by Ford, P. F.
There appeared to be somewhere between 20 and 30 small aircraft parked in two rows, in front of, and around, the old barn. Many were tethered with guy ropes, presumably to protect them from the wind, which could be a bit gusty up here on the brow of the hill. They were all exposed to whatever the weather could throw at them, relying on canvas covers to protect them. It was an assortment of old and modern, all pretty small and well within the size that Biddeford assumed would be called light aircraft.
A two-storey wooden pavilion was the only thing that seemed even vaguely modern. It had a balcony overlooking the field, and the upper storey wall facing the field appeared to be all glass. Biddeford figured this must be the operations centre and control tower he’d been told to look out for.
“Right, Phil,” Biddeford said. “We’re looking for a bloke called Captain Smithers. He said we’d find him either in the control room or the hangar. I’m guessing that means that pavilion over there or the barn that looks like it’s just about to fall down.”
“Okay, Steve, you’re the boss.” Flight smiled at him. “I’ll try not to make it too bumpy.”
On their side, the field had been ploughed, apart from a mown strip that served as the access road. Flight carefully made her way across, clearly trying to avoid as many bumps as she could.
“Thank God we didn’t have to come out here in the winter,” she said. “You’d need a Landrover to cope with the mud.”
Chapter 15
Rudy, or Rudolph, if you want to be formal, Bressler lived in an enormous house about a mile to the south of Tinton. As he and Norman stood on the front step, Slater looked around and admired the view across the surrounding fields and into the distance. He knew a view like this would cost a small fortune in this area, but then if the owner of this house could afford the dark blue Maserati parked in front of the double garage, money wasn’t really a problem, was it?
A bright pink Mini Cooper was parked rather haphazardly next to the Maserati. Slater thought absently that abandoned might be a more appropriate word than parked. He was just picturing the stereotypical woman who would own the car, when the door opened behind him and interrupted his thoughts.
Some people would consider themselves over the brow of the hill and on the way down the other side at 58 years of age, but Rudy Bressler was clearly in his prime. He stood 6ft 2 inches tall, was well muscled, deeply suntanned, and had a good head of hair. As he shook their hands, Slater observed that the only thing that gave the man’s age away was the fact that his hair was obviously dyed. It was always vanity that gave the game away in the end.
He stole a glance at Norman, standing beside him. Of course, no one would ever have the opportunity to accuse him of being vain. He seemed to have achieved his most crumpled appearance ever on this particular morning, and his waistline appeared to have finally won the ongoing battle with his trousers, which were no longer able to encircle him at this widest part of his body. However, if any of this concerned him, he made a very good job of hiding it.
Comparing the two in appearance, Slater thought Bressler could easily pass for a man 10 years younger than he really was. On the other hand, Norman, who at 53 was five years younger than Bressler, could easily pass for a vagrant in his 70s if he wasn’t so obviously well-fed. He thought it really was time his partner did something about his appearance. And, his weight. Come to think of it, his colour was none to good either. Perhaps he should suggest that maybe it was time Norman had a health check.
“Please come in, gentlemen,” said Bressler, swinging the door invitingly open to reveal an immense hallway with a fabulous, very expensive-looking, Persian rug, perfectly centred on the polished oak floor. Slater and Norman skirted round it – Slater knew neither of them wanted to risk stepping on it.
“I’ll get the maid to bring some tea. Or would you prefer coffee?” asked Bressler pleasantly. He oozed charm, confidence and good looks, and certainly didn’t appear to be the least bit concerned by their unannounced arrival.
“Let’s go through to the library.” He indicated a doorway at the far end of the hall. “We can talk in there.”
Before anyone could move, Slater heard a clattering of high heels on a wooden floor, and an attractive, leggy, large-busted blonde, dressed in a tight-fitting, white trouser suit, rushed breathlessly from another room. In her left hand, she clutched a handbag which looked in imminent danger of bursting, and in the other hand, she held aloft a set of car keys.
“Found them, darling.” She giggled at Bressler, then stopped suddenly as she saw the two detectives. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise you had company.”
“This is my girlfriend, Cindy Maine,” Bressler said.
Slater and Norman smiled a hello, and she smiled sweetly in return. Slater thought she was quite a good match for the stereotype he had been imagining, only better looking, and classier. He guessed she was about 30 years old. Not bad going, for a guy of nearly 60, he thought. He thought she looked familiar somehow. Yes, that was it – she looked a lot like Sandra Bressler, the dead wife. Rudy Bressler obviously had a preferred type.
“These police officers have just come for a chat.” Bressler indicated the two officers.
“I’m sorry I can’t stop,” she told them, flicking her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “I’m running late for the hairdresser. Couldn’t find my keys.” She was still holding the keys aloft and she jingled them to emphasise her point. She reached up to peck Bressler on the cheek, and with a final, breathy “Must dash,” she was gone.
Slater felt as though a small whirlwind had just passed through.
“You must excuse Cindy,” Bressler said, laughing indulgently. “She has the looks, but she’s a bit disorganised. As a result, much of her life seems to happen at breakneck speed, trying to make up for lost time.”
He led them through to the library which turned out to be every bit as grand as it sounded. A long, rectangular room, three walls were lined from floor to ceiling with books. The fourth wall was one huge set of folding glass doors, giving a wonderful view down the length of an extensive, lawned garden.
Slater saw Norman head over to the bookcases. He looked like a kid in a sweetshop. “Please, take a look,” Bressler said, noticing Norman’s interest. “If you know anything about books you’ll see some classics there.”
“Oh, I’m no expert,” said Norman. “I just love the look and smell of old books.”
Slater knew he was being modest – from conversations he and Norman had had before, it was clear he knew quite a lot about books, it was one of his areas of interest. Bressler picked up the phone and muttered something about tea in the library, then turned his full attention back to them.
“I assume you’ve come to ask me about Sandra?” he asked.
Slater and Norman exchanged a glance.
“Come now, gentlemen,” said Bressler. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work it out, now does it? You’ve just unearthed her body for goodness sake. Not to mention the fact that her younger sister turned up dead in more or less exactly the same spot. I’m just surprised it’s taken you so long.”
“I’m equally surprised you didn’t come forward,” said Norman.
“But, why would I? Sandra left me, completely without warning. She took our daughter, emptied my safe, jumped into a taxi, and then just vanished into thin air while I was out of the country. You probably think I’m very cold, but I did my grieving 15 years ago. I’ve moved on from there. And besides, with her mother around, I didn’t need to come forward. I knew she’d be pointing the finger straight at me, and sure enough, here you are.”
“Taxi?” said Slater and Norman in unison.
“Did you say she jumped into a taxi?” asked Slater. “There’s no mention of a taxi in the original investigation.”
“Well, there should have been.” Bressler sounded genuinely surprised. “I definitely told them about it.”
“This is news to me,” said Norman, suspiciously. “I’ve been through that first re
port, and there’s nothing about a taxi, anywhere. I’ve also spoken to Sandra’s mother, and she didn’t mention a taxi either.”
“Sandra’s mother is somewhat sad and deluded where her daughter is concerned,” Bressler said, sighing. “She’s always insisted I murdered Sandra. She won’t mention the taxi because if she admits Sandra and Rose drove away in it, it makes it more likely she did run away, just as I said. She’s always sworn Sandra wouldn’t have done that without telling her father first.”
“I think maybe we’ve got it wrong about what happened back then Mr Bressler,” said Slater, instinctively stepping into “good cop” mode. “And, for the record, we have open minds about who might have killed Sandra. But we’ve also got two murders on our hands and we need some help.”
“Well, thank you for that, at least,” said Bressler. “I’d like to believe it might actually be possible to find out what happened back then – not because I really care anymore, but just to prove to Sandra’s mother that it wasn’t me. So, how can I help?”
“I know you’ve probably done all this before, but would you mind if we start at the beginning?” asked Slater. “Could you tell us about you and Sandra, your marriage, what happened leading up to the day she left, and what you think might have happened back then?”
“What? All of it?” asked Bressler.
“I’m sorry. But you’ve already told us about a taxi that seems to have been missed last time around. Maybe that’s not all that was missed.”
“Okay.” Bressler sighed heavily again. “I’ll tell you what I can recall, but it was a long time ago.”
And so, for the next half hour, with very little prompting, Rudy Bressler told them his story.
He was 33 and working as a GP in a practice in Redditch when he had first met Sandra. She was just 22 and lived locally with her parents. The whole family were patients – that’s how they first met. She was everything he could wish for – young, beautiful and full of life. In no time, they were dating and it soon became obvious to him that she was the girl of his dreams. Within a few short months, he had proposed, and they were married within two years of their first meeting.
Rudy’s parents had died in a car accident when he was a teenager. He had been left a huge legacy in the form of property and investments which he had managed to grow into a sizable portfolio. Money was not going to be a problem for the newly-wed Mr and Mrs Bressler, and Sandra’s father had approved of the marriage, seeing a secure future for his favourite daughter.
Sandra’s mother, on the other hand, had never approved of Rudy and no matter how hard he had tried to meet her approval, he had always failed. When pressed on this matter he could offer no explanation, except that perhaps Mrs Townley disapproved of how he had come into his money.
Once married, Rudy left general practice and set up a small private practice. He restricted this practice to just a few clients – he didn’t really need the money – and intended to spend most of his time with his new wife. They bought a big house a few miles from Redditch and, according to Rudy, for the next two years, they enjoyed a hassle-free, happy marriage.
Then it started to become necessary for him to look after his financial interests and he began to have to spend time away from home, something to which Sandra objected quite strongly. She claimed she was lonely when he was away, and they began to have problems as a result.
Naturally, Slater and Norman wanted to know more about these problems, but Bressler would only say they had arguments about the need for him to be away from home so much. He told them she suspected he was having an affair, but this wasn’t the case. Rudy had never been one for checking up on his wife but, he told them, there were times when he was away that she couldn’t be contacted, and he often wondered where she might be.
And then, three years into their marriage, she had announced she was pregnant. This had come as a big shock to Rudy as he had never wanted children. Sandra had been aware of this and had never previously shown any desire to become a mother. He had made no secret of his displeasure at this turn of events, but he didn’t feel he could push the matter, and he had accepted the situation. He felt it would help solve her loneliness when he was away, and that he would actually enjoy being a father when it happened.
The situation with Sandra’s mother had got no better since they had married, and he suspected Sandra had been telling her everything. This, of course, had only intensified her dislike of him. Once the child was born, Mrs Townley had seemed to be a permanent fixture in and around their house, and her open hostility towards him eventually caused him to stay away more and more.
Things slowly went downhill from there for the Bressler marriage and, Rudy reluctantly admitted, about a year before Sandra disappeared he had started an affair. He never knew for sure if Sandra had known – she had never said as much – but suddenly, out of the blue, she had suggested that if they were going to save their marriage and restore their happiness, they needed to move house. She had said they needed to be far enough away from her mother that it would be difficult for her to visit.
At this point, Slater had interrupted Bressler.
“Didn’t this sudden about-turn seem a little strange?” he asked.
“Of course it did,” Bressler said. “But I put it down to Sandra finally realising that her mother was the poison that was killing our marriage. That woman had effectively driven me out of my own home. I certainly would never have had an affair if I hadn’t allowed that to happen. I saw this as a possible opportunity for us to get back to being happy again. You might find this hard to understand, Sergeant, but I loved my wife very much. I would have moved to the other side of the world if she’d asked me to.”
Slater thought he might have been a bit more suspicious about Sandra’s motives had he been Bressler, but then again, he was trained to be suspicious about people’s motives. He decided to let him continue with his narrative.
Bressler had jumped at the idea of escaping from Sandra’s mother, and the idea of going back to how they used to be was something he had often dreamed about. He would have happily moved anywhere, but again Sandra surprised him by finding a house just a couple of miles outside Tinton. Having been raised nearby, Bressler knew the area quite well and had no objection – it had seemed a perfect opportunity to start again.
Sandra had insisted Rudy was far too busy with his work, and had taken on the project of finding a house and organising the move. All he had to do was finance the whole thing, which he was more than happy to do. With his wife apparently prepared to do so much to try to rebuild their marriage, he had felt it only right that he should end the affair he had been conducting behind her back. So, now they could move to Tinton and start again with a completely clean sheet.
At the time of the move, Rudy had been at a medical conference. Although he had his investments and just a few private clients, he thought it only right and proper that he should keep informed and stay involved with the medical community. He could lose his wealth tomorrow, he told them, but as long as he kept his hand in, he could always go back to being a doctor full time. He had considered cancelling his trip, but Sandra had insisted it wasn’t necessary – she could quite comfortably organise and supervise everything.
He had been in touch with her constantly that week, right up until the move. Then, typically, when she got to the new house she had discovered the landline had not been connected and the mobile phone signal for her service provider was non-existent at the house. She had had to travel into Tinton to contact him to tell him all this, but he would be home in just three days, so he had reluctantly accepted the fact that they just wouldn’t be able to speak until then.
And so he had heard nothing more until he’d finally arrived home to find Sandra and Rose had vanished, along with all their clothes and belongings. All his spare cash was gone. When he told them this amounted to about £10,000, they were both quite startled. That was a lot of money to have just lying around.
He’d called in the police, but they
seemed to think it was just a case of Sandra doing a runner. He’d found out for himself that a local taxi company had picked up Sandra and Rose and a lot of luggage and taken them up to Heathrow airport. When he relayed this on to the police, it seemed to be enough for them to conclude she had to have another guy somewhere. He had no idea they hadn’t even bothered to speak to the taxi driver themselves.
Sandra’s mother had done her best to convince one and all that Rudy had done away with his wife and daughter, but the police had checked his alibi and dismissed her claims.
“Although, you know yourselves she’s still trying to pin the blame on me,” he had concluded.
“So what did you do after that?” asked Norman.
“Detective Sergeant Nash convinced me Sandra had planned the whole thing. When he put all the evidence to me, it certainly pointed that way. He suggested that the whole idea of moving house had been part of an elaborate plan to deceive me and her parents, and frankly I was so shocked by it all I believed him. There didn’t seem to be any reason to suggest he was wrong.”
“That must have been hard,” said Norman.
“Finding your parents have been killed in a senseless accident, when you’re just 17 years old, is hard, Sergeant.” Bressler sighed. “When you’ve been through something like that, and come out the other side, you develop a tough outer shell that can get through most things.”
Norman looked slightly uncomfortable, and Slater knew he was thinking of his own separation from his wife.
“Finding out my wife had betrayed me was very disappointing,” Bressler continued. “And at first I found it hard to accept. But I’m not one for self-pity. Some people think I have no feelings, but, like I said, life has made me tough. And anyway, life has to go on, and within a week I had accepted the situation and it was business as usual.”