by Ford, P. F.
“Better than what?” asked Norman.
“He nearly raped her on Saturday night.” Biddeford was shouting now. “You might think that’s okay, but I don’t.”
“You slept with her last night, didn’t you?” asked Norman quietly.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” said Biddeford, suddenly on the back foot.
“And you’re not thinking with your dick?” Norman laughed. “Oh boy, is she taking you for a big ride, or what?”
“You’re talking shit, Norman. You know nothing about this.”
“We’ll see who knows nothing about this,” Norman said, pointing to the nearest chair. “Just sit down there, and listen, before you completely destroy the career you say you love so much.”
Biddeford started to protest, but Norman pushed him just hard enough to sit him back in the chair.
“You’ve had your say,” said Norman, very firmly. “Now it’s my turn. You say Flight claims Slater almost raped her on Saturday night.”
“That’s right.” Biddeford nodded his head, feeling sick with anger at the thought of it.
“But weren’t you and Slater out stirring up the doggers on Saturday night? Oh, and re-arresting the flasher you allowed to walk out of the station earlier that afternoon?”
“Yeah, but-”
“And what time did you finish? After midnight wasn’t it?” insisted Norman. “So did this alleged rape take place on Saturday night, or Sunday morning? Flight’s a trained police officer. She would know the difference.”
“You’re splitting hairs,” said Biddeford, shaking his head. “She was in shock. He could still have got to her after we finished.”
“That’s a fact,” Norman said, shrugging. “He would have had the time, but that’s not what happened. Let’s go back to earlier that night. When you got to the car park, how many cars were there?”
“Seven, according to Sergeant Fantastic Bloody Slater,” said Biddeford, sulkily.
“But you saw eight, didn’t you?”
“I thought there were eight, yes.” Biddeford said, wondering what this had to do with anything.
“And you were actually correct,” said Norman. “There were eight cars. Seven parked to one side and a large SUV parked on its own.”
This wasn’t what Biddeford was expecting. He thought Norman was going to defend Slater, but now he seemed to be suggesting Slater was up to something.
“I suppose he knew the owner of one of them, did he?” sneered Biddeford.
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Typical.” Biddeford shook his head in disbelief. “He’s covering up for his mates.”
“I think you’d better stop talking now, or I’m gonna punch your lights out,” said Norman, in a very matter-of-fact way. “I can’t believe you’ve worked with Dave Slater as long as you have and yet you seem to know absolutely nothing about him and the way he works. So let me help you out here.”
Biddeford opened his mouth to speak again, but Norman put a finger to his lips.
“No, no, no. You just hush your mouth and listen. You are so wrong about this, and I’m going to prove it, but if you so much as make one more peep about Slater, so help me, I really will punch your lights out.”
Biddeford had never seen Norman threaten anyone before, but it was done in such a cool and collected way, he was left in no doubt that he meant it.
“Okay,” said Norman. “Let’s go back to Saturday night again. The missing number plate is that of the large SUV. Yes, Dave Slater does know the owner. The owner is Phillipa Flight’s husband.”
“And the dirty bugger was up there-” began Biddeford.
“No,” interrupted Norman. “The ‘dirty bugger’ was nowhere near that car park. He’s abroad on business. He has been since last Thursday.”
Biddeford was puzzled. What did all this mean?
“Now,” continued Norman. “Who else do you think drives that car? Especially when her husband’s away on business?”
Biddeford said nothing. He couldn’t seem to understand what Norman was getting at. He thought it was probably all bullshit to save Slater’s arse anyway.
“You think this is bullshit?” asked Norman, as if he could read Biddeford’s mind. “You know she drives the car. I’m sure she would have used it to get to your house yesterday.”
Biddeford’s face reddened. Why did Norman keep on about that? What did it have to do with anything?
“Now here’s a very easy question for you, but I bet you can’t see the answer,” said Norman. “If her husband was away, how do you think Flight’s car got up to that car park on Saturday night?”
Biddeford wouldn’t look at Norman. This couldn’t be right.
“Someone must have stolen it,” he spat.
“Yeah, right,” said Norman derisively. “And I suppose the nice thief brought it back in time for her to use it on Sunday?”
“Well, perhaps someone borrowed it, then. Yes, that’ll be it. Someone borrowed it,” said Biddeford desperately. This couldn’t be true.
“Oh, come on,” sighed Norman. “Do you really believe that?”
Biddeford said nothing.
“Okay,” said Norman. “Have it your own way. If you want to play dumb I can keep on going until the penny drops.”
He stepped back to give Biddeford some space, but kept himself in between him and the door.
“Now where was I,” he began again. “Oh yes. The mystery of how that SUV got up to that car park. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but as I understand it, Dave made you recapture the flasher while he went to stir up the others, right?”
Biddeford was staring hard at a spot on the floor. He said nothing, his thoughts roiling in his head.
“Just for the record, I would have done exactly the same thing,” he added. “You let the guy escape, so you get the unpleasant job of re-capturing him. If he happened to be spraying jungle juice around, well, hard luck. If you hadn’t let him get away… Well, you get my drift.”
Biddeford reddened a bit more, recalling how Dick Waver had escaped from the police station.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Norman said, clearly wanting to get this over with. “When Slater got back to the car, would you say his mood had changed?”
“I suppose,” agreed Biddeford, moodily.
“Shall I tell you why?”
“You’re going to anyway, so why not get on with it,” snapped Biddeford.
“He came back in a shitty mood because he had discovered one of his colleagues shagging away in the back of that SUV,” said Norman, raising his voice. “He was in a shitty mood because he hates to see people with good prospects throwing their lives away. He was in a shitty mood because that colleague had offered to have sex with him, there and then in the back of that car, if he kept quiet about what he’d seen.”
There was a sudden silence in the room. Norman was breathing heavily. Biddeford looked down at the floor and shook his head in disbelief.
“No,” he said. “That might be what he told you, but it wasn’t like that. She’s not like that. She wouldn’t…”
“Listen to yourself,” said Norman. “‘She’s not like that’. Do you really believe that? She didn’t take long to get you between the sheets, did she?”
“So why didn’t he report her?” said Biddeford, becoming more and more desperate.
“Because he’s a decent guy and not the arsehole you’re trying to make him out to be. He told her to take a few days off sick and think about her future. He can’t ignore what he saw, but he’s torn between doing his duty and saving her from a whole lot of humiliation, so he’s giving her a chance to resign without a scandal and sort herself out.
“Now, however, thanks to you, he will probably have to make an official report to prove he’s innocent. He might even tell Murray how you let the flasher escape, too.”
Biddeford sank even lower in his seat at the mention of the flasher’s escape.
“Yeah,” said Norman. “That�
�s something else he kept quiet about to save a colleague from humiliation. But of course, you’re right, the man really is a complete arsehole.”
There was another long silence. Biddeford didn’t know what to say. He felt sick to his stomach about the whole thing. Have I really been such a fool?
“D’you believe in karma?” asked Norman. “You know, the idea that what goes around comes around? Because that’s what’s happening here, to you, right now. And this has to be the fastest it’s ever happened. And all for an easy lay. Congratulations you friggin’ idiot.”
Biddeford felt wretched as he went over what Norman told him. Had he really been so gullible?
“I’ve been such a fool,” he said, eventually.
“You think so?” asked Norman, his voice loaded with several tons of irony.
“I’ll go and see Dave and apologise-”
“You will do no such thing,” said Norman. “Your instructions, from Bob Murray, via me, are to keep away from Dave Slater. As of now, you are under my command and you will do as I say. Understand?”
Biddeford looked unhappily at Norman, but he could see there was no point in arguing. He nodded his agreement.
“My orders are to make sure you keep as far away from Dave Slater as possible. Anyway, do you really think he wants to hear your lame excuses right now? You will do the sensible thing and keep away from him and keep out of his way for a few days.”
“But, what about the murder inquiry?”
“You seem to have forgotten you walked off the job this morning,” said Norman. “You’re no longer a part of that inquiry. But I’ve got a nice little counterfeiting operation you can look into. It’ll keep you busy until your transfer.”
“But I didn’t mean anything by that. I’ll withdraw the request.”
“I think you’ll find it’s too late for that,” said Norman. “Bob Murray doesn’t go much for people who act without thinking, and he doesn’t like shit stirrers. You qualify on both counts. The best thing you can do is make a good job of this counterfeit investigation and then maybe he won’t give you a crappy reference.”
Biddeford now saw the enormity of what he’d done, and he knew it was all his own doing. Norman was right, he’d been thinking with his dick. He couldn’t even blame Phillipa Flight, really. She had told him she didn’t want him to make it official. If only she’d told him why. But then, how could she? And all those terrible things he’d said about Dave Slater. Oh God, what a mess. How could he have been so stupid?
He hung his head in despair, trying to stop himself from crying. He felt Norman pat him on the shoulder.
“Go home, son,” he said. “Report to me in the morning at nine and I’ll get you up to speed with the counterfeit case. You’ll have to work on your own I’m afraid. The rest of us are a bit busy right now.”
Biddeford shuffled sadly from the room, feeling utterly broken. He had no idea what his career had in store from him now. How could he have been so bloody stupid?
Chapter 26
As Norman had done all the work preparing the briefing, Slater thought it only right he should take a back seat and let him lead it as well. As his colleague began to speak, Slater looked around the room at what was left of their rapidly diminishing team. With Flight and Biddeford both missing, they were all going to have to work a little harder and be a little more resourceful.
“We feel we had something of a breakthrough yesterday. We spoke to the guy who led the removals team, and also to the taxi driver who picked up Sandra and her daughter the day she disappeared. In both cases, it seems the woman fits the description of attractive, blonde, long legs, etc.
“However, the removals guy talks about a very nice, friendly lady who couldn’t stop thanking them for all their help. The taxi driver remembers someone with a snotty attitude who didn’t know how to say thank you. That’s interesting, but if it was Sandra and she was running away, that could be a stressful enough situation to put her in a bad mood.
“But, when it comes to the little girl, it gets very interesting. One description says she’s a shy little girl with loads of freckles and long, straight, ginger hair.” Norman pointed to the board showing Rose’s photograph. “That’s a match for the Rose Bressler shown here. The other description from the taxi driver says she was a chatterbox who never stopped talking and had curly ginger hair and no freckles at all.”
Norman stopped for a sip of coffee, and there was silence around the room as Slater watched them all taking in this latest revelation.
“I hope you can see where this is leading? We’re now beginning to think Sandra and Rose may have already been murdered by the time the taxi driver made that trip to Gatwick airport. We think he picked up a pair of lookalikes to make everyone think they’d run away.”
There was a small ripple of excitement around the room.
Norman looked across at Slater.
“Have you got anything you want to add?”
Slater nodded.
“You all have tasks to try and finish today, and I know you’re all working hard to do that, but if you’re waiting for someone to get back to you, don’t. Get on to them and hassle them for all your worth. We made a big step forward yesterday, but we need more evidence to back up this theory. It is out there, we’ve just got to find it. We’re getting close to giving Sandra’s mother some answers. Let’s make sure we do.”
“So, how did the date go last night?” asked Norman as they were tidying up after everyone had gone. He hoped that Jelena had managed to put a smile on Slater’s face, after the day he had had.
“It wasn’t a date,” said Slater.
“It wasn’t?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I thought Jelena was chasing after you, begging you to take her out.”
“It wasn’t Jelena,” said Slater. “It was Cindy Maine.”
Norman looked at Slater in disbelief.
“Are you nuts? You can’t start dating her. She’s involved in our murder case. Or had you forgotten that?”
“Just hang on a minute,” said Slater. “Before you start accusing me of a doing a Biddeford and thinking with my groin, let me explain.”
“I think you’d better.”
“When I bumped into her at the supermarket I gave her my card, just as I would have given it to anyone else who I thought might be able to give us information. Just as you would if you were in a similar situation.”
“Okay. That’s fair enough,” Norman said. “I can’t argue with that.”
“She called me yesterday, not long before you picked me up,” Slater continued. “She said she wanted to talk to me, and could we meet somewhere.”
“If she wanted to talk about the case you should have told me,” said Norman. “You know the problems these one-to-one interviews can cause.”
“It wasn’t an interview, Norm. And she didn’t want to talk about the case. It was just two lonely people wanting someone to talk to.”
“Now it sounds like a date.” Norman sighed. “I told you last time you met her you need to be careful. How do you know Bressler hasn’t put her up to it?”
“The same way you know I’m not a rapist,” snapped Slater. “For your information, I have explained to Cindy that I can’t date her all the time she might be involved in this case, no matter how small that involvement might be.”
“You have?” asked Norman in surprise.
“Yes, I have. Do you really think I’d be that stupid after what happened yesterday?”
Norman considered this for a moment.
“No. You’re right. Of course you wouldn’t. I’m sorry,” said Norman, contritely. “But I’m not trying to treat you like an idiot. I’m just looking out for you, watching your back.”
“And I appreciate that, Norm, really I do, but you don’t have to worry about me and Cindy. Scout’s honour.”
“Me and Cindy? What about you and Jelena?”
“There is no me and Jelena, and there
isn’t going to be. There’s something inside me that says I should steer clear of her. I can’t tell you why.”
“You don’t have to tell me why. You have to listen to your gut instincts, right? If your gut says no, that’s good enough for me.”
They carried on shuffling papers in silence, but Norman’s curiosity was getting the better of him.
“So, you think you might date Cindy when this is over?” asked Norman.
“I think that could happen,” said Slater, shortly.
“You like her, then?” Norman was determined to tease the information out of him.
Slater gave him a dirty look.
“Look,” he said. “I like Cindy. She’s warm, she’s funny, and, and… I just like her, okay?”
“Oh my,” said Norman, with a grin. “She has that ‘indefinable quality’. Now that’s serious.”
“It’s not serious,” said Slater irritably. “I just like her that’s all.”
“Look,” said Norman, soothingly. “I’m just teasing. If she makes you happy, Dave, then I think that’s great. Just be careful. I know it’s unlikely, but she could still be involved in this case.”
“I know that only too well, Norm. And she did offer a couple of snippets of information last night that might be useful.”
“Well, come on. What snippets?”
“First of all, she thinks Bressler’s for real. According to her, he wouldn’t hurt a fly, and he especially wouldn’t have hurt Sandra.”
“Yeah,” said Norman. “But then he would ask her to say that, wouldn’t he?”
“Okay,” said Slater, patiently. “So you think she’s just doing as he says. Fine. We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that one.”
“So what was the second point?” urged Norman, aware that he was probably annoying Slater, but also aware they couldn’t afford to trust anyone right now.
“The second thing is that the first girlfriend he had after Sandra was around earlier than he told us. Cindy thinks she may even have been around before Sandra disappeared.”