by Ford, P. F.
‘Because you want a different sort of relationship, that’s why. Part of you wants to find out if she’s the one, and part of you is terrified she is and would prefer not to find out. At the moment, the terrified part is winning.’
‘You think so, do you?’
‘I know so,’ said Norman, confidently. ‘You need to tell the terrified part of you the only way to know for sure is to make that call. Just do it, please. For me, huh?’
‘Well, Deidre, thank you so much for your advice, but can we stop this conversation? Right now?’ said Slater with finality.
‘I’m done anyway.’ Norman smiled, and Slater knew his fellow officer found it great fun getting under his skin. ‘Anyway,’ Norman said, changing the subject. ‘What do you think about what Ms Radstock had to say this morning?’
‘I think she’s telling the truth. I just hope she doesn’t go and tell her sister what Clinton’s been up to behind her back.’
‘Actually, I don’t know if that would be such a bad thing,’ said Norman, thoughtfully. ‘If she stirs him up it might just work to our advantage. It could force him to make a move of some sort.’
‘I suppose it might,’ conceded Slater. ‘What about that arsehole Jones? Blackmailing her like that? Do you really think we should let it run?’
‘For now, yeah. I’m sure it’s all linked together. If we rush in now we might catch the one link but then lose the rest of the chain. What about the video of Clinton? Do you think Ruby did it all on her own?’
‘I’m beginning to think it’s more and more unlikely, but it’s anyone’s guess who’s in it with her,’ said Slater gloomily. ‘How many suspects do we have for that right now? Is it three, or four? And they all have a motive of some sort. It’s like bloody mastermind, isn’t it? Every question we ask seems to lead to more questions. When are we going to start finding some sodding answers?’
‘I’ve been thinking about Ruby’s partner in crime,’ Norman said, thoughtfully. ‘We thought it was the boyfriend, but I don’t fancy him. Lucinda’s a possibility, but she doesn’t seem right to me. I’m no expert on these things, but in my experience there’s usually only one blackmailer.’
‘You mean Jones?’ Now Slater was a bit more excited. ‘But we’ve found no link between him and Ruby.’
‘That doesn’t mean there isn’t one.’
‘Maybe it’s time we asked Bob Murray for another warrant. I think perhaps it’s time we had a look at Jimmy Jones’ financials,’ said Slater.
‘Now there’s a coincidence.’ Norman said, grinning. ‘That’s exactly what I was thinking.’
‘How bad was it?’ asked Biddeford when they got back. He looked Slater up and down, ‘I don’t see any flesh wounds, and I see you can still walk.’
‘Let’s just say it ended better than it started,’ said Norman with a grin. ‘She’d already had breakfast.’
‘She did see our point.’ Slater smiled. ‘Albeit somewhat reluctantly. But I’m not so sure she’s capable of keeping her promise not to tell her sister and drop Clinton in the shit.’
‘We’ll have to deal with that when it happens,’ said Norman. ‘But at least we’re still all on the same side.’
‘As you’re so good at doing this financial research,’ Slater told Biddeford. ‘We’ve got another one for you to look into.’ He dropped the search warrant onto the table Biddeford was using as a desk.
‘Oh great! You’re just too kind.’ Biddeford grimaced. ‘I’d much rather be out with you guys, you know.’
‘Yes, I know that, Steve,’ said Slater, sympathetically. ‘But the boss wants us to keep you out of the firing line, and on this occasion I think he’s right. Besides, there’s not much more room on this tightrope, and we need someone we can rely on back here in the engine room.’
Biddeford accepted the compliment in silence as he looked at the new warrant.
‘When do you want this done?’ he asked. ‘Right now?’
‘As soon as you can, mate, please.’
‘I’m still working on Clinton’s. Do you want me to stop?’
Slater thought for a moment, and then turned to Norman.
‘What d’you think, Norm? Put Clinton on the back burner and focus on Jones first?’
‘I’m beginning to think Jones is definitely the bigger crook,’ Norman said, nodding his head. He turned to Steve Biddeford.
‘Is that alright with you, Steve?’
‘It makes no difference to me, but before I start on Jones, there’s something I want to show you.’
He had a pile of printouts on the table. He handed Slater the top one.
‘I’ve been going through Clinton’s bank account. It would be nice if I could find a direct debit to A. Blackmailer, but there’s nothing major that stands out straight away.’
‘So no big, one-off payments, or regular cash withdrawals?’ asked Norman.
‘No big ones, no,’ Biddeford said. ‘But, then I got to thinking, suppose I wanted to hide a big monthly payment. How would I do it?’
‘Go ahead, Steve, we’re listening,’ Slater said.
‘I thought one way would be to make lots of smaller withdrawals,’ continued Biddeford. ‘So I looked for just that, and sure enough, there is one regular withdrawal that fits the bill. It happens at the same place, and more or less the same time, every week. And it’s always for the same amount. The only time he misses is when there’s a five-week month.’
‘So he’s withdrawing the same amount every time?’ asked Slater.
‘Yep,’ agreed Biddeford. ‘One hundred and twenty-five quid, four times a month.’
‘Five hundred a month,’ chorused Slater and Norman.
‘It’s not megabucks, but it looks like a regular payment,’ said Norman.
‘The thing is, he seems to pay for everything with his credit cards, so I can’t see any other way he can be spending that cash,’ said Biddeford. ‘And the same amount every time?’
‘Good work, Steve,’ said Norman. ‘Dave’s right, you have a gift for this stuff.’
‘Flattery won’t make me enjoy it more.’ But Biddeford smiled
‘I know,’ agreed Norman. ‘It’s a crap job. But someone’s gotta do it, right?’
‘Ok. Point taken.’ Biddeford said, sighing. ‘Now let me take a look at Jones. Let’s see what skeletons I can rattle in his cupboard.’
As Biddeford settled into his latest task, Slater’s phone began to make strange noises.
‘You have to change that ringtone, please!’ Norman said, holding out his hands in a pleading gesture.
‘If it’ll stop you complaining, perhaps I will.’ Slater grinned and reached for the phone.
‘Slater.’
‘It’s DCI Clinton here.’
‘Oh! DCI Clinton,’ said Slater, loud enough to alert Norman and Biddeford. ‘What can I do for you, sir?’
‘I need to arrange to talk to you,’ said Clinton, curtly.
‘About anything in particular, sir?’ asked Slater, trying his hardest to sound innocent.
‘What the hell do you think I want to talk to you about? If I were you I’d stop trying to be clever and grab this opportunity with both hands.’
‘Oh! Err, right. Yessir,’ said Slater, surprised by Clinton’s vehemence.
‘Where we met last time,’ snapped Clinton. ‘How soon can you get there?’
‘We can leave now,’ said an excited Slater, looking at his watch. ‘We should be there by 1 o’clock, traffic permitting.’
‘I’ll be there at 1.30,’ said Clinton. ‘I’ll walk in and buy a coffee then walk back to my car. It’ll be an unmarked Volvo. You’ll be able to spot me easily enough, but don’t approach the car until you’re sure I’ve not been followed. If I think I have been followed I’ll just get back in my car and drive off. I don’t want anyone to know about this meeting, do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir. You think you might be followed. I understand, don’t worry.’
The phone was dead before he f
inished speaking.
‘What was all that about?’ asked Norman.
‘He wants to meet,’ Slater said, mulling the conversation over.
‘That’s a bit sudden, isn’t it?’
‘He sounds worried, says he needs to talk to us urgently.’
‘Really?’ Norman sounded surprised. ‘How urgent?’
‘Like, ‘get your coat we’re going now,’ urgent,’ said Slater.
‘Wow! D’you think maybe Jenny Radstock couldn’t resist telling her sister about him and Ruby already?’
‘He didn’t say,’ said Slater. ‘But something has certainly rung his alarm bell.’
‘I did say it might work to our advantage if she shook his tree, but I didn’t expect her to do it just yet,’ said Norman thoughtfully, getting to his feet. ‘But if she has, let’s hope something nice and juicy is going to fall out.’
‘Let’s go see,’ Slater said.
Mark Clinton was an easy spot for Norman, sitting in Slater’s car, as he walked slowly from his car, across the car park, towards the coffee shop. It was a face Norman wished he’d never met, but it was for that very reason he knew he’d never forget it. As Clinton walked, Norman scanned the car park looking for anyone who seemed to be taking an interest in Clinton, but he saw nothing to cause concern.
Inside the building Slater sat in the corner of the coffee shop slowly sipping his drink and glancing at the newspaper before him. He watched over the newspaper as Clinton entered the shop and looked around. Their eyes met briefly, but each ignored the other. Slater watched carefully as Clinton ordered, paid for his coffee, and then very deliberately retraced his steps. He gave his man a few seconds start and then followed his path. Just like Norman, he saw no cause for concern.
They reached Clinton’s car at the same time, each arriving from a different direction. They slid into the back seats behind Clinton and quietly clicked the doors closed. He didn’t even turn round to acknowledge their arrival.
‘So, the Keystone Cops have arrived at last,’ he said, sighing.
Slater and Norman had expected hostility from Clinton, so they were neither surprised nor annoyed by his attitude.
‘You asked to speak to us, if I recall correctly,’ said Slater, adding ‘sir,’ as an afterthought.
‘Which one of you bastards went to see my wife?’ Clinton snarled.
‘Much as we would have enjoyed being the ones to rub your nose in that particular pile of shit,’ said Norman, smiling. ‘I’m afraid someone has beaten us to it.’
‘If it wasn’t you two, who the hell else could it have been?’ Clinton said, turning around to glare at them.
‘Maybe your blackmailer got tired of playing the game,’ Slater said. ‘Or maybe you didn’t do as you were told.’
‘I already told you I don’t have a bloody blackmailer!’
‘So why do you draw out the same amount of cash every Thursday?’ asked Norman. ‘We worked it out. £500 a month. It’s not a fortune but it’s a regular income for a blackmailer who’s not too greedy, don’t you think?’
Clinton shrugged his shoulders, but said nothing.
‘It might not be Ruby,’ insisted Norman. ‘Maybe that was a coincidence, or maybe she disappeared before she could put her plan into action, but someone’s using you as a cash cow right now, aren’t they?’
‘You think you’ve got it all worked out, don’t you?’ said Clinton. ‘But you’re way off the mark. You really don’t have a clue.’
‘So why not fill in the bits we’re missing?’ said Slater. ‘You’re right. We don’t know it all yet, but you know we’re on to you, and you know we’re not going to give up until we find it all out and bring the whole damned thing crashing down around your ears, so why not do us all a favour and get it over with right now? Why not start by telling us what happened to Ruby? Did you kill her because she was trying to blackmail you?’
‘Kill her?’ said Clinton, and he sounded appalled at the suggestion. ‘I didn’t kill her. I could never have hurt her. I loved her.’
Slater knew from experience that now would be a good time to keep quiet and let Clinton talk, and a quick glance at Norman told him his fellow officer knew so too. They waited in silence, and eventually Clinton began to tell his side of the story.
‘That first night I met her, I thought she was the most beautiful person I had ever met,’ he began. ‘She had it all, and when she showed an interest in me, well, I couldn’t resist, and after that first night I just had to see her again, and again.’
‘And were you paying her?’ asked Slater.
‘Oh yes,’ said Clinton. ‘I had to, you see. I just had to keep seeing her.’
‘Did she use the video to blackmail you?’
‘I didn’t know anything about that video until you came along. I swear she wasn’t blackmailing me.’
‘So who is then?’ asked Norman.
‘Can’t you work it out?’ asked Clinton. ‘You should be able to, Slater. You were one of his victims.’
‘You mean Jimmy Jones?’ asked Slater. ‘My, my, he is a bad boy. So that’s why you cover his arse all the time. And he costs you £500 a month?’
‘I wish he was that cheap,’ said Clinton. ‘That’s not even the half of it. I have to take backhanders so I can keep up my repayments.’
‘Jesus,’ said Norman, ‘This is getting deeper and deeper.’
‘Look,’ said Clinton, suddenly. ‘I know I’m in it right up to my neck, but I owe that bastard Jones. I’m quite happy to tell you a whole lot more, but what’s in it for me?’
‘Oh, look, everybody.’ Norman spoke in a jeering tone of voice. ‘The ship’s starting to sink and here comes the first rat looking for a way to escape.’
‘Do you want my help, or not?’ Clinton said. ‘Look, I know I’m finished. Like you said, the whole thing’s going to come crashing down now. I just want to make sure I take him down with me, that’s all.’
‘You know how this works, and you know we can’t make any promises,’ said Slater. ‘That’s up to the powers above. But any help you give us is going to work in your favour, right? But you need to give us a bit more than we have right now.’
‘I’ll tell you what I know,’ said Clinton, and for the next half hour he did exactly that.
‘D’you think he’ll keep to his side of the deal?’ asked Norman as they headed back to Tinton.
‘He’ll have to if he wants us to get Jones,’ said Slater. ‘I don’t think he knows Jenny Radstock has a similar problem with Jones, so right now he thinks all we’ve got is his word. I think if he keeps Jones sweet for a few more days, we’ll have enough evidence to take them both down.’
‘It’s strange though,’ Norman said, shaking his head. ‘We’re still no nearer to finding out what happened to Ruby.’
Slater knew he was right. They seemed to have uncovered a serious case of corruption, quite by accident, but they still had no real evidence to suggest what might have happened to the girl.
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘So let me get this right,’ said Norman, trying to put the pieces together. ‘You’re telling us that Jones transfers the whole of his salary into a savings account every month, and that he keeps nothing back to live on. Are you sure about that?’
Biddeford looked somewhat affronted that Norman should suggest that maybe he hadn’t checked his facts properly, but he didn’t say as much.
‘Absolutely sure,’ he said, nodding. ‘Just look at the printout. You can see for yourself. Every single penny goes straight into his savings account.’
Norman took the hint.
‘I didn’t mean that to sound like I think you got it wrong,’ he said, apologetically. ‘It was more a case of “is he really that stupid he would make it so easy for us”?’
‘He’s arrogant and overconfident,’ said Slater. ‘He thinks he’s so clever he’s untouchable. What else have you got, Steve?’
When they had returned from seeing Clinton, Biddeford had already
prepared a set of printouts for each of them.
‘He could maybe argue that he doesn’t need to do any food shopping, but if you look at the second sheet you’ll see he has a Nectar account. Visits Sainsbury’s every week to buy his groceries and collects the points. He also gets points when he buys his fuel.’
‘How does he pay for them?’ asked Slater.
‘Credit card,’ said Biddeford. ‘But, he pays off his credit card with cash.’
‘So he’s getting cash from somewhere.’ Norman rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Any idea how much?’
‘Well, his credit card bill is usually over three grand,’ Biddeford said, looking at the printouts in front of him. ‘And it’s possible he’s spending cash on other stuff too.’
‘That means he’s almost certainly got more victims than the two we know about,’ Slater shook his head. ‘He must spend all his time collecting cash.’
‘We’ve got more than enough here to put him away,’ said Norman. ‘As long as Jenny Radstock and Clinton are prepared to give evidence, he’s got no chance.’
‘This is very good work, Steve.’ Slater clapped the younger man on the back. ‘I’d like you to go with Norm and put it in front of Bob Murray. It’s high time we dragged Jimmy Jones in for a chat, don’t you guys agree?’
‘Me?’ said Biddeford in surprise. ‘You want me to go and see Bob Murray?’
‘Yeah. Why not?’ said Norman, agreeing with Slater. ‘You’ve done a lot of donkey work here, so it’s only right you should get the credit for it.’
Then he turned to Slater.
‘And what about you? Where will you be while we’re with the big chief?’
‘I’m going to ask Jenny Radstock why she couldn’t wait to tell Clinton’s wife. After all, we did ask her to wait.’
‘But it’s worked out rather well for us, hasn’t it?’ asked Norman.
‘Yes, but she doesn’t know that, does she?’
‘Oh, I see,’ said Norman, nodding his understanding. ‘You want to get your own back for the bollocking she gave you the other day. I can’t say I blame you.’