An Unnecessary Murder

by P. F. Ford

  On the plus side, they were making progress. They knew who the victim was, they knew what the cause of death was, and, as an added bonus, they had the victim’s mobile phone which had revealed some very interesting text messages and a potential murder suspect, much to the delight of Detective Inspector Nasty Nash.

  ‘Err, don’t forget you’re supposed to keep away from Alfie Bowman, guv,’ warned Slater.

  ‘Yes, thank you, Sergeant,’ sneered Nash, emphasising the ‘sergeant’. ‘I understand you may have divided loyalties over this issue’ – this was a reference to the fact that Slater had been the one to use Alfie’s evidence to arrest Nash senior – ‘but my orders are to not “harass” Mr Bowman, am I right?’

  ‘Yes, guv,’ said Slater, with a sigh.

  ‘So let me give you a little scenario and then you tell me whether you think it constitutes harassment, alright?’

  Slater slumped in his seat. It was going to be impossible to work with Nash if he was going to carry on like this. Was it Slater’s fault that Tommy Nash had covered up one murder and then committed another? What was he supposed to do when he was presented with overwhelming evidence? Ignore it?

  ‘Right. Scenario,’ said Nash. ‘I have a murder victim. I have the victim’s mobile phone which clearly shows no less than seven text messages from Alfie Bowman, the last one of which was sent less than an hour before the murder was committed. In that message, Bowman tells the victim how he can’t wait to be with her and that he’s on his way.’

  Nash leaned back in his chair, balancing it on the back two legs, placed his hands behind his head, and looked up at the ceiling. It was a position Nash adopted when he was feeling superior. Slater called this Nash’s ‘I’m a smug arsehole’ position. Right now, it perfectly matched his ‘I’m a smug arsehole’ attitude.

  ‘Now I don’t know what you think, Sergeant, but, to me, this evidence tends to suggest that we should talk to Mr Bowman.’ He gave Slater a condescending smile, then added his catchphrase. ‘Understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘Yes, guv.’

  ‘I don’t see how that can be harassment, do you, Sergeant?’

  ‘No, guv.’

  ‘Tell me,’ continued Nash, clearly keen to press home his advantage. ‘Do you really think it’s the job of a detective sergeant to tell a detective inspector how to do his job?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Slater, wearily. ‘I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I just don’t want you getting into trouble again, that’s all.’

  Nash returned slowly to an upright position and regarded Slater as if he was a bad smell.

  ‘Your concern is very touching, Sergeant, but perhaps it would be better if you paid more attention to doing your own job properly. For example, have you found that girl yet?’

  ‘No, guv.’

  Nash was referring to the girl who had been at the murder scene last night. It was only after Slater had made all his calls to organise the support staff he needed that he realised she had disappeared. He had no idea who she was or where she had gone. He hadn’t even got a good look at her, so he couldn’t give more than the vaguest of descriptions. As Nash had been only too keen to point out several times already, she was their only witness and he, Detective Sergeant Slater, had allowed her to vanish into thin air.

  Slater slowly became aware that Nash seemed to be waiting for something more, but he was so tired he was almost past caring. A huge yawn threatened to break his head in half.

  ‘Am I boring you, Sergeant?’

  ‘No, sir. Sorry, sir.’

  ‘Well? What are you waiting for?’

  Slater was confused. ‘Sir?’

  ‘Go and arrest bloody Bowman. I want to interview him. Get a search warrant and take a crowd of our clumsiest constables with you. I want his flat turned upside down. With any luck, he might try to resist. If he does, make sure they know they can rough him up a bit.’

  Slater had a reply on the tip of his tongue but thought better of it. He knew he couldn’t argue with Nash’s summary of the evidence. Even though he couldn’t picture Alfie as the murdering type, there was no denying what those text messages said, nor the fact that Alfie knew the victim. And according to Nash, he had a motive too, although he wouldn’t actually share what he meant by that.

  Quite frankly, Slater didn’t know what to think, but he knew what his duty was.

  Chapter Seven

  I couldn’t find my mobile phone anywhere. I couldn’t remember where I’d put the damned thing last night when I got home. But then I couldn’t really remember anything after kissing Sophia goodnight. That was something I could recall in great detail, but after that – nothing.

  I seemed to have searched everywhere this morning, but could I find it? I was sure the bloody thing had a mind of its own.

  The doorbell rang.

  A very unhappy-looking Dave Slater was outside. And he was not alone. A small army of police officers seemed to have gathered outside my door.

  ‘What’s this?’ I said, unable to stop myself. ‘Back again so soon? It’s only been a few weeks since you lot last smashed up my home. It can’t be my turn again already.’

  ‘Mr Bowman, I have a search warrant to search these premises,’ he said, very formally, slapping the search warrant into my hand.

  He led his personal army into my flat and began to disperse them in different directions. The unwelcome, but familiar, sounds of police officers trampling through my life once more began to fill the flat. Slater himself came back and stood in front of me, a look of grim accusation on his face.

  ‘Have I committed another robbery without knowing it?’ I asked sarcastically.

  ‘This isn’t a laughing matter,’ he said, stony-faced.

  ‘Can you tell me what you’re looking for?’ I asked him. ‘Maybe I can save you trashing the whole place.’

  ‘We could start with your mobile phone and the clothes you were wearing last night,’ he said grimly.

  ‘Clothes are in the laundry basket waiting to be washed,’ I said helpfully, ‘but I haven’t a clue where my mobile is.’

  The expression on his face made it obvious I’d offered the wrong answer.

  ‘What am I supposed to have done?’ I asked. ‘Committed a murder?’

  His face darkened even further. ‘This isn’t bloody funny,’ he snarled.

  ‘Do I look amused to have your untrained elephants back in my flat?’

  He grabbed the front of my sweater and marched me outside, where he pinned me up against the wall. A uniformed head popped out to see what was going on.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Slater. ‘I’m just getting him out of your way.’

  The head popped back in again and Slater turned back to me.

  ‘Now listen up,’ he hissed. ‘You’re in deep shit. Your sister-in-law was murdered last night and you are number one suspect.’

  I couldn’t believe my ears. ‘What, Marie? Murder? Me? Why would I murder Marie?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But Nash thinks he does know. And you’ve been texting her, you bloody idiot. Did you think we wouldn’t find those messages on her phone?’

  This was unbelievable. ‘Me? Text Marie? You must be bloody joking. I wouldn’t text her if I was drowning and she had the only bloody lifeboat.’

  ‘I hope you can come up with something better than that,’ he said grimly. ‘I’ve got to take you in for questioning and Nash is gunning for you. He might look like an idiot, but you’d be wrong to think of him that way. You’re in deep shit, take it from me.’

  ‘And if I refuse to come in for questioning?’

  ‘Then I have his permission to beat the crap out of you for resisting arrest.’

  ‘You’re just as bad as him, aren’t you?’ I said, disappointed. ‘I thought you were different but you’re not.’

  ‘You’ve got a short memory haven’t you?’ he said. ‘Do you think it was easy arresting Nash’s father and doing him for murder? Do you really think I enjoyed doing that t
o my boss? Wouldn’t it have been easier to just sweep it under the carpet and forget it?’

  He still had me pinned against the wall and he leaned a bit more heavily, digging his elbow into my ribs for added emphasis.

  ‘Just forget your little moral crusade for a minute and listen,’ he continued. ‘We have a murder victim. We have evidence indicating the strong possibility that we have a suspect. That suspect is you. Do you really think I can ignore that evidence just because I don’t like my boss, or because I do like you?’

  He had a point, but I was beginning to get sick and tired of being lectured. Then again, I figured being lectured was probably the least of my worries right now.

  ‘But it wasn’t me,’ I protested.

  ‘That’s what they all say,’ he finished, letting go of me. ‘Now, are you going to come quietly or what?’

  ‘But-’

  ‘Alright,’ he said, impatiently, producing a pair of handcuffs. ‘Just to keep you happy, we’ll do it all official.’

  And then, like I was in some sort of nightmare, he spun me around, clapped on the handcuffs, and began to read me my rights. Surely this couldn’t be happening to me, could it? I mean, less than half an hour ago I was thinking about Sophia and I didn’t have a care in the world. Now I was being arrested and carted off in handcuffs as a murder suspect.

  Just as I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, just as Dave Slater was saying ‘…under arrest, on suspicion of murder…’ I heard a door close, and Sophia appeared around the corner.

  I wondered what she must think. I mean, last night I’d been telling her how she could trust me and how I was totally anti-violence. Yet it wasn’t that long ago I’d been beaten up for being a ‘wife-beater’ – which wasn’t true – and now here I was being arrested on suspicion of murder – which also wasn’t true. What was she to believe? I could hardly blame her if she had doubts, now, could I?

  ‘Sophia,’ I said, ‘this isn’t what it seems.’

  For what seemed like an age, she stood, mouth agape, seemingly horrified. Then she turned and ran back around the corner in the direction of her own flat.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘I’ve got all day you know,’ said Detective Inspector Nash, happily. ‘I’ll take as long as it takes, Bowman. Understand what I’m saying?’

  He’d been banging on like this for hours now. He seemed to think I was just going to fold up and confess to murdering Marie. There was just one little problem that he seemed intent on ignoring – I hadn’t done it.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, sighing. ‘You didn’t do it. I know, I know. If I had a pound for every person we’ve dragged in here who has insisted they were innocent, I would have retired a long time ago. But we both know that you did do it, and we both know why, don’t we?’

  ‘Do we?’ I said wearily. ‘You seem to be way ahead of me, Inspector. So perhaps you’d like to enlighten me as to how, and why.’

  ‘I’m not exactly sure how,’ he conceded. ‘But the pathologist is working on it right now. I’m sure we’ll know before too long. As for motive – well, we both know that Marie didn’t have a very high opinion of you, now, don’t we?’

  ‘There are plenty of people who don’t have a very high opinion of me. It’s a free country. People can think what they like. There’d be a huge pile of dead bodies if I went around murdering everyone who didn’t have a very high opinion of me.’

  He smiled broadly. ‘Indeed, there would be,’ he agreed. ‘But isn’t Marie the reason so many people don’t like you? Isn’t she the one who was telling the world you were a wife-beater? Didn’t you get beaten up as a result of her big mouth?’

  I was staring at Nash but out of the corner of my eye, I was sure I saw Slater sit up a bit straighter and pay a little more attention. Nash was referring to an incident in which I had been attacked by three guys armed with baseball bats, but when Slater had tried to find out about it once before, all references seemed to have disappeared. At that time, Nash had denied ever hearing about the case yet here he was using it as evidence.

  ‘I find it very convenient,’ said Nash, enjoying his superior position, ‘that you can’t find your mobile phone this morning. You used it to send all those text messages to Marie yesterday, and yet this morning you can’t find it. Funny that, don’t you think?’

  ‘I’ve never texted Marie in my life,’ I said. ‘Even when I was married to her sister, I never had any reason to send her messages.’

  ‘Not even saucy ones?’ Nash winked at me. ‘I mean, she wasn’t bad, was she? And a bit of a goer, apparently. And you are on your own these days. You must get a bit lonely. Know what I’m saying?’

  ‘Not bad? She was a bloody slapper,’ I said, appalled at his suggestion. ‘I can assure you I could never be that lonely. I wouldn’t have touched her with yours.’

  ‘Why don’t you just admit it and then we can all go home,’ said Nash. ‘Or at least, Sergeant Slater and I can go home.’ He smiled theatrically. ‘And you can go back to your cell.’

  ‘So let me get this clear,’ I said. ‘You want me to confess to a murder, right?’

  ‘In a nutshell.’ He smiled.

  ‘But you have no evidence that I was ever in the victim’s house, have you?’

  ‘Well-,’ started Nash.

  ‘No,’ interrupted Slater.

  ‘Not yet,’ corrected Nash, looking daggers at Slater, ‘but we’re still searching. We’ll find it.’

  ‘You won’t,’ I said, ‘because I’ve never been there. I don’t even know where she lives.’

  ‘Of course you do.’ Nash grinned. ‘You were there last night.’

  ‘Talking about last night, you don’t seem to have bothered to check my alibi yet. If you had, you would know I was with Sophia Ingliss from eight until around eleven-thirty.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Nash thoughtfully. ‘Sophia Ingliss. I seem to recall she gave you an alibi once before. Even you didn’t really believe it, did you? So why would I think she’s telling the truth this time.’

  Now it was my turn to smile. ‘You mean the alibi she gave me for the last time you tried to fit me up with a crime I didn’t commit? You sure you want to pursue that train of thought? I’m sure it’s not too late for me to make a complaint about that.’

  I knew I was trying his patience, but what the heck?

  ‘You had time before you met her,’ he snapped. ‘You could have killed Marie and then met your girlfriend and arranged your alibi.’

  ‘That’s quite a conspiracy you’re developing, Inspector. You should try writing a novel.’

  I could see he was nearing the end of his fuse. He’d attacked me once before and I was half expecting him to come across the table at me now, but I was saved by a knock at the door.

  ‘Come,’ he announced loudly.

  The door opened enough for a face to appear. Whoever it was seemed pretty reluctant to come any further.

  ‘Well?’ boomed Nash.

  A piece of paper was being held up. ‘Well…it’s a bit… One of you needs to take a look at this.’

  ‘Sergeant,’ ordered Nash.

  Slater climbed wearily to his feet and ambled across to the door, where the messenger seemed to be trying to keep out of Nash’s view.

  ‘What have you got?’ he asked, holding out his hand and taking the sheet of paper.

  He read it and then read it again. Finally, he turned to Nash.

  ‘You’d better read this, guv,’ he said, grimly, holding out the sheet of paper.

  ‘This had better be bloody good,’ growled Nash, hauling himself to his feet.

  ‘You might want to read it out there.’ Slater nodded towards the corridor beyond the door.

  ‘What?’ said Nash, irritated. ‘Why?’

  Slater led him through the door and closed it behind them.

  I took the opportunity to stretch my aching limbs. I’d been here for bloody hours. I wondered what was going to happen next.

  There was a sound like a lion roarin
g from beyond the door. Then it shook loudly as someone kicked it hard. Next there was a rapid stream of shouted words, most of which seemed to begin with the letter ‘f’. Then the sounds gradually faded along the corridor until finally there was silence.

  After about five minutes, the door opened and Dave Slater came in. He sat down opposite me.

  ‘You must have friends in some very high places,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘We’ve been told to let you go. Nash is going spare.’

  ‘Yes, I heard,’ I said. ‘But what do you mean you’ve been told to let me go.’

  ‘All I know is I have to hand you over to Ms Ingliss, upstairs,’ he said. ‘I’ve never heard anything like it before, but apparently she is considered trustworthy enough to be responsible for you.’

  ‘But what about my confession?’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ he said. ‘Like that’s going to happen. I don’t believe you did it, and I don’t think even Nash believes you did it. But then, I don’t think he actually cares if you did it or not. If he can find enough evidence to make it look like you did it, that’ll be good enough for him. He’s got another agenda to satisfy, remember?’

  ‘But what about the text messages?’

  ‘Oh they haven’t gone away and they could still come back to haunt you,’ he said. ‘And if Nash gets his way, they will, trust me on that. To be honest, even I’m not sure about those. They’re certainly reason for suspicion, but right now they’re not enough to convict you.’

  ‘Great,’ I said. ‘So you don’t believe me then?’

  ‘I’m a policeman,’ he said. ‘It’s my job to be suspicious about things I can’t explain. If you can’t handle that, it’s your problem not mine.’

  That’s told me, then.

  ‘So what happens now?’ I asked, wondering what was really going on here.

  ‘I take you upstairs and hand you over to Ms Ingliss,’ he said. ‘But you’re not to go wandering. No leaving the country. She’s putting herself on the line for you, so bear that in mind.’

  He stood up. ‘Come on then, let’s go.’ Then, as he opened the door he added, ‘I hope you know how lucky you are with her.’