Dave Slater Mystery Novels Box Set Two

by Ford, P. F.

  ‘And of course, if they’re not noticed, they’re not missed if someone murders them, are they?’ said Slater.

  ‘Of course they’ll be missed. I miss them, you miss them. I really didn’t want to hurt them, they were my friends.’ Chris drummed his fingers furiously on the table. ‘But I had to. They were a means to an end.’

  ‘I think I’d better make that call now,’ said Naomi. She got up from the table and walked a discreet distance away and used her mobile phone.

  Diane looked puzzled.

  ‘I’m sorry, Diane,’ said Norman. ‘I couldn’t tell you earlier. Naomi is a detective from Tinton Police Station. She’s actually the only one there who was interested in investigating these murders, but she’s had her hands tied up until now. She’s just calling for a car to come and take Chris away. She’s recorded everything here, and we’re going to give her all our evidence. I’m really sorry.’

  Chapter Sixty-One

  It was after midnight. Chris Moore was now safely locked away in a cell at Tinton Police Station, and Naomi Darling was busy writing a report of her investigation into the murder of three homeless men. Slater and Norman had sat with Diane until her mother had arrived to look after her and now Norman was driving Slater home.

  ‘I guess that was a result in the end,’ said Slater.

  ‘I suppose,’ agreed Norman. ‘But maybe there wouldn’t have been so many bodies if your girlfriend had ordered a proper investigation in the first place.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right.’

  ‘I am?’ asked Norman, surprised.

  Slater sighed. ‘I want to make something clear,’ he said. ‘She is not my girlfriend, right? Yes, I have slept with her, but in hindsight that was a mistake. I’ve realised now she’s not someone I could have any sort of meaningful relationship with.’

  Norman looked at Slater. He had a brief “told you so” moment, but thought better of voicing it. ‘Is this what’s been on your mind since you got back?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Well, something’s been eating you,’ said Norman. ‘It’s either got to be about her, or something happened while you were away.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ asked Slater.

  ‘You went away for two weeks in Thailand, extended it to three weeks, and yet, since you got back, you’ve had nothing to say about it.’ Norman peered at him suspiciously.

  ‘What do you want me to say?’

  ‘Well, bearing in mind you asked me to go with you, I thought you might want to tell me what I missed,’ said Norman. ‘For instance, was the weather good?’

  ‘The weather was fantastic. Warm sunshine every day. How do you think I got this suntan?’

  ‘Well, from what you’ve told me so far, you might have spent three weeks on a sunbed down the road. I don’t think you should rely on the Thai Tourist Board beating a path to your door looking for you to write their next guidebook. From what you’ve shared so far, I can only assume it was so unremarkable, I didn’t miss anything and I made the right decision to stay here.’

  Slater sighed. ‘Actually I’ve got loads to share. It’s just that I don’t know where to start.’

  Norman raised an eyebrow and glanced at Slater. ‘Look, if you need to talk something through, I’m here, right? Isn’t that what friends are for?’

  ‘Yeah, but like I said, I don’t know where to start–’

  ‘So start anywhere. We can piece it together afterwards, if we need to.’

  Slater heaved another sigh.

  ‘Look,’ said Norman. ‘You’ve been deathly quiet about your holiday ever since you got back, so something is obviously bothering you about it.’

  ‘Yeah, but–’

  ‘Can you honestly tell me you’re not preoccupied with whatever this problem is?’

  ‘Err, well, no, I guess not,’ admitted Slater, reluctantly.

  ‘So it would be a good idea to talk about what’s bothering you to help clear the fog. It can’t hurt, can it? It’s not as if I’m going to go broadcasting what you tell me.’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘Right, so start talking.’

  Slater sighed yet again. ‘Okay,’ he said, at last. ‘How much do you know about your past?’

  ‘I’m not sure exactly what you mean by that. As far as I know, there aren’t any skeletons in my background.’

  ‘When I was twelve,’ began Slater, ‘my dad walked out and left me and my mum.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Norman. ‘I see what you mean. It’s not something I’m familiar with. My parents are still together even now.’

  ‘I was always told he had left us for another woman,’ said Slater, ‘and that my mum had to work her arse off to keep a roof over our heads and raise me.’

  ‘That must have been tough,’ said Norman, looking as if he wanted to say more but didn’t know what.

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I believed,’ said Slater. ‘Up until a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘Why? What happened a couple of weeks ago?’

  ‘I met my dad, out in Thailand.’

  ‘What, you just bumped into him?’

  ‘Well, no. He’s been writing to ask me to go for months. I kept putting him off because I wasn’t sure I wanted to meet him. I used work as an excuse, you know? But then when I quit, I didn’t have that excuse any more and I was at a loose end, so I thought okay, why not?’

  ‘So going to Thailand wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision at all?’ asked Norman.

  ‘Not right out of the blue, no. It just seemed like a good time to go and meet my past, what with quitting the job and turning forty.’

  ‘This is beginning to sound like mid-life crisis time,’ said Norman.

  Slater grinned. ‘I suppose it is something like that, but don’t panic. I’m not going to rush off and buy a flashy sports car and start trawling nightclubs for a twenty-year-old girlfriend.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Norman. ‘No self-respecting twenty-year-old’s going to go for an old fart like you anyway. Your hair’s beginning to thin, and you don’t have anywhere near enough money.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ said Slater. ‘They’d be queueing up, mate.’

  Norman laughed. ‘In your dreams, maybe.’

  They were outside Slater’s house now. There was a light glowing behind the curtains in one of the bedroom windows, and as Norman switched the engine off he noticed the curtains twitch.

  ‘Is Ginger still here?’ he asked, gazing up at the window. ‘Or do we call her Jenny now?’

  Slater followed his gaze. ‘Whatever you might think of her, she helped get both our careers back on the rails. Right now she’s in trouble, so I think it’s only right I should try to help her.’

  ‘What trouble is she in?’

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ admitted Slater, ‘we haven’t got that far.’

  They continued to gaze up at the window.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Norman, ‘you were telling me about your father.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Slater. ‘Look, I know it’s late, and you’re probably tired, but do you want to come in for a coffee?’

  Norman knew when someone needed to talk. ‘Yeah, why not?’

  ‘He’s seventy now,’ said Slater, once they were settled inside. ‘He’s married to a Thai woman the same age as me. They have a bar in a town called Chiang Mai. It’s tourist hot-spot, a real gold mine.’

  ‘And you didn’t know any of this?’ asked Norman.

  ‘Not until he wrote to me a few months back.’

  ‘So why did he suddenly want to find you if he walked out all those years ago?’ asked Norman. ‘Has his conscience suddenly started playing him up?’

  ‘Well, that’s the thing,’ said Slater. ‘It turns out he used to write to me when I was still a boy. He used to send cards for my birthday and Christmas, and he sent letters every month. He kept it up for five years, and then he stopped because I had never written back.’

  ‘And you didn’t write back because you felt he h
ad betrayed you?’

  ‘Oh no,’ said Slater, matter-of-factly, ‘I didn’t write back because I didn’t know where he was, and I didn’t know he was writing to me. My mum made sure I never saw a single one of those letters or cards. She never mentioned all the money he used to send her every month either.’

  ‘But I thought you said she was working her arse off to keep a roof over your head?’

  ‘That’s what she told me,’ replied Slater. ‘As far as I knew she was just about making ends meet, but it looks as though we were actually quite comfortable.’

  ‘But why would she do that?’ Norman sounded puzzled. ‘Why pretend? And surely it should have been up to you to decide if you kept in touch with your own father?’

  ‘Yeah, you would have thought so, wouldn’t you?’ said Slater. ‘As for pretending, the only thing I can think is she was scared that he might tell me what had really happened to make him leave like that.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Norman, sadly. ‘I think I see where this is going. So what you were told at the time wasn’t exactly the truth, right?’

  ‘Not even close,’ said Slater, grimly. ‘It turns out it was my mother who was playing away from home – with my dad’s best mate. That’s why he left the area. He couldn’t stay near them once he had found out what was going on. He didn’t want to leave me, but he thought I would be better off with my mother, and despite what had happened, he made sure she had enough money coming in every month to keep the house and to look after me.’

  ‘So you’ve just found out your dad wasn’t the villain you always believed he was. Holy shit!’

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Slater. ‘Holy shit is right.’

  ‘So what happens now? Are you going to spend some time with him?’

  ‘There is no time,’ said Slater, grimly.

  Somewhere in Norman’s head, a penny dropped with a resounding crash. ‘Oh crap. So that funeral you went to recently . . .’

  ‘Yeah. My dad.’

  Norman wondered just how crass and stupid he must be not to have realised. Now it all made sense. No wonder Slater had suddenly taken off to Thailand.

  ‘Jesus, Dave,’ he said, finally. ‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Slater. ‘How could you know? You’re not a mind reader, and I didn’t tell anyone.’

  ‘Yeah, but I feel so bad–’ Norman squirmed in his seat and felt distinctly uncomfortable. Slater glanced over at him.

  ‘You have nothing to feel bad about, Norm,’ he said. ‘Honestly. I went to Thailand because my dad’s wife wrote to me and told me he was dying. She told me what had really happened back then. She even sent me copies of old bank statements that proved he had been sending money to my mother.’

  ‘What? He kept them all that time?’

  ‘No, she kept them. I don’t think Dad knew she’d done it. She had always intended to get them to me somehow, but she had guessed my mother never passed anything on to me. When my dad finally found my address, she hoped I would come to see him, but when I didn’t write back she decided to take charge and send them to me. I’m glad she did.’

  ‘Is this why you quit your job?’

  ‘No way,’ said Slater. ‘I’d already quit when I got her letter. That’s why I took off so suddenly.’

  ‘Did you get there in time?’ asked Norman.

  ‘Yeah. We had a few days before he went.’

  ‘That must have been good to see him, but pretty harrowing at the same time.’

  ‘I don’t think I’d recommend it to anyone.’ Slater rubbed his jaw. ‘Not seeing my dad for all that time and then finding out he’s dying was bad enough, but then to find out he was actually the good guy and not the villain was a bit of a choker, I can tell you.’

  ‘I can’t imagine how you’re feeling,’ said Norman.

  ‘Right now I’m feeling just a bit cheated,’ said Slater, grimly. ‘For twenty-eight bloody years.’

  ‘I don’t know how you deal with something like that,’ said Norman. ‘I’ve had some crappy times in my life, but that one takes the biscuit, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Having a Thai step-mother helps, believe it or not,’ said Slater. ‘She’s a psychologist, would you believe? The last week I was out there she taught me a lot about how to deal with my anger and how this might have been affecting my life.’

  ‘How does that work?’

  ‘Well, for instance, I’m not good at accepting authority, am I?’

  ‘You admit that? You never have before.’

  ‘But now I understand why,’ said Slater. ‘My father represented authority when I was young, and to my mind he had let me down. Consequently, as I grew older I transferred that resentment to all authority figures.’

  ‘Yeah, I can see that,’ said Norman. ‘I’ve always wondered why you were so quick to argue. It’s a pity you didn’t know that stuff a few years ago, you might not have got into so much trouble along the way.’

  Slater grinned a rueful grin. ‘I learned another painful truth as well. It was a lot harder to admit, but it’s probably right.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I can be pretty childish sometimes, right?’

  ‘I think petulant is a good word,’ said Norman.

  ‘Which means childish and sulky, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Well, yeah, I guess so,’ admitted Norman, reluctantly.

  ‘It’s alright, Norm. It’s true. I admit it. I can be very childish at times, but now I understand why that was. Hopefully I can now unlearn that behaviour and start to grow up.’

  ‘Wow, these are pretty big steps you’ve taken. Can you introduce me to this lady? Maybe she can help sort me out!’

  ‘Sunny,’ said Slater. ‘Her name’s Sunny, and she is a ray of sunshine. I can see why my dad loved her. You’d love her, too. Anyway, there’s more. She reckons my inability to have a relationship that lasts is because I’m scared of committing to something that might end up breaking up, like my parents.’

  ‘I’ve heard of that one before,’ said Norman. ‘It’s quite common among kids whose parents split up, isn’t it? You press the self-destruct button before it gets too far, right?’

  ‘That’s more or less how it works.’

  ‘And you’re okay with all this stuff?’

  ‘I know it’s a bit more complex than I make it sound, but it all makes sense to me.’

  ‘So what happens now?’ asked Norman. ‘What happens with you?’

  ‘Well, now I understand how some of the things I don’t like about myself have developed, and I know why they happened,’ said Slater. ‘But more importantly I now know the “why” that drove them was misplaced. On that basis I’m rather hoping I can start to change those bits. Does that make sense?’

  Norman looked at Slater with a big smile on his face. ‘Whoa! Are you telling me you’re going to make something positive out of this whole situation?’

  Slater smiled back. ‘Haven’t you always told me I should look for the silver lining?’

  ‘Yeah, but I never actually thought you were listening and would take it on board!’

  ‘Maybe those seeds you were planting just needed a bit of Thai sunshine to help them grow,’ said Slater.

  Norman looked at his watch. ‘I should get going. Are you gonna be okay? I can stay if you want to keep on talking.’

  ‘No, you’re alright,’ said Slater. ‘I’ve had a couple of weeks to get used to the idea, so I’m past the “going mental” stage.’

  ‘If you’re sure,’ said Norman.

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Slater. ‘How about I come over tomorrow and you can buy me lunch. At least if we’re in the pub where you live, you can’t say you left your money at home.’

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Next morning Slater slept in. He hadn’t intended to, but he had forgotten to set his alarm clock. It was the gentle hand shaking his shoulder that woke him.

  ‘Mmmnnn,’ he groaned.

  ‘Hey, wake up,’ said a female voice. ‘I
’m doing breakfast. You’ve got ten minutes.’

  For a moment he couldn’t make sense of the voice, but then it suddenly came back to him. Ginger, or should it be Jenny? This was something he was going to have to ask.

  ‘I guessed you must like bacon and eggs, or you wouldn’t have them in the fridge,’ she said as he walked into the kitchen. ‘Go and sit at the table, I’ll bring it through in a minute.’

  He did as he had been directed. The table had been laid for two, and there was a mug of steaming tea at each place. The postman had been and Jenny had placed the two letters at the end of the table furthest from the kitchen. He sat down and picked up the letters. The first one was obviously junk, but the second had obviously come from overseas and looked official.

  ‘Here you go,’ she called, as she came through from the kitchen carrying two plates bearing toast, bacon, and eggs.

  He looked up as she called out. She was still wearing the same old clothes, albeit washed but still tatty. Her demeanour was different this morning, though. The tiredness still showed – he thought that would probably take weeks to change – but she didn’t look anywhere near as stressed.

  ‘You don’t have to do this, you know,’ he said.

  ‘Actually, I think I do,’ she said, placing his breakfast in front of him. ‘If I’m going to stay here for a few days, the least I can do is cook a few meals and keep the place tidy.’

  She set her own breakfast down, settled opposite him, and looked him in the eye.

  ‘You’re not here as a housekeeper,’ he said.

  ‘No, but I have to pay my way somehow, and I don’t have any money. I’m not going to be able to accept your hospitality if you don’t let me give something back. How do you think that would make me feel?’

  He chewed on a mouthful of bacon as he considered. ‘Okay,’ he agreed. ‘I think I can understand that, but I don’t want you to feel you have to pay your way–’

  ‘I want to, and I do have to,’ she said. ‘End of story.’

  He looked at her and smiled. ‘Now that’s more like the Jenny I remember. And I have to say, you look a lot better today.’