by Ford, P. F.
“Okay. I know nothing,” said Jolly as she headed back to work.
Norman thought it would be great if he could say the same…
Chapter 25
“Come,” boomed Murray’s voice from beyond the door, as Slater knocked.
Taking a deep breath, Slater opened the door and walked in. Murray had his head down reading something on the desk in front of him. He ignored Slater, leaving him feeling distinctly uncomfortable, until he’d finished reading, then he sat back in his seat.
“Ah. DS Slater. Thank you for coming to see me.”
Slater said nothing. Such formality from the boss was usually a bad sign, and there was an uncomfortable looking chair in front of Murray’s desk. This was known amongst the staff as the “chop chair”. Rumour had it that people were only ever invited to sit in this particular chair if they were about to get a serious bollocking.
Slater knew how uncomfortable that chair was – he’d been invited to sit in it on more than one occasion before, but he’d always known why. Usually it was because he’d said the wrong thing at the wrong time, and he accepted such bollockings as being fair enough, but right now he had no idea what he was guilty of.
“Is anything worrying you?” asked Murray. “Only you look a little uncomfortable.”
“Well, to be honest boss, I’m a bit concerned about the ‘chop chair’ being set in front of your desk like that. I’m always prepared to accept a bollocking when I’m in the wrong, you know that, but right now I’m in the dark about why this one’s coming my way.”
Murray let Slater stew for a few moments.
“That chair’s not just for the benefit of those about to be chewed up.” He smiled at Slater. “It’s also for people who annoy me by insisting on seeing me when I’m busy. By making them sit on an uncomfortable chair, they tend to take less of my time than they otherwise would. It works very well. I recommend it for time wasters.”
Slater breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
“Anyway, you already know just how uncomfortable that chair is, don’t you?” asked Murray, easing his chair back and getting to his feet.
“I have had the pleasure once or twice, yes,” Slater said.
“But not today,” said Murray, pointing across the office to two easy chairs either side of a low table. “This is a chat, not a bollocking.”
He led the way across the office, poured two cups of tea and invited Slater to settle into a chair.
“So how’s this case going?” he asked. “Give me a five-minute update.”
And so Slater did, bringing Murray right up to date with what they’d discovered this morning.
“And does Norman agree with this idea that there was a second woman impersonating Sandra Bressler?”
“He was already thinking it was a possibility before we spoke to Mrs Deadman,” Slater said. “But we’re also aware that even though it’s a neat theory, Mrs Deadman’s not a viable witness. We need to find some real proof.”
“It fits though, doesn’t it?” said Murray, thoughtfully. “I like the way you and Norman work together. I shouldn’t really have two sergeants working together, but it seems to be proving to be very successful. What’s young Biddeford working on today?”
“He’s out looking for the light aircraft,” Slater said, lying. “He’s pretty sure he’s got it narrowed down to the type of plane, and where it’s based-”
“Stop right there!” Murray barked. “I have to ask myself why you’re lying to me. Are you trying to protect Biddeford, or yourself?”
Slater stopped talking, his face turning scarlet. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but nothing came out.
“Did you know Biddeford came to see me earlier today to ask for a transfer?” said Murray, quietly.
“What? Err, I mean, no Sir. No. I didn’t know that,” said Slater.
“Did you know he is so unhappy he feels it’s the only thing he can do?”
No point in lying to cover for him now, thought Slater.
“Up until this morning,” he said, “Biddeford has given the impression that he’s happy to be an important part of our team, and we’ve done our best to encourage him and help him develop.”
“And what happened this morning?” prompted Murray.
“He came in like a bear with a sore head, complaining that we give him all the shit jobs to do and saying he’s had enough,” explained Slater. “When Norman tried to give him his task for today, he got all arsey. I told him he was going to be no use to the team the way he was, and to either change his attitude or sod off home.”
“And he chose to go home,” finished Murray.
“I thought he’d go off and have some breakfast, think about things, calm down and get back to normal.” Slater sighed. “I probably didn’t handle it very well, but I wasn’t going to have him bad-mouthing his superiors and upsetting the team.”
“Hmm,” said Murray. “You probably could have chosen your words better, but you’re right about his attitude. Like the rest of us, he has to respect the rank even if he doesn’t like the person. I’m sure half the staff here hate my guts and probably with good reason, but I still expect them to respect my position.”
Murray gazed out of the window. Slater thought his boss was probably right about half the staff hating his guts, but he didn’t think telling him so would be appropriate right now, so he kept quiet and let Murray think.
“And there’s nothing personal between the two of you?” Murray asked, eventually.
“Not that I’m aware of,” said Slater, a bit puzzled by the question.
“And as far as you know the other men in the team are quite happy?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“What about the female members of the team? Are they all happy?”
Slater couldn’t see where Murray was going with these questions. What was he getting at? Am I being accused of something? Whatever it was, he wanted to know. He couldn’t handle all this piddling around.
“Sir,” he said. “If I’m being accused of something, I think I have a right to know what it is.”
“Of course,” said Murray. “And, if you are accused of something, I’ll tell you.”
Now Slater was confused and getting a tad steamed up.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but that’s not good enough. Your questions appear to suggest there may be a problem between me and the female members of the team. If that’s what you’re suggesting, I’d rather you came out and said as much.”
Murray let out a long sigh.
“So tell me about PC Flight,” he said.
“What about her?” asked Slater, warily.
“How do you get on with her?”
“Well, she’s a bit fierce,” said Slater. “She fancies herself as a bit of an action woman so she creates merry hell when she’s asked to work inside. And I sometimes wonder if she has a sense of humour, but when she puts her mind to it she’s a good copper.”
“Have you had a sexual relationship with her?”
“What?” Slater was shocked. “No I bloody haven’t. Who says I have?”
“Calm down, calm down,” said Murray. “No one is saying you have, I’m just trying to establish a few facts.”
“Why?” asked Slater. “What the hell’s going on?
“There’s a possibility that PC Flight is going to file a complaint against you for sexual harassment.”
“She’s bloody lying,” said Slater, aghast. “Who’s told you this? Is that what Biddeford told you?”
“Is she off sick today?” asked Murray, ignoring Slater’s questions.
“Yes,” said Slater, trying desperately hard to keep his cool.
“Do you know why?”
“No,” Slater said, even though he knew full well.
“Get someone to find out,” said Murray. “And I want to know the real reason, not some made-up bullshit.”
He turned to face Slater, who was looking somewhere between shell-shocked
and homicidal.
“Now listen to me,” said Murray sternly. “You are to speak to no one about this, do you understand? I know you want to go and murder someone right now, but you’re to do nothing. Got it?”
“Are you really supposed to warn me this might be coming my way?” asked Slater.
“Of course not,” said Murray. “And if I thought there was even the slightest possibility that it might be true, I wouldn’t have told you anything about it.”
Well, at least I’ve got the old man on my side from the start.
“Now,” said Murray. “I want you to go and take a walk around town so you can cool down and get yourself together. In the meantime, I intend to speak to Norman, and then I shall ask him to stick with you and make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Stay away until Norman calls you. Got that?”
He began to get to his feet. The chat was over.
“Yes, Boss,” said Slater, standing up.
“I mean it, David. If you do anything to make people think we’ve had this conversation, you’ll be back out directing traffic.”
“Right, boss. I promise I’ll behave.”
As Slater made his way to the door, Murray picked up the phone and spoke into it.
“Can you ask DS Norman to come up and see me.”
Slater was bloody furious. Why was Biddeford doing this to him? Hadn’t he given the guy his chance? Hadn’t he looked after him and encouraged him? They made a good team, so why had this happened now?
Of course – it was all about Phillipa Flight, wasn’t it? Putting those two together really was a big mistake. Biddeford was pretty naive where women were concerned. He would have been putty in Flight’s hands. She’s turned him against me. But there was nothing he could do about it – he’d promised Bob Murray and there was no way in the world he was going to let the boss down.
He’d been walking and brooding on his situation for about 20 minutes when his phone began to ring. He looked at the incoming number, but it wasn’t a number he knew. He hummed and hawed about answering it, then decided yes, he would. If it turned out to be someone trying to sell him something, he was in just the right mood…
“Hello?”
“Is that DS Dave Slater?” asked a pleasant female voice. He thought he should recognise the voice, but he couldn’t quite place it.
“Speaking,” he said.
“Oh, hi. This is Cindy Maine. You said I could call if I wanted to talk to you.”
The day’s beginning to look up.
“Miss Maine. This is a pleasant surprise.”
“Please call me Cindy. Miss Maine makes me sound like an old dear of about 80.”
“I’m sorry, Cindy. Now what can I do for you? Do you have some information for me?”
“Not really, no. I just wanted someone to talk to. Do you mind?”
“What, about Rudy? Won’t he mind you talking to me?”
“Oh don’t worry about him. He’s lost interest in me now my time’s just about up. He’s busy preparing the next one.”
“That sounds really clinical,” said Slater.
“Of course it’s clinical. I told you before, it’s just a business deal. There’s nothing emotional about the relationship at all, I’m just there for show.”
“I’m not sure I really understand how that works,” said Slater, and he meant it.
“So why not buy a girl a drink and let her try to explain it to you?”
“Really?”
“Really. It would be wonderful to have a real conversation with a real person.”
“A real person?” asked Slater.
“I’ll explain when I see you. I will see you, won’t I?”
There was the merest of pauses, and then, for once, he forgot he was a policeman and let his first instinct think for him.
“Yes. Yes, you will see me,” he said, suddenly decisive. “When?”
“Whenever suits you. I’m free just about all the time, but I guess you must get pretty busy.”
“In my job I never know what’s going to happen, so it’s always a bit difficult to arrange anything. How about tonight? How much notice do you need?”
“Ha!” She laughed down the line. “Five minutes, if you’ll take me as I am.”
“I think I can probably cope with that. How about I call you later when I know what time I’m going to be free?”
“I’ll look forward to that, Dave. It’s alright if I call you Dave, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I think I’d like that.”
“Good. I’ll wait for your call then. Bye.”
That last word was said in a breathy sigh, and Slater replayed the sound in his head several times while the memory was still clear.
What a weird day this is turning out to be. One minute I’m being told I’m a sex pest, and then half an hour later I’m being asked out on a date.
He was roused from his daydream by his phone ringing again. This time it was Norman.
“Norm,” he said into the phone, not quite sure how Norman was going to feel about him after speaking to Murray.
“You okay?” asked Norman.
“I’ve had better days.”
“Where are you? I’ll come and pick you up.”
“High street. Bottom end.”
“I’ll be there in two minutes. I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but just so you know, I’m with Murray on this one. I think Biddeford’s had his head turned.”
“Oh, for sure.” Slater was relieved Norman felt like that.
“We’ll talk in a minute,” said Norman, ending the call.
A car horn tooted and Norman pulled up just ahead of Slater.
“What’s this? Time travel?” asked Slater, as he climbed into the car.
“Yeah. I’ve been working on it for a few years now. It’ll make me a fortune when I get it perfected.”
“So you were already out looking for me, huh?”
“I was worried I might have to arrest you for murder.”
“Look, I’m past the ‘feeling homicidal and looking for someone to kill’ phase, and I’m okay. Really.”
“Look at me,” said Norman.
Slater turned towards Norman who studied his face.
“I have to say,” Norman said, turning back to the road and pulling away, “you certainly look as though you’re past that stage. In fact, you look rather pleased with yourself.”
Slater allowed a small smile to cross his face.
“Are you going to share?” asked Norman.
“Not this time, Norm. Sorry.”
“Aha, so that means you have a date. Am I right? Is it with Jelena?”
“I’m saying nothing, mate,” said Slater, sliding an imaginary zip across his lips.
“Okay,” Norman said, smiling. “Whatever. At least it’s put you in a good mood, and, considering the overall situation, that means I’m optimistic I’m not going to have to stop you committing murder.”
“It’s cool.” Slater smiled, feeling slightly happier. “And I’m cool. Okay?”
It was coming up to 5pm by the time Norman dropped Slater off at the station. He was glad his colleague hadn’t seemed as furious as he had feared.
“There’s not much more we can do today,” said Norman, as they climbed from the car. “So why don’t you go home and make yourself all pretty for your date. I can tidy things up for tonight and get ready for tomorrow morning’s briefing.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you, Norm.”
“Look. I’ve been telling you for months that you need to ask Jelena out. Am I really going to get in the way now you’ve finally done it?”
“If you’re really sure you don’t mind?”
“Just go before I change my mind. And make sure you relax and have a good time tonight. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”
Norman watched Slater climb into his own car and set off for home, and then made his way slowly up the stairs to the incident room. He told the PC sitting in front of the pho
nes to have an early night – he would be here to answer them if they rang.
The door closed quietly behind the departing PC and Norman sank into his chair. He was beginning to feel increasingly weary just lately and he was glad to be able to sit and enjoy the silence for a few minutes. He’d just closed his eyes when that silence he so wanted to enjoy was rudely interrupted by the doors being flung open and someone marching noisily into the room.
“Where’s Slater?” demanded Steve Biddeford, pacing up and down in front of the white boards at the far end of the room. He was furious and really wanted to have it out with Dave Slater.
“If you mean DS Slater, he’s not here,” said Norman.
He got to his feet and moved across the room so Biddeford would have to pass him to leave.
“Has he gone home? Okay, I’ll go and see him there.”
Biddeford made for the door, but Norman stepped in his way.
“Get out of my way,” snarled Biddeford.
“Or what?” said Norman. “Are you going to go and tell Murray a pack of lies about me, too?”
“I’ll take you on if I have to,” said Biddeford, but he could hear the uncertainty in his own voice.
“You will have to, if you’re thinking you can leave this room before you hear me out,” said Norman.
Biddeford was a good three inches taller than Norman, and would probably win if they were to have a fight, but there was something about the shorter man’s determined stance that made him stop and think.
“Have you ever heard the expression ‘to think with your dick’?” asked Norman. “Because that’s exactly what you seem to be doing. D’you seriously think you’re gonna ruin Dave Slater’s career with this crap you’ve told Murray? Well, think again, my friend. The only career you’re damaging is your own. Flight’s using you, can’t you see that?”
“What do you mean she’s using me? What do you know about any of this?” said Biddeford, indignantly.
“A lot more than you think,” said Norman.
“Oh yeah? D’you know why she’s off sick today?”
“I do, as it happens,” said Norman.
“And you think it’s alright that Slater should be allowed to carry on as if he’s done nothing, do you?” said Biddeford, in disbelief. “Well, I’m disappointed in you Norman. I thought you were better than that.”