by Ford, P. F.
The Tribune’s office occupied a small shop front just off the High Street. A bell rang as Slater opened the door and walked in. The first face he saw behind the counter was that of Danny Trent. The dirty look Danny gave him suggested his attitude hadn’t improved since his visit to the police station.
‘Hello, Danny,’ he said. ‘I’m here to see Rita.’
‘Who shall I say is calling?’ asked Danny sulkily.
Slater thought about rising to the bait, but then thought better of it. He didn’t need this.
‘Dave Slater,’ was all he said.
Danny picked up a phone from beneath the counter and pressed a button.
‘It’s the fuzz,’ he said into the phone, but from the way his expression changed and his face began to redden, Slater guessed the boss had been none too pleased with his comment. The boy turned away from him as the dressing down was delivered over the phone.
‘Okay. Right. I’m sorry,’ a chastened Danny said into the phone.
He replaced the phone and then turned back to face Slater.
‘She’s coming right down,’ he mumbled.
‘Thank you,’ said Slater, with an evil grin.
He could have said a lot more, but it looked as though Rita had said more than enough to put the youngster in his place. There was the sound of a door closing somewhere behind the counter and then Rita appeared.
‘Thank you, Danny,’ she said, giving him a withering look. ‘You can go and have a cup of tea now.’
He was obviously disappointed at being excluded from this conversation but he reluctantly did as she asked and made his way towards the door and the back of the shop.
‘Hi,’ Rita said, focusing a beaming smile at Slater. ‘I called you as soon as I realised what it was.’
She placed a padded delivery envelope on the counter before him. It had been opened.
‘It was addressed to me, so I opened it,’ she explained. ‘Then I read the letter inside and I thought I’d better call you.’
She pushed the letter across to him. As she had said, it was addressed to her, and the message was short and to the point.
‘Please hand the enclosed CD to the police’, it said. It was signed ‘Dylan Winter’.
Slater peered into the padded envelope. The CD was inside.
‘Do you know where it’s come from?’ asked Slater, looking at the front of the envelope.
‘Oh yes. It’s on the back,’ she said.
He turned over the envelope and there was a return address, neatly printed across the back. It was a London address, but it meant nothing to him.
‘Have you any idea who these people are?’ he asked.
‘I googled it while I was waiting for you to arrive,’ she said. ‘They’re some sort of backup service, but I’m not exactly sure how it works. Do you think what’s inside is important? It seems Mr Winter went to a lot of trouble to make sure this got to you.’
‘I think it’s probably a bit more than a greetings card.’
‘It’s that all you can tell me?’ asked Rita, looking him right in the eye. ‘That seems rather unfair. First you tell me I can’t report a murder in my own town, and now you won’t even tell me what’s going on. I could have made a copy of that CD, but I did the right thing and called you.’
Slater studied her face for a moment. He thought she looked honest enough, and he had no reason to doubt her word.
‘You know I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation with you,’ he said. ‘It’s more than my job’s worth.’
‘But it’s a big story, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘If I’m helping you to solve a murder I think it’s only right I should get the lowdown on what’s going on, not some sleazeball reporter from London. This should be my story, not his.’
‘Rippon helped us with stuff that we didn’t know.’ Slater felt he had to explain.
‘I bet I’ve just helped you a whole lot more.’
‘I won’t know that until I’ve had a chance to look at it.’
Slater was feeling rather awkward. He knew she had a point about the local press and the local story, and he actually agreed with her. But it was a delicate and difficult situation. He needed both Rita and Rippon on their side.
‘There’s nothing to stop me printing the story about the murder,’ she argued.
‘Please don’t do that yet,’ he pleaded.
‘So when do I get to print it?’
‘I promise you’ll be the first to know,’ he said. ‘Now, please can I get on and see what’s in this envelope?’
He picked up the envelope and turned to go.
‘I’m going to keep on at you, you know. This is a big story in a little town like this, and I want to be the one who prints it first.’
‘And you will be,’ he said. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
As Slater made his way out of the shop, Danny Trent came back from his tea break.
‘Look after the counter until lunchtime please, Danny,’ she said, as she turned to go back upstairs. ‘Then you can come back upstairs with me.’
‘Okay,’ he said cheerily. ‘Whatever you say.’
He waited until he was sure she’d gone, then he picked up the phone and keyed a number from memory.
‘PC Jolly,’ announced Jolly into the phone on her desk.
‘It’s John Hunter here,’ said the voice in her ear. ‘How’s Tinton’s favourite PC? Have you been anywhere exciting this week?’
‘Only if you count a derelict orphanage as exciting,’ said Jolly, warming straight away to his charm. ‘What can I do for you, Mr Hunter?’
‘It appears Mr Winter’s missing sister is alive and well and about to pay me a visit.’
‘That’s interesting,’ said Jolly. ‘I’ve not been able to trace the slightest sign of her.’
‘Well, she’s going to be here in the flesh, around ten-thirty the day after tomorrow,’ said Hunter. ‘Sergeant Slater said he wanted to be here if she turned up. Is that still the case?’
‘Oh, definitely,’ Jolly assured the solicitor. ‘Either DS Slater or DS Norman will be there. We need to check this woman’s credentials very carefully because we believe the real sister is alive and well and not far away from here, and she has been all the time.’
‘That’s brilliant news,’ said Hunter. ‘But, are you sure?’
‘Not certain yet,’ said Jolly. ‘But I spoke to her this morning and we have good reason to believe we’re right, so we don’t want some fake to deny this lady her rightful inheritance.’
‘Quite right,’ agreed Hunter. ‘But where did you find her?’
‘I can’t really tell you that,’ said Jolly. ‘But hopefully all will be revealed soon enough.’
‘Well I’ll be happy to help if I can. I can be very obstructive if I try,’ said Hunter, conspiratorially. ‘I’m sure I can find plenty of reasons to make life difficult for our fake sister if necessary.’
‘We do appreciate your help.’
‘No problem at all. By the way, have you made any progress with the break-in at old Mr Winter’s house? Sergeant Slater said you thought it was the same person who broke in here.’
‘I’m afraid we’ve drawn a blank so far. But I’m sure we’ll arrest someone eventually. Of course, trying to obtain an inheritance by deception is a criminal offence, so that’s one arrest we will be making.’
‘Sounds fun,’ said Hunter. ‘We could do with some excitement around here. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’
As she put the phone down, something was nagging away at Jolly, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Anyway, this was good news about the “sister”. They were making progress. If they could just get some proof from Florence that she was the real sister, they could put some pressure on this other woman. Maybe then they could find out who was behind all this.
Much as Slater wanted to find out what was on the CD in his pocket, his stomach was reminding him he’d had very little for breakfast, so he decided to head for the canteen as soon as he got back.
He hadn’t really been surprised to find Norman when he got there, and he listened as his colleague related the story of their meeting with Florence. It was disappointing they hadn’t been able to get much from her but perhaps tomorrow would be better. Norman had been as excited as he was at the arrival of the CD, and for once, it wasn’t difficult to get him out of the canteen and back up to the office.
‘I had an interesting phone call from John Hunter while you were out,’ Jolly announced when they trooped back into the office.
‘What did he want?’ asked Slater.
‘Remember he told us he couldn’t read the will because he couldn’t find the missing sister?’
‘Uh, huh.’
‘Well, it appears she’s alive and well, and got herself a solicitor of her own.’
‘So where’s she been hiding away?’ asked Slater.
‘He didn’t say, but apparently she knows all about the will. She’s coming down the day after tomorrow, in the morning, and she’s demanding to have it read as soon as she arrives.’
‘This all a bit sudden, isn’t it?’ asked Norman.
‘I’m curious to know how they can be sure it’s her if she’s been missing for years,’ said Jolly. ‘I did a quick search and I couldn’t find a single trace of her. Doesn’t she need to prove who she is first?’
‘Presumably she intends to do that when she arrives,’ suggested Slater.
‘It’s all very convenient, isn’t it?’ asked Norman.
‘That’s why Hunter called,’ said Jolly. ‘He thinks he can smell a rat, but he doesn’t know what he can do about it.’
‘That makes sense to me.’ Norman nodded slowly. ‘I think I can smell a rat, and I haven’t even spoken to the woman.’
‘John Hunter wondered if one of you two could insist on being there,’ said Jolly.
‘Insist?’ asked Slater.
‘He said maybe you could use the excuse that you need to make sure she understands she can’t have access to the house yet. He thinks if you stress this is a murder investigation, she really can’t object without looking suspicious.’
‘Can we do that?’ Slater asked Norman.
‘We can try. But I’m not sure where we stand if they insist we have to leave before the will’s read.’
‘I’m sure I can come up with some bullshit reason why I have to be there,’ said Slater. ‘In the meantime, let’s see what’s on this CD.’
He removed the CD from its envelope, and, handling it as if it were the Crown Jewels, he placed it carefully on the desk. He slid open the drawer of his PC and slipped the CD into place. The anticipation was rising inside him. This CD could hold the key to the whole mystery.
‘Oh, bollocks!’ he cried, staring at the screen in disbelief. ‘Can you believe it? He’s password protected the bloody thing! What’s the point in sending it to us and then making it impossible to read?’
‘Let’s think about this.’ Norman came over to stand behind Slater. ‘He went to a lot of trouble to make sure this reached us, right? Now would you go to all that trouble and then set a password that couldn’t be cracked?’
‘Of course not,’ said Jolly, coming over to join them. ‘So it has to be something we’re going to be able to figure out quite easily.’
‘Well, I’m open to suggestions,’ said Slater. ‘Because, right now, I’m clean out of ideas.’
‘Maybe it’s something we should have found in his house,’ suggested Jolly.
‘Was that before, or after it was hit by a tornado?’ asked Slater, referring to the second break-in.
‘Good point,’ said Norman. ‘But maybe it’s a bit more obvious. What about the dog’s name, Dougie? People often use their pets’ names as passwords.’
Slater typed in the dog’s name, first in upper case, then lower case, and then in a combination of the two, but it was no use.
‘I’m concerned there might be a limit on how many goes I can have at this before I get locked out,’ said Slater. ‘That would be a disaster.’
‘Now that’s something to think about,’ Norman said, nodding.
‘There’s never a bloody geek around when you want one,’ complained Slater. ‘If we have to send the damned thing off it could be weeks before we get it back.’
‘Maybe I should take it up to Vinnie,’ said Norman.
‘Who’s Vinnie?’ asked Jolly.
‘Ah!’ Norman looked awkward. ‘You didn’t hear that, Jane.’
Slater had turned round and was glaring at him. He mouthed a ‘sorry’.
‘Have I stumbled across something I shouldn’t know about?’ Jolly looked between Slater and Norman.
‘Vinnie’s a secret weapon of ours,’ explained Slater. ‘You know it can take weeks to get anything IT related done the official way, right?’
Jolly nodded.
‘Well,’ he continued, ‘Vinnie is our fast track way of getting geeky stuff done. The thing is, he’s unofficial, and if we get caught using him we could get into some deep doo-doos.’
‘So he’s a sort of high tech version of picking locks,’ said Jolly, before adding quickly, ‘Which a police officer would never do, of course. Yes, I can relate to that. Good for you. If it saves time and red tape I’m all for it.’
‘But it goes no further,’ said Norman. ‘You can’t tell anyone else about it, right?’
‘Can’t tell anyone about what?’ Jolly beamed at him.
‘We’ll make a detective out of you yet,’ said Norman, looking proud.
He looked pointedly at Slater.
‘So what do you think?’
‘I dunno,’ said Slater, who found Vinnie difficult to get on with. ‘Do we have time for that?’
‘That depends how much time we’re going to waste trying to guess the password,’ argued Norman. ‘That’s assuming we don’t trigger some failsafe system and end up being locked out forever.’
Slater turned the idea over and over in his mind.
‘If I go now, I could be back by morning,’ said Norman.
‘And if he doesn’t crack it?’ asked Slater.
‘I’ll eat humble pie and you can gloat for weeks to come.’
Slater pressed the eject button and the drawer popped out. He slipped the CD back into its sleeve and handed it to Norman.
‘I’ll give these people who sent it to Rita a ring and see what I can find out from them,’ he said.
‘I’m gone,’ said Norman, slipping the envelope into his pocket. He turned to Jolly. ‘I’ll see you here in the morning same as today, right? We’ll go back out to Hatton House and see what Florence has to say.’
Chapter 19
It had been snowing overnight and next morning everything was covered in a good two inches of the stuff. And it was cold; Norman shivered as his breath filled the air around their heads.
‘I take it from your downbeat mood this morning that your friend Vinnie didn’t crack the password,’ said Jolly, her words creating a visible vapour trail, as they trudged along the old towpath.
‘It never occurred to me that he might be away,’ Norman said, sighing and forming his own word cloud. ‘Good job I phoned him before I drove up there, or I would have wasted the whole night.’
‘What did Dave say?’
‘Ha!’ Norman smiled. ‘Him and Vinnie don’t get on, so he’s torn between being disappointed that we don’t have the password and pleased that he doesn’t have to thank Vinnie for helping us out.’
‘Why doesn’t he like him?’ asked Jolly.
‘Oh you know Dave. He finds it difficult to deal with people who are too sure of themselves, and Vinnie is confident to the point of arrogance. I guess it’s because he’s out of his depth with all the geeky stuff that Vinnie finds so simple. The guy’s a genius and he knows it. I guess he makes Dave feel inadequate or something.’
‘It’s funny,’ said Jolly. ‘I never thought of him lacking confidence until we went to the school together. He really struggled with the kids at first.’
‘But
I bet he was okay once he was the one stood at the front giving the talk,’ said Norman.
‘Yes, that’s right, he was,’ agreed Jolly.
‘He likes to be in control of the situation. That’s why he finds the unexpected difficult to deal with. He doesn’t like change. I wonder how he’s gonna cope when Bob Murray leaves and they start shaking things up at work.’
‘You think they will change things?’
‘They have to,’ said Norman. ‘Tinton’s run like it’s still the sixties. Once Murray goes they’ll send in a new broom, you wait and see.’
‘Is the old man definitely leaving then?’ asked Jolly.
‘I didn’t tell you this,’ said Norman, ‘but they’ve asked for volunteers to take redundancy and he’s applied. I got the same letter, but I’d have nothing to do if I quit. But Murray’s different. He sees it as his free ticket from hell. He can’t wait to go.’
They’d reached the woods at the back of Hatton House now, and it was time to split up.
‘Make sure you keep that switched on.’ Norman pointed to the small radio in Jolly’s top pocket. ‘It’s got a range of about 100 yards so I should be able to hear everything you say through my earpiece. If you need me just say so. I’ll probably walk about a bit to keep warm, but I won’t be far, okay?’
‘Okay,’ she said.
The path was difficult to make out in the snow, but she was soon gone from view. Norman was happy he could hear her breathing as she walked. They had agreed beforehand that he would avoid speaking so as not to frighten Florence. He would use a simple click switch unless there was some sort of emergency.
‘Can you hear me, Norm?’ she whispered in his earpiece.
He gave her a click.
‘She doesn’t seem to be here. There’s no sign of the dog either.’
Another click.
‘But the door’s ajar. I’m going to look inside.’
Over the radio, Norman could hear a door creak open.
‘There’s no one here. Even the wood-burner doesn’t seem to be lit. This isn’t right, Norm. I think you’d better get over here.’