by P. F. Ford
‘I’m not sure,’ said Slater, cagily. ‘They did an assessment of both parents, as you would expect, but they both came up squeaky clean.’
‘That’s not much help, is it?’
‘I wouldn’t be quite so quick to dismiss it,’ warned Slater. ‘It’s not what it does say but what it doesn’t that intrigues me. According to what we’ve been told, she had only left her job a couple of years earlier suffering with depression. Now, that would have rung a few alarm bells if it was my investigation, yet it doesn’t even get a mention.’
‘Just because someone suffers from depression, it doesn’t mean they killed their own son!’
‘Of course it doesn’t, but it should be of interest to the investigation, yet it’s not even mentioned.’
‘Ah, yes, I see what you mean,’ said Watson. ‘Maybe they thought it wasn’t relevant.’
‘It should still be in the file with a reason as to why it’s not relevant,’ argued Slater.
‘Well, yes, when you put it like that.’
‘Right,’ said Slater, ‘so I started to wonder why it’s not mentioned.’
‘Investigating officers covering for her?’ suggested Watson.
Slater pulled a face. ‘I don’t think so. Don’t forget, this wasn’t some minor fraud or something trivial. It was a missing kid, and in my opinion it looks like it was a pretty thorough investigation. I’ve got no reason to think anyone cut corners or covered anything up.’
‘Okay, so why, then?’ asked Watson.
‘How about because it wasn’t recorded anywhere?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Her doctor’s statement said she was fit and healthy, and there was no mention of any mental health issues.’
‘But I thought she left her job because of depression.’
‘That was the “official” version,’ said Slater, waggling his fingers to create the inverted commas. ‘We all know people who’ve left the force under a cloud, but there’s nearly always an official version that paints a different story, isn’t there? It’s all about appearances rather than facts.’
‘So this adds weight to your “illicit affair” theory, and I suppose now you want to pursue it?’
‘It was Bradshaw’s idea, not mine,’ said Slater, ‘but yes, it’s got to be a possibility, and yes, I think we should look a bit deeper into it. There’s definitely something fishy about her decision to leave the force. Whether it’s actually relevant to our investigation remains to be seen.’
Watson smiled. ‘In that case I think you’ll be pleased with what I did last night.’
‘You’re not going to make me blush, are you, Sam?’ he asked, with a wicked grin.
A few days ago she would have been flustered by Slater’s comment and would have been blushing like a beetroot, but instead she just gave him a little smile. It was enough to tell him she was getting wise to him now and was beginning to take these comments, designed to embarrass, in her stride.
‘I’m not sure I could, to be honest, boss,’ she said, ‘but I can promise you, if the chance ever comes along, I will take full advantage.’
Slater smiled his acknowledgement of the promise. ‘Come, on then, I can’t wait to hear your boudoir secrets.’
‘Last night, I went looking for a man,’ she said.
‘And there I was, sitting on my bed, reading through a boring case file,’ said Slater, tongue firmly in cheek. ‘Did you find one?’
‘Yes, I did. He’s a bit old for me, but I think you’ll like him. His name is Ted Rivers.’
‘The retired sergeant?’ asked Slater. ‘You found him? But I didn’t even ask—’
‘It didn’t look as if you were going to drop it, so I thought I might as well see if I could find him before you asked.’
‘If this means another trip to Flipton, let’s see if we can arrange to see everyone else involved in this case while we’re up there, otherwise it’s a whole day just to interview one person.’
Watson smiled a smile that told Slater she knew something he didn’t know.
‘What?’ he asked, ‘Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?’
‘Why do you think he’s in Flipton?’
‘I just assumed if the guy was working up there he probably lives up there.’
‘But he didn’t work at Flipton,’ said Watson, who looked like she was beginning to enjoy Slater’s growing confusion.
‘Well, how did he know she was having an affair with one of her colleagues at Flipton if he didn’t work there?’
‘Because he worked at Ramlinstoke.’
‘What? But I thought . . .’ Slater scratched his head. ‘But she had left Ramlinstoke years before. Would an old, finished affair, cost her her job?’
‘That might depend on who she was having the affair with,’ said Watson, ‘but a couple of alternative possibilities came to mind. What if the affair had lapsed, but then the other officer had transferred to Flipton and it had started again? Or, what if it never ended and had carried on despite the distance involved? Maybe they used to meet halfway?’
‘I dunno,’ said Slater. ‘I thought Flipton was the key, but now everything seems to be coming back to Ramlinstoke. I think we need to speak to your man. Can you give him a call?’
‘I’ll go and call him now.’
Chapter 25
At first, Ted Rivers seemed to be a little suspicious of Slater and Watson. He’d been retired for more than five years now, but it was evident he still felt the old resentment that was always stirred up when coppers started investigating each other.
‘You’re not these people who come round looking for someone to pin the blame on when things go wrong, are you?’ he asked.
‘If you mean Professional Standards, no we’re not,’ said Slater. ‘At the moment we’re looking into the death of a young woman and a child—’
‘Are you the people over at Trillington?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ confirmed Slater. ‘We look into old cases that were never solved. We don’t specifically look for someone to blame, but I can’t ignore it if I think someone hasn’t even tried to do their job.’
‘Got someone in mind have you?’ asked Rivers, suspiciously.
‘How good’s your memory?’ asked Slater.
‘I won’t claim it’s perfect, but it’s not too bad. It depends on how obscure the case was.’
‘In 2001, a guy called David Hudson was found guilty of assaulting DS Colin Norton.’
Rivers was smiling at the memory. ‘Oh yes, I remember hearing all about that. Knocked Norton out cold with one punch. I was on leave at the time, but it was the talk of the station for weeks. I only wish I’d been there to see it.’
‘Apparently there was queue of well-wishers outside Hudson’s cell, all waiting to shake his hand,’ said Watson.
‘That’s what I heard,’ said Rivers.
‘Norton wasn’t very popular, then?’
‘About as well-liked as a swarm of wasps at a picnic.’
‘Why was that?’ asked Slater.
‘Because he was a lazy, good-for-nothing slob,’ said Rivers. ‘He was a troublemaker too. Fancied himself as a ladies’ man, and for some reason some of the ladies agreed with him.’
Watson wrinkled her nose.
‘I see you’ve met him, then?’ asked Rivers. ‘Not your cup of tea?’
‘Not if he was the last man on earth,’ said Watson.
‘Do you know why Hudson thumped him?’ asked Slater.
‘I wasn’t involved in the case at all,’ said Rivers. ‘I heard the man had been brought in for being drunk and disorderly. I know Norton upset him somehow, but he had a knack for that. I’m just surprised more people didn’t thump him.’
‘Hudson had reported his girlfriend and baby missing,’ said Slater, ‘but Norton couldn’t be bothered to do any proper police work to check it out. Instead, he decided Hudson was making it up, and told him he didn’t blame the girl for running off and leaving him.’
Ri
vers shook his head. ‘Like I said, bloody lazy, didn’t care about people, or the job.’
‘The thing is,’ added Slater, ‘we believe the young woman we’ve uncovered out at Trillington is David Hudson’s girlfriend. She’s been lying there for nearly twenty years.’
‘So you really do have someone to blame this time,’ said Rivers.
‘He wouldn’t have saved her life, but at least she could have been found,’ said Slater. ‘David Hudson’s been wondering what happened for all that time.’
Rivers sighed. ‘I never realised he was actually that lazy. My God, you wouldn’t credit it would you? You can see why he’s still a DS, although God only knows how he ever got that high up the ladder.’
There was a brief, gloomy silence, and then Slater spoke again. ‘I was told you might be able to tell me about a young DS who worked at Ramlinstoke about twenty years ago. She went off to Flipton to become a DI.’
‘D’you mean Diana Randall?’ asked Rivers. ‘Oh yes, I remember her. She got what you might call an assisted passage.’
Slater’s ears pricked up. ‘You mean she got special treatment? In exchange for what?’
Rivers’ face lit up with a broad smile. ‘Oh no, she wasn’t bonking the chief constable if that’s what you’re thinking. When I say “assisted passage”, I mean she came with a degree from some fancy university.’
‘You mean she was fast-tracked through the system?’
‘That’s the word for it! Yes, she was fast-tracked. Personally, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I suppose a degree says something for a person, but it doesn’t automatically make them a good detective, does it?’
‘What was she like?’
‘You just said it was twenty years ago,’ said Rivers. ‘I’m not sure I can remember.’
‘Was she popular, like one of the lads? Or was she the studious type?’
‘I seem to recall she would always be there in the pub after work buying her share of the rounds,’ said Rivers. ‘Like I said, she didn’t need to study, she was fast-tracked. I don’t think there’s any substitute for experience and common sense, is there? And if my memory serves me right, that girl didn’t have much of the latter.’
‘Why’s that?’ asked Slater.
‘Well, like I said, she wasn’t bonking the chief constable . . .’ He let the sentence trail away to silence.
‘Yes, but?’ insisted Slater.
Rivers looked uncomfortable. ‘Why do you want to know all this stuff? It was years ago now.’
‘Come on, Ted,’ urged Slater. ‘A good desk sergeant always has his finger on the pulse and knows what’s going on, and that includes knowing who was seeing who. I can understand you’re reluctant to point the finger at people, but this could be important.’
Rivers still seemed to be undecided.
‘Look, nothing you tell us will be used,’ Slater promised. He nodded across to Watson. ‘Sam’s not going to write any of this down, it’s just background, but it might have some bearing on what happened.’
Rivers watched as Watson made a point of closing her notebook and putting it in her bag. This seemed to be enough to convince him.
‘Well, it was nearly twenty years ago,’ he said, ‘and I suppose it won’t hurt now, but if you tell anyone I told you, I shall deny it.’
Slater held up his hands. ‘It was just a rumour we heard, right?’
Rivers nodded. ‘Right, well, according to the rumour, Diana Randall was having it off with Colin Norton.’
Watson looked stunned, and Slater was having trouble picturing the immaculate Diana Randall with the uncouth slob that was Colin Norton. He kept his face impassive. ‘And was there any foundation to the rumour?’
‘You’d like to think any woman with an ounce of common sense would see him for what he was, but like I said, common sense was something she seemed to lack. I seem to recall her husband was older than her and was some sort of professor. He was clever and a bit refined, maybe she just fancied a bit of rough for a change.’
‘Yes, but was the rumour true?’ asked Slater, again.
‘Well, I couldn’t say for sure, because I never actually caught them red-handed,’ said Rivers. ‘But they did have a habit of “going off the air” when they were working together. It’s amazing how often those two found areas where the radios didn’t work, if you see what I mean? They wouldn’t be gone for too long, but long enough, you know?’
‘That’s very helpful, Ted,’ said Slater. ‘I know it’s not easy to tell us stuff like this.’
‘It’s not really that hard where an idiot like Norton’s concerned.’
‘Maybe, but I want you to know we really appreciate your help.’
Slater nodded to Watson to tell her it was time to go.
‘Did Diana have any children?’ asked Watson, as she got to her feet.
Rivers laughed. ‘I don’t think so. As I recall, she was always at work, busy being the career girl. A baby wouldn’t have helped with that, now, would it?’
* * *
‘I’m afraid I’m not sure I believe what we’ve just been told,’ said Watson as she started Slater’s car.
‘What’s that?’ asked Slater.
‘Oh, come on, Diana Randall, and Colin Norton? How could she?’
‘Ah,’ said Slater, sagely. ‘If there’s one thing you should know by now, Sam, it’s that there’s no accounting for taste. When you look at Norton, you see an uncouth slob. Diana Randall sees Casanova.’
‘No, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I just don’t buy it. You’ve seen her, she keeps herself almost perfect, whereas he looks as if he doesn’t care.’
‘But it’s carnal,’ said Slater, warming to his subject. ‘It’s not about whether he’s good-looking or not. Maybe he’s some sort of sex-machine and can keep going all night like that bunny in the advert for the fancy batteries.’
‘Now that is just gross!’ she said. ‘Please, don’t put an idea like that into my head, it’s disgusting.’
‘When I was a young lad,’ said Slater, ‘I was told you don’t look at the mantelpiece when you’re poking the fire! I guess it would work just as well for men and women.’
‘Sorry?’ said Watson. ‘I’m not with you.’
Slater was beginning to feel somewhat awkward and regretting allowing his mouth to run away with him. This conversation was in danger of backfiring if he wasn’t careful. ‘Err, well, I suppose if I’m honest, it was a sort of bloke thing,’ he admitted, ‘from years back. It was what the older guys used to say to try to impress the youngsters like me.’
Watson gave him a swift glance. ‘And do you?’ she asked, focusing back on the road ahead as she drove.
Slater swivelled his head to look at her. ‘Do I what?’ He could see the beginnings of a smile on her face.
‘Look at the mantelpiece when you’re poking the fire?’
Slater was big enough to admit he’d brought this on himself, and he was quietly pleased Watson was prepared to play the game and seize the chance to get her own back. He thought for a moment before he spoke.
‘We have gas central heating,’ he said, with a grin, ‘and anyway, I always turn the lights off.’
Watson’s smile widened, but she didn’t say anything.
‘Getting back to Diana Randall, don’t they say opposites attract?’ asked Slater.
‘They don’t attract me.’
‘Fair comment,’ said Slater. ‘But her husband’s older, right? Ted Rivers said he was a bit refined. Maybe she was bored.’
‘Alright,’ said Watson. ‘Let’s say it is true, and they were having an affair. How does it help our case?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Slater. ‘But there’s got to be some connection between Diana Randall, Colin Norton, and David Hudson. There are just too many coincidences for my liking. What if Hudson was the father of Diana’s baby? And then while he’s away, Norton moves onto the scene and starts an affair with her. Hudson comes back, finds out, and punches Norton’s lights out? Ma
ybe Hudson then moved up to Flipton because he wanted to rekindle his affair with her.’
‘That’s very good, sir,’ said Watson, ‘but what about Kylie Mason and her baby?’
‘Maybe he was cheating on her,’ Slater suggested.
‘That gives him an even better motive for killing her,’ agreed Watson, ‘but don’t forget he still has the Kosovo alibi.’
Slater studied the road ahead for a few moments. ‘No, you’re right,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t work does it?’
‘Only if he wasn’t in Kosovo,’ she said, as she stopped the car and switched off the engine, ‘and we know he was.’
Chapter 26
‘Even I’m impressed with the speed of the guys at the lab,’ said Cutter.
Slater and Watson had returned to find a pinned note on the door asking them to come to the MAFU truck right away. ‘And?’ said Slater impatiently.
‘As a result of their work, I can inform you the initial findings from the DNA samples we sent from our latest victim suggests she is the mother of our first victim.’
Slater looked confused. ‘But Kylie’s child was a baby.’
‘I’m only saying we have the skeletons of a mother and her son,’ said Cutter, ‘and I must stress, these are preliminary results and have to be confirmed.’
‘So, if we know the boy is Hudson’s son, can we say for sure that this is Kylie Mason?’ asked Slater.
‘We can say it’s likely, but there’s always the possibility Hudson had this child with another woman, and the body we have is the other woman. The only way we can prove this is Kylie is if you can get a DNA sample from the parents, then we could prove it beyond doubt.’
‘Right,’ said Slater, turning to Watson. ‘That’s got to be our next call.’
Watson absently nodded her agreement. It looked like something was bothering her. She looked at Cutter, who smiled at her. ‘Can I ask a question?’
‘Of course.’
‘Didn’t you tell us this young woman was around eighteen?’
‘That’s right,’ he said, encouragingly. ‘We estimate the young woman to have been around eighteen to twenty years old when she died and, as you know, the child was somewhere between five and ten.’