by Ford, P. F.
‘You’re probably right,’ agreed Goodnews, noncommittally. ‘But you never know. There’s always a first time.’
She took a sip from her coffee, and nodded towards Slater’s desk.
‘There’s a coffee for you over there,’ she said. ‘And there’s a little present on your desk.’
‘Thanks,’ said Slater walking across to his desk. ‘But wasn’t it my turn to buy the coffees?’
‘You were busy,’ she said. ‘And anyway I don’t keep score on that sort of thing. I’m sure it will all work out in the end.’
Slater had reached his desk. Placed right in the middle was a brown envelope, bulging at the seams.
‘Is this my notice?’ he said, as he picked it up.
‘Ha!’ Goodnews laughed. ‘If it was coming from me I wouldn’t waste that much paper.’
Slater opened the envelope and tipped the contents onto his desk. It was Norman’s mobile phone records.
‘Wow!’ he said. ‘This is brilliant. You must have some magic powers if you can get these things that fast.’
‘You’re not going to start making jokes about me being a witch, are you?’ she asked.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he said, smiling, but Goodnews thought he looked slightly abashed. ‘But if you keep on doing stuff like this I might have to reconsider.’
‘It just so happens I know someone high up in the food chain at Norman’s service provider,’ she said. ‘That’s not magic, it’s luck.’
‘Well, let’s hope you keep on being lucky,’ said Slater. ‘I get the feeling we’re going to need a bit of luck to sort this out.’
As Slater leafed through the pages, he felt slightly guilty as he thought about DI Goodnews’ witch comment. He remembered thinking about her on her broom, and hoped that it hadn’t shown on his face. He shook his head slightly and focused on the sheets of paper in front of him.
Norman had changed his phone number just a couple of months ago, so Slater was relieved to find there were two sets of records. He started with the newer number.
‘Here we go,’ he said, almost straight away. ‘He received a call just after he got on the train. My guess is he knew we’d be able to work out he bought a ticket to Southampton but he couldn’t tell us he wasn’t going that far because he didn’t know until he was actually on the train.’
‘That makes sense,’ Goodnews said. ‘Any more calls after that?’
‘No. That was the last call he received or made,’ said Slater. ‘He must have been told to switch it off after that.’
‘That would explain why we can’t track him. Check the number that called him. Whoever is behind this seems to have done a lot of planning so I’m sure we’ll find it’s unregistered, but you never know.’
‘There was another call at seven-fifteen that evening,’ Slater told her. ‘It was from the same number again. He was following instructions.’
‘But he dropped his car off on the way,’ said Goodnews. ‘That’s not the action of a man under stress, so he can’t have thought he was in any danger.’
‘Unless our villain told him to do that,’ said Slater. ‘Maybe he knew Norm was planning to take his car in for repair.’
‘Well, if that’s the case,’ said Goodnews, ‘doesn’t that mean we’re looking for someone he knew well? You might mention that to a friend, but you wouldn’t tell a stranger, or an enemy.’
‘But what about the J Jones thing? That can’t be a coincidence, can it?’
‘I’m waiting for a call about that,’ said Goodnews. ‘I want to know exactly where Jones is, who he speaks to and anything else that might help us. And then we’ll go and talk to the bugger.’
‘Norm’s had quite a few calls, and texts, from another number.’ Slater thumbed through the records. ‘These must be the calls he was telling me were sales calls he couldn’t stop. Now I think about, it they’ve been going on for quite a while.’
‘Did he tell you anything about them?’ she asked.
‘No,’ said Slater. ‘He would only tell me it was some salesman he couldn’t get rid of. That’s all he’d say.’
He continued looking through the records without further comment, stopping only to make an occasional note on his pad.
‘There’s an international number that calls every two weeks or so,’ said Slater.
‘Does he have family abroad?’ asked Goodnews.
‘He’s never mentioned them to me, if he has.’
‘Check it out. We can’t afford to ignore anything.’
‘Right,’ he said, turning to his computer. ‘I’ll start with the international number.’
‘Give me that unregistered mobile number,’ said Goodnews. ‘Maybe my friend can help me out with that.’
He scribbled the number on a sheet of paper and handed it across to her, but before she could do anything with it, her phone began to ring.
‘DI Goodnews,’ she said into the phone.
Slater tuned her voice out until it was just a quiet mumble in the background and focused his attention on his computer and the number he had written on the pad in front of him. For the next five minutes, he said nothing, then he sat back in his seat and tossed his pen down on the desk.
‘This is bloody weird,’ he said.
‘You, too?’ said Goodnews, who had just finished her phone call.
Slater looked at her enquiringly.
‘I’m pulling rank,’ she said. ‘You go first.’
‘This international number,’ he said. ‘It’s an Interpol number. He’s been getting regular calls from Interpol. It’s the first I’ve heard about it. What the bloody hell’s he doing talking to Interpol?’
‘Was he working a case that involved them?’ asked Goodnews.
‘I would have known if he was.’ Slater was puzzled. ‘Any case like that he would have told me. We didn’t have any secrets where work was concerned.’
‘Maybe he did have a secret,’ said Goodnews. ‘Perhaps there was something Murray wanted you kept out of.’
‘But why would they do that?’ asked Slater. ‘Didn’t they trust me?’
‘We’ll go and ask him in a minute. But first, listen to this. Jimmy Jones, former DI with the Serious Crime Unit, is no longer in prison.’
‘What?’ cried Slater in disbelief. ‘He was sent down for years, he can’t be out already.’
‘Apparently he’s now a protected witness,’ said Goodnews, grimly. ‘So, although I know he’s out of prison, I have no idea where he is, or who he is. It seems he’s been given his freedom, and a new identity, in exchange for his testimony.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Slater and Goodnews burst into DCI Murray’s office, causing him to look up with a start from the papers he had been gathering. He had clearly been getting ready to leave – and a glance at his watch told Slater it was much earlier than was usual. He had noticed lately that Murray was often impossible to find of an afternoon, and had the growing suspicion his boss was sneaking off early an increasing amount. Coupled with the weary way with which Murray had gestured at them to sit down, Slater wondered if he was losing interest in his job.
‘What do you mean we don’t need to know?’ an incredulous-sounding Goodnews asked Murray. ‘If he’s been communicating with Interpol, and now he’s missing, how can you possibly say it’s not relevant? Or have you forgotten he’s missing?’
Slater waited for the explosion that would surely be coming his way if he had spoken to Murray like that, but Murray merely shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was almost as if he was frightened of Goodnews. Or perhaps he didn’t quite know how to cope with a strong woman like her. Slater couldn’t quite work it out.
‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Come on. We all know this isn’t standard procedure, so why were Interpol talking to Norman?’
Goodnews was normally quite pale, but right now her cheeks were burning an angry red and her eyes shone with an intense ferocity. She had warned Slater her fuse might be long but the explosion was huge, a
nd now he knew she hadn’t been joking.
‘It can’t be relevant to this inquiry-,’ began Murray.
‘This is my bloody inquiry,’ she interrupted. ‘I’ll decide what is, and isn’t, relevant.’
‘But-,’ he began, again, but Goodnews spoke over him as if he wasn’t even in the room.
‘We haven’t got time to bugger about like this,’ she told Slater. ‘Come on, let’s go and ring that number and ask them what’s going on.’
They made to leave but Murray called them back.
‘Wait!’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you what it’s about, but you’re wasting your time. What he was talking to them about has nothing to do with his disappearance. It’s not relevant.’
Slater looked at Goodnews for a decision.
‘Okay, let’s hear it,’ she said. ‘But we’ll decide what’s relevant.’
‘There was a case,’ began Murray. ‘It was months ago now. Slater, here, and Norman were investigating the death of a girl who had been pushed from a light aircraft. The most likely suspect was a Serbian girl who ran a cafe in town, but Slater wouldn’t have it, because he was dating her. And because of that he dragged his heels over taking action and she got away.’
‘That’s bollocks, and you know it.’ Slater shook his head furiously. ‘I knew her, but I wasn’t dating her. And she wasn’t a confirmed suspect. I believe she was kidnapped, or she might even have been murdered. We don’t know because she hasn’t been seen since. Anyway, you told us that case was closed and we couldn’t waste any more time on it.’
‘I had to tell you that,’ insisted Murray. ‘You wouldn’t accept the evidence that pointed to her being guilty.’
‘That’s because there was a bloody sight more evidence that suggested she wasn’t guilty,’ snapped Slater.
‘Just remember who you’re speaking to.’ Murray’s voice was dangerously low.
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa.’ Goodnews stepped in between them as Slater and Murray glared at each other. ‘We can argue about the rights and wrongs of an old case another time. Let’s not forget we’re supposed to be trying to find Norman.’
She turned to Murray.
‘Go on,’ she said. ‘I need to know what’s been going on.’
‘The suspect girl’s father is a Serbian gangster known as Slick Tony. We were sure he and his daughter were behind it all and that they had fled the country. We had an Interpol alert out to try and track them down. Norman got updates from them every two weeks.’
‘Don’t I know this Slick Tony?’ Goodnews asked, turning to Slater. ‘Isn’t he the guy you were telling me about?’
‘The guy who escaped on my watch?’ Yeah, that’s him. I was the fall guy for that particular botched operation thanks to ex-DI Jimmy Jones and his SCU buddies.’
Goodnews turned to Murray.
‘Can you explain to me how this is not relevant to our investigation?’
‘I can’t see how it could be,’ said Murray.
‘Really?’ asked Goodnews. ‘Isn’t this guy a particularly nasty piece of work who’s known to have no qualms about bumping people off?’
‘Well, yes. But-’ began Murray, but Goodnews was like a dog with a bone.
‘But, my arse,’ she interrupted. ‘You’ve sanctioned Norman to pursue a known nasty bastard through Interpol, and now he’s disappeared under very suspicious circumstances, and yet you think there’s no possible connection? How long have you been a police officer? Even my six-year-old niece would be able to see a possible connection there.’
Murray opened his mouth to speak, but he wasn’t quick enough and she was off again.
‘And what about DS Slater, here?’ she continued. ‘Don’t you think he has a right to know when you’re putting his life at risk?’
This time Slater was sure Murray would explode. Goodnews had surely gone too far now. But, again, the Old Man didn’t bite back. Slater couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Murray really was frightened of her. Admittedly, she was pretty fierce now she’d got so wound up, but even so. Murray was the senior officer of the two. Wasn’t he?
‘So, what was the last report from Interpol?’ she asked. ‘Have they tracked him down yet?’
‘No,’ Murray said, sighing. ‘They don’t seem to have the faintest idea where he is.’
‘What? No idea at all? So he could be here, right now, holding one of our officers.’
‘I think that’s very unlikely,’ blustered Murray. ‘Why would he come back here?’
‘I’m sure he won’t be here in person,’ said Goodnews. ‘But I’m equally sure he must have people based here in the UK. And the reason he would utilise them is because he’s being pursued by Norman, as sanctioned by you. Do I really have to spell it out?’
Murray hung his head and looked like a defeated man. Slater was amazed.
‘I want Norman’s contact over there,’ she said. ‘I want to speak to whoever it is.’
‘That’s not a good idea,’ said Murray. ‘Norman is convinced someone from Interpol is on Tony’s payroll. It’s how he always manages to be one jump ahead.’
‘Oh, Christ, I don’t believe this!’ said Goodnews. ‘It just gets worse and worse. And as for you. Well, I just don’t know what to say to be honest. I think it’s probably best if we leave now, before I say something I regret. Come on, Dave, we’ve got work to do.’
They left Murray looking rather like a schoolboy who had just been made to stand in the corner. Slater almost felt sorry for him. Almost, but not quite.
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘Can I ask a question?’ asked Slater, as they walked down the stairs from Murray’s office.
‘You can always ask,’ Goodnews said. ‘But you have to remember there are some questions a lady just doesn’t have to answer. And then, of course, there’s always my privilege of rank.’
‘That thing with Murray. He’s the DCI and you’re the DI, yet there’s no doubt you were in charge. How does that work?’
‘Ah. Yes,’ she said, mysteriously. ‘I’m afraid that’s one of those questions I don’t have to answer.’
‘Don’t you trust me?’ Slater asked.
‘Believe me, it’s not that,’ she said. ‘The thing is, other people have put their trust in me. Would you expect me to break their trust just to satisfy your curiosity?’
‘Ah. Right. I see. No, of course I wouldn’t expect you to do that. Is the Old Man on the way out?’
Goodnews smiled at him, but didn’t answer. Instead, she changed the subject.
‘So now we’ve gone from having no suspects at all, to having three,’ she said. ‘So let’s hear where you think we should go from here.’
Slater was itching to know more about Goodnews and Murray, but he didn’t want to push his luck. She had quickly calmed down, but he didn’t want to risk pushing the launch button again. It would keep… for now.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘We have no idea where Slick Tony is, or might be. I agree with you he’s unlikely to be here in person, so really we have no idea who we’re looking for. We don’t exactly know where Jimmy Jones is, but we do know he’s still in custody. While it’s not impossible he’s involved, again he won’t be here in person. So, once more, we don’t know who we’re looking for. Tommy Howes, on the other hand, shouldn’t be that hard to track down. We can make a start with Norman’s wife.’
‘We’re on the same wavelength, then. That’s good to know,’ she said.
She looked at her watch.
‘It’s just gone three. Do you fancy driving up to the big city now?’
‘Why not?’ said Slater. ‘My car, or yours?’
‘You can have the pleasure of driving up there,’ said Goodnews. ‘It’s one of my pet hates.’
Slater’s phone started ringing just as they reached the incident room door.
‘It’s Becks,’ said the voice in his ear when he answered. ‘Are you in the building?’
‘I was just going out,’ he replied.
‘I’ve go
t the results from your cigarette butts.’
‘Brilliant. I’ll be right down.’ Slater had almost forgotten about the evidence he had found at the bottom of the tree outside Norman’s house.
He turned to Goodnews.
‘Becks has got the results from my cigarette butts. If you can hang on a few minutes, I’ll go down and get them.’
‘I need to see what’s going on before we go,’ she said. ‘That’ll take a few minutes.’
‘I’ll be five at the most,’ he promised her and rushed off to the basement.
Goodnews pushed her way through the door into the incident room. Steve Biddeford was waiting for her. She sat down at her desk and looked wearily at the pile of post-it notes.
‘You’ve done well, Steve,’ she said, picking up the first note. ‘We’re going up to see Norman’s wife, so don’t hang around any later than you have to. We’ll catch up with everyone in the morning.’
Biddeford hovered nervously by her desk. He obviously wasn’t in any hurry to get away. She looked up at him.
‘Was there something else?’ she asked.
‘Err, well. It’s a bit awkward,’ he said. ‘Is Dave still here?’
‘He’s downstairs in the dungeon with his weird mate from forensics,’ she said. ‘Why? Have you got a problem with him?’
‘I think it’s more the case that “we” might have a problem with him.’
‘Explain,’ she said, curtly. She hoped this wasn’t going to be Biddeford telling more tales to score cheap points at Slater’s expense.
‘Before I tell you,’ Biddeford said, ‘I want you to know I find it hard to believe.’
‘Just tell me, will you?’ Goodnews sighed, impatiently.
‘Well, I interviewed that old boy from Little Balding, Major Ray,’ he explained. ‘It seems he’s not quite as old-fashioned as he appears. He’s set up a remote wireless camera to keep an eye on his precious telephone box overnight.’