“Understood, sir,” said Kim, a smile breaking through the worry.
Crane pondered Kim’s concerns for a while after she had left. Surely Billy wouldn’t have been so stupid to have disobeyed a direct order? But then again, Crane had done that himself in the past, mostly to good effect. The trick was not to get caught and then talk your way out of it when you came up with results. But there was definitely something wrong with Billy at the moment and Crane was glad Kim had shared her suspicions.
For the rest of the day he had little opportunity to dwell on the problem of Billy. There was still no sign of the Padre and Jones was extending the search to other areas of military land including Longmoor in Farnborough and also Ash Ranges.
As a result, by the end of the day he had forgotten about the tail on Billy. It was only when Billy was leaving the office and he saw Kim quickly gather her things and nod conspiratorially at him, that he remembered. Deciding to stay on at the office, he paced around the open plan area, holding his mobile in his hand.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The call came after 10 minutes.
“Sir, its Kim. Billy has just driven through the town and out beyond the Industrial area to Ash. He parked up and went into an old Victorian school, St Saviour’s on Ash Road. I’ve sat here for a few minutes and seen other people arriving. No one looks furtive or distressed. Everything seemed perfectly ordinary, but I’ve no idea what he’s doing here.”
“Okay, Kim, good work,” said Crane as he scribbled down the address. “Go home now. There’s nothing we can do. I’ll have a word with Billy in the morning.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and follow him when he comes out?”
“No, Kim, I’ve just said there’s nothing we can do. There’s no law that says you couldn’t attend a meeting and it could be completely unrelated. Let’s just see what Billy says tomorrow.”
“Very well, sir.”
Crane closed his phone and returned to his office to think about what approach he’d take with Billy in the morning.
***
By the time Crane got home that night he was late for dinner. He found Tina on the settee watching television with a glass of red wine in her hand, riveted by one of the soap operas.
“Hi,” she called over her shoulder. “Your dinner’s in the fridge, it just needs heating up in the microwave,” and turned her attention back the TV, sipping her wine.
This irritated Crane and without speaking he went through to the kitchen. Looking at the mess of pots, pans and plates, all dirty, strewn around, cranked up that irritation. He started banging things around and running hot water in the sink. He went to throw discarded packaging in the bin, but found it full to the brim. The swing bin lid would barely open and the packaging simply bounced back at him falling on the floor at his feet.
Walking to the kitchen door he called, “For God’s sake, Tina, can’t you even do the bloody washing up or empty the bin? It looks like a bomb’s hit this place!” With that he returned to his banging and crashing, putting ingredients back in the cupboards.
This had the desired effect of disturbing Tina’s viewing and she came to the door, standing watching him, the glass of red wine still in her hand.
“Oh so you’ve decided to come and help then,” he growled from the kitchen sink.
“What’s got into you, Tom?”
“What’s got into me?” he whirled round to face her. “Every time I come home the place is a bloody mess. There’s only two of us, can’t you at least keep things tidy!”
“It’s only what’s left over from cooking dinner. I was going to do it when I’d had a rest.”
But Crane wasn’t about to be placated. “Have a rest, that’s all you ever do! Never mind the drinking. I see you’ve got a glass of wine as usual.”
“Yes, Tom, I needed to have a rest. I’ve had a busy day and there’s nothing wrong with unwinding with a glass of wine every now and again,” and with that she turned to go back to the lounge.
“But it’s not every now and again is it?” he retorted.
“I’m sorry?” Tina turned back to face him.
“I said it’s not every now and again. You seem to unwind with a glass of wine every night.”
“So what if I do, Tom? What’s the problem?”
“The problem is that you’re unwinding with a glass of wine, when you should be doing the housework. I shouldn’t have to come home to this shit.” He flung the tea towel that he was using to dry his hands onto the kitchen counter.
“Tom, what’s the matter?”
But he carried on as though she hadn’t spoken. “Dear God and you want children. You can’t even cope with just us, never mind a houseful of screaming kids. It would be like a war zone. And when would you get time to unwind with your glass of wine then?”
“Tom, stop it. You’re being really unfair. I don’t know what’s got into you.”
But it seemed that whatever she said, it made no difference. He couldn’t seem to stop himself. The anger built up in him like a volcano, burning his throat and erupting through his mouth, spewing out hurtful insults.
“I bet you’ll be like one of those slovenly mums on the garrison. Kids taking over the house, no order, no discipline. You’ll be more interested in having your rest and a glass of wine.”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Tina replied, retreating to the lounge and this time staying there.
“Oh, but you do,” he said, following her into the other room. By now he was looking for more debris to clear up and comment on. He looked around the room, but as he couldn’t find anything to tidy up, he walked over to the TV and turned it off.
“Tom, I was watching that,” Tina protested.
“Load of shit. Can’t you watch anything decent? A documentary or something that teaches you things?”
But Tina refused to answer. Placing the glass of wine on the low coffee table in front of the TV, she curled into herself, legs bent in front of her with her arms around them.
“What’s the matter, can’t you cope with the truth? I need some support from my wife, not this shit.”
“I do support you.”
Crane could hardly hear her as she bent her head to rest on her knees.
“Yeah, right. Call that support?” Crane flung his arm towards the kitchen door.
“I work as well, Tom,” she said defiantly, but kept her head low, as though protecting herself from the stream of criticism.
“Work, you call what you do work?”
“Of course and I had a busy day today,” she said, this time lifting her head to look at him.
“Oh I’m sure you did. It must be very pressurised counting bank notes all day.” Looking at Tina he could see tears welling in her eyes. “Don’t start snivelling,” he snarled pacing around the room. “You don’t know the first thing about pressure. Shall I tell you about pressure?” he asked standing in front of her, legs apart, hands on his hips. “Pressure is three dead soldiers, three dead children, a missing Padre and a Staff Sergeant who seems to have disobeyed orders. That’s bloody pressure, Tina. Not counting sodding bank notes!”
Unable to look at his wife any longer, Crane left the room, grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and retreated to his office where he proceeded to bang around and tidy up before pulling the case files from his briefcase.
After a while Tina came upstairs, went into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Later on he heard muffled crying through the wall. Ignoring the sound, Crane went over and over the files, pushing his personal problems to one side in his determination to try and find any small piece of information he had missed.
As the print began to swim before his eyes he realised he needed to sleep. But unable to cope with the aftermath of his behaviour, he went back downstairs, lying on the settee in the dark and thinking far into the night before sleep overcame him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The first thing Crane wanted to do the next morning was to confront
Billy. But before he went to the barracks, he did a detour to look at St Saviour’s School in Ash. It was still early, around 07:30 hours, so there were no children or staff there. Parking the car, he decided to walk past the building. The board on the front gate proclaimed it to be a primary school, taking ages 5-11. It gave the head teacher’s name and that of the caretaker. The gates, which he rattled as he passed, were locked. Behind them he could see a large imposing Victorian building with arched windows. Some of the windows held what he surmised to be children’s artwork, although all he could see from the outside was the backs of the pieces of paper and the bits of blue tack used to stick them to the windows. The building was set well back from the gates and in front was a large tarmac area used as a playground, with painted lines, painted feet in different colours and an area set aside with several climbing frames.
Walking back past the school towards his car, Crane decided to stop and make a note of the head teacher’s name, in case he needed to make enquiries about people hiring the school for outside activities.
As he drove on towards his barracks, Crane’s mind wandered back to his precarious domestic situation. Having spent the night on the settee, he was up and about early, taking a quick shower and managing to get his clothes out of the wardrobe without disturbing Tina. Although she could have been feigning sleep he supposed. Just before he left the house, he once again crept into the bedroom to leave a cup of coffee as a kind of peace offering. He knew he would have to phone her later at work, but was dreading it and as he pulled into the car park outside his office, he pushed aside thoughts of Tina and concentrated on Billy and the Padre.
To Crane’s relief Billy was at his desk already and seemed bright and alert.
“My office, Sergeant,” he called as he passed Billy’s desk.
As Crane settled himself in his chair, he left Billy standing to attention in front of him. An old but regularly used ploy. Crane knew it would make Billy feel uncomfortable, which was just what he wanted.
“Right, Sergeant, I’ve been thinking of several ways to approach this, but have decided on the blunt one. Where did you go last night after leaving work?”
“Sir?” the confusion in Billy’s eyes was apparent.
“It’s not a difficult question. But I’ll repeat it for you. Where did you go last night after work?”
“Well, sir,” began Billy, his cheeks suffusing with colour. “It’s just that...I mean...”
“For God’s sake, Billy, where the hell did you go?” Crane’s irritation from last night had not dissipated altogether.
“A parent’s evening, sir.”
“A what?” Crane’s astonishment was genuine. “Are you trying to tell me something, Sergeant?”
“No, sir, nothing like that,” Billy smiled. “It’s just that my niece, Rosie, was ill, so my sister, Sue, couldn’t go to Shaun’s parent’s evening. Shaun being my nephew, sir. So she asked me to go instead. And after that I went round to Sue’s, my sister, to tell her all about it. Actually, he is doing rather well in school, we’re all pretty proud of him and—”
“Yes, yes, alright,” sighed Crane. “Oh by the way, at ease, Billy, sit yourself down.”
“Thank you, sir, but why did you want to know?”
“Oh it’s just that, well nothing really, just that you’ve been acting a bit strange. What with being so tired and being late for work, so I was just um, making sure you were alright.” Crane finished with a flourish. “Anyway, off you go, I need to make a few calls now. Oh and by the way,” Crane called to Billy’s retreating back, “chase up the techies for me would you. Surely they must have got to Solomon’s computer by now.”
“Right away, sir.”
Crane fell back in his chair, feeling rather afraid he’d just sounded like Captain Edwards and made a complete fool of himself into the bargain. Shit. Not a good start to the day. He could only hope it would get better as he reached for the phone to get updates from Jones and Anderson on the search for the Padre. As there was still no sign of him, Crane managed to elicit a promise from DI Anderson to search all abandoned buildings in Aldershot. At first Anderson laughed at the suggestion.
“Do you know how many abandoned buildings we have in Aldershot, Crane? It’s not exactly a prosperous area at the moment in case you hadn’t noticed. Shops are closing down and half the High Street has been abandoned. I blame Tesco’s myself. I swear most of the country is turning into Tescoland!”
“Yes, yes, I understand. I only meant the deserted ones out in the industrial areas for instance. Ones in hidden places that no one really knows about. Maybe something that was abandoned years ago. Come on, Derek, you know what I mean. Surely some of the police on the beat know where to look?”
After that Anderson agreed it was a good idea and promised to set things in motion.
Crane’s next task was to phone Sergeant Harris in Catterick and ask about Corporal Fisher’s wife.
“What do you want me to ask her?”
“I just need to see if you could jog her memory. Ask about the church meetings her husband attended again. Maybe she’ll be a bit more co-operative now. You never know.”
“Chance will be a fine thing. Anyway, she’s not up here anymore. She’s moved down your way, apparently, to be near her sister. So she’s now in Reading. Here’s her mobile number, call her and see if she’ll talk to you.”
After confirming the number, Crane thanked Harris and called Mrs Fisher. She agreed to see him, but only later that day and only at her sister’s house in Reading. She refused to tell him where she was living and said she wanted ‘a witness present’ when he interviewed her. Crane realised he would have to turn on the charm to get anything out of her and thought it might be better if Kim or Billy came with him. He was rather lacking in the charm department at the moment.
Crane then thought the interview was just the excuse he needed for calling Tina. He always told her if he would be late home, or not home at all come to that. So taking a deep breath he dialled her mobile. No answer. He called the bank who informed him that Mrs Crane was unavailable. So he called her mobile back to leave a message.
“Hi, Tina, um it’s me. Sorry about last night. Anyway I’ve called to say I’ve got to go to Reading to interview someone at 19:00 hours tonight, sorry I mean 7pm, so I’ll be late home. I’ll see you then. Um… bye.” Crane punched the red button to finish the call. He hated leaving messages. The words always came out wrong and sounded stilted. Still, it was the best he could do for now.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Crane spent the rest of the day on routine work, interspersed with calls to Sergeant Jones and DI Anderson. He also found himself checking his mobile phone every hour or so to see if Tina had called. She hadn’t. By 18:00 hours he called for Kim and they went to Reading to see Mrs Fisher. During the journey he told her about his previous interviews with Mrs Fisher and warned her that this one could be as bad.
“She was very angry, as you would expect. But also angry with the army. I got the sense she felt she had been dumped on from a great height and had not only lost her husband and son, but also her home, friends and everything she felt familiar with,” Crane explained.
“Well, that’s understandable, sir, the army doesn’t seem to have the best track record in the world when it comes to looking after wives of soldiers who have either died or left them. What many wives don’t seem to understand is that the army needs to evict them from their army quarter.”
“Needs to? Explain.”
“Well, for most wives or ex-wives their best option will be for the local authority to re-house them. But that’s not possible without an eviction order from the army. The eviction order gives them more points on the housing list and therefore a better chance of getting one of the few houses available. So while it seems harsh, it’s actually a necessary evil. Of course having kids helps as well, they give you more points.”
“Yes, well, Mrs Fisher doesn’t have a child anymore does she?”
“No,
sir, sorry, sir.”
Glancing sideways at Kim, Crane saw her cheeks redden as she turned to look out of the car window. “So for God’s sake don’t mention that bit at the interview.”
“No, sir. Oh here’s the sign for Reading,” Kim said pointing to her left.
They managed to navigate their way through the maze of streets running off Oxford Road and pulled up in front of a small Victorian terraced house. The street was quiet, although crammed with cars and at the far end of the road a few children played on bicycles. The door was answered by a large woman with a mass of curly hair and equally messy attire. She seemed swathed in layers of clothes of varying lengths, the longest one ending at her ankles.
Crane introduced himself and Kim and reminded her of their appointment with Mrs Fisher.
“ID please,” was the only response.
Crane and Kim both pushed their IDs towards the woman, which in any case were visible, as they were always hanging around their necks.
“Very well, come in,” the woman turned her back on them and walked through the house. Crane and Kim followed the swaying skirts to the kitchen. Mrs Fisher was sitting at a table in the centre of the room, nursing a mug of something. She turned her head at their entrance but said nothing.
Crane moved round the table to face her.
“Thank you for seeing us, Mrs Fisher,” he began. “This is Sergeant Kim Weston who works with me.”
Mrs Fisher inclined her head to the chairs, which Crane took as an invitation to sit down.
“This is my sister, Molly, she’ll be staying.”
“Of course, no problem,” replied Crane looking at Molly who was now leaning against the sink, staring at them with cold eyes.
“Mrs Fisher,” Kim began, “I’d first of all like to say how sorry we are for your loss.”
“Yes, well, easy to say, hard to live with.”
“I’m sure, it must be,” continued Kim a soothing cadence to her voice. “And I know our visit is unwelcome, but we are working hard to find out what caused your husband to do what he did.”
Deadly Duty Box Set 1 (Sgt Major Crane Crime Thrillers Box Set) Page 13