by Ford, P. F.
‘What? You mean hacking? That’s how he got that list for you wasn’t it?’
‘Alright. So he’s a bit of a hacker. But he’s not a malicious hacker. He doesn’t set out to destroy things. He’s more about righting wrongs.’
‘You can see him as a modern-day Robin Hood if you want,’ said Slater grimly. ‘But if we get caught using him we’re going to be in deep shit, you know that don’t you? And we can’t use anything he finds in court.’
‘Look, Vinnie’s like a secret weapon. He can get in and out and no one ever knows he’s been there. Like I said before, if you want to play by the rules we’ve got no chance. It’ll be like entering the ring with your hands tied behind your back. Now, I don’t know about you, but I reckon if we have an opportunity to level the odds just a little bit we should grab it with both hands, and Vinnie’s the best opportunity we have.’
‘Yeah. But-’ began Slater.
‘Sometimes,’ interrupted Norman. ‘The rules get in the way and stop us solving cases. It’s not as if we’re trying to fit someone up, is it? We know these guys are guilty.’
Slater had to concede Norman had a point. He could think of dozens of cases where the rules had prevented justice being served and someone had got off on a technicality. And they had been happy enough to try to push him under a bus…
‘Alright,’ Slater decided as they reached Norman’s car. ‘I’ll stop worrying about using Vinnie. And I’ll stop sniping at him. But I want something in exchange.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Norman, unlocking the car.
‘Tell him to stop calling me ‘guy’. It’s bloody annoying!’
As he slid into his seat, Norman started laughing.
‘Is that it?’ he said, chortling. ‘Okay, guy, whatever you say.’
Slater glared at him.
‘Ha, ha. Very funny. Just start this heap and drive us back.’
‘Right.’ Norman was clearly trying not to laugh. ‘Whatever you say, guy.’
Slater’s mobile phone was ringing.
‘You really want to choose a better ringtone,’ said Norman, as Slater’s phone began to burble in his pocket. ‘Because that really is annoying.’
‘It’s just how the phone came. I didn’t choose it,’ said Slater, wriggling around in his seat as he tried to ease the phone from his back pocket.
‘It’s because of the crappy, annoying ringtones these phones come with, the booming ringtone market was born,’ said Norman. ‘It’s easy enough. Just change it. And it would be a lot easier to answer if you weren’t sat on it.’
‘Oh hush,’ said Slater, finally managing to rescue his phone.
He didn’t recognise the number calling him, but he could see it was from another mobile phone.
‘I wonder who this is?’
‘If you press that button and hold the phone to your ear you might find out,’ suggested Norman.
Slater gave him a dirty look.
‘Hello. Dave Slater.’
‘Is that Sergeant Slater?’ said a posh, business-like voice. ‘This is Camilla Heywood from The Magazine.’
‘Oh hi, Ms Heywood. I was going to call you.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. There are a couple of things I wanted to go over with you. I was going to ask if I could call in and see you, if that’s convenient.’
He wondered why she would be using her mobile phone. It was mid-morning. Surely she would be in her office by now.
‘No,’ she said hastily, ‘You can’t do that!’
He sensed something wasn’t right.
‘Is there something wrong, Ms Heywood?’
‘I can’t talk right now,’ she said nervously. ‘But look, I’m going to a friend’s wedding tomorrow, in Winchester. I’m travelling down later this afternoon and staying overnight at the Langton House Hotel just outside Winchester. Do you know it? You could meet me there.’
‘That’s not far from Starsholt College isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘That’s right. Can you be there at about 8.30? I really need to talk to you.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Slater, puzzled that she wanted to talk to him but didn’t want him to go to her office. ‘I’ll be there.’
Norman looked across at him as he ended the call.
‘Problem?’ he asked. ‘Only you look confused.’
‘That was Camilla Heywood from The Magazine. I was going to go up there and ask her why she told Amber not to talk to me. When I mentioned it, she said no, I can’t go up there. So I’m thinking she doesn’t want to talk to me. Then she asks me to meet her tonight in Winchester because she does want to talk to me. So, if I look confused, it’s because I am confused…’
‘Perhaps she fancies a bit of rough tonight,’ joked Norman.
Slater didn’t respond, he was thinking hard.
‘Could be anything, couldn’t it?’ Norman said after a pause. ‘We can speculate all day, but there’s only one way to find out for sure.’
‘Yep. You’re right there,’ agreed Slater. ‘Are you doing anything tonight?’
‘Yeah,’ said Norman, ‘apparently I’m going to some fancy hotel near Winchester to help interview someone called Camilla.’
Chapter Seventeen
The Langton House Hotel was hidden away up a long winding driveway lined with silver birch trees on one side and neatly fenced paddocks on the other. A few horses looked up as they drove past.
‘Jeez,’ muttered Norman, closing his window. ‘Is that horse shit I can smell?’
Slater looked at him in dismay, and then laughed out loud.
‘Now who’s the philistine?’ he said. ‘That, my friend, is the fresh air smell of the beautiful English countryside. People pay big bucks to stay here and soak up this atmosphere.’
‘Yeah, yeah. Whatever,’ said Norman. ‘If you say so it must be true. But give me the big city anytime.’
‘Really?’ asked Slater, genuinely surprised. ‘You prefer London to this?’
‘I know you find that hard to believe, but I can’t help it. It’s true what they say, you can take the boy out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the boy. It works the other way, too. No one could ever take the country out of you. That’s just how it is, see.’
Slater shook his head and smiled. He was enjoying working with Norman, whose take on things was often quite different from his own and made for some interesting conversations. Also, Norman was happy to exchange banter with him, and banter was something Slater really enjoyed.
The drive took a turn to the left and a large country house appeared ahead of them.
‘Are all the hotels down here like this?’ asked Norman. ‘Don’t you have anything with more than two floors? Whatever happened to high-rise?’
‘You’d never get planning permission for a high-rise out here, would you?’ Slater said. ‘That’s what planning laws are for – to stop people sticking damn great tower blocks all over the countryside and ruining it. Besides, there’s no need. There are plenty of grand old houses like this that have become too expensive for one family to run. Turning them into luxury hotels makes good sense.’
‘But they’re so expensive,’ argued Norman, pulling into a parking space.
‘Excuse me?’ said Slater. ‘Have you booked a room in London recently? And here you get these beautiful surroundings.’
‘I’m beginning to think you have shares in these hotels,’ grumbled Norman. ‘You certainly seem to like selling their virtues.’
‘You can even ride horses here,’ said Slater, swinging his door open.
‘Oh, great! I can’t wait,’ said Norman under his breath. Then as he climbed from the car, he added a final comment. ‘And there we are, very neatly back to the topic that started this conversation, the awful smell of horse shit.’
‘Huh,’ replied Slater, with a smile. ‘Like I said, you’re just a philistine with no appreciation for the good things in life.’
When Slater asked for Camilla, the receptio
nist pointed them in the direction of the bar where, she assured them, Ms Heywood was waiting for them. If anything, this hotel was even more luxurious than the one they had been to this morning to see Vinnie.
‘Talk about how the other half live,’ muttered Norman, walking alongside Slater. ‘I couldn’t afford a cup of tea in here, never mind stay for the night.’
‘If you want to start getting bolshie and talking about how unfair the distribution of wealth is in this country, could you at least wait until after we’ve spoken to Camilla?’ hissed Slater.
‘I was just saying,’ Norman said, apologetically.
‘Well, just don’t. At least, not now, alright?’
They walked through the open doorway into the hushed atmosphere of the bar.
‘Like a morgue in here,’ mumbled Norman. ‘Not exactly a lively atmosphere is it?’
‘What were you expecting? Spit and sawdust on the floor, and a jukebox blaring away in the corner?’
‘Well, no. But-’
‘Look, this is just right to sit and chat, and that’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?’ said Slater. Then he added, ‘There she is, over in the corner.’
He led the way over to a table where Camilla Heywood sat looking through what appeared to be a menu, a large glass of red wine before her on the table. She smiled a greeting as she saw them approaching and laid the menu down.
‘Ms Heywood, this is DS Norman,’ introduced Slater. ‘He’s working with me on this case.’
‘How do you do, Sergeant?’ she said. ‘But please call me Camilla. Ms Heywood sounds far too formal. Please sit down.’
They took the two seats opposite her, and she signalled a waiter to come over. They exchanged pleasantries until their drinks arrived: tea for Norman, coffee for Slater.
‘You said you needed to talk to me,’ Slater began, once the waiter had gone.
‘I’ve had a call,’ she said. ‘From one of your colleagues.’
Slater and Norman exchanged a quick glance, but it was enough for Camilla.
‘Your faces are telling me this is news to you, but to be honest that’s what I expected. I knew it was all wrong.’
‘Why don’t you tell us what happened?’ suggested Norman.
‘It was last Thursday afternoon. Everyone had finished for the day and I was the only one left in the office. I guess he must have known I would answer the phone myself if he called that late.’
‘Who called?’ prompted Slater.
‘I think he said his name was DS Donovan, but I couldn’t swear to it. But he told me you had been taken off the case, that you were no longer involved with the inquiry into Ruth’s disappearance, and if you called again I shouldn’t talk to you and I should call him.’
‘Was there anything else?’ asked Norman.
‘Yes,’ she said, and now she looked worried. ‘He said if I did talk to you, and he found out, I could expect nothing but trouble, and lots of it.’
‘Have you told anyone else about this?’ asked Slater.
‘I’ve told my staff that if they’re asked to speak to the police to let me know first, but I’ve not mentioned it to anyone else.’
She studied their faces and took a sip of her wine.
‘I don’t like being threatened, especially by the police,’ she said.
‘You could report it and make a complaint,’ suggested Norman. Slater hoped she wouldn’t, because that would bring Professional Standards crawling all over their inquiry, which was the last thing he and Norman needed.
‘That would be a waste of time wouldn’t it?’ She shrugged. ‘It’s his word against mine and no evidence to back it up. I bet he made the call from a payphone too.’
‘But you contacted me and invited me here,’ Slater pointed out.
‘That’s because I trust you, and I want to know what’s going on,’ she said. ‘I thought this was about finding out what happened to Ruth, so why would anyone want to stop us talking to you? You are still on this case, aren’t you?’
‘Yes I am, but you must understand I can’t really discuss an active investigation with you,’ said Slater.
‘Yes I understand that,’ she said. ‘But when I’m being threatened I have a right to know the bloody reason why, don’t I? How do I know he’s not watching my office, or my home?’
Slater could understand her frustration and indignation, and part of him agreed with her, but he was reluctant to share information that might actually drag her deeper into this situation. He was trying to figure out what to do for the best when Norman’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
‘You obviously believe you can trust Sergeant Slater, Camilla.’
‘Well, yes I do,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have invited you here if I didn’t.’
‘Well,’ said Norman. ‘I’ve been doing this for a long, long, time. I believe we can trust you, so I think we can tell you a little about what’s going on. But you have to understand, this has become a very complicated investigation so there’s only so much we can share at this time. Of course, we may be able to share much more after we’ve finished.’
Slater turned towards him and was going to protest, but Norman kicked him under the table.
‘It’s okay, Dave. I think Camilla knows where I’m coming from.’
He raised his eyebrows at Camilla. She nodded.
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘I think I do.’
‘Ok, this is what we know so far…’
Norman gave her a very short briefing. He actually told her very little, and Slater marvelled at the man’s ability to make it seem like he’d told her a lot more than he actually had. By the time he’d finished, all she knew was Ruth had disappeared and someone, somewhere within the police force, might be trying to slow down their inquiry.
Slater had to admit he was impressed. Norman had got him out of a hole there, and Camilla seemed happy enough with what he had told her. He was especially pleased Norman had steered clear of mentioning Amber and the memory stick. What she didn’t know about couldn’t hurt her.
They had got what they came for, so he thought now might be a good time to make a getaway.
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Thank you for seeing us. And, don’t worry, we won’t turn up at your office. We won’t even call your office. Is it alright if we call your mobile number if we need to speak to you again?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘In that case we’ll let you get back to your menu.’
They said their goodbyes and made their way back to the car.
As Norman pulled his keys from his right hand jacket pocket, a tinny noise began in the opposite pocket.
‘What the hell’s that?’ asked Slater.
‘Listen,’ said Norman, pulling the phone from his pocket and holding it towards Slater so he could hear it more clearly.
‘That,’ he announced, proudly, ‘is a proper ringtone’.
Slater thought it just sounded like a jingly-jangly racket.
‘You’d better answer it then if that’s the only way we can stop the bloody thing,’ he said.
‘It’s okay. That’s my text notification. The actual ringtone’s even better.’
The music stopped.
‘What the hell is it?’ asked Slater.
Norman looked horrified that Slater didn’t know the song.
‘Didn’t you recognise it?’
‘Maybe if you turned the volume down a bit so it’s not so jangly I might be able to make something of it.’
‘I’m supposed to be the old guy here,’ complained Norman. ‘But it’s you that seems to be the grumpy one.’
‘I’m not grumpy,’ snapped Slater. ‘It’s just that my ears are attuned to decent music with bass, not tinny crap like that.’
‘Hmmph,’ grumbled Norman. He was in the car now, fumbling his way through his phone settings. As Slater climbed in alongside him, he pointed the phone at him.
‘Listen up, Mr Oldbeforemytime.’
Now Slater could make out the tune. It was The
Proclaimers, Letter from America.
‘Just right, don’t you think? Letter from America, text message incoming,’ explained Norman.
‘Yes, okay. I get it. You don’t need to explain. I’m not a complete idiot.’
Slater was slightly envious of Norman. He seemed to know far more about this stuff than he did. He thought maybe that was why Norman could connect with people like Vinnie and he couldn’t.
‘How come you know so much about this stuff anyway,’ he asked grudgingly. ‘Have you been on some training course we don’t have access to down here?’
‘D’you know,’ Norman said, sadly, ‘I wish that was the case, but it’s not. When you suddenly find yourself on your own, hundreds of miles from home, you have to find some way of amusing yourself. I’ve lost count of the number of hours I’ve frittered away fiddling about with my mobile phone. I suppose some people would say it stops you going mad. Personally, I think it’s a form of madness in itself.’
There was an uncomfortable silence. Silently, Slater cursed himself for allowing the conversation to go where it had gone and bringing Norman’s mood down so low. He hadn’t done it on purpose, of course, he just hadn’t seen where it was going. Norman had been in good spirits for the last couple of days and now he was looking morose again.
‘Can I ask you a question, Norm?’ he asked, cautiously.
‘Yeah, why not?’
‘I understand why you get upset, right? I think I would too. So how come you’ve been in such good spirits these past couple of days.’
Norman stared at his hands for a few seconds.
‘This is going to sound like a lecture, but I don’t mean it to be. You’re still young, but one day you’ll meet someone, and for whatever reason you’ll just know that this is the person you want to spend the rest of your days with. And when that happens, you’ll discover you now have a genuine reason to get out of bed every day. Yeah, I know you do it now, but you know as well as I do, it’s as much about habit as anything else. But when you meet ‘the one’ you’ll find that’s the only reason you need for anything. She’ll be your purpose.