by Ford, P. F.
‘I don’t think there’s any danger of me reaching those dizzy heights,’ Slater said, shaking his head and laughing.
‘There you go, being negative again,’ she said.
‘Are you sure you’re not related to Norman?’
‘Talking of Norman,’ she said. ‘it’s time we got down to work. You know him better than anyone here, so tell me about him.’
Over the next ten minutes, Goodnews listened as Slater told her about Norman’s arrival at the station, the cases they had worked on together, and a little of his personal life. He didn’t seem to know much about the latter, which surprised her, as Murray had told her Slater and Norman were like an old married couple.
‘So you two have a common bond,’ she said, ‘what with you both being Serious Crime Unit scapegoats. Do you think that might have something to do with this?’
‘Anything’s possible,’ said Slater. ‘But quite honestly I think that would be a bit too obvious. It’s the first thing you thought of, isn’t it?’
‘We still should check it out, though.’
‘Of course. But if that’s where this has come from, why haven’t they come after me as well? I had the case here before Norm had even arrived. It was my decision to pursue it.’
‘Fair comment,’ said Goodnews. ‘But perhaps you’re next on their list. Have you thought about that?’
He stared at her. He had obviously been so caught up in trying to find Norman that he hadn’t considered he could be at any risk. She felt a bit warmer towards him – he obviously cared for his partner, and he had apologised for his earlier behaviour, which had been big of him.
‘We’ll check it out anyway,’ she continued, not wanting to unduly alarm him. ‘No matter how unlikely it might sound.’
‘I’m not actually much help, am I?’ Slater said, and he sounded sad. ‘I know all about the last 12 months, but Norm isn’t one for sharing his past, you know? Who knows how many people there might be in his past who feel they owe him.’
‘We have to start somewhere,’ she said. ‘And now I’ve got a pretty good insight into Norman, the man. He sounds like a good guy to me.’
‘He certainly is that.’
‘I can see you like him a lot,’ she said. ‘Which is exactly why it’s better to have someone like me in charge.’
‘Yeah. I can see that now,’ Slater said, smiling ruefully.
‘Good. Let’s not have to mention it again.’ Goodnews hoped they could move on from their inauspicious start.
Slater bobbed his head in acknowledgement.
‘We can find out about Norman’s past service easily enough,’ she continued. ‘But we also need to look outside his work. What’s the situation with his wife? Do you think that might have any bearing?’
‘He never speaks about her much,’ said Slater. ‘It’s sort of taboo with him. I’m pretty sure he’d like to get back together with her, but I get the impression she’s burnt her bridges.’
‘So he’s up shit creek without a paddle on that one,’ she said grimly, and despite never having met Norman, she felt a pang of pity for him. ‘Does he have a girlfriend? Maybe he’s got friendly with a married woman and her husband’s got pissed off.’
‘What, Norm?’ asked Slater. ‘That’s not the sort of thing he would do. He’d be horrified if you suggested that to him.’
‘Look, it happens, right? You don’t have to be Casanova to find you’re attracted to someone else. Even when you’re not looking for someone, it can happen. A jealous husband would fit the bill.’
‘I’m glad you’re taking this seriously.’ Slater sounded genuine and Goodnews felt a slight hint of pride.
‘He’s one of ours,’ she said. ‘And he seems to be acting out of character. Of course I’m taking it seriously. I’ve not come here to twiddle my thumbs, you know.’
‘Murray’s not exactly been massing the troops ready for action,’ said Slater.
‘Forget Murray,’ she said, firmly. ‘This is my inquiry now, so we do things my way.’
‘Well, perhaps you can start by getting hold of Norm’s phone records then,’ ventured Slater. ‘Just recently he’s been getting very secretive about his incoming calls. They just might tell us something useful.’
‘You mean you haven’t asked for them yet?’ Goodnews was surprised. Slater struck her as quite a thorough officer, and she couldn’t understand why this hadn’t been one of his first requests. ‘Why not?’
‘I have asked for them,’ explained Slater. ‘That was my first request, but Murray didn’t consider it was necessary. When I chased him about it this afternoon he told me it was “in hand” whatever that’s supposed to mean. He didn’t even want to make it a missing person case at first.’
‘Oh. Is that right?’ she said, indignantly. ‘Well, we can change that, right now.’
Slater glanced down as his phone beeped.
‘It’s Steve Biddeford. That means he might have something for us.’
Goodnews got her feet and set off towards the door. She had a date with DCI Murray – and she didn’t think it would be a pleasant one…for him.
‘I’ll see you back in the incident room in five minutes,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘I just need to go and establish a bit of clarity between myself and DCI Murray before he goes home.’
As Slater watched her storm off through the door, his phone started to ring. He fished it from his pocket and saw it was Steve Biddeford.
‘Yes, Steve?’ he said into the phone.
‘I think we might have something,’ said Biddeford.
‘Give us five minutes, and we’ll be there,’ said Slater.
Chapter Seventeen
‘So, what have you got?’ asked Slater, as he and Goodnews came into the room and stepped up behind Biddeford so they could watch over his shoulder.
‘I can show you exactly where he got off the train,’ Biddeford said. ‘He might well have paid for a ticket to Southampton, but he only went three stops. Watch.’
He pressed play and they watched as a train drew into view and stopped. As if it had all been prearranged, the train stopped in exactly the right spot so that when the doors opened they were centre screen. Norman stumbled off the train, and after a few seconds, the doors slid back together. Keeping his head down, he shambled towards them and then disappeared from view as he passed under the camera.
‘That’s definitely him?’ asked Goodnews.
‘Oh yeah,’ said Biddeford. ‘Even though he’s hiding his face, you couldn’t mistake him. The hair’s a dead giveaway.’
‘Can you pause it a minute, Steve?’ asked Slater. ‘It’s him alright, but there’s something different.’
‘There is?’ asked Biddeford.
Slater had to study the image for a good few seconds before he realised what it was.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘He’s not wearing his denim jacket, and he’s not carrying it either. He must have left it on the train. He loved that jacket, so why would he have left it on the train?’
‘He’s hiding his face from the camera, and he’s dumped his jacket,’ mused Goodnews. ‘He would know we’d check the CCTV, so maybe he thought dumping the jacket would make him harder to spot.’
‘With that hair, and being that size? I don’t think so,’ said Slater. ‘Besides, he’s getting off at a station hardly anyone uses. It’s not as if he’s got a crowd to blend into.’
‘I don’t want to sound unkind, but he’s never going to blend into a crowd,’ Biddeford said. ‘He’s that distinctive I reckon we could spot him in a full house at Wembley stadium.’
‘Okay. I can buy into that,’ said Goodnews. ‘So would he have left his jacket there so we’d know he’d been on that train? It’s all very well to say we’d spot him on CCTV, but you can’t always rely on the CCTV to be working. Maybe this was a “just in case” scenario.’
‘Maybe,’ Slater said, unconvinced.
‘I’ll switch to the other camera that shows him leaving the station, no
w.’
This camera wasn’t quite so useful. It was obviously stationed above the exit doors, but because of the angle it was set at, the images weren’t quite so good.
As Biddeford pressed play, Norman’s head and shoulders came into view briefly, but then he turned left and walked out of shot.
‘Is that it?’ asked Goodnews, obviously disappointed.
‘Sorry,’ said Biddeford, turning his chair round to face her. ‘It’s an unmanned station. I think we’re lucky the camera was working and we got anything at all.’
Slater was still looking at the screen although he was listening to the conversation rather than actually watching the video.
‘And that’s it?’ asked Goodnews. ‘So no one else got off the train? Was there anyone else in the carriage?’
Biddeford shook his head.
‘Sorry. That’s all we’ve got,’ he said.
‘Hang on,’ said Slater leaning towards the screen. ‘What’s that?’
Goodnews and Biddeford turned back to the screen, but there was nothing to see.
‘Rewind it a bit,’ said Slater.
They watched as the video went into reverse. For just a second or so, a figure could be seen running backwards under the camera.
‘There!’
Biddeford stopped the video and pressed play. They watched as a man briefly came into view.
‘Pause it there,’ said Goodnews.
She leaned forward for a better view.
‘Who’s this, then?’ she asked Biddeford. ‘I thought you said no one else had got off the train.’
‘I can’t make out any features,’ muttered Slater. ‘But there’s something familiar about him.’
He thought about it for a few moments.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Sorry. Maybe it will come to me later.’
Slater could see the back of Biddeford’s neck flushing red with embarrassment.
‘I might have missed him coming out of the station,’ admitted Biddeford, reluctantly. ‘But I’m sure he didn’t get off the train.’
‘Let’s go back and watch the train come in again, please,’ suggested Goodnews. ‘And this time let’s watch until the train actually pulls out.’
There was an awkward silence as Biddeford replaced the CD and started again.
‘Slow it down so we can take a good look through the carriage windows,’ said Goodnews. ‘I want to see if this mystery man was on board.’
As the video ran at half speed, the train crawled jerkily into the station.
‘Look. There’s someone sitting right at the front of the carriage,’ she said, leaning forward to get a better view. ‘But I don’t think it’s our man, it looks like a girl. And anyway, Norman’s right at the other end of the carriage.’
They watched as Norman disembarked and the doors slid shut. Then they watched the side of the stationary train as it just sat in the station.
Biddeford reached for the stop button, but Goodnews tapped his shoulder.
‘Not until it leaves the station,’ she reminded him.
Finally, the train began to inch forward and then suddenly stopped again. The same doors Norman had used slid open and a girl emerged carrying a large canvas bag in her arms. She jumped from the train and turned her back to the camera to watch the train pull away. She seemed to have her hands full, and as the train disappeared from view, she bent forward, placed the canvas bag at her feet and stuffed something into it. Then she heaved the bag up onto her right shoulder and turned towards the exit.
The position of the camera and the fading light made it difficult to make out any detail in her face, and it was even quite difficult to make out what she was wearing.
‘Looks like a student,’ said Biddeford. ‘At a guess she could be late teens. Not exactly the profile of your average kidnapper.
‘Teenage girl, for sure,’ said Goodnews. ‘But let’s not write off anyone as a suspect just yet, eh?’
‘Yes, Boss,’ said Biddeford, and Slater thought he detected that slight patronising tone again.
‘Now, the man came out of the station just after Norman,’ said Goodnews. ‘But there didn’t seem to be any sign of him on the train, so it figures he was waiting inside the station. Yes?’
‘Yes.’ Slater nodded. ‘But if he knows there are fixed cameras it’s no wonder we didn’t see him. It wouldn’t be hard to avoid them. Maybe he just got a bit careless with the one out front.’
‘Now let’s go back to that outside video,’ she said to Biddeford. ‘Let it run on for a few minutes from when Norman emerges.’
Biddeford did as he was instructed and set the video running again. They watched as Norman emerged again, followed by the running man.
‘I know it’s only the back of their heads, but I want stills of Norman and of that man,’ said Goodnews.
‘Right,’ said Biddeford. ‘I’ll make them as clear as I can.’
It was fully two minutes before the girl emerged from the station. Again, she had her back to them so they still had no idea what she looked like, but at least now they could see she was wearing a black tee shirt, black shorts, and white socks and trainers. The bag was dark blue, or possibly black.
‘How tall do you think she is?’ asked Goodnews, turning to Slater.
But Slater didn’t hear. He was focused on the canvas bag hanging from the girl’s shoulder.
‘There. Look,’ he said, pointing at the screen. ‘Hanging from her bag. We wouldn’t have been able to see it if she’d turned left straight out of the door.’
There on the screen, hanging from the girl’s bag, was the sleeve of a denim jacket. The cuff of the sleeve was torn and hanging off.
‘She’s got Norman’s jacket,’ said Slater.
‘Oh well done,’ Goodnews said, happily. ‘Good spot.’
Then she tapped Biddeford on the shoulder.
‘I want stills of that girl, too. And I’d like them all asap.’
‘I’m on it,’ said Biddeford. ‘Give me ten minutes and I’ll have them all.’
Goodnews led Slater away from Biddeford’s desk and back up to the desk at the front of the room.
‘That was good work,’ she said. ‘Tell me, is Biddeford always in such a hurry? Left to him we would have missed both the man and the girl. Between you and me, can I trust him?’
‘Err, well,’ said Slater awkwardly. He really didn’t want to start telling tales on people.
‘Look, I know you feel you have loyalties to people,’ she said. ‘But I need to know who I can rely on and who I have to keep tabs on. What I’ve just seen was pretty unimpressive.’
‘He was really good when he first came on board,’ said Slater. ‘But there was a bit of a situation a while back. That’s why he’s been away on secondment at a bigger station.’
‘Did that situation involve you by any chance?’
‘It did,’ he admitted. ‘But I don’t have a grudge if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘It’s not what I’m thinking,’ she said. ‘But I would like to know what happened. Maybe you can tell me in the car in the morning.’
‘Where are we going?’ asked Slater.
‘Right now I think we should all go home and get some sleep,’ she said. ‘We can’t work without it. Tomorrow morning, you and I are going to wherever that station is. We need to see if we can find out what happened after he got off that train. But my question is, can I trust Biddeford to do what I ask while we’re out?’
‘He already knows he’s cocked up,’ said Slater. ‘I’ll tell him you weren’t impressed. He won’t be in a hurry to do it again.’
‘Good. Because, tomorrow morning, I want him to find out where that girl got on the train, and I want to know if the man arrived on an earlier train.’
‘The girl looks like a student of some sort,’ suggested Slater. ‘Maybe she lives in the village.’
‘But why would she have his jacket?’ asked Goodnews.
‘Maybe she’s a tea leaf. She saw it there and just
couldn’t resist picking it up.’
‘Is it a big village?’
‘What, Little Balding? No. It’s quite small,’ said Slater. ‘And it’s not somewhere we get called out to very often. It’s one of those “awfully nice” English villages, if you know what I mean. It’s full of thatched cottages and it’s apparently one of the most photographed villages in the south of England. There’s a residents’ committee whose specific task is to maintain the appearance of the village as it was in its heyday. They’ve even bought their own red telephone box and had it installed on the edge of the village green.’
‘Oh, aye,’ said Goodnews. ‘It’s amazing what you can do if you have enough money.’
‘Ah yes, money,’ Slater said, smiling. ‘You’ll notice the smell of it as soon as you get within a mile of the place. There’s maybe 60 or 70 old houses that formed the original village, and then there’s a couple of small modern developments. When I say small, I mean the number of houses, not the size of them.’
‘Big and expensive?’ asked Goodnews. ‘In keeping with what’s already there?’
‘They certainly weren’t built with the first time buyer in mind, that’s for sure.’
‘That could help us. If it’s only a small village, there’s a good chance someone might know who the girl is, and where she lives.’
‘You don’t see her as a suspect, then?’ asked Slater.
‘I think it’s highly unlikely,’ said Goodnews. ‘But I’m not ruling anyone out completely. At least, not until we’ve spoken to them.’
Chapter Eighteen
It was the next morning, and Goodnews had just told Biddeford what she wanted him to do. He wasn’t exactly thrilled with her idea, and it showed.
‘Don’t pout, Constable,’ she admonished. ‘If I wanted to work with children I’d have chosen to work in a nursery.’