by P. F. Ford
Bradshaw shrugged. ‘I think you probably need time to think about what I’ve told you,’ he said. ‘I completely understand your reticence. To be honest, it’s a good thing, and it’s no more than I expected. I would have been concerned if you had rushed in without thinking. Perhaps if I was to make a gesture of good faith, it would help to ease your concerns.’
‘Yeah, right,’ said Slater, getting to his feet as Bradshaw reached for his hand. ‘Good luck with that.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I can come up with something to convince you,’ said Bradshaw as he shook Slater’s hand.
He turned and headed for the door, but stopped as he reached it and turned to Slater. ‘Goodbye, Mr Slater, or should I say DI Slater. It’s been a pleasure. Until the next time.’
Chapter Six
‘Did I see some guy leaving?’ asked Norman, as he set down the promised coffee and cakes on one of the recently finished workstations.
Slater was busy trying to clear the assorted decorating rubbish that was strewn all around. Norman wondered how they had managed to generate quite so much rubbish, but didn’t feel inclined to deal with the matter himself.
‘Yeah,’ said Slater, noncommittally.
‘Was it another job?’
‘Err, not exactly,’ said Slater. ‘He was looking for me.’
‘Oh, right,’ said Norman, uncertainly. It wasn’t like Slater to be quite so unforthcoming.
Norman watched Slater as he headed for the door, carrying a huge box filled with empty paint tins and yet more assorted rubbish. He was definitely looking uncomfortable about something.
‘Can I ask a question?’
‘Jeez, Norm,’ said Slater, peering over the top of the box. ‘When have you ever needed permission to talk?’
‘I’m serious,’ said Norman. ‘We can’t keep on avoiding the elephant in the room. It needs sorting out, and it needs sorting out now!’
Slater lowered the box carefully to the floor, looking taken aback by Norman’s sudden outburst and slightly shame-faced.
‘What elephant in the room?’ he asked innocently.
‘The one we’ve been tiptoeing around for the past week while we’ve been decorating this place,’ said Norman. ‘The very same one we’ve actually been tiptoeing around ever since we agreed to start working together!’
‘Ah, right,’ said Slater. ‘You mean that elephant.’
‘I hope there’s not another one,’ said Norman, ‘because if there is, I’m not aware of it.’
Slater shifted from one foot to the other. ‘No, there isn’t another one,’ he said, slowly. ‘What do you want to ask?’
Norman grabbed the two rickety folding chairs and arranged them opposite each other. He parked himself on one and pointed to the other. ‘Come and sit for a minute.’
Slater shuffled obediently across and settled into the chair.
‘A few weeks ago, I thought we were both pretty keen to set up in business together,’ began Norman, ‘so I want to ask, why is it every time I suggest we sit down and talk about it you come up with an excuse not to?’
‘That’s a bit harsh, Norm,’ said Slater. ‘You know I’ve got Jenny staying back home and I worry about her.’
‘Don’t use her as an excuse. I seem to recall you suggested her story would be our first investigation.’
‘Yeah, but she’s still not saying much,’ said Slater, ‘and until she comes up with some names, we’ve got nowhere to start.’
Norman fixed him with an intense stare. ‘Does that mean we were only ever going to take on that one case?’
Slater was beginning to look distinctly uncomfortable. ‘No, of course it’s not that, it’s just . . .’ His voice trailed away into silence.
‘Can I make an observation?’ asked Norman.
Slater gave an unhappy nod of his head.
‘It seems to me your heart might have been set on working with me a few weeks ago, but now your head’s had a chance to get involved, it no longer seems quite such a good idea. Am I right?’
Slater’s face was a picture of misery. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to work with you, Norm. We’ve always made a great team, and we have a lot of fun—’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Norman. ‘I didn’t think there was a problem with you and me. I think I can tell when someone doesn’t like me, and my radar isn’t detecting any anti-Norm vibes coming from you. I’m not trying to pick a fight here, and I’m not judging. I’m just trying to get you to tell me what you really think.’
Slater looked puzzled. ‘I’m not following,’ he said.
‘Well, forgive me if I’m wrong,’ said Norman, ‘but it seems to me you’re not convinced you really want to start a business and work for yourself, with me. Am I right?’
Something that could have been relief passed across Slater’s face.
‘I’ll go even further,’ Norman continued. ‘I think that you think you’re going to be letting me down if you don’t join me in this business.’ He sat back and watched Slater’s face.
‘I feel really bad about this,’ said Slater. ‘It’s just that the more I think about it, the less sure I am about what I really want to do.’
Norman spread his arms. ‘I get it. Working for yourself isn’t for everyone, but it’s not something you should be feeling bad about. Jeez, you’d be an idiot to join me if you weren’t sure, and imagine if you did join me, and then a few months down the line you hated it? Then I’d be the one feeling bad!’
Slater looked uncertain. ‘You don’t mind?’
‘Aw, come on, Dave, of course I don’t mind. I was going to set up on my own before you quit, remember? If you really wanted to join me that would be great, but if you don’t, well, that’s okay too.’
At last, a glimmer of a smile crept onto Slater’s face. ‘I really wanted to tell you, but I’ve been feeling so bad about letting you down,’ he said.
‘But that’s just the point, you’re not letting me down,’ insisted Norman. ‘You could do it just to keep me happy, but then you’d be letting yourself down, and trust me, you don’t wanna start doing that. I do understand where you’re coming from, honestly. I mean take a look around you.’ He waved his arms around the room. ‘I’m a bit haphazard, right?’
Slater nodded enthusiastically.
‘That’s just how I am,’ continued Norman, ‘and am I going to change now? It’s not gonna happen. I’m too old to change now. In the same way, you like things orderly and tidy, and there’s no way you’re changing any time soon, is there?’
Slater nodded again and smiled. ‘No chance,’ he agreed.
‘Exactly,’ said Norman. ‘I think you would feel compelled to keep cleaning up behind me, and in the end, we’d get on each other’s nerves. I don’t think either of us would want that to happen, do you?’
This time Slater shook his head. ‘Definitely not,’ he said. ‘No way.’
‘I bet, if you’re really honest, you miss the order and structure of the police force, don’t you?’
Slater sighed. ‘I dunno if that’s what it is, to be honest,’ he said. ‘So much has happened in such a short space of time, what with finding my dad, and then him passing almost straight away. And then there’s Jenny. I never thought I’d see her again, and suddenly here she is, sharing my house.’
‘You forgot to mention getting tangled up with the Black Witch,’ said Norman. ‘That woman is enough to mess anyone up. I think Naomi’s hit the nail right on the head with that name for her.’
This was the second reminder Slater had been given of his ill-fated fling with Marion Goodnews, aka the Black Witch, in the last twenty-four hours and judging by the look on his face, he didn’t need any reminder of just how much he regretted it.
‘Yeah, I admit I was a bloody fool getting involved with her,’ he said, gloomily. ‘I suppose I’ve buggered everything up and created my own mess. Jenny seems to be the only good thing that’s happened to me recently.’
‘You could always go back to the for
ce,’ suggested Norman. ‘They’re losing good people all the time, so I should think they’d welcome an experienced guy who actually wanted to come back. Personally, I think maybe you just needed to take some time away from it, not leave altogether.’
Slater sighed and took a deep breath.
‘Actually,’ he said, ‘there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you about that.’
But before he could say any more, Norman’s mobile phone began to ring.
‘That’ll be Jane!’ cried Norman, and he rushed across the room to answer it.
It was a full ten minutes before Norman ended his call. From what Slater had been able to glean, he was taking Jane out on a date this evening, and he was obviously excited about it.
‘I gotta go,’ said Norman, reaching for his jacket. ‘What was it you wanted to say?’
‘Oh, it’s okay, it’ll keep until the morning,’ said Slater.
Chapter Seven
It was Wednesday morning. Their appointment with Joe Dalgetty’s solicitor wasn’t until the afternoon, and Slater’s laptop had decided it wasn’t going to work, so they had decided to call Rosie and see if she still had a key to Joe’s house. To their delight, she not only had a key, she was actually about to head over there to make sure everything was okay and to make sure there was no post lying around. She told Norman she had been to the post office and asked them to stop delivering Joe’s post, but she wanted to be sure they had listened. She would be happy to wait for them and they could all go over together.
It was barely sixty yards from her house to Joe’s, but as they neared the house, Rosie seemed to slow down.
‘Here,’ she said, thrusting the front door key at Norman. ‘I hate going in there now it’s empty. It’s so quiet it gives me the creeps, and I’m always worried whoever was in there before might have come back.’
‘I doubt he’ll come back here again,’ Norman said. ‘If he was as thorough as you said, he either found what he wanted, or he’s certain it’s not here.’
‘D’you think it was the same man who broke into my house?’ A sudden look of worried realisation spread across her face, and she turned to Slater. ‘Is that why you asked me if Joe had left anything with me?’
‘If we assume he was looking for something, and he knew you and Joe were friends, it’s possible,’ Slater admitted, wishing she hadn’t asked the question, ‘but it’s more likely the police were right and it was the guy who’s been targeting pensioners.’
She gave him a hard stare. ‘Don’t patronise me, Mr Slater,’ she said. ‘I might be getting on a bit, but I can assure you I still have a full picnic basket. We all know it wasn’t someone after my money because it was there in the kitchen drawer, and he didn’t touch it.’
Slater blushed guiltily. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound quite like that.’
‘Am I going to be safe?’ she asked.
‘Honestly? I don’t know for sure, but this person has been pretty careful to avoid attracting too much attention. So far, he’s managed to convince the police he doesn’t exist, but that would soon change if someone got hurt.’
‘I think Dave’s right,’ said Norman. ‘He wouldn’t go to all the trouble of doing this invisible man thing and then hurt someone. In my opinion, he knows whatever he wants isn’t here, and now he knows you haven’t got it either.’
‘I’d love to know what he’s looking for,’ said Rosie.
Norman placed the key in the lock, and it slipped smoothly into place and turned easily. ‘Yeah, that’s our starter for ten,’ he said. ‘Maybe we’ll get lucky and there’ll be something inside that gives us a clue.’
‘Right now, I’d settle for a simple clue about Joe’s past,’ said Slater. ‘At least it would be a start.’
The door swung quietly open and Norman stepped inside, closely followed by Slater. Rosie hung back for a moment and then followed.
The first thing Slater noticed was the eerie quietness that Rosie had remarked upon, then the coldness of the empty house seemed to embrace him like an unwanted caress and he gave an involuntary shiver.
‘It’s because there’s no one living here,’ said Rosie from behind him. ‘Empty houses always feel cold and damp.’
Feeling slightly embarrassed that Rosie had seen him shiver, Slater said nothing and followed Norman along the hall. As Norman turned left into the kitchen, Slater turned right into the lounge. As they disappeared from view, Rosie turned to push the door closed, then bent down to gather a couple of letters that had been swept aside as the door opened.
‘Lazy buggers,’ she mumbled to herself. ‘I went all the way down there to tell them to stop Joe’s post and send it to the solicitor. Waste of my time that was.’ She squinted at the letters, but without her glasses it was a futile exercise, so she stuffed them into her coat pocket and followed Norman into the kitchen.
‘What is it you’re looking for?’ she asked.
‘Something that might give us a clue to his past,’ said Norman, rummaging through one of the kitchen drawers. ‘An address book perhaps, or a letter from a relative, anything like that would help.’
‘I don’t recall seeing anything like that,’ she said. ‘Now I think about it, I’m not sure he had any friends or relatives. He never used to get cards at Christmas time, or for his birthday.’
‘So, how come all his stuff is still in this house?’ asked Norman. ‘I would have thought the landlord would have wanted the house cleared so he could put a new tenant in place.’
Rosie looked surprised. ‘D’you know, I hadn’t even thought about that! I suppose I ought to let him know Joe’s dead.’
‘Surely the solicitor would have done that. How long’s he been dead now?’
‘Getting on for eight weeks,’ she said.
‘How did he pay his rent? Was it monthly?’
‘I’m not sure, but I think he was probably monthly direct debit, in advance, the same as me.’
As Norman considered this, he spotted Slater passing the kitchen door. ‘Hey Dave,’ he called.
Slater stopped in the doorway and leaned into the kitchen.
‘Joe’s solicitor would have control of his bank account now, right?’ asked Norman.
Slater nodded. ‘Yeah, he should have.’
‘So, he would have notified the landlord and cancelled the direct debit, right?’
‘I would have thought so.’
‘Me too,’ agreed Norman. ‘Yet nothing’s been done about getting Joe’s stuff out of here and getting ready for a new tenant.’
‘Maybe these things take time.’
‘My landlord’s a great guy,’ said Norman, ‘but letting property is a business. If I passed away tomorrow, I don’t reckon he’d leave my room empty for eight weeks. Sure, he might give my family a week or two to clear my stuff out, but eight weeks? That’s not good business, is it?’
‘Right. I see what you mean,’ said Slater.
‘Then again, I’m not sure it matters much,’ said Norman.
‘Wouldn’t hurt to check it out. That’s another question we can ask Joe’s solicitor this afternoon, but first we need to get finished here.’
‘Yeah, you’re right,’ said Norman. ‘I’ll have a quick shufty through the rest of the cupboards and drawers in here, and then I’ll join you upstairs.’
‘I don’t think you’ll find much,’ said Rosie to Norman as Slater made his way upstairs. ‘I can’t remember seeing anything like you’re looking for.’
Norman methodically went through the handful of cupboards and drawers in the kitchen, but apart from a couple of old recipes that had been torn from magazines, there was nothing of interest. In the last drawer he opened, he found a cheap flyer for a locksmith. It was the sort of thing someone might have knocked up themselves on a PC.
‘Is this the guy who fitted the new lock?’ asked Norman, showing the flyer to Rosie.
She squinted at the flyer. ‘What’s it say?’
‘It’s a flyer for a locksmith.�
�
‘He never said, but I suppose it could be.’
‘I’ll give this guy a ring,’ said Norman, folding the flyer and slipping it into his pocket.
‘I’m sure whoever got in here must have had a key,’ insisted Rosie.
‘Well, if this is the guy who fitted the new lock, he’ll know how many keys there were. If we can’t account for them all we’ll know someone has a key who shouldn’t.’
By the time Norman was ready to make his way upstairs, Slater was on his way back down.
‘That was quick!’
‘It doesn’t take long to look through two drawers and find nothing,’ said Slater.
‘Crap!’ said Norman. ‘I was hoping we’d at least find something.’
Chapter Eight
Jeremy Pearson had made it quite clear from his frosty attitude that Slater and Norman were anything but welcome, and he launched into them as soon as the formality of the introductions was over.
‘According to the police, Mr Dalgetty died of a heart attack with no suspicious circumstances,’ he said. ‘In my book, that’s natural causes, so why are you investigating his death?’
‘His neighbour, Rosie Hewitt, thinks there’s more to his death than meets the eye,’ said Norman.
‘And she knows more than the police? Who does she think she is? Miss Marple?’
‘Since he died, his house has been broken into and so has hers,’ said Slater. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit of a coincidence?’
‘They’re both pensioners, aren’t they?’ said Pearson dismissively. ‘Half the pensioners in town have had their houses broken into in the last few weeks. That’s the only coincidence I can see.’
‘Is there any particular reason you’re being so obstructive?’ asked Norman.
‘You’re not even police officers, are you? No, of course you’re not, so I don’t have to tell you anything, do I? It’s not about being obstructive, it’s about confidentiality.’
‘We thought you might like to help us clear up one or two issues that are worrying us,’ said Slater.