by P. F. Ford
We settled in our seats, me on one side and the two police officers on the other. It was Jones who took the lead and made the introductions. I half expected him to remind me that wasting police time was a serious offence, but he made no mention of it. I hoped this meant Dave Slater hadn’t told him about our recent falling out.
‘Dave here tells me you fancy yourself as a bit of a Sherlock, Mr Bowman.’
‘I do seem to have found myself in one or two interesting situations,’ I said carefully, not quite sure where this was going.
‘Yes,’ said Jones doubtfully. ‘I’m sure you have. But here’s the thing you need to understand. I have no time for amateurs. In my experience, they tend to be interfering busybodies who try to force their own theories into police investigations, and invariably they have a completely different agenda to mine. I’m not interested in helping you to cover yourself in glory. I just want to catch the villain. I hope you understand where I’m coming from.’
He finished his little speech with the sort of smile I thought a shark might offer to its victim just before dinner. I smiled back as I upgraded my opinion of DI Jones to ‘smartarse whizz-kid arsehole’. I allowed myself time to think before replying. This was a good idea; otherwise, I probably would have told him to go and take a running jump.
‘Well here’s a something for you to consider, DI Jones. I’ve come here today to volunteer some information which may help your enquiry. I am not seeking glory, nor do I have the slightest desire to get involved in your investigation. My only agenda is to enjoy my life and try and have as little contact as possible with smug arseholes who think they’re superior to everyone else, but sometimes they can’t be avoided. I hope you understand where I’m coming from.’
The smile had slowly faded from Jones’ face as I said my little piece. Now he looked as though he would like to strangle me, but I met his glare with a sweet smile. We were supposed to be on the same side, but I wasn’t going to sit there and be intimidated by the likes of him. Dave Slater looked as if he would like the ground to open up and swallow him. I would apologise to him later, but he would have to deal with it for now. To his credit he stepped in to defuse the situation.
‘Err, to be fair, guv,’ he started, ‘Mr Bowman has proved to be very helpful to us in the past. And I can assure you he’s not one for getting in the way of an investigation.’
Jones turned to look at Slater and then back at me.
‘Oh. I get it.’ He sighed. ‘You two are mates, aren’t you?’
‘Well, we know each other, of course,’ said Slater, ‘but why is that a problem? I mean how does it make Alfie’s information any less relevant or important? My mum could come in later. Would her information be less important because she knows me?’
Jones turned back to Slater again. Sat opposite, in my ringside seat, I was beginning to enjoy myself.
‘Alright, Sergeant.’ said Jones, backing down somewhat. ‘I was speaking from personal experience, you understand.’
‘So am I, sir,’ said Slater respectfully. ‘You have to remember, this isn’t London. As you were so quick to point out earlier, this is just a tinpot little town in Hampshire. You asked me to help with my local knowledge, and my local knowledge is that Alfie Bowman wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have some information that he felt would be useful to our enquiries. And, for what it’s worth, it’s my professional opinion we could do with some help.’
Jones sighed heavily. He looked at Slater with a new respect.
‘I stand corrected, Sergeant,’ he acknowledged, then he turned to me, ‘and I apologise if I have offended you, Mr Bowman.’
My opinion of Jones went up a notch of you. You have to respect a man who’s prepared to admit when he’s got it wrong. Perhaps this had something to do with why someone so young had risen through the ranks so highly.
‘Right,’ said Slater, looking as though he, too, had a new-found respect for DI Jones. ‘So what have you got for us?’
‘Your man, Slick Tony. I saw his picture in the newspaper and I recognised him. I know where he is, and I think he’s been here for a few days.’
‘You’re quite sure?’ asked Jones. ‘That picture in the newspapers isn’t very good.’ He slid a photograph across to me. ‘This is a much better one.’
I looked at the photo. There was no mistake. It was definitely the same guy.
‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘that’s him. No doubt at all. I first saw him a few days ago after the Billy Bumble thing.’
‘Billy Bumble?’ asked Jones, looking quizzically at Slater.
‘A local villain,’ explained Slater. ‘It’s nothing to do with this case, but it was just a few days ago. Alfie helped us with that one.’
Jones looked unimpressed.
‘Perhaps you could enlighten me later,’ he said to Slater, then he turned back to me. ‘But you said this was few days ago. Why didn’t you come forward then?’
‘Because I didn’t know he was a fugitive then, did I? It was in the early hours of the morning. I was in the High Street when this Rolls Royce glided by. Slick Tony was in the back. He was staring at me and then he made a gun with his hand and aimed it at me. It was really weird.’
‘What’s so special about you that he would he make a gun and aim it at you?’ asked Jones. ‘Have you met him before? Do you know him?’
‘As far as I’m aware, I’ve never set eyes on him,’ I said, ‘but then he’s got one of those faces. Like a film star you feel you should know but you don’t. Does that make sense?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Dave Slater. ‘That tends to be the general opinion. We all feel we should know who he is but none of us do. He manages to be well known and unknown at the same time.’
‘Yes, alright. Enough of that,’ said Jones. ‘You say you know where he is now?’
‘That’s right. I was up at The Dump this morning.’
‘The Dump?’ Jones looked at Slater.
‘It’s a housing estate,’ Slater explained.
‘I went to see Billy Bumble, but he wasn’t in,’ I continued. ‘As I was driving around the estate to come home, there he was again, watching me from a window in number thirty-eight, opposite Billy’s house.’
Jimmy Jones looked at me with scepticism.
‘Slick Tony,’ he explained patiently, ‘is a very dangerous man. He’s what I would call serious business. Yet you would have us believe he’s holed up in a council house on a crappy housing estate called The Dump in a tinpot little town like Tinton.’
He paused to let this sink in. I had to agree with him – it did sound seriously unlikely.
‘Not only that,’ Jones continued, ‘but he seems to have taken a great interest in you, Mr Bowman. First he’s making an imaginary gun in the early hours and firing at you, and now he’s watching you from his hideout. Why would someone like him, a genuine Mr Big, take an interest in someone like you?’
‘I know,’ I agreed. ‘It sounds very unlikely to me too. And I have no idea why he should be watching out for me. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Maybe I’m mistaken. I can only tell you what I saw.’
We all sat staring at each other for few moments. Finally, Jones seemed to make up his mind.
‘Right, Mr Bowman. Thank you for coming in to see us. We’ll be in touch. The constable outside the door will see you off the premises.’
He doesn’t believe me, I thought in disbelief. He thinks I’m making it all up.
Without saying anything further, I stood up and left the room.
Slater waited until the door had shut behind Alfie and then turned to DI Jones.
‘You see,’ said the inspector. ‘That’s exactly what I mean about these amateur bloody detectives. They always want to make it all about themselves. I mean, come on. Slick Tony watching Alfie Bowman? How likely is that?’
‘About as likely as a DI from the Serious Crime Unit in London coming down to a tinpot little town like Tinton to lead a manhunt,’ answered Slater. ‘Look, you know the guy’s in this area somew
here, so why not on a rundown housing estate? It sounds to me like it’s the perfect place to hide, especially if the DI leading the hunt thinks it’s the last place he’d choose.’
Jimmy Jones drummed his fingers on the table while he digested Slater’s words. Then a broad grin spread across his face.
‘Do you know, Sergeant,’ he finally said. ‘I’m glad I don’t have to work with you every day.’
‘Sir?’ said a puzzled Slater.
‘I think I’d soon get pissed off with you proving me wrong several times a day.’
‘Ah. Right. So you think maybe we should look into this a bit further?’
‘I think we can’t afford not to. However, we need to be very careful. We can’t just go marching in there, mob-handed. The guy’s likely to be armed and we know he’s dangerous. If your friend Mr Bowman is correct and Slick Tony’s been here for a few days undetected, the chances are he thinks he’s safe for a few more days. What’s this estate like? Could we set up a surveillance operation to watch that house?’
‘I’ll get us a map,’ said Slater, a rush of adrenaline boosting his enthusiasm.
‘Good idea,’ agreed Jones. ‘I’ll see you upstairs in five minutes.’
Chapter Seven
‘So where’s this house then?’ asked Jones, as Slater indicated The Dump, aka The Valleys estate.
The map showed the houses arranged around the central green. Slater pointed to one of the houses.
‘Alfie said it’s number thirty-eight which would be on this side here.’
‘Right,’ said Jones, ‘with your local knowledge, I’m sure you must know some of the people who live on this estate. So tell me – which house has occupants who would be likely to allow us to set up a surveillance operation in their front bedroom?’
‘Ah. Yes, well,’ began Slater. ‘The Dump is not exactly one of those estates where we’re likely to win a popularity contest anytime soon.’
‘Bugger.’ Jones sighed. ‘I had a feeling this was all going too well. Get a lot of trouble up there do you?’
‘More than anywhere else,’ Slater said, nodding.
‘Okay,’ said Jones. ‘So if no one likes us up there, is there anyone we can lean on? Or someone who owes us, even if they don’t like us? What about that Billy bloke you mentioned earlier?’
‘Billy Bumble?’ Slater smiled ruefully. ‘Billy Bumble has been a pain in the arse for years. He’s a petty thief who can’t seem to help himself. He regards us as a challenge so I can’t see him helping us out. And his missus is even worse. She absolutely friggin’ hates us!’
‘So what happened a few days ago? And how come your mate Alfie Bowman got involved?’
‘Err, well. It’s a long story and a bit embarrassing to be honest, but I’ll give you the short version. Billy got kidnapped by a rogue police officer-’
‘I beg your pardon?’ interrupted Jones in disbelief.
‘We’ll be here all night if you want to know the whole story, guv. Trust me on this. Billy got kidnapped. His wife hates the police or any sort of authority, so she didn’t report him missing. But she did go to Alfie and ask for his help. Long story short, we didn’t get involved because no crime had been reported. Then we got a call to go to this disused old house where we find Billy Bumble, the kidnap victim, all trussed up like a turkey ready to go in the oven. We also find the rogue police officer who had kidnapped him handcuffed to his own car.’
Jones laughed out loud, his disbelief even more evident.
‘How very convenient for you, Sergeant,’ he said, when he’d finished laughing. ‘Anyway, what has this got to do with Alfie Bowman? How was he involved?’
‘He tracked down the house on his own. Because Billy’s wife Allison asked him for help, he managed to do the job for us.’
‘Is it always like this down here?’ asked Jones. ‘It sounds a lot more fun than where I work. It’s like a bloody circus. Maybe I should ask for a transfer.’
He chuckled away happily to himself. ‘So, Bowman tipped you off then.’
Slater thought about how he should answer this. He decided to use caution and avoid answering it altogether.
‘He got there just moments before us.’
Jones studied Slater’s face shrewdly but seemed to decide against probing any further.
‘Well, whatever,’ he said. ‘The point is, this Billy Bumble guy lives right opposite the house we think Slick Tony is hiding in, and he has reason to be grateful to you. He owes you a favour, so get over there and lean on him.’
‘It’s not quite as simple as that,’ said Slater, sighing. ‘It’s Billy’s wife, Allison. She won’t let any of us anywhere near the inside of her house. She was abused as a kid and really hates any sort of authority. She’s a bit of a psycho and she’s dangerous. If we turn up there, the chances are there’ll be a battle on her doorstep. Slick Tony will know we’re on to him before we get a chance to set up any sort of surveillance.’
‘Are you telling me you’re all frightened of just one woman? What is she, some sort of ninja superwoman?’
‘Oh no,’ said Slater. ‘Believe me, she’s much worse than that. Ask Alfie Bowman – she beat the crap out of him a couple of times before he eventually got through to her. As far as I know, he’s the only person she trusts enough to let into her house.’
Jones beamed. ‘Well, there you are then,’ he said. ‘Get onto your mate Alfie and take him up there with you.’
Slater turned pale. ‘You want me to go up there?’ he gasped.
‘Yes, Sergeant. Is that a problem?’
‘Err, no. I suppose not, sir. But what happened to “not wanting amateurs involved in police investigations”? Now you’re inviting an amateur on board.’
‘Needs must, Sergeant, needs must. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t really want to do. It’s all for the greater good, you know what I mean?’
‘Right. Yes. Of course, sir.’
Slater contemplated the idea of arriving on Allison’s doorstep, and how happy she would be to see him. Not.
‘And, Sergeant?’ Jones interrupted his train of thought. ‘This is urgent, remember?’
‘Yes, of course. I was just wondering how we should go about it that’s all.’
‘I can help you there,’ said Jones. ‘Let’s grab a cup of tea and I’ll tell you the sort of thing we usually do up in London. I’m sure it will work just as well down here…’
Chapter Eight
‘So let me get this straight.’ I was on the phone to Dave Slater. ‘You want me to go with you to Allison’s house, and then when we get inside you want me to persuade her to let three policemen camp out in her front bedroom to spy on the house opposite. Is that right?’
‘That’s about it, yes,’ said Slater’s voice down the telephone.
‘It isn’t April Fool’s Day, is it, Dave? I mean, this is a joke, isn’t it?’
‘No, it’s not a bloody joke. I need to get into Allison’s house. You’re the only person she trusts.’
‘Well pardon me for sounding a tad dubious, but just two or three hours ago your boss dismissed me and my information like I was some sort of time-waster. Now I seem to be a vital part of your master plan. How did that happen?’
‘If you must know, I pointed out that what you said was no more unlikely than a DI from the Serious Crime Unit coming down to a place like Tinton to lead a manhunt. When I put it to him like that, he seemed to think maybe he should take you a bit more seriously.’
‘Really?’ I asked in surprise. ‘You stuck up for me?’
‘Don’t sound so damned surprised,’ said Slater. ‘It just so happens I believe you. I think it’s just the sort of place someone would hide if only because it’s the last place we would expect him to hide. And anyway, you said I just had to let you know and you’d be there. Well, here I am letting you know. I really need your help.’
‘So we’re alright then, you and me?’ I asked.
‘Of course we’re alright. But will you do it?�
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‘You know she won’t let us in, don’t you?’
‘Why not?’ asked Slater.
‘Because as far as she’s concerned, it was you lot that kidnapped Billy and then did nothing to help get him back. Anyway, once she sees you it’ll give the game away and we’ll have no chance. Probably better if I go on my own.’
‘Ha!’ said Slater. ‘Believe me, mate, if I could keep away from there I would, but Jones is insisting that I have to go, and I have to do the talking. You’ve just got to get us in there. Anyway, we’ve got a cunning plan for approaching the house. Direct from the Serious Crime Unit’s own book of cunning plans.’
‘Oh, right. Somehow I doubt you have any plan that will outwit Allison and her personal persecution complex, but I’m always game for a laugh. Go on then, let’s hear it.’
And so Detective Sergeant Dave Slater explained his cunning plan. And as he did, I proceeded to laugh my head off.
‘You’re kidding, right?’ I asked when I eventually stopped laughing.
‘No. I’m not bloody kidding,’ he snapped.
‘Oh, you are, Dave. Honest, you must be. But it’s okay. I’ve always wanted to be in a Carry On film. This’ll be close enough to the real thing, I’m sure. What time do we start?’
‘We need to get on with it as soon as we can.’
‘Well, I’m not doing anything right now, and I could do with a good laugh. I’ll be there in about half an hour.’
It was just after eight pm when the gas board van drove onto The Valleys housing estate, aka The Dump. Slowly, the van made its way around the green, stopping outside number 8. Unseen by anyone, a net curtain twitched in one of the upstairs windows of number 38, across the green from number 8. Inside the van, two men dressed in gas board uniforms were arguing.
‘This has to be the dimmest idea ever,’ I said.
‘Well, you agreed to play your part and you’re here now, so just stick to the plan and we’ll be fine,’ said Dave Slater.
‘You think?’ I said. ‘Just make sure you don’t do anything to antagonise Allison or I could be visiting you in hospital later. Remember, you have been warned.’