by Ford, P. F.
“It’s a gift I seem to have been blessed with,” Norman said, clearly doing his best to look modest.
“So how did you get on this morning, Jane?” asked Slater, returning them to more official business.
“Two witnesses both claim to have recognised Sarah,” she said. “They say she came in asking for Rodgers.”
“Aha,” said Slater. “Now we’re getting somewhere. He didn’t see you, did he?”
“You picked the right day,” she said. “It’s his morning off.”
“Now that’s gotta be a good sign,” Norman said, smiling. “Maybe our luck’s starting to change at last.”
“It gets better. They also say they saw him take her into his office.”
“Oh yeah.” Slater liked the way this was going. “Better, and better still.”
He turned to Norman.
“If Steve can prove, from that fuel log, that Rodgers was flying the night Sarah was killed, he’s got a lot of explaining to do, don’t you think?”
“I sure do,” said Norman. “You can expect us to be looking very closely at that just as soon as I get back.”
Lindy Fellows was remarkably calm when they arrived at her house. There was a trace of alarm when Norman waved the search warrant in her face, but it didn’t seem to dent her calm facade for long. While Slater and Norman began their search, and PC Jolly made tea, Lindy Fellows sat quietly at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper.
Slater was pretty sure she had been expecting them. He was quite sure he could guess who had tipped her off, too.
“Just a bit too laid back, don’t you think?” Norman asked him as they made their way through the lounge.
“She knew we were coming.”
“But she wasn’t expecting the search warrant,” Norman said. “I’m sure she will have been told to hide anything obvious, so I don’t know what we can expect to find, but there’s got to be some sort of clue here somewhere.”
“He’ll have told her to hide things, for sure.” Slater sighed, irritated. “You start down here, I’ll take upstairs.”
Their search didn’t take very long, and it didn’t reveal anything seriously incriminating. But then, Slater didn’t really think it would. However, there’s only so much you can hide in a short time, and there was more than enough evidence on display to suggest Bressler was a regular visitor
“Did you find what you were looking for?” asked Fellows, as Slater and Norman came back into the kitchen.
“I would have to know exactly what I was looking for to be able to answer that question,” replied Slater. “But I can say it was quite a revealing search.”
“Find some items of interest in my underwear drawer, did you?” she asked. “I hope you haven’t helped yourself to anything.”
“There was nothing in there that would fit me.” Slater knew she was trying to goad him. “But I did find some men’s underwear in the drawer below. There were items of interest in your wardrobe, too. Like men’s shirts, jackets, and trousers. And, of course, there’s all the shaving stuff in the bathroom.”
“I sometimes have men friends come to stay,” she explained.
“And would these friends all happen to be the same size, in their late 50s, about six feet two inches tall, and keeping themselves in good condition?”
“I like all my boyfriends to be in good condition,” she replied. “Size is immaterial, and age is just a number. As long as they can do the business, that’s all that matters to me.”
“They’re Bressler’s clothes, aren’t they?” Norman asked.
“I’ve told you. I have men friends who come and stay.”
“So you’ll be able to give me their names.” Slater produced a notebook and pencil, and made a big show of looking expectant.
“I’ll do no such thing,” she snapped. “My private life has nothing to do with you.”
“We could quite easily carry on this conversation down at the station if you prefer,” said Slater. “You might want to think about that.”
“Look,” said Norman. “We know you and Bressler were doing much more than just attending conferences together. Dr McCall told us how he fell out with Bressler over your affair.”
“Dr McCall is an-”
“Old fool,” interrupted Slater. “Yeah, we know. That’s exactly what Bressler said, and I bet that’s what he told you to say.”
“I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again.” Lindy Fellows looked furious now. “I didn’t start sleeping with Rudy Bressler until a few months after Sandra left him. I lived with him for five years and then we split up. You know about this stupid contract of his. That’s all I was, just another Sandra substitute. I haven’t seen Rudy in years.”
“But you speak to him regularly,” said Slater. “We’ve seen his phone records.”
“He wants us to get back together,” she said, sighing wearily. “He keeps calling me about it. Quite honestly, he’s becoming a pest.”
“And you’re not interested?” asked Norman.
“What? And become Sandra substitute number five, or whatever number he’s on now? I don’t think so.”
“Surely you’d be too old for that role now.”
Slater winced inwardly at Norman’s remark. It had obviously been designed to get under her skin. He decided to step in before she could recover herself enough to reply.
“I see you have a pilot’s licence,” he said.
“That’s not illegal now, is it?” She grimaced, still looking daggers at Norman.
“Do you have a plane?”
“Good heavens, no,” she said, laughing. “Now that would be an extravagance. If I get the urge to fly, I hire one from Trapworth airfield. So much more sense. Anyway, what’s my being able to fly got to do with anything?”
“One of our victims was pushed from a light aircraft,” said Norman. “So having a pilot’s licence has quite a lot to do with anything.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, with great irony. “Now I understand why you’re poking your noses so far into my private life. You see me as a murder suspect. How exciting.”
She clapped her hands together.
“I’m really flattered to receive all this attention,” she said, sighing theatrically. “But I’m afraid you’re looking at the wrong girl. I haven’t flown for at least three months.”
She frowned.
“In fact,” she said, “it might be even longer than three months. I honestly can’t remember. But I’m sure I’d remember if I had pushed someone from an airplane in flight, don’t you think?”
The last few words were spat out, and Slater let the silence hang in the air for a few moments before speaking.
“Who’s the nice looking girl in the photo?” he asked, nodding towards a graduation photo on the kitchen dresser.
“That’s my niece,” Lindy said. “Please tell me you’re not going to accuse her of murdering someone.”
“Pretty girl,” said Slater, ignoring the comment. “When did she graduate?”
“Last year.”
“Was it a real degree, or one of those cop out ones, like media studies, that aren’t worth tuppence because there are so many of them?”
“Oh no,” said Lindy, proudly. “Melanie’s a very bright girl. She speaks six different languages.”
“Good university?” asked Slater.
“Doesn’t get better than Cambridge, does it?” she said, smiling proudly.
“When we get back, Jane,” said Slater, turning to Jolly in the back of the car as they pulled away from Lindy Fellows’ house. “can you-”
“Check out the niece?” finished Jolly.
“Now why would I want you to do that?” Slater asked, teasingly.
“Because she has pale skin and ginger hair,” said Jolly. “And if she’s just graduated, she would have been about the same age as Rose Bressler.”
“You have a very suspicious mind, Mrs Jolly,” said Norman. “You’d make a great police officer.”
“Flattery won’t get you anyw
here, you know.” But she smiled, sweetly. “I’m still not cleaning this mobile rubbish tip for you. Besides, I’m already a great police officer.”
“And so modest with it,” Norman said, grinning back at her.
“All joking aside,” Slater said, keen to continue the train of thought he had embarked on. “If Bressler and Fellows murdered Sandra and Rose, they could easily have staged the runaway. Pack some bags, substitute Fellows and her niece for Sandra and Rose, then call a taxi company who won’t know them from Adam.”
“As far as anyone knows,” Norman said, “a mother and daughter, matching the descriptions of Sandra and Rose, took a taxi to Gatwick airport and then disappeared. Perfect.”
Chapter 34
As soon as they got back to the station, they split up. Norman hurried off to find out if Steve Biddeford had figured out a flight pattern yet.
Slater returned to the incident room. Something was bothering him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. He was hoping it would jump out at him once he got back to his desk. Jane Jolly said she was going to start searching for Lindy Fellows’ niece.
It was gone 5pm before Slater realised what was troubling him. Jolly was still working at her desk so he wandered across.
“Jane? Have you managed to track down the second ‘Sandra substitute’ yet?”
“If you mean Terry Evans, I’m afraid not. Every search has turned up a blank so far. To be honest, you said she probably wouldn’t have any relevant information, so she’s not exactly been high priority. Do you want me to make it a priority now?”
“How are you doing on Lindy’s niece?” asked Slater. “I think she’s more important right now.”
Jolly’s face broke into a broad grin.
“You’ve found her already, haven’t you?” He laughed, shaking his head. She really was proving to be an extremely efficient and useful member of the team.
“It wasn’t hard, was it?” She smiled at him again. “I already knew which university to start from, and there aren’t that many Melanies, with ginger hair, who were studying languages and graduated with honours last year.”
“You’re a genius PC Jolly,” said Slater.
“I’m going to call her in a minute. Do you want me to arrange for someone to go and interview her?” she asked.
“Why don’t you arrange to go and interview her yourself.” Slater thought she had more than proven herself capable of the task. “It’ll be good experience for you. If you want to, of course.”
“Are you sure I can handle it?” she asked.
“Of course you can handle it. It’ll be a piece of cake for you, Jane,” he said to her as he headed out of the room. “A piece of cake.”
Out in the corridor, he almost collided with Norman and Biddeford, who were clearly rushing off somewhere. Slater gave Biddeford a curt nod. The younger man nodded back, but looked as if he would rather have been anywhere else right at that moment.
“Where are you rushing off to?” he asked Norman.
“Time to drag your friend, Rodney Rodgers, in for a little chat,” Norman said. “Steve’s worked out his flight pattern to within a couple of days each time. We can’t prove conclusively that he was in the air that night, but it’s near enough for us to be asking some serious questions. We’re going to ask him to come down and give us some answers.”
“Good work,” Slater said to Biddeford. It had been good work, but he still felt pretty bitter about the man’s accusations about him to Bob Murray. He turned back to Norman.
“When you get back we need to talk. I’ve got a nasty feeling about something and I’d like your opinion.”
“I can bring Rodgers in, if you like,” said Biddeford. “I’m sure I can find a uniform, or two, to take with me.”
“Now that sounds like a plan,” Norman said.
“So what’s worrying you?” asked Norman, looking intently at Slater.
He and Slater were grabbing a quick meal in the canteen. It would be a while before Biddeford returned with Rodgers and readied him for an interview and Norman didn’t fancy having the added background sound effects of his stomach rumbling away while they were asking questions.
“We haven’t found Terry Evans yet,” said Slater. “And that’s beginning to worry me.”
Norman chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of pasta.
“She hasn’t come up in any of the searches?” he asked.
“Not so far,” said Slater.
“There could be any number of reasons for that. Maybe she doesn’t want to be found,” Norman pointed out, spearing a piece of pasta with his fork.
“Or maybe she’s just not out there to be found,” Slater said, shrugging.
“We have no reason to think that.”
“If Sandra was murdered, and Terry was a Sandra substitute, I think we have plenty of reason to think it’s a possibility,” Slater said, sighing.
“But Lindy was replacement number one, and she didn’t get murdered,” said Norman.
“But suppose Lindy was never a real substitute.” Slater leant back in his chair. “What if she was always the mistress and Bressler could never see her as anything else?”
“I’m not entirely sure I agree with you, but it is a possibility,” Norman said, through a mouthful of pasta. “I guess we need to step up the search. It’s a pity we don’t have a few more bodies.”
They chewed in silence for a while, before Norman spoke again.
“So what do you think we really have here?” he asked.
“How d’you mean?” asked Slater.
“Well, we have three suspects, but we’re not really sure who’s done what, and who they’ve done it to.”
“I get what you’re saying,” Slater said. “But we know we have three dead bodies for sure, and a fourth person is so far unaccounted for. And we know our three suspects are all guilty of something. We suspect it’s the murder of Sarah Townley, and Sandra and Rose Bressler. All we have to work out is who used the axe and who pushed someone out of an airplane. Simples.”
“Only it’s not ‘simples’ is it?” Norman sighed, obviously frustrated. “Is there a link between all three? I can see how Bressler and Fellows could have set up Sandra and bumped her off. And I understand how Rose would have been collateral damage in that set up.
“And I can see why they would have needed to get rid of Sarah if she had turned up knowing their little secret. But I can’t see where Rodgers fits in, can you?”
“Maybe there isn’t a connection. Perhaps we’ve allowed ourselves to believe there can’t be a coincidence when there actually is one.”
Slater chewed his pasta as he watched Norman take this in.
“So you’re saying we built a box to think in,” he said. “And now you’re demonstrating how clever you are by thinking outside of it and coming up with a theory. I’m impressed.”
He grinned and nodded his approval.
“Okay DS Clever Dick,” Norman said, smiling at Slater. “Let’s hear this theory of yours.”
“I think we’re agreed on the first part,” Slater said. “Bressler and Fellows murdered Sandra and Rose so they can get together. We’ve got motive, we’ve got opportunity. We’ve even got a suspect who’s shown us she’s very handy with an axe. That’s the easy bit.”
He took a slurp of coffee before he continued.
“Now, the problem we’ve had is that we’ve always assumed Sarah had somehow worked out who killed Rose, and she’d come down here to confront them. QED, whoever killed Sandra also killed Sarah, right?”
Norman nodded his agreement.
“But what if our assumption was wrong? What if Sarah hadn’t figured out who the murderer was but instead had sussed out Rose’s real father was Rodgers? What if she came down here to confront him?”
“But would he murder her for that?” asked Norman. “I mean it’s not exactly a big deal in the grand scheme of things, is it? Fifty years ago it would have been a scandal, but now it happens all the time. And don
’t forget – Sarah was given that paralysing injection. Would an idiot like Rodgers know how to do that?”
“People know how to give injections,” Slater said. “It’s not that hard is it?”
“I disagree. Not everyone knows how to give an injection. But every doctor knows how to do it, and we have two to choose from.”
“Yeah, true.” Slater had to admit, Norman had a point. “But then how did she come to drop from the sky?”
“You’re forgetting Fellows has a pilot’s licence,” said Norman.
“But the kid only heard one airplane that night, and we already have Rodgers down as the pilot. What are the chances of there being a second rogue pilot out at the same time, on the same night, from the same airfield, and he didn’t hear it?”
“I think this is gonna be a long night.” Norman sighed and Slater thought he looked tired. “There are so many ifs, buts and maybes concerning these murders.”
“But there is an added bonus,” added Slater. “We also get the chance to learn why our friend Rod is so keen to break the rules and fly at night. Maybe we’ll even get to find out who’s behind it all.”
“Yeah. We need to figure out how we’re gonna play this. Who’s going to interview whom?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Slater. “Here’s what I suggest…”
Ten minutes later, meals finished, strategy agreed, they got up from their table and headed for the door. Slater was ready to roll. His mobile phone started to ring – it was Ian Becks.
“We’re just getting prepared to start hauling people in and interviewing them,” said Slater.
“Well this might be useful information, then. Depending on whom you’re going to interview, of course.”
“Well come on then, let’s hear it.” Slater was impatient to get started. “But make it the short version, because I haven’t got a lot of time, right now.”
“I thought mates always had time for each other,” said Becks, obviously trying to sound hurt.
“Not when we’ve got the first suspect nearly ready and the clock’s ticking,” said Slater. “When this is all over I’ll buy you a pint and you can talk to me all night, but not right now.”