Dave Slater Mystery Novels Box Set Two

by Ford, P. F.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Slater, somewhat sheepishly. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry about that. I’ll go and see if his car’s around anywhere.’

  ‘And try his mobile phone,’ said Brent. ‘You never know.’

  ‘It’s alright,’ said Slater. ‘Panic over. I’m back now. I’ve got my thinking head plugged in and working.’

  ‘Good,’ said Brent. ‘That’s the spirit.’

  Still somewhat embarrassed by his loss of control, Slater made his way off to search for Norman’s car. There were no allocated spaces so it could be anywhere, but Slater knew Norman and how much he liked having to walk, so he knew, if his car was here, it wouldn’t be far away.

  Chapter Four

  As Slater trudged off on his search, he tried ringing Norman’s mobile phone. It rang and rang until eventually Norman’s cheerful voice welcomed him to voicemail. He left a message, trying hard not to sound as if he was worried; but the very fact Norman didn’t answer was worrying in itself.

  He started his search in the area where he knew Norman preferred to leave his car, but there was no sign of it. Then he began to widen his search, until eventually he had covered the entire area surrounding the three blocks of flats. There were plenty of empty parking spaces dotted around, but there was no sign of Norman’s car anywhere. He must have gone out somewhere – but something didn’t feel right about this scenario.

  Norman was reliable. Even if he was out somewhere, he would never switch his phone off if he was on call. He had even been known to call in and warn the duty sergeant if he thought he might be going somewhere with a poor signal. This whole thing was completely out of character. Slater dialled the police station.

  ‘Hi, Sandy, it’s Slater,’ he said, when the duty sergeant answered.

  ‘Have you found him yet?’ asked Sandy Mollinson.

  ‘The good news is he’s not in his flat,’ said Slater. ‘The bad news is his car’s not here so it looks like he’s gone out somewhere.’

  ‘Well, when you find him, tell him I’m going to kick his arse. He’s supposed to be on call not out on the tiles.’

  ‘I hope it’s that simple,’ said Slater. ‘If that is the case I’ll be kicking his arse myself, but I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Sandy. It’s totally out of character for Norm to do something like this.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ asked Mollinson, clearly picking up on the alarm in Slater’s voice. ‘You’re making me feel as if we have some sort of incident going on here.’

  ‘I’m not sure what’s going on,’ said Slater. ‘But I’m definitely worried.’

  ‘Should I call the Old Man?’ asked Mollinson. ‘If we have an officer missing he’ll want to know.’

  The Old Man in question was DCI Bob Murray, who was Slater and Norman’s boss.

  ‘We don’t want to start a panic,’ said Slater. ‘I’m not sure he’s officially missing. But you could ask all the lads to keep an eye out for his car.’

  ‘Consider it done,’ said Mollinson.

  ‘What time’s Norm due back on duty?’

  ‘Seven.’

  ‘Right,’ said Slater, coming to a decision. ‘I’m going home to get cleaned up and have some breakfast. I’ll be there by seven. If Norm’s late we’ll assume we have a problem. That’s when we alert the Old Man.’

  He ended the call and trudged back to find Eddie Brent. It took ages to locate him, but he eventually found him inside the building, outside Norman’s flat.

  ‘This fire definitely wasn’t started by an electric iron or any other fault inside,’ Brent said, when he saw Slater approaching. ‘Look at this.’

  He pointed to the front door, which was wide open. It was a wooden door, but it was hard to tell as it was heavily charred.

  ‘Accelerant,’ said Brent. ‘It was poured through the letterbox and set on fire. You can see the way the bottom of the door is scorched inside and out, and the way the concrete floor on the outside has been blackened. That’s where it leaked back out under the door before it was ignited.’

  Slater couldn’t quite believe what he was being told.

  ‘Are you telling me someone set fire to Norman’s flat?’

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ said Brent. ‘And if he had been inside he wouldn’t have been able to escape.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ said Slater. ‘That’s attempted murder. What’s the accelerant, do you know?’

  ‘We’ll have to analyse it to know for sure, but my guess, from the smell, is petrol,’ said Brent, grimly. ‘It’s what your average, everyday, arsonist tends to go for. It’s freely available, you see.’

  Slater’s mind was making connections.

  ‘This wheelie bin fire plague,’ he said, slowly. ‘Are they being started using petrol?’

  ‘Every one, so far,’ said Brent. ‘Why? D’you think there’s a connection?’

  ‘We caught a couple of youngsters the other night,’ said Slater. ‘One of them suggested he knew where Norman lived and would like to get his own back.’

  ‘Jesus,’ said Brent. ‘What is the world coming to? Do you really think they would do this?’

  ‘I hope not,’ said Slater. ‘But I’m not sure I know what to think about anything anymore. This used to be a quiet little old market town where nothing ever happens. Now look what we’re dealing with.’

  Chapter Five

  ‘Hi, Sandy,’ said Slater, down the phone. ‘It’s me again.’

  ‘I thought you were going home to get cleaned up,’ said Mollinson.

  ‘No chance. We’ve got a major incident on our hands now. Norman’s flat was torched. It looks like someone poured petrol through the letterbox and set fire to it. Its lucky Norm was out, or we might have been looking at a murder.’

  ‘Holy, moley,’ said Mollinson, sounding alarmed. ‘We can’t wait now. I’d better call Murray. I’ll let you know what he says.’

  ‘Thanks, Sandy. Most of Norm’s neighbours are waiting to get back inside the building. I’ll see if I can talk to some of them. Maybe someone saw something. Oh, and can you get that kid picked up?’

  ‘What kid? You mean the one you and Norman caught the other night? Surely you don’t think he-’

  ‘They’ve been using petrol as their accelerant of choice,’ interrupted Slater. ‘The kid we caught promised Norman he knew where he lived. We can’t afford to ignore that.’

  ‘Okay.’ Mollinson sighed. ‘Whatever you say.’

  Slater made his way to the huddle of people waiting to gain access to their flats. There were some worried faces amongst the small crowd and Slater thought it wouldn’t do to make the situation any worse by suggesting Norman had been the victim of an arson attack. But they had a missing officer and time was of the essence. He would have to tread carefully, but he figured it would be okay to ask if anyone had seen Norman earlier that evening.

  ‘I’m DS Slater, from Tinton CID,’ he said, once he had their attention. ‘I realise you’ve all had a nasty shock, but the fire service tell me you should all be allowed back inside soon. In the meantime, I’d like to ask for your help. I don’t know how many of you are aware, but my colleague DS Norman lives in the flat that caught fire.

  ‘Fortunately he wasn’t in the flat at the time, but I’ve been unable to contact him and we’re not sure where he is. Did anyone see him earlier this evening?’

  There was a lot of head shaking and some negative mumbles but no one seemed to be able to help. Slater was disappointed, but then he knew it had been a long shot. These days most people kept themselves to themselves so he wasn’t really surprised.

  He thanked everyone and told them he hoped they wouldn’t have to stay out in the cold for much longer, before heading back towards his own car. He had only gone a few paces when he realised he was being followed.

  ‘Excuse me, Sergeant,’ called a man’s voice.

  Slater turned around to find a man of about 60 following him.

  ‘You think something has happened to your friend, don’t you?’ asked the man. ‘W
as that fire started deliberately?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss that,’ said Slater.

  ‘I understand,’ said the man. ‘That means yes, but you’d rather we didn’t know. Well, I can promise you, your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anyone, but I think I might be able to help you.’

  ‘You didn’t say so before.’

  ‘There are at least two people living in these flats who are paranoid,’ the man explained. ‘They won’t be able to sleep for days as it is. If they think someone’s going round setting fire to flats, well, you can imagine, can’t you?’

  ‘It’s certainly not the sort of thing that would encourage you to sleep easily,’ agreed Slater. ‘How can you help?’

  ‘I saw your friend go out earlier,’ said the man. ‘It was about seven-thirty. I passed him on the stairs. I’m sure he was going out. He had a denim jacket on.’

  ‘Did you speak to him?’ asked Slater.

  ‘Just to say hello,’ said the man. ‘We didn’t really know each other, except in passing. I thought he seemed like a nice man.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Slater said, nodding. ‘He is. One of the best. Did you see where he went?’

  ‘No, sorry. I know he went outside because I heard the door swing shut, but after that I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, it’s a start.’ Slater smiled gratefully. ‘Thanks for that. I might need you to make a statement at some stage.’

  ‘No problem. My name’s Ellis. Flat 4B, fourth floor.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Slater. ‘I appreciate your help.’

  As he spoke, his mobile phone began to ring. It was Sandy Mollinson.

  ‘I need to take this,’ said Slater.

  ‘Of course,’ said the man. ‘I’ll let you get on.’

  As he turned and walked back to the huddle of neighbours, Slater answered his phone.

  ‘Hi, Sandy.’

  ‘The Old Man’s on his way over there. He wants you to stay there until he arrives.’

  Shit, just what I don’t need right now.

  ‘Right. Okay. I’ll wait here,’ he said.

  ‘And I hate to disappoint you,’ added Mollinson, ‘but your main suspect has a cast iron alibi. The boy couldn’t have started your fire. His father’s taken him away for a few days. I think they’re doing some bonding.’

  ‘Good,’ said Slater.

  ‘I thought you’d be disappointed,’ said Mollinson.

  ‘Sandy, I’m disappointed we haven’t got a bloody clue who started this fire. But I think I’d be much more disappointed if a 15-year-old boy had attempted to murder someone.’

  ‘I can’t disagree with you on that,’ said Mollinson. ‘I hope I never see the day when that becomes commonplace. Anyway, have you got any news?’

  ‘One of Norm’s neighbours saw him leaving at around seven-thirty, but he has no idea where he went. It seems to explain why his car’s not here. Has anyone seen it?’

  ‘The Old Man told me to make it our number one priority,’ said Mollinson, ‘so I’ve got everyone looking, but so far there’s no sign of it.’

  ‘Let me know as soon as you find it, please, Sandy.’

  ‘Of course. And let me know if you learn anything. Everyone here wants to know.’

  ‘Got it,’ said Slater. ‘I’ll speak to you later.’

  Slater ended the call and made his way back towards the fire crew. If he was going to have to kill time waiting for Bob Murray, he might as well see if they’d learnt anything new in the meantime.

  Detective Chief Inspector Bob Murray had never been an early morning person, and being dragged out of bed at 5am had done nothing for his mood, which was mostly bad these days. It also seemed to make him look even more tired and haggard than usual.

  ‘Morning, David. What have we got?’ he asked, as soon as he stepped from his car.

  Slater had lost all respect for Murray after a recent case, and he found it difficult to even speak to his boss these days, but this situation demanded he put aside any personal differences for now.

  ‘Fire service called out at 2.45 am,’ said Slater. ‘When they got here the flat was ablaze. They evacuated the building. Everyone is accounted for except Norman, but when they checked out his flat they couldn’t find him, or a body, anywhere.

  ‘The fire guys are saying the fire was started deliberately. Someone poured petrol through the letterbox and then set fire to it. They’ll confirm this when they’ve had time to investigate properly, but they’re convinced it’s arson.’

  ‘So where is Norman?’ asked Murray.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Slater. ‘That’s the million dollar question. All I’ve got is one of his neighbours saw him walking down the stairs and out of the main door at about seven-thirty yesterday evening. After that, I have no idea. Sandy Mollinson’s got everyone looking for his car, but if he left at seven-thirty he’s been gone almost ten hours. He could be anywhere by now.’

  ‘Right,’ said Murray. ‘Now let’s not get carried away here. We don’t know for sure that we have anything to worry about-’

  ‘But one of our officers has had his flat burnt down and he’s missing.’ Slater was appalled. ‘How bloody bad does it have to be before we start worrying? Should we wait until we find his body?’

  ‘Perhaps I should remind you who you’re talking to,’ snapped Murray, raising his voice. ‘Now listen up. DS Norman may be a police officer, but he also happens to be an adult. As an adult he has a mind of his own. If it was anyone else, we’d be telling the relatives that he’s not been gone long enough to be classed as a missing person. Now I’m telling you, Norman’s not been gone long enough to be classified as missing. Have you got that?’

  ‘You’re kidding me, right?’ asked Slater. ‘This is Norm we’re talking about-’

  ‘We don’t have the budget to launch a full scale investigation on the evidence we have so far,’ interrupted Murray.

  ‘That’s all it’s ever about isn’t it?’ Slater was shouting now. ‘Tell me which is more important to you, the money or the person? Because I know what matters more to me.’

  ‘That’s enough, Sergeant,’ snarled Murray, his face turning red with anger. ‘I didn’t get out of bed at this time of the morning so I could listen to a lecture from the likes of you. As of now, you will look into Norman’s whereabouts. If you find any evidence to suggest there’s cause for concern, I will provide more staff to help with the investigation. This is something I will decide. Do you understand?’

  Slater really wanted to argue his case. Norman had to be in trouble. Surely he wouldn’t have just disappeared? It was so out of character. But the look on Murray’s face told him it wouldn’t be a good idea.

  ‘Yes. Sir,’ he said, quietly. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Are you sure you can handle this?’ asked Murray, sounding much calmer now.

  ‘Sorry? What do you mean, can I handle it?’ Slater was puzzled.

  ‘I know how close you and Norman have become. Sometimes when you’re too close it can cloud your judgement. Are you sure this won’t affect your judgement?’

  ‘I think I can handle it, sir,’ replied Slater, somewhat irritated that the Old Man thought he couldn’t cope.

  ‘Hmm. Well I hope so,’ said Murray. ‘I’ll be keeping my eye on you. And I want to be kept informed. Have you got that?’

  ‘Right. Okay. Yes, Sir,’ said Slater, his nose now distinctly put out of joint. Since when did he need someone to keep an eye on him?

  ‘Now get off home, and get yourself cleaned up,’ said Murray. ‘If I can spare some help I’ll let you know.’

  Slater looked down at his clothes. Murray was right. He was dirty with smudges of soot from the fire. A quick shower and shave and he’d be ready to go.

  Chapter Six

  It was 9am and Slater was getting impatient. So far, they had everyone keeping an eye out for Norman’s car, and Murray had reluctantly come up with two PCs who were canvassing the flats to see if anyone could remember seeing Norman around seve
n-thirty yesterday evening. Slater badly wanted Norman’s mobile phone records, but Murray wouldn’t agree to that, so basically he had nothing to go on. He was finding it incredibly frustrating.

  At least Murray had relented enough to find a DC to work with Slater on this case. DC Steve Biddeford was on his way to Tinton right now. Slater had worked successfully with Biddeford before, but then things had gone slightly awry between them. As a result, Biddeford had been seconded to another, much larger, station for several months to help bring him on. So, there was a bit of history between the two.

  Slater felt it might not be ideal, and they might not exactly be best mates, but he had always thought Biddeford was good at his job when he was at Tinton. After several months away for further development, he should be even better. As far as he was concerned, there was no reason why they couldn’t work together again. He just hoped Biddeford felt the same way.

  The phone on Slater’s desk was buzzing angrily.

  ‘Slater.’

  ‘They’ve spotted his car,’ said a breathless voice. ‘It’s at a local garage.’

  ‘I’m on my way down,’ said Slater.

  He slammed the phone down and rushed for the stairs. A quick stop at the front desk to grab the address and he was on his way. Maybe now they could start to make some progress.

  Porter Brothers Motor Servicing was one of a dozen small industrial units that had been built around twenty years ago close to the railway station. Norman’s car was brazenly parked out front. If someone had been trying to hide it, they hadn’t done a very good job.

  Slater made his way inside the unit. There was a small office to one side and two hydraulic car lifts opposite. A car had been raised on the lift to the left and a man in a stained blue overall was using a lamp to investigate the underside of the car.

  A slightly out-of-tune radio was playing a fuzzy version of Delilah, and the man sang lustily along with it. Sadly, his pitch didn’t match his volume and Slater winced at the awful sound as he approached. The man wore a woolly hat pulled down over his ears, presumably to protect him from any dirt and grime that might fall from the car.