by Ford,P. F.
He tossed the box into the bin and realised he was just going to have to face up to it. It might be Sunday, and his first day off in ages, but he needed to go shopping.
As he pulled into the supermarket car park, it occurred to him that the need for this journey was symptomatic of his current situation. This never used to happen. He always used to be organised. He always used to manage to go shopping regularly. He even had a social life once. But over the last few months, his life seemed to have become all about work. It was all he seemed to do. The fact was, he’d lost control of his own life. He didn’t even have time to go shopping, for God’s sake.
It was still early enough to find plenty of parking spaces and he crawled slowly around the car park, lost in thoughts about his dismal life, until a pink Mini Cooper caught his attention. The colour would have caught his eye anyway, but it was the ‘anywhere will do’ style of parking that made him decide to park next to it. He promised himself it was just a coincidence and that he wasn’t working, and he certainly wasn’t going to interview her.
It didn’t take him long to find her, but then there weren’t that many well built, leggy blondes, in tight white jeans and tee shirt, tottering around on high heels in the supermarket this early on a Sunday morning. She was wandering along gazing into the frozen food cabinets when he spotted her, and he decided he would contrive a chance encounter and see what happened.
He approached her from the opposite direction, and coughed loudly just before he reached her. She swung round at the sound and looked straight at him. For a moment, he thought about changing his mind, but then she recognised him.
“Oh, hi,” she said brightly, smiling.
It was the sort of dazzling smile that made his stomach do somersaults. But just as it was obvious she had recognised him, it was equally obvious she had no idea where she knew him from.
“Hello, Miss Maine,” he said, to help her out. “It’s DS Slater. From yesterday. We came to speak to Mr Bressler.”
“Of course,” she said. “I’m sorry. I can remember a face, but I’m not so good with names. But please call me Cindy. Miss Maine is far too formal. And surely you’re not on duty today, are you?”
“Well, no,” he said laughing. “I’m just out shopping. Even police officers have to eat.”
“And do police officers have names when they’re off duty?” she asked.
“What? Oh, yes.” He blushed. “It’s Dave.”
Slater thought everything about her was attractive and she had an easy grace about her movements. Not for the first time in recent months, he found himself envying the sort of men who seem to have relationships with beautiful women like this. But what chance did a hard-up copper who was always at work have?
“Do I pass?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“I’m sorry?” he said, his face turning red.
“You’re looking at me as if you’re weighing me up. I was just wondering, did I pass?”
“Errm, no. It’s not that.” He flushed, embarrassed that his thought process was so obviously transparent. “I was just, err. You see, the thing is, it would help if I could talk to you about Mr Bressler, but it’s Sunday, and… No. I’m sorry. Forget I mentioned it. It’s Sunday and I’m off duty and I shouldn’t be bothering you.”
“Do I look bothered?” she asked, laughing. “And what if it is Sunday? Rudy’s away for a few days so I’m in no rush, and I was just thinking about coffee anyway. Why don’t you join me? Unless you’ve got something better to do, of course.”
Her directness was totally disarming and, right at this moment, Slater couldn’t imagine it would be possible to find anything better to do than have coffee with Cindy Maine. She was looking straight into his eyes, and he hoped she couldn’t read his thoughts.
“That’s settled then,” she said. “Come on. Mine’s a cappuccino.”
Slater followed obediently in her wake, struggling to keep his eyes off her backside and his mind on the job as she swayed along ahead of him.
“So, what would you like to know?” she asked, placing her coffee cup carefully back on the saucer.
“I’d just like to confirm my opinion of Rudy, really. You’d know him better than anyone, so I’d like to hear what you think of him. Maybe he’s spoken to you about what happened all those years ago.”
“If you’re hoping I’m going to dish the dirt on Rudy and his business dealings you’re going to be very disappointed. And if you’re hoping I’m going to tell you he beats me up and treats me like a slave, or anything else like that, you’re still going to be disappointed.”
“You make him sound like some sort of saint,” said Slater.
“Not at all,” she said. “But he’s never lied to me, he’s treated me very well, and I’ve never had reason to doubt him about anything. As for his business, he doesn’t tell me and I don’t ask. That’s how the deal works.”
“Deal?” asked Slater, his curiosity aroused. “What deal?”
“You surely don’t think this is a real, genuine relationship, do you?” she asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
The question totally threw Slater. His mouth opened and shut, but no words came out.
“Oh, you do, don’t you?” She laughed, shaking her head. “How old fashioned of you.”
“I’m sorry,” said a baffled Slater. “But you’ve lost me.”
“Hmm.” Cindy sighed, drumming her fingers on the table. “I suppose I’d better explain what I mean, but goodness knows what you’re going to think of me now.”
“Yes,” Slater said, still totally baffled. “I think an explanation might be a good idea...”
“Isn’t this Sunday supposed to be a day off?” Norman’s voice came down Slater’s mobile.
“Yeah. If you’re busy it can wait.”
“Ha! If it could wait you wouldn’t have called,” Norman said, and Slater smiled at his colleague’s perception. “It just so happens I’m not busy, as you well know, so how about I grab a takeaway and come over for lunch?”
“No.” Slater thought about the paunchy and pasty Norman standing next to the strapping Rudy Bressler. “Forget the takeaway. You eat far too many takeaways. I’ve got a better idea. Be here in an hour. I’ll cook lunch.”
“I’ll be there, bearing a case of lager,” said Norman, sounding surprised at the offer. “This I have to see. And eat.”
“So the deal is, she stays with him for five years, then he dumps her, and finds a younger replacement.” Slater was relaying the story Cindy Maine had told him about her relationship with Rudy Bressler.
“And they all have to fit the ‘attractive, blonde, big boobs and long legs’ mould?” asked Norman.
“And be 25 years old,” said Slater.
“When we saw her the other day I thought she looked a lot like Sandra,” said Norman. “Now I see it’s no coincidence. It’s like he’s reliving those first five happy years he had with her.”
“That’s exactly what the deal is. They fill her place for five years, then when they get to 30 they step aside and make way for the next 25-year-old replacement.”
“Jeez. That’s kinda weird, and rather unhealthy, don’t you think?” asked Norman. “That man needs help. He has to have some sort of psychological disorder.” He took a sip of lager. “And these girls are happy with this arrangement?”
“They effectively sign a contract that means they exchange five years of their lives for a million pounds,” explained Slater. “That’s 200 grand a year, tax free. And, according to Cindy, Bressler is the perfect gentlemen and never makes any unreasonable demands. They get treated well, and live a jet-set life with no expense spared. It’s not a bad deal, and invested wisely they’re getting a pretty good start in life.”
“And you think this proves what?” asked Norman.
“It could indicate that he really did love Sandra like he claims, and he’s never been able to move on.”
“Or, like I said, it could prove he’s nuts and needs professional help
,” Norman said. “And she volunteered this information? You don’t think she was put up to it by Bressler?”
“I think she was for real. For one thing, she had no way of knowing she was going to meet me this morning. I didn’t even know I was going to be there until I found I had no food in the house. And her deal’s just about to come to an end. She’s got a matter of days to go, but she doesn’t seem remotely bitter about it. It all seems very matter of fact and business-like.”
“So how many of these girls has he gone through?”
“She’s number three,” said Slater. “Apparently number four will move in when Cindy moves out.”
“You mean to say you met up with that gorgeous woman, who will shortly be available, looking like that?” said Norman, grabbing another lager from the case he had brought with him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Slater, slurping from his own can.
“Well, if you don’t mind me saying, you’re not exactly looking your best.” Norman looked at Slater scathingly. “In fact, to be honest, you look like shit. Do I have to drink out of a can? Don’t you have any glasses?”
“Drink from the can. Glasses have to be washed up,” said Slater. “And have you looked in a mirror today?”
“Ah, yes,” Norman said, nodding. “I take your point and accept your insult. But the thing is, I always look like this, whereas you normally look pretty good.”
“Look. I didn’t know I was going to meet her, and I don’t have any plans to include her in my future.”
“Just as well. Because, you’d have no chance looking like that. You haven’t even shaved. I’m just telling you because it’s a slippery slope. If you’re not careful you’ll end up looking like me.”
“Ha! No chance mate.” Slater shook his head, laughing. “I could never look that bad.”
Norman and Slater were good therapy for each other with their easy banter and good humour. Slater sometimes wondered how he used to cope before Norman came along. It seemed like that had been a very long time ago, but in fact it had been a matter of just a few short months.
They sipped lager in silence for a couple of minutes. It was Norman who broke the silence.
“This isn’t just about meeting up with Cindy Maine, is it?”
Slater looked at him unhappily, but said nothing.
“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to,” said Norman. “But at least talk to me about something or this is gonna be one hell of a dull afternoon.”
“I don’t just look like shit,” said Slater, grimly. “I feel like shit. My life is shit. Everything seems to be going to shit.”
“Let’s just stop the bus for a minute, can we?” said Norman, sounding worried by Slater’s little outburst. “I understand you had a bad day yesterday, but that doesn’t make everything bad, does it? I’ve told you before about this negative thinking of yours.”
“I know.” Slater sighed heavily. “But right now, I’m finding it hard to feel positive about my life, when all I do is work and work and then do a bit more work. Take yesterday. We had a good morning and things were looking good, and then yesterday afternoon everything just seemed to go pear-shaped. It was all out of control and I couldn’t do anything about it.”
“Why? Because the flasher escaped? Come on. That wasn’t your fault. It was nothing to do with you. And you have to take your hat off to the old guy for having the audacity to just walk out. And anyway, didn’t you say you caught him later? So what went wrong there? Didn’t it all end alright?”
“It was a bloody nightmare, Norm. Sure, we caught the old flasher. That was easy. He was so busy wanking away all on his lonesome, he didn’t see Steve creeping up on him. I made Steve wait with the old fart, to teach him a lesson, while I went off put the wind up the others. They were all gathered around one car watching this girl shagging the brains out of some bloke.
“It was a right sad collection of perverts and dirty old men and they were lining up to take turns with this beautiful young woman. When I got there, they thought I was trying to jump the queue. They were like animals. I had to knee some bloke in the balls to stop him from punching my head in.
“Why on earth would a beautiful girl do that with blokes like them? It’s not as if she does it for money. I just don’t get it, Norm.”
He stopped talking and stared at the floor. He knew without even looking at his friend’s face that Norman was probably confused by how much Slater was affected by this. They dealt with horrible stuff like this all the time, after all.
“Ahhh!” Norman said, suddenly. “I think I see where this is going. You knew the girl, huh?”
Slater nodded his head.
“You know her too,” he said quietly.
“I do?” said Norman, looking startled.
Slater watched as Norman’s face went through a range of machinations. He was clearly wracking his brains, rifling through all the young, attractive women he knew.
“You were talking to her yesterday morning,” said Slater. “You said she looked at you as if you’d handed her a slimy turd.”
Slater saw the penny drop, and Norman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“What? You mean PC Flight?” Norman’s voice had raised a whole octave.
“Apparently also known as Blonde Bobby, the best shag in the county,” said Slater sadly. “What a friggin’ waste. She could have been a bloody good copper if she’d wanted to be.”
“Holy shit,” said Norman. “What did you do?”
“I wanted to knock some bloody sense into her,” said Slater, glumly. “Instead I just gave her a lecture and suggested she take some time off while she considered her future.”
“Did Steve see her?”
“No. And that’s another thing. Putting them together was a mistake. She seems to have been working her charms on him and got right under his skin. He seems to think she’s the greatest thing since sliced bread.”
“Are you gonna tell him?”
“I’m rather hoping she’s just going to fade quietly away and he won’t have to know,” said Slater. “But something tells me that’s just wishful thinking on my part.”
“She’s one strange piece of work,” Norman said, whistling. “Somehow I don’t see her as the ‘fading quietly away’ type.”
This time they both studied the floor for a while.
“So, have you thought about what you’re going to do about her?” asked Norman.
“I’ve been thinking about it all bloody night,” said Slater. “That’s why I look and feel like shit today. But I’ve decided I’m not going to do anything. It’s difficult. I know her husband. She was using his car for God’s sake.”
“Oh hell,” said Norman. “So you got his registration number along with the others?”
“Yeah,” said Slater. “But I have the list. When I hand it to Steve, there’s going to be one missing.”
“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?” Norman was looking at Slater intensely now.
“No.” Slater smiled ruefully, looking up at Norman. “But I’m giving her the chance to resign without anyone finding out what happened, not even her husband. It’s a chance for her to sort herself out and start again. Maybe she needs to get some help. To my mind, giving her that chance is the right thing to do.”
“I hope that decision doesn’t come back to bite your arse,” said Norman. “But you’re right about it being a shit situation.”
He took another swig from his lager and they sat in silence for a while.
“So, when’s this lunch going to be ready?” Norman asked, clapping his hands together. “I’m not used to eating lunch this late in the afternoon. I’m starving.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sharing a case of lager with Norman hadn’t seemed such a bad idea on Sunday afternoon. Even when it started getting late and Norman conceded he would, yet again, have to sleep on Slater’s settee because he was over the limit and unable to drive home, it had still seemed pretty cool. But then,
at six o’clock this morning, when his alarm had gone off, Slater realised that maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
Sunday afternoon had started off okay. Once they’d got past the thorny issue of PC Flight and her extra-curricular activities, they’d spent the next couple of hours trying to figure out why Slater thought his life was so shit. Norman had assumed his usual agony aunt persona and concluded Slater needed some interests other than work.
Not for the first time, he had suggested a good woman in his life would be a suitably positive step in the right direction, and reminded him that Jelena might just be that suitably good woman. He had also warned him that he’d never find out if he didn’t ask her out and actually talk to her.
From that point on, everything seemed to get a bit hazy, but Slater was pretty sure that between them, they’d come up with answers to almost all the world’s problems, finally concluding that they should be running the world and that all politicians were arseholes who couldn’t solve a problem if it came complete with a built-in answer.
This morning, to put it bluntly, Slater felt like shite, but at least this time it was a physical thing and not a mood thing. This made it okay to feel shite, because he knew it was his own fault, and besides, if he drank enough coffee he figured he would soon begin to feel human again. He looked enviously at Norman, shambling along beside him. His clothes looked as if they’d been stolen from a scarecrow, and Slater certainly didn’t envy him that, but how come the bugger looked so bloody bright and cheerful? You’d never know he’d had a drink yesterday.
A low murmur of conversation filled the incident room as they entered and made their way to the front desk. Before either of them could say anything, Jane Jolly appeared.
“PC Flight’s called in sick, Sir,” she said.
“Yes. Right,” said Slater, uncomfortably.