by P. F. Ford
Slater muttered another soft curse.
‘I hope you’re not swearing at me.’
‘What? No, of course not,’ he said, hastily. ‘I’m just saying goodbye to our conspiracy theory. Norm and I thought we’d worked out the solution to our case this afternoon. We thought this guy could well be another victim of our killer.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I didn’t mean to ruin your work.’
‘Oh well, we’ve obviously got it wrong. At least this way we don’t get to look like a pair of idiots and embarrass ourselves.’
He listened to her soft laugh for a moment. ‘Sorry,’ she said, again. ‘I shouldn’t laugh.’
‘No, it’s okay,’ he said. ‘At least when you mock me you have a pleasant laugh. I didn’t expect to hear from you for a few days.’
‘Yes, well, things change, don’t they?’
He thought he could detect something in her voice. ‘You sound a bit down,’ he said. ‘Has something happened?’
‘No, no, I’m fine. Tell me about this case of yours.’
‘It looks like our client is innocent, just as his sister claims, and he’s been the victim of a cover-up.’
‘But, he’s done ten years, hasn’t he?’
‘Yeah, that’s right, poor sod. We’re pretty sure we’ve got it worked out right—’
‘Apart from the latest victim in Wales,’ Robbins reminded him.
‘Okay, we might be wrong about that bit, but we’re sure there’s a cover-up over the original murder. The thing is, the two women I thought would be the weak links have had ten years to practice their stories. At the moment, they know we can’t touch them, but I’m determined I’m going to break one of them sooner or later.’
‘I’m sure you’ll get there,’ she said. ‘Sometimes the answer’s right under your nose, you know.’
‘Yeah, but if it’s there this time, it’s going to have to smack me in the face for me to see it.’
‘Just make sure it’s all legal and above board or your guy will still be stuck inside. Let me know if I can do anything to help, okay?’
‘Yeah, sure. I’ll bear that in mind.’
‘I’ve got to go now. I’ll call you when I’ve got some more news about the other matter.’
As Slater put his phone down, he remembered the piece of paper that had fallen from his pocket and reached down for it. As he slowly unfolded it, he recognised it as the bank statement Sandra Harness had thrown in his face. He was going to put it straight into the rubbish bin, but out of habit and years of training, he couldn’t help but look at it first.
Five minutes later, Norman rushed into the room. ‘I’m off out,’ he said.
‘Before you go,’ said Slater, handing him the bank statement, ‘take a look at this. It just smacked me in the face.’
Norman took the statement and stared at it. ‘What am I looking for?’
‘Fifteenth of the month, payment going out.’
Norman found the payment. ‘Yes, and?’
‘That’s a Scottish name, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘D’you think you could get in touch with Vinnie?’
‘Why? I thought you didn’t even like him.’
‘I don’t like him, but I can’t deny the man’s a computer wizard. He could check this out in five minutes. If that’s a regular payment, perhaps there’s another secret up in Scotland.’
‘Jeez, it’s a bit of a long shot, isn’t it? Are we that desperate?’
‘I’m not sure about desperate, but it’s going to take something pretty radical to make a breakthrough, right?’
‘But we don’t even know if this is relevant.’
‘I don’t care if it’s relevant, Norm. I can’t believe Sandra Harkness doesn’t have any secrets. If this is one of them and it gives us a bit of leverage to use against her, I want to know what it is.’
‘Well, I suppose I can ask him, but I hope you’re right. I wouldn’t want to piss him off by wasting his time.’
‘I promise I’ll make it up to him if it’s a waste of time,’ said Slater. ‘And can you ask him to see if there are any similar, regular payments.’
‘Alright, I’ll call him in the morning.’
‘Can’t you do it now?’
‘But I’m going out.’
‘C’mon, Norm. It’ll only take five minutes.’
Norman sighed. When Slater was in this mood he was unlikely to give up until he got his way. ‘Okay, okay. I’ll do it now.’
Chapter 35
It was 11 a.m. on Sunday morning when Slater parked his car outside the small timber lodge that served as the reception office for the Glendovie Estate in Scotland. He had driven for ten hours on Saturday, finally stopping at a small B&B just a few miles down the road from the estate to spend the night. He had completed his journey that morning after breakfast.
He looked around, but there was no sign of life, so he climbed from his car and made his way across to the office. ‘Please ring the bell and enter’ said a sign. He pressed the bell, pushed the door open, and made his way inside. The walls were adorned with framed photographs of varied landscapes, which he assumed were taken here on the estate. While he waited, Slater amused himself by studying each in turn.
‘Can I help you?’ asked a voice.
Slater turned to find a rugged-looking man, he guessed to be in his sixties, had entered through a door on the other side of the room. He was looking at Slater with suspicion.
‘Good morning,’ said Slater.
‘I don’t think I recognise your face,’ said the man.
‘No, I’ve not been here before.’
‘I need to know who you’re with, only I’ve not been notified to expect any newcomers. I can’t allow you on the estate if you’re not authorised.’
‘Is it only companies that own the lodges?’ asked Slater.
‘There are a few individuals, but it’s mostly companies who lease them.’
‘Ah, so they’re leased, not owned. Is one leased to a company called Pritchard and Harkness?’
Now the man folded his arms. ‘You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?’
‘It’s my job to ask questions,’ said Slater.
‘And it’s my job to protect the privacy of the people who stay here. Who are you, the police?’
‘My name’s Dave Slater. I’m a private investigator. I’m looking for a man called Robbie McGregor who works here on the estate. Is that you?’
The man seemed to relax little, and the ghost of a smile crossed his face. ‘A private investigator? In that case, I don’t have to answer any of your questions, do I?’
‘No, you don’t have to, but I think you might want to.’
The man smiled more obviously now and shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘You are McGregor, aren’t you?’ said Slater. ‘You look after the lodges here. I bet you see some things, don’t you? I bet you know a few secrets, eh?’
‘I think you might want to bugger off back to England before I call the police.’
‘Now why would you think that?’
‘Because this is private property and you’re not wanted around here.’
Slater unfolded a sheet of paper from his pocket and held it out to the man. ‘You might want to take a look at this before you make that call.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Here, take it. I think you’ll find it quite interesting.’
McGregor reached for the sheet of paper and looked at it. Then he looked up at Slater. ‘This is my bank statement. How the hell did you get hold of this?’
Slater smiled. ‘Do you still want to call the police?’
‘And why wouldn’t I?’
‘Payment coming in on the fifteenth of the month. It comes from Sandra Harkness, and it comes every month.’
McGregor looked down at the statement again. The tips of his ears were pink.
‘Pritchard and Harkness lease a lodge here on the estate, don’t they?’ asked Slater.
‘It’s a private lodge, not a company one?’
‘Aye.’
‘And Mrs Harkness comes here on her own?’
‘Sometimes, aye.’
‘Why is she paying you?’
‘I look out for her, keep an eye on their lodge.’
‘But isn’t that what you do anyway? Isn’t that your job?’
‘Aye, but I go that little bit extra for her lodge.’
‘Nice try, McGregor, but there are four more like that. Are you telling me you do that little bit extra for all of them? Or are they paying for your silence? I reckon that’s more likely, don’t you?’
McGregor was looking distinctly nervous. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘it’s just a few pounds extra to make ends meet. I deserve more than the pittance I get paid for doing this job.’
‘D’you still want to call the police?’ asked Slater. ‘Only I’d be happy to let them know they should check you out. They might even be interested in what some of these people have been up to.’
‘Christ, don’t do that, I’d lose my job!’ said McGregor, desperately.
‘Don’t panic. I haven’t come up here to make you lose your job. Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn about your little enterprise. I’m only interested in one of your victims.’
‘Which one?’
‘I want to know what you have on Sandra Harkness. You tell me what she’s got to hide, and I’ll clear off. You’ll never see me again.’
Slater could almost hear McGregor’s brain working as he considered his options. ‘I can promise you she’s not going to be paying you for much longer anyway, so you might as well tell me.’
‘I don’t have much choice, do I?’
Slater smiled. ‘No choice at all. You know it makes sense.’
Chapter 36
‘Stella Robbins,’ said the voice in Slater’s ear.
‘It’s Dave Slater.’
‘If you’re hoping for more news, I haven’t got any yet.’
‘That’s not why I’m calling.’
‘You sound weird. Where are you?’
‘I’m sitting in my car outside a bed and breakfast somewhere just south of the border between England and Scotland.’
‘Scotland! Whatever are you doing all the way up there?’
‘It’s a long story, but the short version is I needed to speak to a man.’
‘Is there something wrong with using a telephone?’
‘If I had done that, he could easily have refused to speak to me and hung up. There was only one way I could guarantee he wouldn’t do that.’
‘I would have needed one hell of a good reason to make a journey like that.’
Slater thought it might be best to avoid telling her about Norman’s friend, Vinnie, and how he had hacked into someone’s bank account.
‘It was a hunch.’
‘My God, that’s one powerful hunch if it makes you drive from one end of the UK to the other and back.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s my impulsive nature, I guess. Anyway, I had nothing else to do this weekend.’
‘Oh, right. You make a habit of driving for days at a time when you’ve got nothing to do, do you? Driving non-stop for hours is a good way of killing yourself.’
‘Which is precisely why I’m outside a bed and breakfast. I’ve got nothing to rush back for so I’m about to book in for the night. I’ll make my way back tomorrow when I wake up. It’s one of the joys of not being an employee.’
‘Is that why you called? Just to tell me how lucky you are working for yourself?’
‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ he said, ‘but, no, that’s not it. The real reason is that you said the other day to let you know if you could help in any way.’
‘You mean help with your case?’
‘Yeah. Were you for real?’
‘What have you got in mind?’
‘How about arresting a murderer? I suppose me and Norm could make a citizen’s arrest, but it would be much better if—’
‘I can’t go around arresting people for murder just because you say so.’
‘I know that. But what if we got a confession for you?’
‘And how are you going to do that?’
‘One of us could wear a wire.’
‘I think you’ve been watching too many TV shows. You were in the police. You know it’s never that easy to get permission to do these things.’
‘Oh, come on, Stella. I’m offering you a murderer on a plate. Are you going to turn that down?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Okay, suit yourself,’ said Slater. ‘We can do it the hard way. It’s no problem. I just thought, after having the other case taken away from you ...’
‘I’ll have to talk to my boss, but I can promise you he won’t be easy to convince.’
‘Think about it,’ said Slater. ‘I have to go now. Bye.’
‘Hang on—’
Slater ended the call before she could say any more. If he was right, she would be chomping at the bit to catch a murderer, and he was confident she would call him back at some stage tomorrow.
Chapter 37
Despite spending Saturday and Sunday nights in hotel rooms, Slater had found it necessary to make frequent coffee stops on the journey back, and he had been utterly shattered by the time he had arrived home on Monday evening.
Such was his weariness, he had spent nearly all of Tuesday sleeping, but at least he knew it had been worth it. Now it was Wednesday morning, and he was fully recovered and wide awake. He, and Norman, were on their way to Pritchard and Harkness. It was time to speak to James Harkness again.
* * *
It was clear the receptionist recognised the two detectives as they marched into the building, and she didn’t look pleased to see them.
‘We’d like to speak with James Harkness, please,’ said Norman.
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’
‘Is he out?’ asked Slater.
‘No, he’s in a meeting.’
‘I’m sure he won’t mind making time for us,’ said Norman.
‘He can’t be disturbed.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s a board meeting.’
Norman nudged Slater with his elbow. ‘Oh, really? So that means all four directors are there, right?’
‘Yes, of course. But the directors cannot be disturbed during a meeting. It’s a company rule.’
‘That’s okay, don’t you worry,’ Norman assured her. ‘We won’t disturb anyone. We’ll go on up and wait outside.’
Before she could protest any further, they rushed off up the stairs. They knew from when they had been here before that the boardroom was on the first floor, next door to James Harkness’s office.
‘Can you believe that?’ said Norman, as they hurried up the stairs. ‘All four of them up there together.’
‘It’s an unexpected bonus. I thought we’d have to round them all up one at a time. Now, this should be really interesting. I can’t wait to see what happens when we start making accusations.’
‘I thought this was going to be fun before, but now there’s going to be four of them. I can’t wait to see their faces when we walk in!’
They didn’t break step at the top of the stairs, striding across to the boardroom and barging in without warning. They could hear James Harkness speaking as they entered the room, but he stopped in mid-sentence as they appeared.
‘You two!’ he spluttered. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing barging in here like this?’
Harkness was at the head of the massive table, with Joe Linden nearby. The two women had kept their distance from the two men and were sitting, open-mouthed, with the table between each other.
‘My, my, doesn’t this look cosy?’ said Slater. ‘What is it? Boys against girls? But then even you two girls don’t seem to be on the same side, do you?’
‘This is extravagant, isn’t it?’ asked Norman. ‘
You have four directors on the board and a table that would easily seat twelve. Or is it this big so you can keep your distance from each other?’
‘What do you want?’ asked Harkness. ‘Can’t you see we’re in a meeting?’
‘Oh, yeah, we can see,’ said Slater. ‘But this isn’t your normal monthly meeting, so I’m wondering why you’re all here today? Has someone been asking too many questions and getting too close to the truth for comfort?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ said Harkness.
‘No, of course, you haven’t.’
‘Our guess is that this little get-together is just to make sure you’re all still singing from the same hymn sheet,’ said Norman.
Sandra Harkness had been wide-eyed with shock when they had walked in, but now she had regained some of her composure. ‘This is outrageous,’ she snapped. ‘We’ve been prepared to help with your enquiries up until now, but this time you’ve gone too far. I think you should leave.’
‘Ah, yes, Mrs Harkness,’ said Norman. ‘I’ve got to be honest and admit you have been very helpful, but there was something you said last time we spoke that’s been nagging away at us.’
‘A couple of things, actually,’ added Slater.
‘That’s right, a couple of things. You know what we’re talking about, don’t you?’
She kept her face deadpan. ‘I have no idea.’
‘We’ll remind you in a minute,’ said Norman. He turned to face Amy Pritchard. ‘And then we have the lovely Mrs Pritchard. I have to admit, you had me fooled the other day. I almost felt sorry for you, especially when those tears appeared, but, of course, everyone knows crocodile tears mean nothing.’
‘Crocodile tears? What on earth are you talking about?’ she cried.
‘And then there’s this story you told us about how John committed suicide because he felt guilty about the way he had treated you.’
‘Why else would he kill himself?’
‘How about because he killed Julie Harris?’ Slater said.
The two women looked horrified.
‘Preposterous!’ said Harkness. ‘John was in Scotland.’
‘Oh, yeah, that’s right,’ said Norman. ‘John was in Scotland, on his own. That’s the story you four concocted and then told everyone, isn’t it?’