by Ford, P. F.
The canteen at Tinton had been brightened up with a new coat of paint, but the furniture was still as tatty as ever. To the likes of Dave Slater and his colleagues, it was nowhere near as gloomy as it had been when he had first encountered Norman some eighteen months ago. However, to a newcomer like twenty-four-year-old DC Naomi Darling, it was pretty drab and dreary. The absence of people didn’t help, but then she supposed this was the time of day when everyone was busy and no one would be on a break.
A skinny girl with dark hair cut in a pixie hair style, she knew she looked more like someone’s teenage daughter waiting for her dad rather than the newest addition to the team of detectives at Tinton police station, but she couldn’t help how she looked, and she certainly didn’t care what anyone thought. When you’re small and skinny you can either hide in the corner and probably be bullied, or you can develop a thick skin and learn how to look after yourself. Naomi Darling had chosen to develop a hide like a rhinoceros and the sort of feisty attitude that made her a force to be reckoned with.
As she sat waiting for her new boss – what was his name again? DS Slater? – to arrive, she wondered what he would be like. Certainly Marion Goodnews seemed to have a high opinion of him, and she had a knack for recognising ambition. After all, if it hadn’t been for Marion Goodnews when she was a detective inspector in her last station, Naomi Darling would never have applied for this vacancy. And now here she was, preparing for her detective sergeant’s exam and hopefully about to learn from one of the best.
She looked up as the doors clattered open and a man walked in. Mentally she went through the description she had been given: six feet tall, quite good looking, short brown hair, approaching forty. Yes, this must be DS Slater.
The man paused to take in the room as he came through the doors. He was obviously looking for someone, but he barely seemed to notice Darling, and she guessed, as Goodnews had suggested to her, he was looking for a man. Unfazed by the apparent snub, she watched him as he went to the counter, ordered a coffee, and ambled across to a table where he sat down. Someone had left a newspaper on the table, and the man pulled it across in front of him and idly flipped through its pages.
The door banged open and they both looked around, but it was just one of the kitchen staff pushing a trolley stacked up with various bits and pieces. As he turned back to his newspaper, Darling decided she was going to have break the ice herself. She scraped the legs of her chair across the floor as noisily as she could as she pushed it back and got to her feet. Now, at last, the man took some notice of her. As she walked towards him she saw his expression change from quizzical to dismayed.
‘Are you DS Slater?’ she asked, as she got to his table.
‘Err, yeah, that’s me.’
‘Oh good.’ She held her hand out. ‘I was told to meet you here. I’m DC Darling.’
For a split second Slater’s mouth dropped open.
‘You don’t look very pleased to see me.’ Her hand wavered slightly but she kept holding it out. ‘Is it something I said?’
‘No, of course not,’ he said, blinking.
‘You’re not a very good liar for a detective. Let me guess what’s going through your head right now. I bet it’s something like: “there must be some mistake. Surely she’s not old enough. She can’t be more than sixteen. And she’s tiny. I bet she doesn’t weigh more than five stone soaking wet”.’
He shifted in his seat.
‘Am I right?’ She stubbornly kept her hand outstretched.
‘You don’t mince your words, do you?’ he asked, guiltily.
‘I can’t afford to. When you’re my size and you look like a kid you get used to being ignored. So, I decided a long time ago I could let people disregard me from the start, or, I could get in first and let them know that’s not going to happen. Sorry if you have a problem with that.’
For the first time since she had set eyes on him, he smiled. It was a nice smile.
‘No,’ he said, standing and finally reaching for her hand. ‘I don’t have a problem with that. I’m sorry. It’s my fault. The boss led me to believe…’ He trailed off in mid-sentence, and then began again. ‘No, that’s wrong. The boss didn’t lead me to believe anything. I just assumed my new partner was going to be a man.’
‘Ah, yes. She told me that might happen.’
‘I don’t have a problem working with women.’ The words came far too quickly and his face reddened.
‘It’s alright.’ Darling smiled at him, amused that he was now on the back foot. ‘She told me that as well. She said she’d worked with you when she first arrived here. She gave you a pretty glowing reference, actually.’
‘Oh, did she?’ asked Slater. He managed to look surprised and pleased at the same time. ‘What else did she tell you about me?’
‘She reckons your attitude’s a bit old fashioned at times, but you’re a top guy, and I can learn a lot from you.’
He suddenly seemed to realise they were still standing.
‘Sorry,’ he said, pulling a chair from under the table. ‘Here, sit down.’
She settled in next to him and looked at him expectantly. He looked back at her.
‘Err, you’re the boss,’ she said, after a moment. ‘Where do we start?’
‘Ah, yeah, right. To be honest, it’s all a bit quiet at the moment.’
But then his mobile phone came to the rescue as it started to ring. Saved by the bell indeed, Darling thought.
‘Sorry,’ he said, as he fiddled the phone from his pocket and raised it to his ear. He listened for a few seconds and frowned. ‘Right. We’re on our way,’ he said, as he cut the call and slipped the phone back in his pocket. ‘Looks like you’re going to get to show me how you can drive.’
‘I drive just fine,’ she said. ‘Just show me the car and tell me where we’re going.’
‘This isn’t what I would choose for a starter,’ he told her. ‘In fact it’s one of those jobs I always hope we never have to do.’
‘What’s the problem?’ asked Darling.
‘A girl’s gone missing. She’s just eight years old.’
‘So, why the police?’ asked Slater, once they had grabbed a pool car and were on their way.
‘Why not?’
‘I can make you a list, if you’ve got all day to listen.’
‘Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard all the usual reasons why not, but I’m still here, aren’t I? I suppose I want to try and make some sort of difference.’
‘Right.’ Slater sighed heavily. ‘Of course, that’s what we all think when we start out, when we’re young and keen. But then after a while you realise you’re like the fire brigade trying to control a massive forest fire with a leaky bucket of water. Only you can’t control the fire because every time you put one little part out, it breaks out again in two more places, and the whole fire just keeps getting bigger and bigger, and there’s never enough firemen, or enough buckets, and even if we had the firemen and the buckets, there’s never enough water.’
‘Jesus!’ said Darling, turning her head briefly to stare at him. ‘Is that supposed to inspire me? You’re certainly not Mr Motivator, are you?’
‘I’m just telling it how it is.’
‘Maybe,’ she said, doubtfully, ‘but that’s a crappy outlook on life, don’t you think? Are you sure that’s really how it is? Or, is it just how you see it?’
‘I suppose you’re another one of these positive thinkers, are you? They keep telling me I’m a pessimist, but I think I’m a realist.’
‘How long have you been doing this?’ Darling wondered if changing the subject would make the conversation a bit less depressing.
‘Long enough to know we’re losing the war,’ said Slater, grimly.
Darling gave him a sideways look.
‘Would you like me to pull over and see if I’ve got a razor blade in my bag? You might want to borrow it so you can slit your wrists.’
They drove in silence for another minute or so as Darling tried to equate
Slater’s pessimism with Goodnews’ assurance that she was going to learn a lot from him.
‘Are you always this depressing? Or is this a good day?’
Slater sighed again and shifted in his seat.
‘Apparently I have a tendency to lean towards the pessimistic in my unguarded moments,’ he said. ‘It’s something I’m trying to change. Feel free to point it out any time. Everyone else does.’
‘You’re not suffering from depression, are you? Only the boss didn’t say anything about-’
‘Let’s just say life has a habit of lifting me up and then putting me down. And right now I seem to be on a downer.’
‘If you don’t mind me saying, you sound like a stereotypical, head-messed-up, TV detective. I should keep an eye out next time they’re casting for a new series. You’ll be a shoo-in for the job.’
‘Maybe it’s just the case that TV is a pretty good reflection of what’s it’s really like being a detective,’ said Slater.
‘D’you really think that?’ asked Darling. ‘I think TV distills the worst it can out of every character and situation, and then exaggerates it by a factor of about ten.’
‘And you think I’m that bad, do you?’
Darling didn’t quite know what to say, and before she could think of an answer he spoke again.
‘Well, thank you for your concern regarding the state of my mind,’ he said, sounding thoroughly pissed off, ‘but it’s not actually up for discussion, and you don’t need to worry about it. It doesn’t stop me doing my job, and it won’t put you in any sort of danger.’
‘I’m just saying you don’t sound as if you’re going to be bundle of fun to be around.’
‘This isn’t supposed to be a comedy club, and it’s not my job to keep you entertained.’
Darling was more than ready to take the matter further, but then she thought better of it. She had only just met Slater. Winding him up probably wouldn’t be the best way to start a working relationship.
‘Okay, fair enough,’ she said. ‘You’re the boss. But if ever you want to talk, I’m a pretty good listener, and I can keep a confidence.’
‘Why, thank you, I’ll bear that in mind next time I’m feeling suicidal,’ he said, sarcastically, ‘but I’m sure you’ll understand I tend to confide in older people, if you see what I mean.’
‘Oh, right,’ she said, testily. ‘You mean someone my age couldn’t possibly know what it’s like?’
‘Something like that.’
‘And you’re quite sure you don’t have a problem working with a woman, are you?’
There was a pause, and a quick glance out of the corner of her eye told Darling that Slater was having a bit of a sulk.
‘For your information,’ she said, making quite sure he knew she was now the one who was pissed off, ‘I wasn’t suggesting I’m some sort of life advisor who can solve all your problems. You have to work out your own solutions to your own problems. I was just offering to listen. Sometimes the answer comes to us when we talk about it.’
They drove on in stony silence, apart from his directions.
By the time Slater and Darling reached the school, the whole area was crawling with uniformed police officers. Darling followed Slater as he made a beeline for a youngish man in a suit who looked like he was coordinating the situation.
‘Any news?’ Slater asked, completely ignoring Darling.
‘Not so far,’ said the younger man. ‘We’re just trying to get list of all the parents who might have been here, before the mother arrived. Poor girl was twenty minutes late, so all of the other parents had already left with their kids.’
‘How is she?’
‘In bits. She was going frantic and getting in the way here, so I’ve had a family liaison officer escort her home and arranged for a doctor to get over there.’
‘How long has the girl been missing?’ asked Darling, fed up of being a spectator.
‘This is my new partner,’ said Slater, in an off-hand fashion. ‘DC Darling, meet DC Biddeford.’
‘Oh, right,’ said Biddeford, dismissively. He hadn’t even bothered to look at her yet.
Darling refused to let him make her feel uncomfortable. She stuck her hand out and he glanced down, surprised, and then back up at her. He seemed suddenly to realise she was a woman, and he grasped her hand and shook and then beamed at her. Darling suppressed a groan.
‘Mum turned up at 3.50pm and there was no sign of Chrissy,’ he said, and he turned to Darling to include her. ‘School finishes at 3.30pm, and it’s now coming up to 5pm, so she’s been gone an hour and a half.’
Slater frowned.
‘So what do you think? Is this the real deal?’
‘Hard to say,’ said Biddeford. ‘Could just be that the kid got fed up waiting for her mum and wandered off. With any luck she’s walking home and she’ll turn up a bit later.’
‘She got fed up waiting? After twenty minutes?’ asked Slater doubtfully. ‘That’s one very impatient little girl.’
‘I’m just trying to look on the bright side.’ Biddeford looked at Darling, as if he was hoping she would back him up. She ignored him.
‘Yeah, I know, Steve,’ said Slater.
‘How far away is home?’ asked Darling.
‘Less than a mile,’ said Biddeford.
‘Shit,’ said Slater, gloomily. ‘An hour and a half to walk less than a mile home. It’s not sounding good, is it?’
‘I’ve got people heading to the house on-foot from here, and others coming in the opposite direction, and the headmistress is phoning all Chrissy’s friends just in case she’s at someone’s house.’
‘Have the teams out on the street got photos?’
‘I got the headmistress to do copies from the school photographs for us,’ said Biddeford. ‘I thought it would be quickest.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Slater, nodding at Biddeford. ‘You seem to have it all under control here. We’ll go and talk to mum. Perhaps Chrissy will have made it home by the time we get there.’
‘Who is that guy?’ asked Darling as they walked back towards their car.
‘DC Steve Biddeford. He’s been here for a couple of years.’
‘Hashtag nobhead.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Slater sounded puzzled.
‘It’s a social media thing,’ she said. ‘If I was telling my friends about him, I would add a hashtag: at the end. It saves having to explain that I think the guy’s an idiot. If I just put the hashtag followed by the word “nobhead”, the whole world knows exactly what I mean.’
‘You do that a lot? Social media?’
‘I’m on Facebook,’ she said, ‘but I’ve never got round to Twitter. You?’
‘Never got started. It seems to me it would be an easy place for someone to target you as a police officer. I think you’re asking for trouble.’
‘It’s never been a problem so far, and it’s a good way of keeping in touch with my mates.’
‘I’m not saying it necessarily will be a problem, but it could be.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Point taken.’
‘Go on, say it,’ he said.
‘Say what?’
‘What you’re thinking.’
She looked innocent.
‘Alright,’ Slater said. ‘I’ll say it for you – hashtag negative thinker. Am I right?’
She smiled at him.
‘You said that, not me.’
Chapter 3
To say Slater had been disappointed when they got to Janet Morrison’s house would be an understatement. By the time they arrived, the doctor had already been out to her, and she was now sleeping soundly under the influence of a rather heavy duty sedative. So all they had to go on was the meagre information Steve Biddeford had managed to get from her earlier at the school.
But it wasn’t all bad news. At least the family liaison officer had been possessed of sufficient foresight to anticipate what would happen once the doctor arrived and saw the frazzled state of his unfortunate
patient. She hadn’t had much time, but at least she’d had long enough to gather some information, which she had passed on to Slater and Darling.
‘Right. Let’s go through what we know,’ said Slater, as Darling drove them back to the police station.
‘The parents are separated,’ said Darling. ‘Which, as usual, means it’s all down to mum to raise the daughter on her own. As a result, she has to meet her from school at half three every day, despite the fact she’s also trying to hold down a job. She has to work because the girl’s father has abandoned his responsibilities and buggered off with someone else.’
Slater looked across at Darling as she drove. She stared resolutely ahead.
‘It’s not our job to speculate as to the rights and wrongs of the parents’ marital situation,’ he said.
‘I’m just saying, it’s the same old situation all over again.’
‘And you think it’s not right?’
Now she did look across at him.
‘What? Are you saying it is right?’
‘Of course not.’ Slater turned back to face the front. ‘I’m just suggesting you should keep your personal views out of this investigation. We’re supposed to be objective. You seem to have judged the father already. We haven’t even met the man yet. Don’t forget there are two sides to every story.’
‘That is such a man’s point of view,’ said Darling, shaking her head.
‘No, it’s an objective point of view. When you start to let your personal views control your thinking, you create the situation where you could miss vital clues. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.’
‘Right, Sir. Point taken.’
‘So what else do we know?’ he asked.
‘On the rare occasions the father does see Chrissy, he spoils her something rotten,’ said Darling. ‘Consequently the kid thinks he’s amazing and she makes her mum suffer because daddy’s left home. I wouldn’t mind betting he’s told her it’s all her mum’s fault he’s gone.’
Slater sighed and turned to look at her again.
‘Is there something you want to share?’
‘Like what?’ she asked, innocently.