Death Of a Temptress

by P. F. Ford

  As he watched the game unfolding, his mood began to improve. By half-time he was feeling reasonably good, and by the time the second half started he was mellowing quite nicely as he put his feet up and settled back into his armchair with a second can of lager. If the game now continued in the same vein, it would be entertaining enough to make him forget his problems for another 45 minutes. And if it went to extra time and penalties, it could add another hour on top.

  Fifteen minutes into the second half, his mobile phone began to ring. He wasn’t quite sure where exactly it was, and anyway he was watching football, so he decided whoever it was could leave a message. It was probably some arsehole calling to try to sell him something, and if it was anything important he’d call them back. After a couple more rings it stopped.

  Five minutes later, it began to ring again. It wasn’t quite so easy to ignore this time, but he was enjoying the game and he knew it wouldn’t be important. Again it stopped ringing, only this time it started again almost straight away. Damn. Perhaps it was important after all.

  Grudgingly, he climbed to his feet and began to search for the cause of his irritation, which he eventually found in the pocket of the jacket he had flung onto his bed earlier. The ringing stopped and started twice more during his search, so he figured it probably was important; but he when he finally picked up the phone, he didn’t recognise the number displayed.

  “Hello?”

  “Is that DS Slater?” It was a female voice, strong and confident, a bit on the posh side, he thought.

  “Yes it is. Who’s calling?”

  “My name’s Jenny Radstock.”

  “Well, Ms Radstock, I’m afraid I’m on leave right now. Perhaps you’d like to call Tinton station. I’m sure someone there would be able to help you.”

  “On leave? I was told you had been suspended.”

  Now that threw him. Who on earth was this woman, and how did she know so much?

  “You’re very well informed. Perhaps a bit too well informed. Do you mind telling me who you are and what you want?”

  Before she could reply, his doorbell rang. Two thoughts suddenly filled his head. The first was Who the hell is that at this time of night? The second was the realisation that this could be a chance to get rid of his caller.

  “I’m sorry, Ms Radstock,” he explained as he reached the door, “I’ve got to go. There’s someone at my door.”

  “Yes, I know,” she said as he swung the door open.

  A tall, slim redhead stood at the door, phone clasped to her ear. She gave him a beaming smile and waggled the phone at him.

  “Hi,” she said. Weirdly the voice came from his phone too. Puzzled, he looked at her and then at his phone. Then it slowly dawned on him she was the person he was talking to.

  She ended her call, slipped the phone into her pocket, and then slowly and deliberately looked him up and down.

  “Well, you’re much better looking than I was told, so that’s a good start.”

  Slater’s mouth opened but no words came out. Who was this woman?

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you.” She gave him another warm smile.

  “Actually, yes you are,” he said, irritated. “I was watching the football.”

  “The replay of last night’s game?”

  “As it happens, yes.”

  “Good game,” she said, approvingly. “Barcelona won on penalties.”

  “Don’t tell me that.” Now he was more than irritated. “I was enjoying watching it. Now you’ve spoiled it for me.”

  “I need your attention if we’re going to talk,” she explained. “And I won’t get it if you’re trying to watch football at the same time. Now you don’t need to watch it and I’ll have your attention.”

  She smiled at him again as he struggled to find the right words to convey his feelings without resorting to swear words.

  “Are you going to let me in?” she asked. “I don’t bite.”

  “Why should I let you in? You’ve already spoiled my night. What possible reason could I have for letting you in?”

  “Ruth Thornhill.”

  “What? How do you know about that?”

  “If you let me in, I’ll tell you.”

  Slater quickly sized up the woman on his step. She was well dressed; smart but casual. And quite good looking too, thought Slater, with pale skin and red hair which was gathered in a bun. Her intense green eyes made her look a little fierce, but she certainly didn’t look dangerous. Also in her favour, she claimed to know something about Ruth Thornhill. And the football was ruined now she had told him the result.

  “You’d better come in.” He stepped back to make way for her. As she passed, he got wind of her perfume. Chanel Number Five. He liked that. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  In his tiny house, the front door opened into the lounge. She took in the room and wrinkled her nose.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, using the remote to turn off the TV. “It’s a bit of a mess.”

  “It’s fine.” She smiled again. “I’m not here to judge how you live, and I can assure you I’ve seen much worse. You keep this place tidier than most single guys I know.”

  “Here, sit down.” He grabbed a pile of newspapers from the small settee to make space for her.

  “Can I get you a drink?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen.

  “What have you got?” she called.

  He looked in the cupboard and then in the fridge.

  “Not much, I’m afraid. I wasn’t expecting company.”

  “Lager’s fine.”

  “Really?” He hadn’t expected that.

  “I take it you have glasses. It doesn’t do my reputation much good to be seen swilling lager from a can.”

  He came through with a glass of lager and handed it to her before sinking back into his armchair.

  “Here’s to Ruth,” she said, raising her glass.

  He raised his can in salute.

  “Ok, Ms Radstock, I only let you in because you mentioned Ruth, so how about you cut to the chase.”

  “I know you were given the file this afternoon, and I take it you’ve read through it by now?”

  She looked pointedly at him.

  He nodded.

  “So far so good,” he said. “But how come you know so much about this? Where do you fit in?”

  “When the Met decided they couldn’t be bothered to look into this case properly Ruth’s sister approached me to see if I could help.”

  “And why would you be able to help?”

  “Because I know people who know people.”

  Slater looked unconvinced, and Ms Radstock clearly realised further explanation was required.

  “I’m a barrister. I grew up in this area and I know your boss through my father. I also know the local MP, who just happens to know the home secretary. And now, so do I. We all feel the Met could have done much better. As Ruth lived here in Tinton, we have managed to have the whole investigation handed to the local police to re-investigate. It’s amazing what you can do when you know the right people.”

  “But why me?” asked Slater. “I mean I’m supposed to be persona non grata; the useless copper who couldn’t find his arse with a map.”

  “Self-pity doesn’t suit you, you know,” she reproached him. “We all know you’ve been used as a scapegoat. This is your chance to prove your critics wrong.”

  “Yes, so I’ve been told. At least you’re all singing from the same hymnbook.”

  “Oh dear.” She sighed. “Cynical, too. Is it really so hard to believe that there are some people on your side?”

  “But why would you be? I mean, you don’t know me from Adam, so why would you suddenly be so concerned for my career?”

  “Now that’s a fair question,” she said, smiling again. “And I’m happy to admit that I didn’t know you from Adam. However, I have crossed swords with DI Jimmy Jones before. Now there’s a man I wouldn’t trust as far as I could throw him.”

  Slate
r perked up.

  “Now this is getting interesting. Tell me more,” he said, leaning forward.

  “Well…” She was clearly warming to her subject now. “Do you really think you’re the first person to be one of DI Jones’ scapegoats?”

  “I’m not?”

  “Good heavens, no. Our friend Jones seems to have far more clout than he should in his position. I find that rather worrying. I’ve been watching him, and I know of at least three other good officers who’ve had similar treatment to you. He messes up, and they become the victim. Sound familiar?”

  Slater nodded as she continued.

  “Up until now I’ve been unable to do anything about it, but then Ruth’s sister approached me and I realised maybe now is my chance to get involved and exert some influence. This time I feel I might actually be able to help. In fact, I already have by getting you involved.”

  She sat up straight, looking pleased with herself.

  Slater was puzzled.

  “But I don’t understand how this case will help me to prove he was wrong about me.”

  “You leave that to me,” she said. “As I said before, I didn’t get where I am today without getting to know some pretty powerful people, certainly powerful enough to stop DI Jones from ruining any more careers.”

  Slater thought about this. He had to admit it would be good to bring that arsehole Jimmy Jones down a peg or two, and being suspended with nothing to do was driving him mad. At least if he took this case, he’d have something other than his own problems to focus upon.

  “I have some questions,” he said.

  “I thought you might.” She looked at her watch. “But I’m afraid I have to run right now.”

  She stood, ready to go.

  “Look,” she said. “I understand why you might not want to get involved in this. But it’s not just about you, or me, or even DI Jones. Go and talk to Ruth’s sister. I’m sure once you have, you’ll agree with me that the poor woman could do with our help.

  “Now I really do have to go,” she said, looking at her watch again before plunging her hands into her pockets.

  Slater really wanted to ask more questions but she obviously wasn’t going to answer them so he led the way to his door to let her out. Once outside, she turned back to him and handed him a business card.

  “There is an added bonus,” she said, looking straight into his eyes. “My number’s there. I’d like to meet up with you on a regular basis so you can keep me informed of your progress. I’m a very straightforward kind of girl and I like to think I’m good company.”

  She opened her jacket just enough to reveal an attractive, slim, figure, clad in expensive clothing.

  “What you see is what you get with me, and I can be very accommodating.”

  As Slater’s mouth dropped open once more, she gave him a knowing smile, winked, turned on her heel and marched off.

  He watched her as she walked away. Did he really hear that right? Was she offering what he thought she was offering? He shook his head. No. He must have got that wrong, surely.

  Chapter Three

  Despite Bob Murray’s assertion that he should keep a low profile, Slater thought that if he was going to do this job, he was going to do it his own way. He figured it would be a good idea to contact the original investigating officer, explain how he had been lumbered with the case, and get the guy onside right from the start.

  “DS Donovan speaking.”

  “Good morning. My name’s DS Dave Slater from Tinton. I’m hoping you can help me.”

  “Tinton? Where’s that? Sounds sort of yokel. West Country is it?”

  Slater sighed inwardly. Here we go again, he thought. He’d had dealings with detectives from the Met once or twice before. On each of those occasions, he had been made to feel like an inferior who didn’t deserve help from the superior race. He wondered if maybe it was part of their training. Whatever it was, he was just going to have to deal with it. Maybe he could even use it to his advantage.

  “Miles out, I’m afraid,” he explained patiently. “Tinton’s in Hampshire, less than 60 miles from the centre of London.”

  “Sixty miles, or 600 miles. It’s all the same to me, mate. This is where the real work’s done. We deal with real police work and real cases up here”

  Of course, thought Slater wearily, there is no crime anywhere else, and anyway, the rest of us are just too stupid to know our arses from our elbows.

  “Well, that’s handy then,” said Slater, fighting a heroic battle with his desire to tell DS Donovan exactly what he thought of him. “It’s one of your cases I wanted to ask you about.”

  “What do you mean ‘one of our cases’?” said Donovan, defensively. Then, far more aggressively, he added, “Since when has one of our cases been within your jurisdiction?”

  “Since it was handed to me and I was told to investigate it.” Slater was beginning to enjoy himself now he knew he was getting under Donovan’s skin.

  “What bloody case?”

  “Ruth Thornhill.”

  “Who?” Slater could tell by the tone of Donovan’s voice that he knew exactly who, yet he was stalling, playing for time. Now that’s interesting, thought Slater. Why would he do that?

  “Ruth Thornhill,” said Slater, playing along. “She went missing about six months ago. Her sister reported her missing, but you decided she was a runaway and took no further action.”

  “Did I? You’re probably right. We get so many of them I can’t be expected to remember them all.”

  “I am right.” Slater was enjoying Donovan’s discomfort. “I’ve got a copy of your report in front of me now.”

  It was rather like lighting the blue touch paper on a firework. For just a short moment it seemed nothing was going to happen, then Slater heard a hiss as Donovan drew in his breath. This was followed by what could best be described as an explosion of profanity down the line. Apparently DS Donovan didn’t approve of Dave Slater getting hold of his report.

  Slater held the phone away until Donovan finally began to slow down sufficiently to become coherent, eventually rejoining the conversation at a point he felt was appropriate.

  “And just who the bloody ‘ell do you think you are, to be checkin’ up on me?” finished Donovan.

  “Let’s get one thing straight shall we?” said Slater, smiling broadly to himself. “It’s not my idea to be checking up on anybody. But, just like you, I have superiors, and just like superiors everywhere, every now and then they like to hand someone a pile of shit just to see how they deal with it. Right now, your case is my pile of shit and I have to deal with it whether I like it or not.”

  “But what makes you think you can do any better than me? We don’t have time to fart around, so when we found there was no body and no sign of anything untoward it was put on the backburner. Then when we saw the text messages sent to the boyfriend from the missing girl’s phone, that was good enough for us. Case closed.”

  “I quite agree.”

  “You do?” said Donovan in surprise.

  “I’ve read the file and I agree with your conclusion,” Slater said, trying to pacify him.

  “Oh. That’s alright then,” said Donovan, evidently beginning to calm down. “So, why the call?”

  “The reason I’ve been handed this particular pile of shit,” explained Slater, “is because the missing girl’s sister, Beverley Green, won’t let it go. She’s even got the local bloody MP involved now.”

  “That cow,” agreed Donovan. “If you’ve got to deal with her you have my sympathies, mate. She’s a real pain in the arse. Drove me mad she did.”

  “She’s been driving my bosses mad too,” said Slater. “And now I’ve been given the job of trying to convince her there’s nothing we can do.”

  “Huh! Good luck with that. We told her exactly that back then, but she just wouldn’t accept it.”

  “Yes, I know you did,” Slater said. “But she still doesn’t believe it, and I’ve still got to do what I can and hope
I can convince her. I’ve read your report and it certainly looks open and shut to me.”

  There was silence from the other end of the line so Slater decided it was time to apply a little pressure.

  “I just wanted to check in with you before I go to see her. I thought letting you know was the right thing to do. I’m sure you wouldn’t have been happy if you found out I was creeping around behind your back.”

  Donovan’s apology sounded grudging, and it took a long time coming, but finally he began to back down.

  “Look, I was probably a bit hasty.”

  “Probably?” said Slater. “Do you know how many different names you called me? Do you think I want this job?”

  “Ok. Point taken,” conceded Donovan. “It’s just, you know, when someone starts checking up on you…”

  “Whoa. Hold on a minute. I’m not Professional Standards looking to catch you out. But I am going to have to go through the motions. I’m sure you understand that?”

  “Well, yeah. I suppose you’ll have to do that,” agreed Donovan, sounding reluctant.

  “Here’s how I was thinking of playing it,” explained Slater. “I’m going to see the sister later today. I’ll listen to her story and let her think I’m going to re-investigate. Then I’ll just go through the motions, basically confirming all your findings and reaching the same conclusion. It should be a doddle if I’m careful, and both you and my boss will end up happy. What do you say?”

  “Are you going to be poking around up here?”

  “Well, I may have to just to keep up appearances and make it look like I’m being thorough, you know? It’ll be a nice day out for me,” Slater said, laughing.

  “You’re not such a bad bloke for a yokel, Dave Slater,” said Donovan, sounding relaxed now. “Let me know if you’re coming up here. I’ll buy you a pint. I know some good places, know what I mean?”