An Unnecessary Murder

by P. F. Ford

  ‘Alfie Bowman did not kill your sister.’

  ‘Of course he did. Inspector Nash told me.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid Inspector Nash was wrong, and he shouldn’t have told you.’

  ‘You haven’t let him go have you?’

  ‘There wasn’t enough evidence to hold him, so-’

  ‘Oh my God,’ squeaked Gloria hysterically. ‘He’ll be after me next. You’ve got to stop him.’

  ‘Why would he be after you?’ asked Slater, baffled by her over-reaction.

  ‘He killed Marie for telling lies about him. Now he’ll be after me because I didn’t stop her.’

  ‘But he didn’t kill Marie. Someone is trying to make it look like it was him, but trust me, he didn’t do it.’

  ‘What about all the text messages he sent Marie?’

  ‘We’ve proved now that he didn’t send them. Someone else sent them to make us think it was Alfie?’

  ‘Huh! You see,’ she said, as if she had been right all along. ‘I knew my Alfie couldn’t be a murderer. I told your lot that but none of you would listen.’

  Talk about blowing hot and cold. This had to be the most abrupt U-turn Slater had ever heard. He had listened to the recording of her interview and read the transcript. She had been only too happy to condemn Alfie as the murderer once it had been mentioned, and not once had she even so much as suggested he could be innocent. Now Slater was beginning to understand exactly why Alfie wanted to keep his distance from this woman.

  ‘Err, yeah. Right,’ he agreed, having got over his shock. ‘Of course you did.’

  ‘But who would do something like that to Alfie? And why?’ asked Gloria

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out. That’s why we’re here.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean? If you’re suggesting-’

  ‘We’re not suggesting anything,’ he said, trying to defuse the situation. ‘We’re just trying to see if anyone knows anything that might help us.’

  ‘Well, don’t ask me, Sergeant. I haven’t a clue what my husband gets up to. Last time I saw him he was mixed up with some foreign tart. She was young enough to be his daughter. I mean, it’s pathetic isn’t it? Don’t you think?’

  ‘I thought he was your ex-husband?’ said Slater.

  She gave him a look that could have turned a lesser man to stone.

  ‘Technically we are still married, Sergeant. And it’s only a matter of time before he comes running back. You’ll see. He needs me. He knows it, and I know it.’

  Slater thought it highly unlikely Alfie Bowman, or any other sane man, needed this woman. He also thought saying so out loud might be tantamount to suicide, so he kept his mouth firmly closed while that particular thought was whizzing around in his head.

  ‘Anyway,’ she continued eventually, after a shooting him a withering look. ‘As I was saying. Perhaps it’s this foreign tart. Or maybe it’s someone to do with her. That’s the problem with these foreigners. You never know what you’re getting into, do you?’

  Slater thought Gloria Bowman was one serious piece of work, and he wondered how on earth had Alfie put up with her for so many years.

  ‘Mrs Bowman, we’re not asking you to speculate about who or what. We want to know more about you.’

  ‘Me? Why would you want to know about me? I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘We’re looking into the possibility that you know someone who might want to get even with Alfie-’

  ‘Oh. I see. So it’s alright for him to be screwing some cheap little foreign tart, but because I’m seeing someone that makes me guilty does it?’

  ‘So you have a boyfriend then?’ said Slater, grasping the opportunity to take control.

  Gloria gave him another icy glare. ‘I have needs like any other red-blooded woman. Is that a problem, Sergeant?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Slater, stony-faced. ‘But you must be able to see your boyfriend might have a problem with you wanting your husband back. Perhaps he could be jealous.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous!’ snapped Gloria.

  ‘No more ridiculous than thinking Alfie was a murderer. And you were certainly quite happy to think that when we arrived, weren’t you, Mrs Bowman?’

  For once Gloria seemed lost for words. Slater thought it unlikely it would last, but he was pleased enough with himself to enjoy the moment while it lasted. He watched her fidgeting uncomfortably. Twice she went to speak, and twice she evidently thought better of it.

  ‘Mrs Bowman,’ Slater said. ‘What happened the day you went to collect Alfie from the hospital?’

  ‘The rotten sod did a runner. I went all the way over there to get him and he pissed off and left me. I got a bloody parking ticket, too.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. The hospital phoned Dave Burnham, landlord of The Cask, but it was you who turned up. How did that happen?’

  She looked uncomfortable, so Slater decided to apply a little pressure.

  ‘Listen, Gloria,’ he said quietly. ‘This is important. Someone is trying to make us think Alfie killed your sister. We need to know all we can about anyone who might have a reason to do so. Your boyfriend could be that person. If he’s not, we need to prove that too. Do you understand?’

  Reluctantly she nodded, and then spoke. ‘Dave was here with me that day. We were in bed. His phone started ringing. He was angry to think Alfie expected him to go over and pick him up, so I said I’d go. That made him even more angry. He said I shouldn’t waste my time chasing after Alfie, but I went anyway.’

  Gloria clammed up after this revelation, but Slater thought he had learnt enough for now anyway, so it wasn’t too much longer before he made his excuses.

  ‘Just one thing you might be interested to know,’ he said, before Gloria closed the door. ‘That “cheap little foreign tart” you mentioned. Alfie wasn’t screwing her. He stepped in to save her from a beating and got one himself instead. She was the one who called an ambulance for him. She was there in the hospital to see how he was and to thank him, that’s all.’

  The door slammed shut in his face, but he felt that was okay. He had enjoyed telling her why Jelena had been in the hospital that day.

  ‘One more stop, Steve, is that okay? I want to buy you a pint.’

  They were driving back into town so Biddeford could retrieve his car. Slater thought his young colleague deserved a pint and he wanted to get a look at Gloria’s boyfriend, Dave Burnham. Slater thought he was definitely well worth a good, close look.

  There was no one in the quiet little back bar when they got there, and standing at the bar, seemingly unnoticed, Slater was beginning to think they might be better off going round to the busier, but also noisier, front bar. But finally a harassed-looking young woman appeared, ready to serve them.

  As she poured their pints, Slater asked her name.

  ‘Are you chatting me up?’ She smiled. ‘Only we’re short of staff and busy tonight so you’re going to be wasting your time.’

  ‘I could always come back on a quiet night, if you like.’

  She slowly and deliberately looked him up and down. ‘You look like a policeman,’ she said.

  ‘How can you tell?’ he said, laughing.

  She pointed at PC Biddeford. ‘Well, I know he is, ‘cause he was here earlier collecting a mobile phone, so I figure that probably means you are too. Am I right?’

  ‘Wow!’ said Slater. ‘Brains as well as beauty.’

  ‘Thank you, officer. Compliments are always welcome and enough of them could take you quite a long way. Quietest nights are Tuesdays and Thursdays. And it’s Jane.’

  ‘Of course. Jane. I spoke to you earlier. I’m Dave.’

  ‘It’s a good job you called when you did. Not long after I gave you that phone, the boss was looking for it.’

  ‘Really?’ said Slater.

  ‘Yeah,’ she went on. ‘He seemed pretty disappointed it was gone.’

  ‘Is he here?’

  ‘It’s his night off. You’d think t
he miserable sod would be here when we’re short of staff, wouldn’t you?’

  She took his money for the two beers and returned to the madhouse that was the front bar.

  Slater was a little disappointed Dave Burnham wasn’t there, but not too disappointed. At least now he and Biddeford could relax for fifteen minutes. He had decided he quite liked Steve Biddeford. He might be wet behind the ears, but he was keen and his heart was in the right place.

  Once Biddeford had gone home, Slater hung around in the bar waiting. Eventually he was rewarded, as Jane popped her head around the corner to see if anyone was waiting for a drink. Assuming he wanted another pint, she came over.

  ‘Same again?’ she asked.

  ‘Actually, I was wondering what time you finish.’

  ‘It’ll be around midnight, and I’m exhausted.’ She smiled tiredly. Then, seeing the expression on his face, she added, ‘But I’m free for lunch tomorrow if that helps.’

  Lunch date duly arranged, Dave Slater finally decided it was time to go home.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Conveniently for Dave Slater, and for me too, Detective Inspector Nash was away at a conference. Apparently he was hopping mad about it, but Slater reckoned it was down to the chief constable wanting to continue teaching him a lesson that he seemed to be rather slow taking on board. Whatever the reason, Nash being out of the way had enabled Slater to make massive progress with the murder case.

  Unofficially, we had pieced together a scenario which we were sure was pretty close to the truth, and the mounting evidence was beginning to point to the same conclusion. Because it was unofficial, we had decided to keep it to ourselves for now. Even Positive Pete was unaware of exactly how far we had got.

  When I had jokingly suggested how we might put our theory to the test to wind things up, Slater hadn’t been too keen. He told me it was totally against normal procedure, and if it went pear-shaped he would be in deep trouble.

  But later, when he’d had time to think about it, he began to accept the fact that, without my help, they might still be a long way from a result. On top of that, he had told me if he was going to have to spend the rest of his career cleaning up behind people like DI Nash, he was probably in the wrong job anyway.

  ‘So what if they do sack me?’ he’d confided. ‘Maybe they’d be doing me a big favour.’

  I could understand why he felt that way, but hearing him say it made me feel sad. I had come to like and respect Dave Slater. He was one of the good guys. I suggested that, from where I was looking, it seemed there were two things he needed. One was to get away from DI Nasty Nash, and the other was a good result in his own name.

  ‘If there’s anything I can do to help you achieve either of those things, just give me a call,’ I told him.

  And that, I thought, would be that. So when he’d called me later that same day, I was more than a little surprised.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that crazy idea of yours,’ he said.

  ‘I know, I know,’ I agreed. ‘It was a stupid idea. It’s way outside the box. It’s okay. I understand.’

  ‘No mate, you don’t understand. It’s because it’s so outside the box I think it’s a great idea. They’re always telling us we have to be more innovative in our thinking and the way we approach our jobs, so what the hell. Let’s do it!’

  At first I was lost for words. I mean, it was true it had been my idea, and at the time I had thought it was great. But now I’d had time to think about it, I wasn’t so sure. But Dave was having none of it.

  ‘You’re not having second thoughts are you? You did say you would do anything to help if you could…’

  ‘What about proper procedure? I don’t want you to get into-’

  ‘Don’t worry about the proper procedure. I’ve got that covered, okay? Now, Jane tells me Thursday night’s usually pretty quiet in the back bar. Do you think you can get it arranged by then?’

  ‘You really want to do it, don’t you? Ok, I’m in. And don’t worry about my end of the deal, you just make sure you get your side organised.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  The only one who had refused the invitation was Nugent, but that hadn’t surprised me at all. I wasn’t even going to mention it to him at first, but, as Positive Pete pointed out, the thing with Nugent is you have to cover all your bases. If I didn’t mention it to him, he’d probably complain that he’d been part of it and he should have been invited. By inviting him I gave him the opportunity to exert his self-assumed superiority and refuse.

  Sure enough, looking down from his lofty perch, he had explained that as far as he was concerned, drinking in a pub was way beneath him.

  ‘It’s what ordinary people do,’ he had told me. ‘People like me know better. We drink in clubs.’

  Oh yeah, like that grubby little snooker club of yours.

  And as for associating in public with what he called ‘The Law’… Well, he explained, it just wasn’t going to happen.

  ‘What would my clients think? I’ve got a reputation to uphold.’

  Yeah. Right. Of course you have.

  First to arrive were Positive Pete and Daphne. To allay anyone’s suspicions, Pete had made all the arrangements with the pub. As far as everyone not in the know was concerned, this was a small celebration Pete and Daphne were sharing with some friends.

  He’d approached Dave Burnham and asked him to attend in his role of friend, and to don his publican hat to run the bar, lay on a small buffet, and produce champagne once everyone had gathered. Unable to come up with a plausible excuse for not being there, Dave had reluctantly agreed.

  Next to arrive were two guys Alfie had invited, Dave Slater and Steve. Pete knew who they were, of course, but Dave Burnham had no idea. They quietly said hello to Pete and Daphne, ordered a mineral water each, and then sat chatting to each other. From his position behind the bar, Dave thought it a bit odd that these ‘friends’ didn’t exactly seem all that happy to be here.

  But then again, if all they drank was mineral water, they weren’t exactly going to be a bundle of laughs, were they? As for that Positive Pete, well, he’d been miserable for years, everybody knew that. It was shaping up be one of the dullest celebrations ever.

  Sophia and Jelena arrived next, both making a big fuss of Pete and Daphne. Sophia added a touch of cool sophistication to the room, while Jelena’s vivacity, impish sense of humour, and infectious laugh changed the atmosphere within moments. In no time, she had drawn everyone together, and even the two dull guys Dave didn’t know seemed to cheer up.

  Dave Burnham began to think that perhaps this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. Maybe a bit of a celebration would do him good. There was no denying the atmosphere had improved considerably since the arrival of the two ‘foreign imports’, as he referred to Sophia and Jelena.

  He was especially pleased to see that Alfie Bowman wasn’t here. He’d certainly been taken down a peg or two since he’d become murder suspect number one. Dave had been puzzled when the police had set him free, but he was sure that DI Nash knew what he was doing. Bowman was probably keeping a low profile. Good.

  He decided he needed to relax a bit. Just as soon as he could come out from behind this bar, he was going to join in. Then he could start asking some questions and find out who these two guys were. But first he would have to finish his duties and serve the champagne.

  ‘Pete,’ he called. ‘When do you want this champagne.’

  Pete looked at his watch as he walked to the bar. ‘In a couple of minutes,’ he said. ‘Just as soon as the entertainment arrives.’

  ‘A stripper is it?’ Dave grinned at the thought.

  ‘Close,’ said Pete, smiling. ‘I’m told it’s definitely going to be revealing.’

  Just then a head popped around the corner. It was Jane, Dave’s manageress.

  ‘You relax and enjoy yourself.’ She smiled at Dave. ‘I can handle anything that crops up. If that’s okay with you, of course?’

  Well then, why
not?

  ‘Alright, Jane, I’ll take you up on that. For the rest of tonight, the pub’s yours to run as you see fit.’

  She was one of the best business decisions he had ever made. She was more than capable of running this place, and living upstairs in her own little flat within the pub meant she was always around. He’d never had so much free time as he had since she had arrived, and he was looking forward to having even more in the future. More free time meant more time to spend with Gloria. He felt pretty pleased with himself – things were coming together quite nicely.

  As I entered the bar, every head turned in my direction and I was a greeted by a chorus of hellos. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dave Burnham scowling at me from behind the bar. I ignored him and made my way over to my friends. There was no one else in the bar tonight, which made it just perfect for what we had planned.

  First, I shook hands with the two miserable guys. Then it was kisses on the cheek from Daphne and Jelena, followed by a bear hug from Positive Pete. Finally, Sophia stepped forward.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked, placing my hands on her shoulders. This was the very first time we had appeared in front of other people as ‘a couple’ and I didn’t want to put any pressure on her. But I needn’t have worried. Just to prove she was more than happy to be there, she stood on tiptoes to kiss me full on the lips, then moved into my arms for a cuddle.

  While all this was going on, Pete asked Dave Burnham to bring the champagne over. He looked distinctly uncomfortable as he carried the tray over, and for a moment I thought he was going to dump the tray and run, but Pete had spotted that too and he was in like a shot, putting an arm around Dave and drawing him into our little crowd. Unable to escape, he started to pour the champagne.

  ‘So,’ he said to Pete as he started to hand out the champagne. ‘What’s the celebration?’

  ‘We’re here to celebrate the fact that Alfie is no longer a murder suspect. In fact, Alfie’s got quite a story to tell us all. That’s the entertainment. So come on everyone, take a seat and let’s get on.’