Dave Slater Mystery Novels Box Set Two

by Ford, P. F.

  He watched in frustration as the faster eaters began to shuffle quietly away. Already half the tables were empty. Surely someone must know something about the dead man. He ambled over to the serving hatch and peered inside at Slater.

  ‘Any luck?’ asked Slater.

  ‘Not a sausage,’ said Norman, gloomily.

  ‘They’re not stonewalling you?’

  ‘Nah!’ said Norman, confidently. ‘I can’t believe he could have pissed them all off that much they’d hide it from me, and I didn’t get the feeling anyone was lying.’

  ‘Oh well, I guess we’ll just have to think again,’ said Slater. ‘There will be a way, we just haven’t thought of it yet.’

  There was a commotion from the main doorway and Norman swung round to see what was going on. A scruffy-looking man who could have been anything between twenty-five and forty was standing in the doorway. His shabby combat jacket and camouflage trousers had seen better days, and the worn-out army boots should have been put to rest many years ago, but despite all that, there was a strangely optimistic air about him, and the cheeky grin on his face had brought a sudden smile to Norman’s.

  ‘Doddsy’s back,’ he called over his shoulder to the kitchen crew, and then he set off towards the door.

  ‘Who’s Doddsy?’ Slater asked Diane as he watched Norman head for the door.

  ‘Remember the Artful Dodger?’ she asked. ‘Well, Doddsy is like an adult version who’s still a little boy inside. He’s a lovely kid, but he’s a chancer who’s full of stories. You never know when he’s telling the truth, but there’s something about him that makes it very difficult not to like him.’

  ‘But he’s homeless, right? Where did he come from?’

  ‘He’s another one who’s ex-army. He’ll tell you he was special forces, but we reckon he was actually just a regular, in the catering corps or something like that.’

  ‘He’s a bit late for dinner, isn’t he?’

  ‘He’s been away for a couple of weeks, but he did say he’d be back today. It’s okay, he can eat with us, we’ve got plenty for one extra.’

  Slater turned his attention back to Norman, who was exchanging high fives and then a hug with the young man called Doddsy. Each seemed genuinely pleased to see the other. They walked across to the hatch and peered into the kitchen.

  ‘Hi Di,’ called Doddsy, a huge, cheeky grin on his face. ‘Lookin’ hot tonight, babe.’

  ‘I suppose I should be flattered by the compliment,’ she said, trying to look stern, ‘but if you’re expecting to be fed you’ll need to mind your manners. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t call me “babe”.’

  Doddsy’s grin grew even wider. ‘Gotcha, chick, message understood,’ he said.

  She winced. ‘Or “chick”,’ she added, testily. ‘Especially not “chick”.’

  ‘Whatever you say, babe,’ agreed Doddsy, cheerfully. ‘You know I love it when you talk to me like that.’

  ‘Alright, Doddsy, that’s enough,’ said Chris, looking daggers. ‘Just remember – we don’t have to offer you food.’

  Doddsy looked suitably crestfallen. ‘Alright, Chris. Sorry, mate. I don’t mean no harm. It’s just a bit of fun.’

  ‘Yes, but sometimes you need to know when to turn it off, as well as on.’

  ‘Alright, mate, I’m sorry. Point taken.’

  ‘Take Doddsy out to our table and lay an extra place for him, please, Norm,’ said Diane, holding her hands up as if trying to soothe the tension.

  ‘Sure,’ said Norman. ‘Come on, trouble, follow me. Dave, would you give us a hand?’

  Slater dried his hands and followed Norman and Doddsy out to the main hall.

  ‘This is my good friend Dave. Dave, this is Doddsy.’

  The two men shook hands.

  ‘So where have you been?’ asked Norman, as he laid the extra place at the table.

  ‘Been up to the barracks at Hereford for a few days, catching up with me old mates in the regiment, you know?’

  ‘Cut the crap, Doddsy,’ said Norman. ‘Everyone knows you were never in the SAS and you couldn’t even point to Hereford on a map, so there’s no way you’d get there under your own steam.’

  Doddsy raised a thumb in the air. ‘I don’t need no steam, nor no map, Norm,’ he said, proudly. ‘I just puts up the old thumb and I’m away, mate.’

  ‘Only people aren’t quite so keen to offer lifts these days, are they?’ pointed out Norman. ‘Exactly how many hours have you spent stood by the roadside, or walking?’

  ‘Well, yeah, alright. I’ll admit I probably walked further than I rode, but I got there in the end.’

  Norman sighed, wearily. ‘Okay, Doddsy, have it your own way. You know half your problem is the fact you bullshit so much, no one knows when you’re actually telling the truth, don’t you?’

  ‘That’s one of the things we learn in the regiment, see, how to avoid telling the enemy what they want to know.’

  Norman laughed out loud at that one. ‘I think you’ll find that’s not quite the same thing as talking a load of bollocks, Doddsy,’ he said, fondly. ‘What they learn is how to resist torture. And anyway we’re not your enemy. Why can’t you tell us the truth?’

  ‘You ask Ryan, he’ll tell you–’

  ‘I can’t ask Ryan anything,’ said Norman, ‘he’s disappeared.’

  Doddsy’s cheeky grin was suddenly replaced by genuine concern. ‘What do you mean he’s disappeared?’

  ‘I mean he’s gone missing. We don’t know where he is.’

  ‘Have you tried his skip?’

  ‘There is no skip. There was a fire.’

  ‘Is he alright?’ The alarm was clear in the younger man’s voice.

  ‘We don’t know for sure,’ said Norman. ‘There was another guy in the skip that night. He died in the fire.’

  ‘Another guy? That must have been that Morgan bloke. He was–’

  ‘You knew that guy?’ asked Slater.

  ‘I wouldn’t say I knew him, but I met him the day I left. He said his name was Morgan and he was looking for Ryan. He said they were in the same squad in the regiment.’

  ‘What did he look like?’ asked Norman. ‘Only he was pretty badly burnt in the fire, you see.’

  ‘He didn’t look well,’ said Doddsy. ‘White as a bloody ghost he was. And stooped, like he had a bad back and it was killing him, you know? I suppose if he had been able to stand up, he would have been about the same size as me.’

  Slater looked at Doddsy. He was about six feet tall.

  ‘What about his hair, and his eyes?’ asked Norman.

  Doddsy squinted into the distance. ‘I can’t really remember,’ he said eventually. ‘I don’t think there was anything special about him. Just sort of normal colour. Brown I think.’

  ‘So what did he say to you about Ryan?’ asked Slater.

  ‘You’re not the filth, are you?’ asked Doddsy, suspiciously. ‘Only you’re asking a lot of questions.’

  ‘He’s ex-police, like me,’ explained Norman. ‘We’re just worried about Ryan and trying to find him that’s all. You trust me, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, yeah, course I do.’

  ‘Well he’s my business partner, so you can trust him too,’ said Norman.

  This seemed to satisfy Doddsy’s concerns regarding Slater.

  ‘I was in the bus station trying to wangle a free ride when this guy calls out to me. He says he guessed I was ex-military, and that his name was Morgan, and did I know a guy called Ryan. So I says yes. Then he says he used to be in the same squad as Ryan and that he’s looking for him. He looked half dead, so I told him about Ryan’s skip and where to find it.’

  ‘That’s supposed to be a secret,’ said Norman. ‘Ryan woulda gone ape when he found the guy in there in his place.’

  ‘Nah, mate,’ said Doddsy. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. Those guys are like brothers. Ryan would have been pissed off, but he would have seen the state that other guy was in and he would have let him h
ave the place for the night. He wouldn’t have left him to rough it the way he was.’

  Slater suddenly realised the massive gulf between himself and people like Doddsy and Ryan. In Slater’s world, spending the night in a skip was roughing it . . .

  ‘And you’re quite sure Ryan would have let the guy have his skip, just like that?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure,’ said Doddsy. ‘He wouldn’t have been happy about it, but he would have looked after the guy. I bet he was probably going to come back next day and see he got some help. That’s the sort of bloke Ryan is.’

  Slater looked across at Norman.

  ‘It adds up, doesn’t it?’ said Norman. ‘It explains why Morgan was in the skip instead of Ryan.’

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Slater. ‘But we still have no idea if Morgan’s killer followed him here, or if he was intending to kill Ryan and didn’t realise Morgan was inside.’

  ‘Did Morgan say where he’d come from?’ Norman asked Doddsy.

  Doddsy squinted into the distance again. ‘No. I don’t think so. No. I’m sure he didn’t.’

  ‘If you think of anything else, you’ll let us know, right?’ asked Norman. ‘Just let Chris and Diane know and they can contact us if we’re not here.’

  ‘If it means finding Ryan, of course I will,’ said Doddsy.

  ‘This Doddsy is a bit of a lad, isn’t he?’ asked Slater, as they drove off later.

  ‘Yeah, he’s so full of bullshit it oozes from his ears, but he’s harmless enough,’ said Norman. ‘I find there’s something weirdly optimistic about him. It makes him quite likeable.’

  ‘Unless you’re the vicar, who doesn’t like the way Doddsy flirts with his wife.’

  ‘Yeah, that can get kind of awkward sometimes,’ admitted Norman.

  ‘So Doddsy and Ryan are mates?’

  ‘That depends on who you listen to,’ said Norman. ‘Doddsy thinks Ryan is some sort of godlike figure because he was in the SAS. To Doddsy, that’s the ultimate achievement, and he would like us all to believe he had achieved it too. Of course, he didn’t and he never will. So, in a nutshell, Doddsy thinks he and Ryan are best mates because they have the SAS in common.

  ‘Then again, if you listen to Ryan, you’ll find he thinks Doddsy is a twat who lives in some sort of fantasy world and should never even have been in the regular army and would never have got anywhere near the SAS. I think Ryan only tolerates him because he feels sorry for the guy and his situation. He certainly won’t be impressed if he finds out Doddsy told Morgan where his skip was!’

  Slater laughed. ‘I thought it was probably something like that. So one thing we know for sure – Ryan’s no fool, right?’

  ‘Yeah, but let’s face it, it doesn’t take a genius to see through Doddsy, does it?’

  Slater grinned. ‘You’re right there. Oh well, at least we’ve got a name for our dead guy now, so let’s see what tomorrow brings when we do a search for Morgan.’

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Next evening, it was Slater’s turn to pick up Norman from home.

  ‘Have you ever tried to get information from the military?’ he asked, once Norman had his seat belt buckled and they were on their way.

  Norman laughed out loud. ‘Ha! I sure have. You’d have more luck trying to get milk from a bull. I’m sure they’re trained in the art of obstruction.’

  ‘You’re not kidding me,’ said Slater. ‘It gets even worse if you’re trying to find out about special forces. They won’t even admit they exist, even though everyone knows they do!’

  ‘So, should I assume we’re no further forward with our background check on Morgan?’ asked Norman.

  ‘I’m afraid not. And I have no idea what more I can do.’

  ‘Then we have no choice. I’ll call Vinnie.’

  Vinnie the Geek was an associate of Norman’s from his days in London. A technical genius, he could get into any computer system, and out again, without detection. Much against Slater’s better judgement, they had unofficially used his services before with great success. There was just one problem: Vinnie and Slater were like chalk and cheese.

  ‘I know you two don’t get on,’ said Norman, ‘but you’ll just have to grin and bear it. If we’re going to learn anything about this Morgan guy, Vinnie is our only chance.’

  Slater sighed. ‘He has to be a last resort solution. That’s the only way I’m ever going to accept his involvement.’

  ‘Your disapproval is noted,’ said Norman with a wicked grin, ‘and I’ll leave him out of it for now, but as I have the casting vote, you may well be overruled at a later date.’

  ‘How does that work?’ asked Slater. ‘How can you overrule me? I thought we were partners.’

  ‘Yeah, we are, but sometimes your refusal to bend the rules can get in the way. When that happens, I have the casting vote. It’s in the contract.’

  ‘What contract?’

  ‘Oh, did I forget to tell you about that? It’s nothing to worry about, it just says that as this whole thing is my idea, any time we reach a sticking point I get my own way.’

  ‘I don’t remember signing any contract,’ said Slater.

  ‘It’s notional,’ said Norman. ‘No signatures required.’

  Slater glanced across at Norman. ‘You’re a scheming sod sometimes, you know that?’ he said. ‘And you reckon Doddsy can bullshit.’

  Norman turned a huge grin Slater’s way and gave him a theatrical wink. ‘It’s called advanced strategic planning,’ he said. ‘You know it makes sense.’

  Norman had his back to the doors, speaking to a young couple who came most nights. They were always together and seemed to be determined to stay that way. If you listened to their conversation and ignored the fact they were both somewhat scruffy and obviously homeless, it would have been easy to confuse them with any other young couple planning a future together. Norman was just thinking what a sad state of affairs it was when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He made his excuses to the young couple and turned around.

  A handsome-looking thirty-something man stood in front of him. Despite his unshaven, untidy appearance, he seemed relaxed and confident. The same couldn’t be said for the figure stood next to him. Her slim, almost scrawny figure just about demonstrated her femininity, but her face was hidden behind a huge pair of dark glasses, and a hood was pulled tight around her face, making her features almost indistinguishable. She had the edgy nervousness of an addict, and was biting her fingernails. Like everyone else, Norman knew her as Ginger, and he guessed she hadn’t scored recently.

  It was the man he spoke to first. ‘Ryan! Where have you been? We were beginning to wonder what had happened to you.’

  ‘Relax, man,’ said Ryan. ‘I didn’t think it would be fair to involve your mate when he doesn’t even know me, so I thought it might be a good idea to get out and keep my head down for a few days, you know? I’ve been at Ginger’s squat.’

  At the mention of her name, Ginger tilted her head up towards Norman. He guessed she was acknowledging her part in keeping Ryan safe, although the shades made it impossible to know for sure.

  ‘Well, thanks for that, Ginger,’ he said.

  She nodded her head, but didn’t say a word. He turned his attention back to Ryan. ‘We need to talk,’ he said.

  Ryan nodded to acknowledge the fact, and then tilted his head towards Ginger. ‘Yeah, okay,’ he said, taking her hand in his. ‘But first we need to eat. This one hasn’t eaten properly for days. She’s starving.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Norman. ‘Help yourselves. That’s what it’s all here for.’ He stepped aside to let them approach the counter.

  From the rear of the kitchen, behind the counter, Slater watched the couple approach. Diane had already told him Ryan had appeared, and he was curious to see for himself. He was more or less exactly as Norman had described him, but it was the woman who caught his attention. Despite the dark glasses and hood that hid most of her face, he felt there was something vaguely familiar about her. He continued watching as
they reached the serving hatch, and then she suddenly seemed to realise he was there and quickly turned her head away. Feeling guilty for invading her privacy by staring at her, he returned to the sink and the pile of washing-up, but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he knew her from somewhere.

  Norman waited until Ryan and Ginger had taken their food and let them settle at a table in the far corner of the hall, well away from the others, before he ambled over to the kitchen and leaned against the counter.

  ‘Now there’s a surprise,’ he said, nodding his head towards the far corner.

  ‘Diane tells me that’s Ryan,’ said Slater. ‘Did you find out where he’s been?’

  ‘He’s been hiding out with the girl. She has a squat somewhere in town. He said he needs to make sure she eats first, then we can talk.’

  ‘Who is she?’ asked Slater.

  ‘Her name’s Ginger,’ said Norman. ‘That’s about all I can tell you. She never says anything to any of us, so that’s all we know.’

  ‘Maybe she can’t talk,’ suggested Slater.

  ‘Oh, she can talk, when she wants to,’ said Diane, who was cleaning up close by. ‘She just doesn’t want us to know anything about her, but that’s often the way.’

  ‘It’s one of the unwritten rules,’ explained Norman. ‘We don’t ask – we wait until they want to tell us.’

  They became aware the hall had fallen silent. Over by the door, two big guys were taking in the scene. They both wore suits, but their menacing attitude made it quite clear they weren’t your everyday businessmen.

  ‘Uh oh,’ said Norman. ‘This looks like trouble.’

  He pushed himself away from the counter and made towards the entrance. Slater grabbed a cloth and quickly wiped his hands as he headed after Norman.

  ‘You’d best stay here,’ he said to Diane and Chris. ‘We can handle this.’

  ‘Can I help you gents?’ asked Norman as he walked towards the two newcomers, who obviously weren’t homeless.