by Ford, P. F.
‘I can see it works as a theory. I’m just not sure Ryan’s a coincidence. I’m sure he knows something and he’s not letting on.’
‘Oh for sure,’ agreed Slater. ‘He’s definitely hiding something. But what if what he’s hiding is all about why he’s a target?’
Norman nodded slowly. ‘There’s no denying that’s a possibility.’
‘Then it’s equally possible Ryan wasn’t the real reason Morgan came here. What if he came here to find her, but he knew Ryan was here, and he had only sought him out because he didn’t know his way around?’
‘It’s a “could be”,’ said Norman, doubtfully. ‘But even if you’re right and she is an old flame, we still have no idea who she is, or where we can find her. And we don’t have the resources we used to have.’
‘But we do have our wits.’ Slater looked around the graveyard and then back at Norman. ‘This is where we find out if we can cut it as real private detectives.’
‘Okay,’ said Norman, brightening. ‘So let’s make a start. If we assume this woman somehow knew about the funeral, it’s a safe bet she didn’t want to be seen or she would have turned up in time. My guess is she would have waited until everyone had gone. I’m also going to assume she has a car and would have parked in the car park, or out in the street nearby.’
‘You’re thinking CCTV,’ said Slater. ‘But we can’t access it.’
‘Hey, if we need to, I know a man who can. But first we have to see if there are any cameras.’
They walked back through the car park and out to the road, where Slater scanned up and down in both directions looking for cameras.
‘Over there.’ Norman pointed across the road. Opposite the car park was a small shop which had been closed for years until an enterprising young chef had spotted the opportunity to convert it into a small, upmarket restaurant. To prove his point, he had actually called it ‘Upmarket’.
They walked across the road and peered through the windows. It was obviously closed.
‘Jeez,’ said Norman. ‘Have you seen the prices in this place? You’d need to take out a mortgage to eat here!’
‘That’s why it’s called “Upmarket”, Norm,’ said Slater. ‘It’s so the punters are under no illusions when they come here.’
‘And it’s really tiny in there,’ said Norman.
‘Yeah, well, I guess at those prices you don’t need too many clients to make a profit.’ Slater looked up at the camera. ‘Do you think that camera’s live?’
‘It’s not much use as a form of security if it’s not,’ said Norman.
‘But will they let us take a look at the footage? There’s no reason why they should, is there?’
‘I think maybe I can help out with that.’ Norman made a note of the telephone number. ‘You just leave it with me.’
That evening, Slater had decided to take a break from the soup kitchen. Norman had said he was going to the church hall, but Slater knew there was something else on Norman’s mind, although he had been unable to find out what it was. Norm had gone all mysterious when asked what exactly his plan was to get access to the restaurant’s CCTV, so realising he was bashing his head against the proverbial brick wall, Slater had left him to it and made his way home. He had his own mission to accomplish tonight, and he preferred to do it alone. It was well past 8 p.m. by the time he got settled to his task.
He had just got comfortable with his laptop and logged on to the website when his doorbell rang. He sighed and dragged himself reluctantly to his feet. As he did, he looked at his watch. It was half past eight. He walked across the room to his front door and wondered who could be ringing his doorbell. He certainly wasn’t expecting anybody. If it was the bloody Jehova’s Witnesses . . . but it wouldn’t be, would it? Not this late. He swung the door open to find an attractive young woman with a pale face and strawberry-blonde hair standing on the step.
Slater blinked at the woman on the doorstep. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘This is unexpected. I wasn’t expecting you. In fact, I wasn’t expecting anybody.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Detective Chief Inspector Marion Goodnews. ‘I know I should have called first. I was hoping you’d get in touch but you didn’t, so I thought I’d take the initiative. I’ve been uhmming and ahhing about coming round, and then I finally thought if I don’t do it now . . .’ The words had been rushing from her, but now she stopped, looking at his face. ‘If I’m disturbing you, I can leave.’
He suddenly realised the way he was standing, blocking the doorway, was giving off all the wrong vibes. To be honest, she was probably the last person he wanted to see, but no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he felt guilty about it.
‘No, not at all,’ he said, backing into the house to make room for her to come in. ‘I just wasn’t expecting anyone. I was immersed in what I was doing.’
She swept past him, and he caught the merest trace of her familiar perfume. He couldn’t help but pause to breathe it in, closing his eyes and remembering as he pushed the door closed. He turned to follow her into the house, but she was standing expectantly, face tilted up towards him, so close he could almost count the individual freckles. Her hair was tied back, but one or two of the strawberry curls had escaped and hung tantalisingly to one side of her face. He resisted the urge to reach forward and tuck it behind her ear.
‘Here, let me take your coat,’ he said.
She looked disappointed but turned her back so he could slip the coat, and her scarf, from her shoulders. He turned and hung it on one of the hooks behind the door, looping the scarf over a different hook.
‘Go on in,’ he said. ‘You know the way.’
She walked forward into the tiny room and turned to face him again. He pointed to the two-seater settee. ‘Take a seat. Can I get you a drink?’
‘No, thanks. I’m fine,’ she said, backing towards the seat and sinking into it.
‘Ah, right.’ Slater walked across to the armchair and sat down. He smiled at her, uncertainly, and she smiled back, equally uncertain. Her expression suggested she was wondering if she had made a mistake in coming here.
‘I get the impression you’re not exactly over the moon to see me,’ she said.
‘I just wasn’t expecting anyone, that’s all,’ he said.
‘And if someone had to come, you’d rather it wasn’t me. Am I right?’
‘That depends on why you’re here.’
‘Oh, does it make a difference? Why d’you want me to be here?’
‘Jesus,’ he said. ‘That’s a leading question, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s up to me to answer that. You’re the one who came to see me, remember?’
She smiled a sad little smile. ‘Aye, I suppose you’re right. So let me start again. Do you think I’ve come here to offer you your job back?’
‘I don’t think so. Your pride wouldn’t allow you to do that. I suppose you might consider it if I was to come grovelling on my hands and knees, but chase after me after I resigned? No, I don’t think so, do you?’
‘Did you have a good holiday?’
‘It was interesting,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think that’s why you’re here, either.’
‘So, why do you think I’m here?’
‘You don’t know?’ Slater lifted an eyebrow.
‘Oh, I know why I came here,’ she said. ‘But now I’m wondering why I thought it was a good idea. I feel about as welcome as a skunk.’
‘Not so,’ he said. ‘You smell much nicer than any skunk I’ve ever met.’
‘Now you’re taking the piss.’ Her shoulders slumped slightly.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean it to come out like that.’
She smiled, but it was a sad, humourless little smile. ‘So, humour me, and answer my question.’
Slater began to feel uncomfortable. He really didn’t mean to make fun of her, but then again, he didn’t want to play stupid guessing games either.
‘Well, you made so much fuss after the last time you were here,
I can’t imagine you’re looking to get drunk with me again,’ he said. ‘I don’t know, Marion. Why are you here?’
‘You’re no’ gonna make this easy for me, are you?’
He gave her a sad little smile of his own. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘How about “Hi Marion, I’m really pleased to see you”?’
‘But, if I’m honest, I’m not sure I am pleased to see you,’ he said.
For the first time since she had arrived, Goodnews looked more than doubtful. Now she looked crestfallen, and her bottom lip trembled. ‘Oh Christ,’ she said, sadly. ‘I’m making a fool of myself, aren’t I?’
Now Slater was beginning to feel seriously guilty. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her, but he had to be honest, didn’t he? Anyway, whose fault was it she was getting upset? He hadn’t asked her to come here and put him on the spot.
‘I think it may well be me who’s the fool,’ said Slater, ‘but I’ve got to be honest, Marion. What happened between us was wonderful, but do I want it to go any further? I’m not sure.’
‘Why not? Don’t you find me attractive?’
‘You know I do. I think you’re beautiful, but there has to be more to it than that, doesn’t there? I don’t want to be competing with your job, or your ego. You know you’d have to have the last word. I want to be someone’s partner, as an equal.’
‘But that’s just what I want,’ she said. ‘I don’t want someone who’s just going to agree with me all the time.’
Slater looked at her, and she stared back, straight into his eyes. ‘But why me?’ he asked. ‘You could have any bloke you want. There are plenty better than me.’
‘How do you define “better”?’ she asked. ‘Better looking, earning more money, having a bigger house, better prospects?’
‘Take your pick,’ he said. ‘There’ll be one hell of a long list. Mr Perfect must be in there somewhere.’
‘But I don’t want perfect. That’s one of the things I like about you. You’re not perfect, and you know you’re not. You have faults and sometimes they get the better of you, but that’s my whole point. Don’t you see? You don’t pretend to be anything you’re not. With you it’s a case of what you see is what you get. How can anything be better than that?’
Slater felt rather embarrassed by her frankness, and was struggling to know how to respond. ‘This is all a bit sudden, isn’t it? I mean you’ve always done your best to keep a distance between us, and now you’re asking me to–’
‘I’m not asking to move in with you,’ she said. ‘I just thought maybe we could go out together now and then. We’ve only ever worked together. Why can’t we spend some time together as people, instead of colleagues? You never know, we might get to know each other and like what we find. After that, who knows what could happen?’
‘Oh, we know what could happen. What could happen is we end up in bed, and then you make my life a misery afterwards because you’re terrified someone might find out.’
‘But I was your boss before, for God’s sake,’ she argued. ‘That wouldn’t happen now, would it? It wouldn’t matter what anyone said.’
‘Yeah, but . . .’ he began, and then realised he couldn’t actually think of a “but”.
‘But, what?’ she asked. ‘Look, if you’ve got some problem with me being your girl, please tell me. It took a lot of courage for me to come here like this. At least if you’re going to turn me down, give me a decent reason I can understand and I’ll get out from under your feet.’
‘Don’t say that,’ he said. ‘You’re not “under my feet” at all. It’s just come as a bit of a shock, and I already had a bloody big one in Thailand. To be honest, I don’t know if I’m coming or going when it comes to my life.’
‘Why? What happened in Thailand?’ she asked.
‘You don’t want to know,’ he said. ‘It’s family stuff, a bit complicated.’
‘Actually, I would like to know,’ she said. ‘Have you got any wine?’
‘I got a couple of bottles of red from duty free on the way home,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what it’s like.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine. Why don’t I go and find two glasses and we open one, and you can tell me all about your family stuff.’
Slater didn’t know what to say to that idea. His head was trying to think of a reason to say no, but in his heart he knew there really wasn’t one. He knew how hard it must have been for her to come here, and he admired her for that. He looked across at her beautiful green eyes, which were staring intently at him, willing him to make up his mind and put her out of her misery.
‘Or I can put my coat on and go home,’ she said. ‘Your choice.’
‘Can you remember where the glasses are?’
‘Oh yes. And where you keep your wine.’
For the first time since she had arrived, she relaxed, and the change was clear to see, the strain in her face being replaced by a warm, glowing smile. She headed for the kitchen.
Slater watched her walk away from him, then rose from his chair and walked across to his laptop, sitting on the tiny table. The browser was open, still showing the website sign-up form he had just started filling in. He moved the mouse and clicked it to close the browser, prodded the button to shut down the laptop, and then flipped the lid down. Maybe he didn’t need to join that dating site after all. At least, not tonight.
Chapter Fifty
It was lunchtime next day when Slater met up with Norman, in the pub where he lived. They were at the bar waiting to be served when Norman proudly produced a couple of still photos.
‘So how exactly did you get your hands on these?’ asked Slater. ‘Please don’t tell me you used your pet hacker?’
Norman hated it when Slater referred to his old friend Vinnie the Geek as a hacker. As far as he was concerned, Vinnie had come a long way in the time he had known him and was something of a genius when it came to computers. Yes, it was true, Vinnie could get in and out of most systems undetected, but he didn’t do anything malicious with his skills and only used them for good purposes. He could have used them for bad, but he was making millions online through a legitimate business. Why would he risk losing that?
‘I didn’t need to use anyone else,’ said Norman, proudly. ‘This is all my own work.’
‘You mean he’s trained you to hack systems?’ asked Slater, dubiously.
‘Look, you cynic, I didn’t need to hack anything. I just went into the restaurant and asked them if I could take a look at their security. The CCTV is obviously a part of that, so they let me test it to make sure it all worked properly.’
‘What? You just showed up on the off-chance?’ asked Slater. ‘I thought they were closed during the day.’
‘Yeah, but they’re open every night,’ said Norman. ‘So I called in there last night, gave them my card’–he tossed a business card onto the table–‘and offered them a free survey.’
Slater picked up the card and looked at the inscription which read “S & N, Investigations & Security.”
‘You’ve used my address,’ complained Slater.
‘I can hardly use the pub’s name and address, can I?’ said Norman. ‘What sort of message would that send out? We want to be taken seriously, don’t we?’
Slater looked at the card again. He was quietly impressed with Norman’s work, but he knew he could get some winding-up mileage out of this if he tried.
‘S & N?’ he asked. ‘It’s not very imaginative, is it?’
‘Hey, I’m sorry I’m not a marketing whizz kid,’ said Norman, testily. ‘It might not be beautiful, but it does what it says on the tin, right? It was good enough to get me an appointment this morning, and that’s all I wanted it to do.’
Now Slater was wearing a wide grin. ‘Easy, tiger. I’m only teasing. It was good thinking, and it was a damned sight more constructive than what I did last night.’ He reached for the photos and looked at them closely. ‘And you think this is the car driven by the woman who left the fl
owers at the grave yesterday?’
‘That’s the only car that went anywhere near that church car park between the time we left the grave and when we got back after lunch. Of course, if she was on foot, or came from the other direction, it won’t be any help, but we must be due a break somewhere, so maybe this is it.’
‘How are we going to trace the number?’
‘I’ve got that covered, too,’ said Norman. ‘Naomi Darling’s back at work. I called in a favour.’
Slater smiled at Norman’s apparent ability to be owed favours by all and sundry. ‘Are you sure you actually need me in this partnership? Only you seem to be managing just fine on your own.’
‘Someone’s gotta drive the car when I get tired,’ said Norman, with a cheeky grin.
‘And I suppose I’m also quite handy for buying lunch.’
‘Now you’re talking,’ said Norman. ‘That’s the best idea you’ve had so far.’
‘So, how come Naomi’s willing to help us out?’ asked Slater, when they were settled at a table eating their lunch. ‘Doesn’t she have the same view as Biddeford?’
‘She hates his guts,’ said Norman. ‘She wouldn’t agree with him if he said black was black.’
‘No change there, then,’ said Slater. ‘So making him DS hasn’t changed his attitude?’
‘According to her, he’s even worse now,’ said Norman. ‘Before, he just regarded her as a possible conquest. Now he knows he’s not going to get inside her knickers, and he’s above her in the pecking order, he just treats her like some sort of lackey.’
‘I bet she’ll make him regret that before he’s finished.’
‘Oh, for sure,’ agreed Norman. ‘But it doesn’t end there. She has no time for Goodnews either.’
Slater made sure he showed no reaction when Norman mentioned Goodnews. There was no love lost between the two, and he wasn’t sure exactly how Norm would react if he knew she had been at his house last night. He said a silent prayer Norman hadn’t arranged to come to his house first thing this morning – that really would have been an interesting start to the day – for all three of them.
