by P. F. Ford
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Hi, Naomi?’ said Norman, into his phone. ‘I think we just found a way to repay one of those favours we owe you. Can you get over here? You might want to bring a couple of uniforms. We have a young man here who says he’s been robbing pensioners. He says he wants to make a confession.’
Kerry looked as if he was going to make a run for it, but he hadn’t noticed Watson make her way quietly over to the door.
‘Go on, try it,’ said Slater. ‘I think I’d actually quite like it if you gave me an excuse.’
Now Kerry had noticed Watson waiting by the door, and the way she held her walking stick suggested she’d be happy to use it as a weapon if she had to.
‘You don’t seriously think you could get past her, do you?’ said Slater. ‘You think she’d be the easier fight because she’s a woman? That would be a major faux pas. She’s tougher than me and Norm put together. She’d batter the crap out of a creep like you with one hand tied behind her back.’
Watson blushed. But Kerry seemed to have realised the hopelessness of his situation and was now slumped in his seat, looking defeated.
Chapter Twenty-Three
At eight o’clock the next morning, Slater, Norman, and Watson stood alongside Naomi Darling and watched as the first few slabs were lifted from the patio behind Joe Dalgetty’s house.
‘Are you all right with this, Naomi?’ asked Norman. ‘It’s a big responsibility for a DC.’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to get any glory out of this. DS Dumb-arse Biddeford has only left me in charge until they actually find something. If that happens, I’ve got to call him so he can come down and take over. It was the same with that Kerry Jones fella yesterday. I bring the guy in, and he does the interview and gets all the credit. Really, it should be you two.’
‘We didn’t do anything,’ said Norman. ‘He just walked in off the street. He seemed to think telling us about it absolved him of all blame.’
‘And I told you I thought he was clever,’ she said, laughing.
‘He can’t have been completely stupid. He didn’t leave any evidence, did he?’ argued Norman.
‘He’s some sort of sociopath or something,’ said Darling. ‘He seems to have no conscience, and no concept of being responsible for what he’s done. I bet he’ll probably get a psyche assessment that says exactly that, and he’ll get off because of it. You just wait and see. Not that I care. Another few days and I’m done.’
‘I think it’s a pity they’re letting you go,’ said Slater.
‘They’re not letting me go, I’m leaving. Technically, it’s not the same thing.’
Slater pulled a face. He felt he wasn’t really in a position to argue the pros and cons of anyone’s decision to leave the force.
‘You realise this has made you even more popular with her ladyship, DI Black Witch Goodnews, don’t you?’ said Darling.
‘Now there’s a surprise,’ said Slater, dourly. ‘And there I was thinking this would make me her favourite.’
‘Her favourite target, maybe,’ said Darling. ‘If you start to get any sharp stabbing pains, that’ll be on account of the voodoo doll she’s sticking pins in.’
‘Where is she anyway?’ asked Norman. ‘I expected her to be here giving us grief about this.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ said Darling, then turned back to Slater. ‘Anyway, who’s this Bradshaw bloke?’
‘Why? What about him?’ asked Slater.
‘He’s my boss,’ chipped in Watson. ‘Why? What’s he done?’
‘Apparently, he called her up and told her she wasn’t to interfere with what’s going on here.’
‘Oh, my,’ said Watson.
‘Oh, crap!’ said Slater. ‘That’s all I need.’
‘Apoplectic would be the best word to describe her mood yesterday afternoon after she finished speaking to him,’ said Darling. ‘I found it in the thesaurus when I got home yesterday. It means—’
‘Overcome with a furious anger,’ finished Slater.
‘Oh, you know it, then?’ she asked.
‘I know her,’ said Slater, with a grim smile. ‘To know one is to know the other!’
Their conversation was interrupted by a shout from one of the diggers.
‘I think I’ve got something over here. It looks like a bone!’
‘Right, stop digging,’ called Darling. ‘Clear the site. We’re going to have to get the forensic pathology people down here.’
She turned to Slater and Norman and Watson. ‘I’m going to have to call DS Bighead, and I can’t see the Black Witch staying away much longer. Do you want to stay? We’ve got very specific orders regarding calling the forensic pathology people, so there’s no need to stay, if you don’t want to.’
‘Yeah, I can pass on seeing her,’ said Norman. ‘And you’ll be a like the red rag to her bull, Dave. C’mon, let’s go and have some breakfast. They can let us know what they find.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
If there was one thing Jenny Radstock really loved, it was a nice hot shower followed by a long soak in a hot bath. After spending several months living on the street, where getting access to a shower was almost impossible, she was still making the most of the opportunity she now had to shower and bath as often as she wanted to, and this morning she was finding it particularly relaxing.
She still couldn’t quite believe how lucky she was to have stumbled across Dave Slater when she had just about reached the end of her tether. Why he hadn’t turned his back on her when so many others had she couldn’t say, but once he had recognised her and learnt about her fall from grace, he had had no hesitation in offering her his spare room, and thus had begun her journey back to good health and fitness.
That had been almost eight weeks ago, and she thought it was no coincidence that the speed of her recovery had gone hand in hand with the deepening of their relationship. Indeed, the spare room was only used for storage these days. She couldn’t remember exactly when she had started sharing Slater’s bed, but she was glad it had happened. Being with him felt safe and in fact, since she had been with him, she hadn’t seen any sign of the people who had spent so long harassing her, they had almost destroyed her.
She had originally intended to seek revenge, but now she was beginning to enjoy her new life, she wasn’t sure she really wanted to stir that all up again. Her life now was stress-free, and feeling loved was a new experience she had quickly become used to. She had no desire to be a kept woman and had every intention of finding a job so she could contribute her fair share, but the longer it went on, the less she felt the need to go back to the stresses of her old life. Maybe it was time for a change.
Her thoughts were interrupted briefly by what she thought was a sound downstairs, but when she listened more closely, she couldn’t hear anything. She thought it was amazing how paranoid she had become during her time on the street, but when you were being persecuted that’s what happened – it rather went with the territory, and it wasn’t an easy thing to shake off.
It was probably time to get out of the bath, but first she took a deep breath and slipped under the water, where she lay for about thirty seconds. Then she resurfaced, took a deep breath, ran her hands through her hair to remove the excess water, stood up, and stepped from the bath. As she reached for a towel, she thought she heard something downstairs again.
It was her imagination playing tricks on her, of course; she knew it was. Dave had gone to work, and the front and back doors were locked, as he insisted they had to be if she was in the house on her own, so there couldn’t be anyone else in the house. But even so, she felt compelled to tiptoe across to the door and have a peep.
As she eased the door open just an inch or so, she felt a small rush of smoky air, which made her cough and splutter as she breathed it in. She looked towards where the stairs should be, but all she could see was a thick grey haze. Then there was a brief burst of colour behind it. It all happened so fast it was instinct, not
rational thought, that made her slam the door and take a step back.
‘Oh my God!’ she said aloud. ‘The house is on fire!’
For maybe ten or fifteen seconds she stood statue-like as panic threatened to engulf her, but Jenny was a survivor, and through sheer force of will, she managed to regain control of her thoughts. It had looked as though there were flames at the foot of the stairs, so there was going to be no escape that way. She looked to the bathroom window, but even her slim figure wasn’t going to slip through the small opening at the top.
‘Come on, think, Jenny, think!’
Then it came to her. If she could reach the spare room, she could possibly escape through that window. It might be her only chance. She slipped on her dressing gown, then snatched up her mobile phone and stuffed it into the pocket. She could worry about calling for help when she had escaped. She quickly dampened a towel and slipped it over her head, then, taking several deep breaths, she opened the door and fled across the small landing through the thickening smoke. As she ran, she felt the heat from the fire downstairs, and she was sure she could hear crackling sounds as it took hold.
She barged open the spare room door, slammed it behind her, rushed to the window, and looked down. Dave had recently suggested it would be good for both of them if they took up cycling, and although he hadn’t actually got round to buying the bikes yet, he had bought a shed to store them. As luck would have it, the only place he could put the shed had been at the back of the house under the spare room window. It meant she had to drop onto the apex of the shed roof, but it was better than dropping all the way to the ground. Besides, it was her only option.
She threw the window open and eased herself over the edge, reaching for the roof with her feet, but when she looked down, she could see she was a couple of feet short. Then a loud crash from inside the house made her mind up for her and she let go of the window ledge and braced herself. Her right foot made the first contact with the roof, just to one side of the apex. She lost her balance and toppled spectacularly from the roof, landing on top of a couple of small shrubs, which were just enough to break her fall.
She was winded, and knew she would have a few bruises, but she was otherwise unhurt, and, more importantly, she was alive. She scrambled to her feet and sprinted away from the house. Then she dragged the mobile phone from her pocket . . .
Chapter Twenty-Five
Slater, Norman and Watson were sitting at a table in the pub where they served an all-day breakfast. They had just decided what they wanted to eat, and Slater had been volunteered to go up to the bar and place the order. He had no doubt he was also going to be manoeuvred into paying. He had hung his jacket on the back of the chair next to Watson’s, and just as he got up from the table, his mobile phone began to ring deep in one of his pockets.
‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ asked Norman.
‘I’m just going up to order the breakfasts. If it’s important, they’ll leave a message.’
As if the caller had heard him, the phone stopped ringing.
‘There you go, you see? It can’t have been important, can it?’
No sooner had he begun to walk away than it began to ring again. He turned to them as he walked.
‘Could you get that for me please, Watson? Tell whoever it is I’ll call them back.’
He walked over to the bar, leaving Watson to answer the phone. As he waited for someone to take his order, he amused himself by counting all the different brands of bottled cider he could see on the shelves behind the bar.
‘Sir’, said Watson, rushing over and offering Slater his phone. ‘It’s someone called Jenny.’
‘Can you tell her I’ll call her back?’
‘I think you should take it now.’
Slater turned, irritated. ‘But we’re busy here, and—’ then he caught the expression on her face. He grabbed the phone.
‘Jen? What’s up?’
He listened.
‘Fire service? Whoa, now slow down,’ he said, patiently. ‘You’re not making any sense. Why did you need to call the fire service? It’s what? Christ! Okay. I’m on my way.’
He handed the phone back to Watson. ‘Here, keep her talking, and calm her down, can you? I’ve got to go.’
He rushed for his jacket, as a bewildered Watson started talking on the phone. ‘Hello, Jenny? You don’t know me, my name’s Watson.’
‘My bloody house is on fire!’ Slater said to Norman as he headed for the door.
‘Wait!’ yelled Norman, ‘I’ll come with you!’ He looked up to see a puzzled Watson, who had come back to their table. She looked at him and then at the phone and shrugged her shoulders.
‘She seems to have hung up.’
‘Let me take that phone,’ Norman said. ‘I’ll see if I can call her back.’
She gave him the phone and he rushed after Slater, who barely gave him time to get inside the car before he screeched away, leaving a trail of rubber to mark his path.
‘What the hell’s happened?’ asked Norman, pressing buttons on the phone.
‘Dunno,’ said Slater. ‘She was near hysterical. All I know is the bloody house is on fire!’
‘Christ! Is she okay?’
‘I think so. She didn’t actually say, but I think so. I certainly bloody hope so.’
Norman knew just how attached Slater and Jenny had become, and knew his friend’s concern was for her, not for his house.
‘It’ll be okay,’ he said, hoping he sounded more convincing than he felt. ‘She’s probably still jumpy, right? Maybe it’s just a smoke alarm and she’s overreacted.’
‘Jeez, Norm, I hope you’re right, mate, I really hope you’re right.’
By the time they reached Slater’s house, the fire was out, but wispy threads of black smoke could be seen curling from the upstairs windows, one of which seemed to have shattered from the heat, and it was obvious from the soot-blackened state of both windows that the damage inside must be pretty extensive. Two fire engines were parked in the road outside the house, with an ambulance in attendance just behind them. A paramedic was tending to a young woman in a dressing gown sitting on the back step of the vehicle, a thin fleece blanket around her shoulders. Slater could see it was Jenny and headed straight for her.
‘Is she hurt?’ he asked the paramedic as he approached.
‘She’s had a nasty shock,’ he said, looking up at Slater. ‘But then so would anyone if they got out of the bath and found their house was on fire. Who are you, her husband?’
‘Err, partner,’ said Slater, not wanting to get into long-winded explanations.
Jenny suddenly seemed to notice him and immediately burst into tears. She jumped up and threw herself into his arms.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she wailed. ‘One minute I was having a soak in the bath, and the next thing I knew, the house was on fire.’
‘It’s okay,’ he said, stroking her hair. ‘As long as you’re okay. That’s all that matters.’
She was sobbing her heart out now, clinging to him so tightly he could hardly breath. He just held her close and continued to stroke her hair.
‘You sure she’s okay, mate?’ he asked the paramedic again.
‘Yeah, it’s just shock. Physically, she’s fine apart from a few bruises,’ he said. ‘It’s lucky she had her wits about her and was prepared to climb out of the window, or it might have been a different story.’
Slater looked back at his house. There was a night, many months ago now, when he’d watched helplessly as flames had engulfed Norman’s flat. Now it seemed it was his turn.
‘Is she okay?’ asked Norman, putting a hand on his shoulder. He had been speaking to one of the fire officers.
‘Paramedic says it’s just shock.’
‘Well, thank the lord for small mercies,’ said Norman. ‘You might want to have a chat with that fire service guy over there with the white helmet.’
‘Who?’ asked Slater.
‘Eddie Brent, he says he knows you.’
‘Isn’t he the guy who did the investigation work when your flat burnt down?’
‘That’s him,’ said Norman. ‘I think you should have a chat. I can look after Jenny for a few minutes.’
Slater looked down at Jenny. She was still clinging to him, but at least now the sobbing had subsided.
‘Jen?’ he said. Gently, he placed a finger under her chin and raised her tear-stained face, but she couldn’t look at him. ‘I’ve just got to go and speak to the fire service. I’ll only be a couple of minutes. Norm will look after you. Okay?’
She sniffed and nodded, but still avoided his gaze. ‘I’m so sorry—’
He pulled her to him and tucked her head under his chin. ‘Hey, come on, hush now,’ he said, gently. ‘It’s okay. It’s just a house.’ As he said it, he realised it probably sounded quite absurd, but right at that moment he really meant it. She was all that mattered.
‘Hey, come here, good looking,’ said Norman, placing his hands on her shoulders, and turning her around. He fished a clean handkerchief from his pocket. ‘Here, let me dry some of those tears and clean you up a bit. You go on,’ he said to Slater. ‘Jenny’ll be okay with me for a few minutes, won’t you, Jen?’ She nodded slowly, and tried a smile, but it was no good and she began sobbing again.
Slater wasn’t sure if he should leave her, but Norman enveloped her in his big arms and nodded at him over her shoulder.
‘Go on,’ he said. ‘I’ll look after her.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Eddie Brent as Slater walked over to him. ‘So it really is your house. What is it with you guys?’
‘We’re just lucky, I guess,’ said Slater.
‘Who have you pissed off this time?’
‘D’you think it was deliberate?’ asked Slater.
‘It’s too soon to say. Statistics say it’s probably an accident that started in the kitchen, but I can’t say for sure until I’ve had a chance to look around inside.’
‘Any ideas?’
‘Like I said, we need to do a proper investigation, but I can tell you it definitely started downstairs. The problem is the downstairs windows were wide open, and so was one of the bedroom windows, so once it started there was a good through draught fanning the flames, and it quickly turned into an inferno.’ He nodded his head in the general direction of Norman and Jenny. ‘Is the young lady your girlfriend?’