Just A Coincidence & Florence (Dave Slater Mystery Doubles Book 1)

by Ford,P. F.

  ‘Suppose so,’ said Florence. ‘If Dougie likes you, I suppose so.’

  ‘Where did you get Dougie?’

  ‘Mine,’ said Florence, insistently. ‘He’s mine. Dylan gave him to me.’

  ‘Dylan? You mean Mr Winter?’

  ‘Dylan.’

  ‘You know what happened to him?’ asked Jolly. ‘You were at his funeral.’

  ‘Gone,’ said Florence. ‘Dead.’

  ‘How did you know Dylan?’

  ‘Nice man. Kind,’ said Florence. ‘Only ones. Dylan and Dougal. Only Dougal now. Have you seen Dougal?’

  Jolly remembered the baker’s wife telling her Florence was always asking after Dougal.

  ‘Who’s Dougal?’ asked Jolly.

  ‘Dougal kind, too,’ said Florence. ‘Only Dougal and Dylan, but Dylan gone.’

  ‘Dougal and Dylan are the only kind men? Is that what you mean?’

  Florence nodded.

  ‘Well I’m not a man,’ said Jolly. ‘And I’ve not come to do you any harm. I’m a friend of the baker’s wife. You know the bakery in Tinton, don’t you?’

  ‘Nice lady,’ said Florence, her smile confident this time. ‘Gives me bread.’

  ‘That’s her. She gave me a loaf for you, and I’ve brought you some other things too.’

  Jolly reached for the rucksack, opened the neck, reached inside and removed a loaf of bread which she held out to Florence. The old lady looked uncertainly at the loaf and at Jolly, who was just beginning to realise this was going to be a long-term project. Before she could talk to Florence, she was first going to have to win her trust.

  ‘Look,’ said Jolly. ‘I understand. You’re not sure you can trust me, so here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to get up from the chair and I’m going to leave you in peace. I’ll leave the bread and the other stuff in the rucksack here. Is that alright?’

  ‘Alright,’ answered Florence, but it was obvious she wasn’t sure about any of this.

  Jolly wasn’t sure Slater or Norman would approve of what she was doing, but her instincts were telling her she had to give Florence some space.

  ‘I’ll come back tomorrow morning,’ continued Jolly. ‘If you aren’t here, I’ll understand you don’t trust me and you don’t want to talk, but I think you can help me find out what happened to Dylan. You want to know what happened, don’t you?’

  Florence looked desperately sad, but she nodded her agreement.

  Before either of them could say anything else, the dog suddenly pricked his ears and made a rush for the hedge, disappearing underneath it. A look of alarm filled Florence’s face and she stared in dismay at Jolly. The sound of barking and cursing came from beyond the conifer hedge, followed by a loud thump as a heavy body hit the ground. Jolly looked towards the sound and then back at Florence, but all she saw was the old lady’s back as she showed a remarkable turn of speed in making her getaway.

  When Jolly found Norman, he was laying on his back in an untidy heap on the floor, the dog still tugging away at his jeans even though he was on the ground. He reminded Jolly of a stranded tortoise as he struggled ineffectually, his arms waving uselessly.

  ‘You bloody idiot!’ she snapped. ‘You were supposed to keep out of the way. I was just starting to gain her trust and now you’ve frightened her away.’

  ‘I was just trying to help. I was getting worried about you,’ wheezed Norman from the ground. ‘I heard all that barking and then it went quiet.’

  ‘That was ages ago,’ said Jolly.

  ‘It’s rough going you know,’ he said. ‘I got here as quick as I could, then this vicious little rat took me by surprise.’

  He kicked out ineffectively at the dog but missed and it only served to make it even more determined to chew through his jeans.

  ‘This little rat, as you call him,’ said Jolly, ‘is Dougie. He’s Mr Winter’s dog.’

  ‘Great,’ said Norman. ‘So now you can stop worrying about what happened to him. And do you think you could get him to stop eating my damned jeans.’

  ‘Dougie!’ said Jolly. ‘Come here.’

  The little terrier obediently did as she asked, releasing his death grip on Norman’s jeans and coming to stand at her side.

  ‘Good boy,’ she said, stooping to pat his head.

  ‘Jeez,’ said Norman, puffing his way into a sitting position. ‘Rotten little shit, tripped me up.’

  ‘He was protecting Florence,’ explained Jolly.

  As if to prove he would be equally happy to protect Jolly, Dougie gave Norman a warning growl and showed his teeth.

  ‘It’s alright,’ Norman addressed the dog. ‘I already know your teeth work okay, you don’t need to prove you still have them.’

  A shrill whistle echoed through the trees and, using his ears to locate the correct direction, Dougie zoomed off like a small rocket. They watched him disappear under the hedge once again.

  ‘So how come he likes you so much?’ asked Norman, as he struggled to get to his feet.

  ‘He’s like Florence,’ said Jolly. ‘He seems to think women are more trustworthy than men. They’re certainly not as useless.’

  ‘Look, I’ve said I’m sorry,’ pleaded Norman. ‘How was I supposed to know you were alright?’

  ‘Because I told you I’d be alright,’ she said, still angry with him.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Norman. ‘And no one’s ever said that and been wrong, have they? What if you hadda been in trouble and I’d just sat back there on my backside? What would that say about me as a partner? You would have done the same, and you know it.’

  She thought about this for a moment. He had a point.

  ‘I suppose you’re right.’ She sighed. ‘I’m sorry I snapped your head off.’

  ‘And I’m sorry I scared her away,’ said Norman, reaching out a hand. ‘But it’s done now and we can’t undo it. Now, could you please give me a hand?’

  She grabbed his hand and finally, with her heaving for all she was worth, he managed to get to his feet.

  ‘Thank you,’ he puffed, beginning to brush himself down.

  ‘Here,’ said Jolly, brushing at his clothes with her hands. ‘Turn around.’

  She began brushing away at his back.

  ‘There, you’ll do,’ she said, at last.

  ‘So how did you get on, anyway?’

  ‘You need to understand this isn’t going to be a simple case of sitting down and having a chat,’ she said. ‘This woman is wary, and doesn’t trust anyone easily. And she’s definitely scared stiff when it comes to men. According to Florence, there are only two kind men on the whole planet. One of those was Dylan Winter, and the other is someone called Dougal, whoever he is.’

  ‘He was the dog in the Magic Roundabout.’

  ‘This is a man, not a dog,’ said Jolly. ‘But he’s another one on the missing list. The baker’s wife told me Florence asks if she’s seen Dougal every time she sees her, and she asked me the same question.’

  ‘Well, you seem to have done well, considering you don’t think she trusts you,’ said Norman.

  ‘Another thing,’ said Jolly. ‘She has the missing print from Mr Winter’s house hanging up on the wall in her house.’

  ‘So she has his dog, and the missing picture,’ said Norman. ‘I could suggest that puts her in the frame for his murder. It could also suggest she broke in the second time.’

  ‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d met her, or spoken to her,’ said Jolly. ‘She’s a gentle soul. She’s not capable of murder.’

  ‘If her fingerprints are the female prints they found in his house, she’s going to need more than a character reference from you, Jane.’

  ‘There’s got to be an explanation. He was her brother. He was kind to her. Why would she murder him?’

  ‘We don’t know for sure that he is her brother, yet,’ said Norman. ‘Does she say he was her brother?’

  ‘No,’ admitted Jolly. ‘She just said he was called Dylan. So maybe he wasn’t her brother, or, for some
reason, he didn’t tell her he was her brother.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t he tell her?’ Norman sounded incredulous. ‘That doesn’t make sense, does it?’

  ‘I don’t know, do I?’ said Jolly, exasperated at having to defend Florence. ‘I’ll ask her if you haven’t frightened her away for good.’

  Norman stared at her for a long moment, as if he wanted to say something, but then clearly thought better of it.

  ‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ he said.

  They began the long walk through the trees to the towpath and back into town.

  ‘Did you agree to see her again?’ he asked as they walked.

  ‘Tomorrow morning,’ she said. ‘I left the food I brought as a goodwill gesture and told her she doesn’t have to talk to me if she doesn’t want to.’

  ‘You can’t come out here on your own,’ said Norman. ‘I’ll come with you. If she did kill him she could do the same to you.’

  ‘With respect,’ she said, ‘I don’t think she’s going to trust me if you’re tagging along.’

  ‘You can’t come on your own.’

  ‘Then you keep well out of the way,’ said Jolly. ‘I’ll use a radio and keep it switched on so you can hear me.’

  ‘Yeah, but-’

  ‘No arguing. That’s my final offer,’ said Jolly, striding off ahead so he couldn’t reply.

  Chapter Eighteen

  While Norman and Jolly were ending their eventful morning over at Hatton House, Slater was fielding a telephone call from Rita Meyers at the Tinton Tribune offices.

  ‘I think you should get over to my office. I’ve got something you’ll definitely be interested in.’

  ‘Can you tell me what it’s about?’ asked Slater.

  ‘I’ve had a package delivered here from Mr Winter.’

  ‘But he’s dead.’

  ‘Nothing escapes you, does it?’ she said, not unkindly. ‘But, dead or not, I have a package from him, and I know you’re working on his case, so I think you probably need to see it.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Slater. ‘Thank you for calling. I’ll be there in a few minutes.’

  He couldn’t quite see how Mr Winter could possibly have sent a package from the other side, but he could worry about that later.

  The Tribune’s office occupied a small shop front just off the High Street. A bell rang as Slater opened the door and walked in. The first face he saw behind the counter was that of Danny Trent. The dirty look Danny gave him suggested his attitude hadn’t improved since his visit to the police station.

  ‘Hello, Danny,’ he said. ‘I’m here to see Rita.’

  ‘Who shall I say is calling?’ asked Danny sulkily.

  Slater thought about rising to the bait, but then thought better of it. He didn’t need this.

  ‘Dave Slater,’ was all he said.

  Danny picked up a phone from beneath the counter and pressed a button.

  ‘It’s the fuzz,’ he said into the phone, but from the way his expression changed and his face began to redden, Slater guessed the boss had been none too pleased with his comment. The boy turned away from him as the dressing down was delivered over the phone.

  ‘Okay. Right. I’m sorry,’ a chastened Danny said into the phone.

  He replaced the phone and then turned back to face Slater.

  ‘She’s coming right down,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Slater, with an evil grin.

  He could have said a lot more, but it looked as though Rita had said more than enough to put the youngster in his place. There was the sound of a door closing somewhere behind the counter and then Rita appeared.

  ‘Thank you, Danny,’ she said, giving him a withering look. ‘You can go and have a cup of tea now.’

  He was obviously disappointed at being excluded from this conversation but he reluctantly did as she asked and made his way towards the door and the back of the shop.

  ‘Hi,’ Rita said, focusing a beaming smile at Slater. ‘I called you as soon as I realised what it was.’

  She placed a padded delivery envelope on the counter before him. It had been opened.

  ‘It was addressed to me, so I opened it,’ she explained. ‘Then I read the letter inside and I thought I’d better call you.’

  She pushed the letter across to him. As she had said, it was addressed to her, and the message was short and to the point.

  ‘Please hand the enclosed CD to the police’, it said. It was signed ‘Dylan Winter’.

  Slater peered into the padded envelope. The CD was inside.

  ‘Do you know where it’s come from?’ asked Slater, looking at the front of the envelope.

  ‘Oh yes. It’s on the back,’ she said.

  He turned over the envelope and there was a return address, neatly printed across the back. It was a London address, but it meant nothing to him.

  ‘Have you any idea who these people are?’ he asked.

  ‘I googled it while I was waiting for you to arrive,’ she said. ‘They’re some sort of backup service, but I’m not exactly sure how it works. Do you think what’s inside is important? It seems Mr Winter went to a lot of trouble to make sure this got to you.’

  ‘I think it’s probably a bit more than a greetings card.’

  ‘It’s that all you can tell me?’ asked Rita, looking him right in the eye. ‘That seems rather unfair. First you tell me I can’t report a murder in my own town, and now you won’t even tell me what’s going on. I could have made a copy of that CD, but I did the right thing and called you.’

  Slater studied her face for a moment. He thought she looked honest enough, and he had no reason to doubt her word.

  ‘You know I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation with you,’ he said. ‘It’s more than my job’s worth.’

  ‘But it’s a big story, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘If I’m helping you to solve a murder I think it’s only right I should get the lowdown on what’s going on, not some sleazeball reporter from London. This should be my story, not his.’

  ‘Rippon helped us with stuff that we didn’t know.’ Slater felt he had to explain.

  ‘I bet I’ve just helped you a whole lot more.’

  ‘I won’t know that until I’ve had a chance to look at it.’

  Slater was feeling rather awkward. He knew she had a point about the local press and the local story, and he actually agreed with her. But it was a delicate and difficult situation. He needed both Rita and Rippon on their side.

  ‘There’s nothing to stop me printing the story about the murder,’ she argued.

  ‘Please don’t do that yet,’ he pleaded.

  ‘So when do I get to print it?’

  ‘I promise you’ll be the first to know,’ he said. ‘Now, please can I get on and see what’s in this envelope?’

  He picked up the envelope and turned to go.

  ‘I’m going to keep on at you, you know. This is a big story in a little town like this, and I want to be the one who prints it first.’

  ‘And you will be,’ he said. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  As Slater made his way out of the shop, Danny Trent came back from his tea break.

  ‘Look after the counter until lunchtime please, Danny,’ she said, as she turned to go back upstairs. ‘Then you can come back upstairs with me.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said cheerily. ‘Whatever you say.’

  He waited until he was sure she’d gone, then he picked up the phone and keyed a number from memory.

  ‘PC Jolly,’ announced Jolly into the phone on her desk.

  ‘It’s John Hunter here,’ said the voice in her ear. ‘How’s Tinton’s favourite PC? Have you been anywhere exciting this week?’

  ‘Only if you count a derelict orphanage as exciting,’ said Jolly, warming straight away to his charm. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Hunter?’

  ‘It appears Mr Winter’s missing sister is alive and well and about to pay me a visit.’

  ‘That’s interesting,’ said Jolly. ‘I’ve no
t been able to trace the slightest sign of her.’

  ‘Well, she’s going to be here in the flesh, around ten-thirty the day after tomorrow,’ said Hunter. ‘Sergeant Slater said he wanted to be here if she turned up. Is that still the case?’

  ‘Oh, definitely,’ Jolly assured the solicitor. ‘Either DS Slater or DS Norman will be there. We need to check this woman’s credentials very carefully because believe the real sister is alive and well and not far away from here, and she has been all the time.’

  ‘That’s brilliant news,’ said Hunter. ‘But, are you sure?’

  ‘Not certain yet,’ said Jolly. ‘But I spoke to her this morning and we have good reason to believe we’re right, so we don’t want some fake to deny this lady her rightful inheritance.’

  ‘Quite right,’ agreed Hunter. ‘But where did you find her?’

  ‘I can’t really tell you that,’ said Jolly. ‘But hopefully all will be revealed soon enough.’

  ‘Well I’ll be happy to help if I can. I can be very obstructive if I try,’ said Hunter, conspiratorially. ‘I’m sure I can find plenty of reasons to make life difficult for our fake sister if necessary.’

  ‘We do appreciate your help.’

  ‘No problem at all. By the way, have you made any progress with the break-in at old Mr Winter’s house? Sergeant Slater said you thought it was the same person who broke in here.’

  ‘I’m afraid we’ve drawn a blank so far. But I’m sure we’ll arrest someone eventually. Of course, trying to obtain an inheritance by deception is a criminal offence, so that’s one arrest we will be making.’

  ‘Sounds fun,’ said Hunter. ‘We could do with some excitement around here. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’

  As she put the phone down, something was nagging away at Jolly, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Anyway, this was good news about the “sister”. They were making progress. If they could just get some proof from Florence that she was the real sister, they could put some pressure on this other woman. Maybe then they could find out who was behind all this.

  Much as Slater wanted to find out what was on the CD in his pocket, his stomach was reminding him he’d had very little for breakfast, so he decided to head for the canteen as soon as he got back. He hadn’t really been surprised to find Norman when he got there, and he listened as his colleague related the story of their meeting with Florence. It was disappointing they hadn’t been able to get much from her but perhaps tomorrow would be better. Norman had been as excited as he was at the arrival of the CD, and for once, it wasn’t difficult to get him out of the canteen and back up to the office.