home here, and it was equally obvious he was hugely popular, although that didn’t surprise Slater one little bit.

  Slater felt distinctly out of his depth, but he was equally intrigued, so he made his way towards the kitchen area, nodding to the greatcoat and the other man, who watched him with a good degree of suspicion. As he approached the doorway, he slowed down, not sure of what to do next.

  ‘Come on in, Dave,’ called Norman, realising Slater’s uncertainty.

  He walked through the door and into the kitchen. A huge vat of soup bubbled away on the cooker, and he could see the oven was full to bursting point with baked potatoes. An enormous pile of vegetables was visible to one side, awaiting preparation. A man stood at a table, rapidly slicing more vegetables. Slater guessed from the dog collar he was sporting that he must be the local vicar. He had to have been in his late thirties, or early forties, but he had the youthful good looks of a teenager. An attractive young woman was stirring the soup with a huge ladle.

  ‘Chris and Diane, meet my good friend Dave Slater,’ announced Norman as Slater entered the room. ‘Dave, meet my good friends Chris and Diane Moore.’

  The vicar stopped slicing and wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing. He stepped forward and shook hands with Slater.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said. ‘Norman’s told us a lot about you.’

  ‘He has?’ asked Slater, doubtfully.

  The vicar smiled at him, encouragingly. ‘Oh, don’t worry, it’s all been good stuff so far. He must be saving the best bits for later.’

  His wife had come over to shake Slater’s hand. ‘How are your taste buds?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ said Slater, confused by the question.

  ‘Come over here and taste this soup.’ She led the way across to the cooker. ‘I think it may need a bit more seasoning, but Chris has no idea.’

  She dipped a spoon in the soup and offered it to him. ‘Careful, it’s hot,’ she warned.

  He took the spoon and blew on the soup before gingerly putting it to his mouth. He took a small sip. It tasted fantastic.

  ‘What do you think?’ she said. ‘Too salty?’

  ‘I’m no expert, but I think it’s just right,’ he said. ‘Perfect, in fact.’

  She blushed with pleasure and giggled. ‘Aw, he can definitely come again,’ she said, turning to Norman.

  ‘That depends how useful he is,’ said Norman, then he turned to Slater. ‘See? I told you the food was amazing, didn’t I? The deal is, you get fed, but in return you have to help out for the evening.’

  ‘What do I have to do?’

  ‘You can help me and Chris in here, if you like,’ Diane said. ‘Are you hungry?’

  Behind him, Slater could hear the knife as Chris resumed his vegetable-chopping duties.

  ‘I haven’t eaten all day,’ he said.

  ‘Have a bowl of soup now to keep you going,’ she said. ‘We usually eat when everyone else has eaten.’

  ‘Everyone else?’ he said, as she ladled some soup into a bowl for him.

  ‘They’re starting to gather now.’ Chris pointed out through the hatch.

  Slater followed his finger and through the hatch, he could see more people had gathered out in the hall. They stood around in ones and twos, many having the haunted look of the helpless and the hopeless.

  ‘I feel a bit like a square peg in a round hole,’ said Slater, taking the bowl of soup. ‘I’ve never done this sort of thing before.’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Chris said encouragingly. ‘But it’s probably best if you stay back here in the kitchen. They tend not to trust new faces in among them. This way, they get to see you with a barrier to protect them.’

  ‘I suppose a lot of them are a bit paranoid.’

  ‘Most of them are, and those that aren’t soon will be if they find out you’re a policeman,’ said Chris. ‘It’s probably best if we don’t mention that in front of anyone here.’

  ‘Ex-policeman,’ said Slater. ‘So I’m definitely not here on official business.’

  ‘I didn’t for one minute think you were,’ said Chris, still chopping away. ‘Norman called me earlier and said he had a friend who was hungry and needed a change of scenery for a few hours. Any friend of Norman’s is welcome here, and if you want to help out too, well, that’s a bonus for us.’

  Slater looked around for Norman, but he had disappeared. Slater wasn’t worried. He felt strangely humbled in this amazing place where the vicar and his wife worked every evening to feed those who couldn’t afford to feed themselves.

  As if she had been able to read Slater’s mind, Diane nodded her head towards the hatch. ‘He’s out there working his magic,’ she said. ‘He’s like the master of ceremonies, meeting and greeting everyone. He has a kind word for every single one of them, even the ones who don’t trust anyone.’

  Slater watched through the hatch as Norman worked the small crowd, offering a handshake here, a high five there, and the occasional hug. He managed to make them all smile, and a good number were laughing out loud at something he had said.

  ‘He has a gift,’ said Chris.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Slater. ‘I know. In my experience, he always knows how to handle everyone he comes across. He was a great partner to work with.’

  ‘He speaks very highly of you,’ said Diane. ‘He reckons you saved his life – first metaphorically, and then, later, literally.’

  Now Slater was blushing. ‘I don’t think it was quite like that. It was teamwork that rescued him when he got kidnapped.’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘But you were the one who gave him back his self-respect at a time when he was near the end of his tether.’

  ‘I wasn’t in a position to choose who I worked with,’ said Slater. ‘It was my old boss who decided that. We were just put together and had to get on with it.’

  ‘I could say that’s the way God works,’ said Chris. ‘And that He brings us together to help each other, but I don’t suppose you’re any more religious than Norman. Besides, I’m not here to preach to anyone. Let’s just say the Universe works in strange ways and everything has a purpose.’

  ‘I can go with t
hat.’ Slater swallowed the final mouthful of soup. ‘That was delicious,’ he said to Diane. ‘Now then, what do you want me to do?’

  ‘You’ll need this.’ Diane passed him an apron. ‘Then you can start slicing up those French sticks. There’s a bread knife in that top drawer.’

  The four workers – Chris, Diane, Norman and Slater – were sitting around one of the now-vacant tables eating their own dinners. Most of the dozen or so homeless had eaten their food, offered their thanks, and headed off into the night. All that remained were a couple of stragglers who huddled around a table close to the door. Their voices could be heard as a murmuring in the background, but whatever the conversation was about, they kept their voices low enough to make sure they weren’t sharing.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Diane asked Slater.

  He smiled at her. ‘I think if this was a restaurant you’d be packed every night.’

  ‘It’s very good of you to say so,’ she said, clearly flattered by the compliment, ‘but I think you know very well that’s not what I meant.’

  ‘I’m not really sure how to answer your question. Is this a typical night? I mean, I know there are supposed to be homeless people everywhere, but I hadn’t realised just how many there were in a tiny place like Tinton.’

  ‘It rather emphasises the scale of the problem, doesn’t it?’ said Chris. ‘If it’s like this here, what’s it like in bigger towns and cities?’

  ‘It’s an eye-opener, that’s for sure,’ agreed Slater.

  ‘I was the same when I first came here,’ said Norman. ‘I felt lucky it wasn’t me, and at the same time guilty that it wasn’t me. It’s sort of overwhelming, but then Chris and Diane explained that these are just people like you and me. The only difference is they’ve hit hard times, and we haven’t. That’s when I realised it could easily have been me, and that’s when I decided to help out for a couple of nights a week. The thing is, when you get to know them and talk to them, you start to realise they like a laugh and a joke like the rest of us.’

  There was a brief silence, broken after a minute or so by Chris. ‘I take it there’s still no sign of Ryan?’ he asked Norman.

  ‘I spent hours looking for him earlier, but I can’t find him anywhere. He’s definitely hiding.’

  ‘Or he’s left the area,’ suggested Diane.

  ‘That’s becoming more of a possibility, although he told me he felt at home around here, so I’m hoping he’s just hiding out somewhere.’

  ‘Do you know where he’s from?’ asked Slater. ‘Is he local?’

  ‘The problem we have with these guys,’ said Chris, ‘is they already feel let down and persecuted, so they don’t take very kindly to people asking a lot of questions. We have to make do with what information they’re prepared to volunteer. It can take weeks before some of them will even tell you their name.’

  ‘And even then you never know for sure if it’s their real name,’ added Diane.

  ‘So what do we know about why he’s done a runner?’ asked Slater.

  ‘You really want to help find him?’ Norman raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I might not be a police officer any more,’ said Slater, ‘but I’m still a detective, right? It’s what I do, and right now I’m a free agent so I can do what I want.’

  Norman beamed across the table at Slater. ‘You see, Diane?’ he said. ‘I said he’d want to help.’

  ‘So why don’t we start from the top,’ said Slater. ‘So far you’ve just told me the guy’s gone missing and that you think he’s in some kind of trouble. How about you give me a little detail.’

  Slater looked around as the sound of chairs scraping on the floor heralded the two stragglers getting up from their table by the door. To his surprise, they were heading towards them and not towards the exit. Opposite him, Diane rose from her chair.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said to Slater. ‘This is tonight’s cleaning party. They’re going to help with the washing up and cleaning the kitchen. I never refuse when someone volunteers.’

  She led the two men towards the kitchen, leaving Slater, Norman, and Chris to talk. Slater felt a bit doubtful.

  ‘It’s okay,’ explained Chris. ‘Some of them don’t like the idea of accepting charity. They like to give something for their dinner. We won’t take their money, but they can give us a half hour to help clean up. It doesn’t happen every night, so we make the most of it when we have a couple of helpers.’

  Satisfied Diane was in no danger, Slater returned his focus to the missing Ryan. ‘Right then,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you know about Ryan and why he’s done a runner.’

  ‘All I know,’ said Norman, ‘is everyone calls him Ryan. I don’t know if that’s his first name, surname, or a nickname. I do know he’s ex-forces, and I believe he’s ex-special forces, probably SAS, but I don’t know that for sure. I do know he’s seen action in Afghanistan and Iraq. He’s been around this area for a while, and he’s been coming here every night since Chris and Diane moved here and opened the kitchen.’

  ‘That was four months ago,’ added Chris.

  ‘That’s not much to go on, is it?’

  ‘Yeah, well observed, Sherlock Holmes,’ said Norman, failing to hide his irritation. ‘Don’t forget – this guy has been let down by his country, has the usual persecution complex, and added to that, he’s also been trained not to divulge information. What do you suggest I should have done? I mean, it’s not as if I knew he was going to go missing, did I?’

  ‘Alright, Norm, easy,’ said Slater. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest you should have interrogated the man. I get it. You like the guy and you’re worried about him. I said I’ll help you find him and I will, but there’s no getting away from the fact we don’t have much to go on, do we?’

  Norman looked suitably guilty and nodded his head to acknowledge the situation.

  ‘Alright,’ said Slater. ‘How long’s he been missing?’

  ‘He’s been gone two weeks now.’

  Slater thought this was a bit odd as Norman had expected to find Ryan in his house this morning, but he said nothing and played along with Norm. He could ask him why later.

  ‘And what made him run? Or what do you think made him run?’

  ‘He used to sleep in an old industrial skip up by the old printing works,’ explained Norman. ‘He told me he’d been sleeping there for weeks. Two weeks ago, someone set fire to it.’

  ‘He was lucky he wasn’t in there or he would have been roasted alive,’ observed Slater, then felt slightly foolish for stating the obvious.

  ‘The thing is, he should have been in there,’ said Chris, ‘and when it happened, we thought he had been, but Ryan wouldn’t share his skip with anyone. For some reason, someone else was in there that night – a stranger – and he was the one who died, not Ryan. Our best guess is this other guy had moved in before Ryan got back there, and Ryan moved on because he didn’t want to share and the other guy wouldn’t leave.’

  ‘And that’s why you think Ryan believes he was the target,’ said Slater. ‘Which makes sense, of course, but what about the police? What do they say? Surely they’re investigating, aren’t they?’

  Norman laughed at the mention of the police. ‘Apparently it’s a tragic accident. They see the fire as a prank or an unfortunate accident that couldn’t have been foreseen.’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘Do I look like I’m laughing?’

  ‘But Marion Goodnews–’

  ‘Is the one who made the decision, I believe,’ said Norman, ‘ably assisted by DS Biddeford.’

  ‘DS?’ echoed Slater, in amazement. ‘That happened fast, didn’t it?’

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ said Norman. ‘The whole place seems to have gone to pot over the last month. Last I heard, they’re going to close the place down soon and move everyone over to Merryton.’

  ‘So they’re actually going to do that, are they?’ said Slater, sadly. ‘I knew it was a possibility, but I never thought it would actually happen.’
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  ‘It’s not officially announced to the big wide world yet, but it seems all the staff have been told.’

  ‘I guess that’s what they call progress,’ said Chris, who had been listening to Slater and Norman.

  ‘I think it’s called ever-reducing budgets,’ said Slater. ‘That’s what it’s really all about. Anyway, we’re not here to talk about Tinton Police. Where were we?’

  ‘We got to where Ryan thinks he’s the target.’

  ‘Right. Or it could simply be the other guy was the target and his enemy had been following him. Do we know this other guy’s name?’

  ‘Biddeford wouldn’t tell me anything,’ said Norman. ‘But I’ve heard Naomi Darling will be back on duty soon. I suspect she might be a bit more forthcoming when it comes to helping us.’

  ‘She’s coming back?’ asked a surprised Slater. ‘I thought she was being drummed out of the force for stalking and then beating up a suspect?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what we all thought, but it turns out the boot was on the other foot. She said all along that those two guys had ambushed her, but that idiot DI Grimm was so determined to blame her, he accepted the story the other two guys had concocted and ignored her version of events. Goodnews didn’t listen either, so there’s no love lost between those two.’

  ‘I didn’t help her either,’ admitted Slater guiltily. ‘She was my partner. I should have made the effort to find out what had happened.’

  ‘You were in hospital, remember?’ said Norman. ‘She had already been suspended and left town in disgust by the time you got back.’

  ‘So how come she’s coming back to work? What made Grimm listen to her?’

  ‘She put one of the guys in hospital for a couple of weeks, but when he came out, he couldn’t resist going to the pub and celebrating how he’d stitched up the bitch detective and got her suspended. The thing is, it seems he’s not as popular as he thought he was, and several witnesses came forward to report what he’d done. So Goodnews had no choice but to drag him in, and a few tough questions later, he told the truth. Him and his mate ambushed Darling, but they didn’t know what they were letting themselves in for.’