Hard Going

by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

  Slider rang his old friend Pauline Smithers at Scotland Yard. She had done hard years in the former SO5 Child Protection unit, pursuing a vicious child pornography ring, the sort of job that burns you out, and from which you have to go into convalescence. Hence she was now in charge of the missing persons section of the Homicide unit. Following the rule that Met Police initials have to be changed every two years, it was called SD1 – SDs being the newer, sexier versions of SOs.

  She was also now a Detective Chief Superintendent, though she and Slider had started at the same time and had been at Hendon together. The difference in their career trajectories had upset his first wife, Irene, no end.

  ‘Bill! Good to hear from you again.’

  ‘How are the missing persons?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s “missing persons and abductions with danger of the taking of life”,’ she corrected him sternly.

  ‘Having fun?’

  She caved. ‘After child pornography, it’s the equivalent of a stay in a cottage hospital,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve got a good team – all old-fashioned coppers, no lightweights or prima donnas. I think there’s a sort of ox-bow effect going on, where the weighty, experienced and human candidates get washed into my corner and deposited, while the frolickers float merrily by on the main stream.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Slider said. Like him, she had never been happy with the politics in the Job. Unlike him, she had concealed her dislike better and learned to work round it. But of course, being a woman and headed for the stars had meant she was never able to marry. She had a very expensive riverside flat on the Isle of Dogs and a Siamese cat.

  ‘What can I do for you?’ she said. ‘You only phone me up when you want something.’

  ‘That’s cruel. How often do you phone me?’

  ‘True. Well, what is it?’

  ‘I wondered if you knew anything about Lionel Bygod from your former incarnation in SO5.’

  ‘That name sounds familiar. Context?’

  ‘He was the defence solicitor in the Noel Roxwell case.’

  ‘Oh, I remember that vaguely. It wasn’t one of ours, but I remember reading about it in the papers. Refresh me.’

  Slider gave her an outline of the case. ‘What I want to know is whether there was any grain of truth in the accusations against Bygod, and whether he’s been up to anything similar since then.’

  ‘Well, it’s not my bailiwick now, of course, but I can ask around for you. Why do you think he has been involved in it?’

  ‘He’s turned up dead – murdered – and I’m wondering if there’s a revenge or vigilante element in it. He seems to have been a secretive sort of bloke – nobody knows much about him.’

  ‘And you think he may have been secretive for a reason,’ she finished for him. ‘All right, since it’s you asking, I’ll see what I can find out. I wouldn’t do it for just anyone, you know.’

  ‘I know. I love you, Pauly.’

  ‘Ha! If only! Famous words, Bill Slider – never backed up by any action, I note.’

  ‘Why don’t you come over to my place for dinner some time?’ he invited. And realizing that ‘some time’, in the context of an invitation, is as good as ‘never’, he added cordially, ‘What about this evening?’

  ‘This is your place with your wife, is it? And child, and dear old dad?’

  ‘They’ll all be there,’ he said, with a grin to himself. They had always played the game between them that she was hopelessly in love with him. There had, in fact, been a certain tendresse at one stage in their lives, but he had been too diffident to pursue it, and events had drawn them apart.

  ‘I’ll pass, then, thanks,’ she said, and added: ‘As a matter of fact, I’m seeing someone these days.’

  ‘Really? I’m glad to hear it. Who is he? Not another SO headcase, I hope?’ She had once gone out with a DCS in the drugs unit of SO7 who had brought her close to suicide.

  ‘We’re not all headbangers,’ she objected. ‘He’s in SD6.’ This was the Economic and Specialist Crime Command. ‘Cheque and Plastic Crime Unit. A nice steady nine-to-five job, no midnight stake-outs or high-speed car chases. He’s normal, Bill.’

  ‘Is it serious?’

  She didn’t answer that. ‘I like him,’ she said instead. ‘His name’s Bernard and he’s nice and funny and I like him.’

  He smiled to himself. ‘Well, if you won’t come to dinner, we must get together for a drink after work one evening.’

  ‘You always say that, and we never do it.’

  ‘This time we will. I’ll ring you.’

  ‘You always say that, too.’

  ‘Well, I don’t see that it gets us any further,’ Atherton said when Slider recounted his visit to the Bucklands.

  ‘More suspicions on your side of the argument,’ Slider pointed out.

  ‘That Bygod was a little light on his feet? In his ex-wife’s opinion? But where does that get us?’

  ‘I don’t know. Clear as you go, that’s my motto. Found the Crondaces yet?’

  ‘Yep. And since they’re now in three different locations, I think I did pretty well. You’ll have to decide which you want to lean on.’

  ‘Yes, but not now. Time to go home. Why don’t you come over to supper tonight? Joanna’s not working. Come home with me – I don’t like thinking of you alone all evening.’

  ‘I have to go and feed the cats,’ Atherton said neutrally.

  ‘Well, come on from there,’ Slider said cordially.

  ‘Thanks, but I have plans,’ Atherton said. Slider waited a receptive moment, but Atherton did not elaborate. He wasn’t usually secretive about his after-work life, not with Slider, who was friend as well as boss. But as boss, Slider could not press him. With a mental shrug, he had to leave it at that.

  ‘That’s twice in the course of half an hour I’ve been turned down,’ he said instead. ‘I’m beginning to feel rejected.’

  ‘Who else turned you down?’ Atherton asked.

  ‘Pauline Smithers. She’s going out with a man called Bernard.’

  ‘But I bet she’ll be thinking of you,’ Atherton reassured him.

  Joanna was at home, but Dad wasn’t – Friday night was his bridge night. ‘Not that it makes any difference,’ Joanna said. ‘All the same people go to the bridge club as the Scrabble club. It’s the over sixties pickup centre of Chiswick. He gives me a sly smile and won’t answer when I ask what goes on there. I’m thinking Sodom and Gomorrah.’

  ‘More likely Schweppes and Gordons,’ Slider corrected. ‘I asked Atherton back to supper tonight.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ Joanna said. ‘I can stretch the chicken. What time’s he coming?’

  ‘He isn’t. He turned me down. Said he had plans.’

  ‘“Had plans”?’ she queried. ‘That’s a bit American of him. What plans?’

  ‘He didn’t say.’

  ‘Didn’t or wouldn’t?’

  ‘I suspect it was “wouldn’t”.’

  Joanna regarded him a moment. ‘You aren’t thinking … Oh, come on, Bill! Just because Emily’s away, you can’t think he’s—’

  ‘Riding the carnal carousel? I hope not. But she’s been away a lot lately,’ he said unhappily.

  ‘But he loves her.’

  ‘He does,’ Slider agreed. ‘But he’s not used to going without. Satan finds mischief for idle hands to do. And other bodily parts.’

  ‘Don’t go there.’

  ‘And I get the feeling just lately that they’ve been quarrelling a lot.’ He looked at Joanna. ‘Has she said anything about it?’

  Joanna paused. ‘I was going to say “no”, but … She did say they had a disagreement about something. I didn’t think it was important – I mean, who doesn’t disagree from time to time? But if you think …’ She brooded.

  ‘Well?’ he prompted eventually. She looked up. ‘What did they disagree about? Or is it girly stuff you can’t tell me?’ He held up his hands quickly. ‘Don’t tell me anything sticky. I have to work with t
his man. In fact, you probably shouldn’t tell me anyway. None of my business.’

  ‘It’s nothing like that,’ she said, amused by his sensibilities. ‘It’s just she wants them to move into her father’s old flat, and he doesn’t want to leave his house. She was afraid he had issues – sorry, horrible word – about their living together but, as I pointed out, they practically do live together anyway, only it’s at his place. But the flat is much bigger and the parking is easier, and it’s easier for her to get to Heathrow from there, so it seems sensible to move. She doesn’t understand why he’s resisting.’

  ‘It’s a big step,’ Slider said. ‘He’d be giving up his independence.’

  ‘Oh, rubbish! Why do men always regard relationships as a trap set by female praying mantises?’

  ‘It’s not a matter of relationships,’ Slider said. ‘The house is his. The flat’s hers. He’d be living in her house. That’s just a fact.’

  ‘Well, they could work out the finances,’ Joanna said reasonably. ‘Anyway, I don’t even know if it was a serious disagreement, so I don’t know why I’m talking.’

  ‘No, and they’ll sort it out for themselves in any case,’ Slider said. ‘As I said, it’s none of my business. Subject closed.’

  Joanna stepped close, took his face in her hands, and kissed him.

  ‘What was that for?’ he asked when she released him.

  ‘For being a nice man, and caring about Jim’s welfare.’

  ‘I did say “subject closed”,’ he reminded her.

  ‘I’ll worm it all out of him next time we’re together,’ she promised. ‘Invite him again, another night. When’s Emily coming back?’

  ‘Not sure. Next week some time, I think.’

  ‘Plenty of time, then,’ she said, turning back to the cooking. ‘Do you want potatoes as well, or just veg?’

  Plenty of time to get into trouble, Slider thought. That was the problem.

  Slider’s instinct was right, and Kroll did come crawling home; not under cover of darkness, though, but halfway through the morning with the air of a weary dog after one of those marathon cross-country treks that always get in the soft pages of newspapers.

  Mrs Kroll hadn’t gone to work that morning, which had made it easier for the surveillance teams, so all four of them were inside when the word was given for the teams to move in.

  ‘Kroll came quietly,’ Hollis reported to Slider. ‘I think he were too knackered to care any more, but Mrs Kroll blew a fuse. Went for Mackay tooth and nail. Took two of ’em to hold her down, so they’ve nicked her for assaulting a police officer.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Slider said. It was always better to have something solid to detain people on.

  ‘The old lady went shouty-crackers an’ all,’ Hollis reported with amusement, ‘but she did it in Polish so nobody knew who she was shouting at.’

  ‘Please tell me they didn’t bring her in as well,’ Slider said.

  ‘No, guv. And they left the lad, Mark, to look after her. Didn’t want to leave her all alone, given her age an’ everything.’

  ‘That’s all right. We’ve got everything out of him already,’ Atherton said. ‘He’s a sucked lemon.’

  ‘He won’t leave his gran, anyway,’ McLaren said. ‘They’re shit hot on family, that lot. So we can always pick him up again later if need be. He’s taking her over to the other son’s house, Stefan, to stay for a bit.’

  A team of four, led by Swilley, was now turning over the Krolls’ house.

  ‘What’s he said so far – Kroll?’ Slider asked.

  ‘Nothing, guv.’

  ‘Nothing – as in …?’

  ‘Not a dicky,’ Hollis said. ‘Mouth tight shut. Wouldn’t even confirm his name. Asked if he wanted a phone call – nothing. Asked if he wanted a brief – nothing. He’s sitting there like a pillar o’ salt – hoping it’ll all go away, maybe.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Slider. It was a good ploy if you could keep it up. Most people couldn’t. Sooner or later they had to blab. But Kroll was probably exhausted, which would make it easier for him. ‘Well, let’s give him some grub and let him rest. Once his mind gets working again he’ll see the position he’s in. What about Mrs K?’

  ‘Still mad as a wet cat,’ Hollis said. ‘Can’t shut her up.’

  ‘We’ll have a go at her, then,’ Slider said. Talking was good. The more the better. Things you wanted to hear came out with the torrent you didn’t, like bits of debris carried along on flood water.

  Mrs Kroll was evidently an adherent of the ‘best form of defence is attack’ school. As soon as Slider appeared she fired her opening salvo. ‘What the hell is this all about? What’re you lot going after us for? We’ve not done anything. Frightening my poor mother to death – if anything happens to her, I’m holding you responsible. You’ve got no right dragging us away and locking us up like this. What is this, communist Russia? Where’s my husband? Hasn’t he got enough on his plate without you lot harassing him? You got no right to arrest me. You can’t keep me here. I’m going to sue the lot of you!’

  And so on. Slider sat down opposite her, with Swilley taking her place standing off to one side, and let her run herself down. When she drew breath he said, ‘You assaulted a police officer, so we did have the right to arrest you, and we can keep you here. And you know perfectly well why your husband is here. This is a serious matter, Mrs Kroll, so let’s drop the histrionics and talk seriously about it.’

  Her nostrils flared. ‘You’re not talking about Mr Bygod, I hope? You’re not going to try to pin that on us? We had nothing to do with it. Why the hell should I wish the old geezer any harm? I’m out of a job because he’s dead, and it was a good job, let me tell you. Why would I want to put him out of the way?’

  ‘Because you are in deep trouble and desperate for money. And Mr Bygod had money. When it comes to your lives or his …’ He shrugged. ‘Your husband comes first.’

  If her nostrils flared any more they’d be in danger of sucking the whole room inside out. Her eyes narrowed with fury, and she yelled, ‘That stupid, useless, brainless moron! I could kill him for what he’s done to us. How many times have I told him, begged him to stop? But no, he’s got to go back for more! “It’ll be all right, it’ll be all right!” Well it’s not all right! But will he listen? No, he likes banging his head on a brick wall. Wish to God he’d knocked his brains out, the useless bastard! I’d be well rid of him!’

  From this Slider gathered it was not Mr Bygod she was yelling about. ‘Your husband has a gambling problem,’ he said mildly, to keep her going.

  ‘Oh, you think so?’ she demanded with heavy irony. ‘He’s spent every penny we had, can’t buy so much as a bag of cement because he owes money everywhere, the Changs are after him – and I don’t mean to give him a friendly hug. He can’t go to work, can’t show his face anywhere, but he still spent all day yesterday putting money on horses, and you say he’s got a gambling problem. You think so?’

  The last sentence rose to a scream which strained her throat so much that she broke into a paroxysm of coughing. Slider pushed a glass of water and a box of tissues towards her, and eventually she managed to stop, blew her nose, sipped some water, and then sat back, exhausted, looking at him with a flat expression.

  ‘The Changs are not people you want on your backs,’ he said. ‘I know about them.’ In fact, the knowledge was new – he’d just had a crash course over the phone from DI Fromonde at Ealing – but there was no need to tell her that. ‘They depend on their reputation for violence to make their fortune, so they’re not the sorts to forgive a debt.’

  ‘You think I don’t know that?’ she said grimly. ‘Why don’t you lot do something about them, instead of persecuting their victims like us? You bastards always go after the easy targets. You’re all the same.’

  Slider said, ‘Believe me, I have some sympathy with you. You were in a terrible bind. The only way out was to get the money, and get it right away. But who did you know who had that sort of ca
sh? Only Lionel Bygod.’

  She turned her face away. ‘Oh, give it a rest,’ she said wearily. ‘I didn’t kill him.’

  ‘Even if you didn’t strike the blow, even if it was your husband who did the actual killing, you’re still just as guilty. You were the one with the key, you planned it, you were there. I’m quite sure you’re the brains of the family.’

  ‘You got that right,’ she muttered, still staring at the wall, her profile to Slider. She looked pale, drawn, and somehow doomed. He thought of Bygod’s beaten head to harden himself against her.

  ‘Your only hope is to cooperate,’ he concluded. ‘Get your mitigating circumstances taken into account. But the clock’s ticking on that. The time to speak up is now.’

  She turned back to him. ‘I told you, he went out about half eleven and that’s the last I saw of him. He didn’t come home before I left at two. And my husband’s never even been to the house. You got nothing on us.’

  ‘Your husband’s never been to the house?’ Slider asked, feeling the quickening of relief. ‘What not even once – to pick you up from work, or something like that?’

  ‘He’s never been to the house,’ she said with ironic emphasis. ‘What d’you want, me to draw you a picture?’ Slider didn’t answer, only regarded her gravely, and suddenly she grew nervous. ‘What you looking at me like that for?’

  ‘I wanted to see what you looked like when you told a lie,’ he said.

  She reddened. ‘Don’t you call me a liar! Who the hell d’you think you are?’

  Slider stood up. ‘I’m going to give you a little time to think about it. Your one hope is to tell the truth.’

  ‘You’ve got nothing on me!’ she shouting, standing up, fists against the table top. ‘You got nothing!’

  ‘Think about it,’ he said quietly, and went out, with Swilley behind him.

  Out in the corridor, Swilley said, ‘She’s good. Sounds very convincing.’

  ‘Good job we know she’s lying. All the same, I’d like a bit more to take with me next time I go in. More leverage.’

  ‘Boss,’ Swilley said, ‘it occurs to me that if they did get what they wanted at the flat, they’d have paid off the Changs by now. But don’t you think she still seems genuinely scared of them?’