The Red Telephone Box (DS Dave Slater Mystery Novels Book 5)

by P. F. Ford

  Goodnews watched as a man pushed a door open and stepped from the train. He looked mildly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place his face. She nudged Slater who was standing next to her but looking in the other direction.

  ‘Why does this bloke seem familiar?’ she asked.

  ‘Hmm? Which bloke?’ he asked, as he swung round to see.

  She realised who it was as he drew nearer – she recognised him from the photograph in Jane Jolly’s living room.

  ‘It’s him,’ Slater hissed. ‘Shit. He’ll recognise me.’

  He spun round to face her.

  ‘Darling, it’s so good to see you,’ he said loudly.

  Before she knew what was happening, Goodnews found herself being engulfed in Slater’s arms, and then she felt his lips against hers. In fact, she was so surprised she didn’t immediately react, and by the time she realised what was happening, Tim Jolly had passed them.

  By now, Goodnews had recovered from her surprise, and she began to struggle. She took a bite at Slater, and stamped on his toe. It was enough to make him stop and release her.

  ‘Ow! Jesus,’ he said, hopping on one leg. ‘You didn’t have to try to bloody bite me. And my toe!’

  ‘How dare you?’ she raged, as she ran at him, slapping and pushing him away. ‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’

  ‘Whoa, whoa! I was acting,’ said Slater, hastily stepping back to get out of range. ‘I’m sorry, but he knows me. He would have recognised me. I couldn’t think of anything else to do. Who would take any notice of a couple kissing on the platform?’

  Goodnews wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve. She had to admit it had been quick thinking, but did he really have to kiss her?

  ‘You didn’t have to act it out quite so well,’ she said. ‘Were you hoping for an Oscar or something? A hug would have done.’

  ‘I had to make sure he didn’t see my face,’ he argued. ‘And you didn’t have to bite me.’

  ‘If you’d try to put your tongue in my mouth I’d have bitten the bloody thing off.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, testily. ‘I don’t like tasting anything bitter. And that would definitely have been beyond the call of duty.’

  ‘You’re lucky I didn’t knee you in the balls,’ she said.

  ‘That’s why I kept my legs together. I’m not totally stupid.’

  ‘Oh, you so bloody are. Totally and completely stupid!’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘So your chief suspect is walking towards you and he knows who you are. He’s going to recognise you as soon as he looks at your face. You have a split second. What would you have done?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have tried to stick my bloody tongue down your throat,’ she said.

  ‘Too late,’ said Slater. ‘While you’ve been thinking about it, he’s clocked your face and he’s gone. And I didn’t stick my tongue down your throat. There was never the slightest danger of me doing that.’

  ‘He’s bloody gone anyway,’ she said, vehemently. ‘We could have grabbed him.’

  ‘Yeah, and he probably wouldn’t tell us anything,’ argued Slater. ‘This way we get to follow him. He must be in Little Balding for a reason. Maybe he’ll lead us to Norm.’

  Goodnews was still bloody annoyed, but she had to admit Slater had a point. And she had to hand it to him, his quick thinking had given them a chance they might not have otherwise had, even if he had taken things a lot further than she thought was necessary.

  ‘Alright,’ she said, grudgingly. ‘We’ll follow him, but don’t think I’m going to forget about this.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Slater. ‘I doubt I’ll forget it in a hurry, but I get the point. You’re not happy with my quick thinking. Fair enough. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, and I’ll accept a bollocking later. But, right now, we need to get moving before he’s out of sight.’

  Goodnews stomped off ahead and he had to almost run to keep up with her, which made her smirk. It wasn’t until they were out on the road that he caught up.

  Tim Jolly was about 50 or 60 yards away, heading down the road towards the old red telephone box.

  ‘How should we do this?’ asked Slater.

  ‘On foot,’ said Goodnews. ‘He’s going to notice a car crawling along behind him.’

  ‘What? And you think he won’t notice us following him?’

  ‘He will if we look like two detectives. But he might not take so much notice if we keep our distance and look like a happy couple out for a stroll. Let’s see if you can act that without going over the top.’

  ‘Piece of cake.’ Slater grinned and reached for her hand. ‘Come along, darling.’

  ‘Don’t push your luck, Sergeant,’ she said, but she couldn’t stop a grin from slowly spreading across her face.

  ‘That’s better,’ he said as they began to walk along, side by side, and hand in hand. ‘We look like a happy couple now.’

  ‘You are so going to regret this,’ she threatened, her smile still fixed firmly in place.

  ‘It was just a kiss, for goodness sake,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t that bad, was it?

  ‘Oh, trust me. You really don’t wanna go there.’

  Slater gave her hand a playful squeeze.

  ‘Just remember your rank, Sergeant,’ she warned. ‘You can take a joke too far, you know.’

  ‘Yes. Right,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry.’

  They walked on for a few steps, and Goodnews could sense Slater was struggling to control himself. She was right.

  ‘Sorry, darling,’ Slater said, and squeezed her hand again.

  ‘No, that’s enough,’ she said. ‘Now you’re taking the piss. I’m not happy holding your hand. I’ll hold your arm, and that’s it. And if you so much as think about kissing me again…’

  He let go of her hand and she slipped it through his arm.

  ‘You’re only getting away with this because there was no one else here to see what you did,’ she said, between gritted teeth, her smile still radiant.

  ‘Alright. I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’ll try to behave.’

  ‘And if I ever find you’ve told anyone how you kissed me on the station platform, you’ll be asking a doctor to remove one of my shoes from up your backside.’

  Slater looked down at her feet.

  ‘Oh, no, not these,’ she said, following his eyes. ‘I’ve got some that are much more pointy than these.’

  Wherever Tim Jolly was going, he didn’t appear to be in any great hurry. He had a rucksack slung over his shoulder, and he looked, for all the world, like someone out for a walk in the country. As he ambled along, he seemed to be taking in the scenery all around, and at one point, he even stopped to listen to a blackbird singing from the top of a nearby tree. Slater rolled his eyes. This was so obvious.

  ‘What’s he doing?’ asked Goodnews. ‘Anyone would think he had all day.’

  ‘He’s doing what we’re doing,’ said Slater. ‘Trying to look innocent, like someone out for a walk.’

  ‘Christ. You don’t think he is, do you?’

  ‘What? Innocently going for a walk?’ asked Slater. ‘Don’t forget this is a man who’s told his wife he’s in Spain. This is a man who let his wife drive him all the way to Gatwick airport, and then hired a car to drive himself all the way back. How could he possibly be doing something innocent?’

  ‘I know she’s your friend,’ said Goodnews, ‘but don’t let this get too personal, or you’ll be so keen to get even with him you’ll make a mistake.’

  ‘It’s not just her, is it? Norm’s my mate.’

  ‘Aye, I know,’ she said. ‘And if we play our cards right, yon walker is going to lead us right to him.’

  ‘What d’you think he’s got in that rucksack?’

  ‘I’d like to think it’s food and water for his hostage.’

  They stayed a good way back as they followed their suspect past the old red telephone box, and then watched as he chose to take a short cut across the green. Not wishing to make it too obvious they
were following him, they decided to stay on the road and go around the green.

  The problem with this plan was that it meant they had to hurry as the road took a turn to the left at the far end of the green, and then ran behind a high wall. Sure enough, as Jolly reached the far end of the green he stepped back onto the road, turned left and disappeared behind the wall.

  ‘Oh, sod it,’ said Goodnews, as they lost sight of their prey. ‘Come on – run, or we’ll lose him.’

  Although he was no keep-fit fanatic, Slater kept himself in pretty good shape, and was certainly no slouch when it came to running, so it came as a bit of shock to find Goodnews kept up, seemingly without too much effort. She seemed to be full of surprises.

  They reached the wall, and slowed back to a walking pace as they rounded the corner.

  ‘Crap,’ said Slater. ‘He’s given us the slip.’

  They looked along the tree-lined road before them, which stretched, more or less straight ahead, into the distance.

  ‘He can’t have just disappeared into thin air,’ said Goodnews. ‘There must be a path off to one side. Come on, we can’t lose him now.’

  She began to trot down the road, Slater just behind, looking from side to side for a path or some tell-tale sign that would indicate where Jolly had gone.

  One of the great things about the English countryside is how footpaths are usually well marked, especially the regularly used ones. The area around Tinton was no exception to this general rule, and with Major Ray in charge, the signs around Little Balding were both plentiful and in pristine condition.

  ‘There,’ said Slater pointing to the left, twenty yards ahead. ‘There’s a footpath sign.’

  They turned cautiously down the path. It was a well-worn dirt path about six feet wide, lined with a wild mixture of hedge, shrubs, brambles, and trees. If you weren’t in a hurry trying to follow a suspect, it was actually a very pleasant place to take a stroll, but Slater didn’t have time to enjoy his surroundings.

  The path meandered along for about thirty yards, and then took a gradual turn to the right, where it straightened out and led off through some woods, running parallel to the road. Up ahead, now about a hundred yards away, they just caught a glimpse of Tim Jolly through the trees.

  If they had been just a few seconds later they probably would have lost him, but fate was on their side, and they rounded the bend in the track just in time to see him step off the path and disappear into the trees to the left.

  ‘Come on,’ said Goodnews, breaking into a run. ‘Let’s not lose him now we’ve come this far.’

  They rushed down the footpath as quickly and quietly as they could, until they reached the point where Jolly had stepped off to the left and disappeared.

  Goodnews got there just ahead of Slater.

  ‘It must be here somewhere,’ she said, expecting to find another footpath. ‘Maybe it was a bit further on.’

  ‘No,’ said Slater, wondering how come he was puffing and she wasn’t. ‘I’m sure this is the right place. It’s got to be here.’

  He wandered up and down looking for a sign.

  ‘Here,’ he said, parting some branches. ‘Look. It’s not a proper path, but there’s a trail through here.’

  Goodnews came and peered over his shoulder. A faint path led through the long grass and undergrowth.

  ‘That must be it,’ she said. ‘It looks freshly trampled. But where the bloody hell is he going?’

  ‘There’s only one way we’re going to find out,’ said Slater, as he pushed his way through the branches, and then held them apart for her to follow.

  As soon as she was through, he set off in the lead, cautiously following the trail of trampled grass. As they walked, he could see the trees were thinning ahead, and he caught a glimpse of an open meadow beyond. Then the track took a turn to the left and they were walking alongside the meadow, just a sparse scattering of trees between them and what appeared to be an electric fence.

  ‘This looks like a farm alright,’ he said, quietly, over his shoulder. ‘There are cows on the far side of that meadow.’

  ‘Aye,’ said Goodnews. ‘But which bloody farm? And where the hell are we? We’ve twisted and turned so much I’m losing track.’

  ‘The road away from Little Balding should be out that way.’ Slater pointed beyond the meadow.

  Then he pointed to the right.

  ‘So the village is back that way, and Tinton is over there,’ he said, pointing to their left.

  Goodnews looked doubtful.

  ‘If you say so,’ she mumbled, grudgingly. ‘You’d better be right. If we have to call for back-up I don’t want them wasting time searching all over Hampshire for us.’

  They followed the trail for another five minutes, and Slater wasn’t sure exactly how far they were behind their prey. They were still walking in amongst trees, with open meadows to the right, and then suddenly they were inside a large patch of rhododendrons which had gone wild and stood over twenty feet high. Such was the density of the leaves above them, even grass and weeds found it difficult to grow, and as the ground cover petered out, so the trail they were following came to an end.

  ‘Aw, shite,’ said Goodnews, vehemently. She ran over to get a clear view of the meadow, but there was no sign of Jolly anywhere. ‘We’ve lost the bastard.’

  ‘He’s just an ordinary bloke, not a magician,’ said Slater, beginning to look around. ‘He can’t have vanished. There’s got to be a clue here somewhere.’

  He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he searched anyway, hoping he would know it when he saw it.

  On the far side of the rhododendron patch, there was what was left of an old wall. He walked over and took a closer look. Crumbling and fallen bricks were heaped all around, but over to one side he could see what was left of the corner of a building.

  ‘There used to be a house or something over here,’ he called. He scraped at the ground with his foot. Sure enough, just below the thin covering of soil and dead leaves he found what appeared to be a concrete floor.

  Goodnews made her way over to him.

  ‘It’s not much use to us now, though, is it?’ she said gloomily, surveying the site. ‘We need a real building, something he might be hiding in.’

  Slater continued to wander around the rubble that was all that was left of the ruined building. Over to one corner, some scrubby bushes had taken a hold and were managing to grow, albeit rather sparsely. Goodnews followed him.

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked pointing into the scrubby bushes.

  ‘What’s what?’ He squinted, unable to see what she meant.

  ‘That pipe sticking out of the ground, amongst these bushes,’ she said.

  He came and stood next to her, and now he could see what she meant. Less than a yard away from where they stood, a pipe about the size of a rainwater drainpipe was sticking out of the ground. It stood about two feet tall, and on top was a box-like shape with a grill covering one side. He felt he should know what it was, but he couldn’t quite produce it from his memory.

  ‘I feel I should know what that is,’ he said.

  ‘It looks like it’s just a piece of old drainpipe,’ said Goodnews. ‘I wouldn’t strain your brain over it.’

  ‘No, not with a box like that on the end.’

  And then he realised what it was. He turned to Goodnews and put his finger to his lips.

  ‘Shh!’ he said.

  ‘Don’t you bloody shush me,’ she said indignantly. ‘Haven’t you pushed your luck far enough already?’

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her way from the pipe.

  ‘Oh no,’ she said, angrily. ‘Let go of my bloody arm. I’m not playing any more of your stupid courting couple games.’

  ‘Just stop complaining and listen.’

  ‘Who do you think you’re talking to?’ she snapped. ‘You seem to forget I’m the senior officer here, and I’ve just about had enough of you for one day-’

  ‘Will you keep your voice down? I th
ink that’s an air vent. We could be stood on top of an underground building. If he’s down there he might be able to hear us, especially with you ranting away at the top of your voice.’

  Goodnews was still bristling with anger and it took a few seconds for his words to sink in. She looked dubiously at the vent pipe, and then back at Slater.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked, quietly. ‘If this is another one of your stunts-’

  ‘Are you always so bloody touchy?’ he asked, angrily. ‘This is not a stunt. What happened earlier wasn’t a stunt. I don’t do bloody stunts.’

  She looked at him, clearly trying to decide if he was for real.

  ‘And I promise you,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice down, ‘I’m seriously regretting what I did at the railway station. I mean, come on, don’t you have a sense of humour? If I’d known you were going to keep on moaning about it all afternoon I’d have let the bloke see me standing there. At least if he’d done a runner you would have had something worth complaining about.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s a vent?’ she asked after a moment’s pause, much calmer now.

  ‘I can’t be completely sure,’ he said. ‘But didn’t Jane say something about an old farm with an air-raid shelter? There was obviously a building here once, perhaps the air-raid shelter was in the basement.’

  Goodnews didn’t seem convinced, so he continued.

  ‘He can’t have just vanished into thin air. He must have gone somewhere, right? So why not underground? Perhaps we’re stood right above him.’

  ‘What if he’s heard us?’

  ‘Then he’ll know we’re coming.’ Slater resisted the temptation to point out which one of them had been making all the noise. ‘But there’s not much we can do about that now, is there?’

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Assuming you’re right, and we can find the way in, we’ll play it as though he’s going to be expecting us. But I’m going to call for backup before we go down there.’