Dave Slater Mystery Novels Box Set One

by Ford, P. F.

  ‘Hello, Dougal,’ said Slater. ‘It is ok if I call you Dougal, is it?’

  ‘You can call me whatever you like,’ said Ferguson without looking at Slater or Norman. ‘I’ve nothing to say to you.’

  ‘This is my colleague, DS Norman,’ continued Slater. ‘He’s working with me on the Hatton House case.’

  ‘We went up there and looked at the gardens,’ said Norman. ‘Someone’s been doing a great job looking after them. We figured it must be someone who knows what they’re doing, like a retired gardener, perhaps.’

  For the first time, Ferguson moved his gaze away from the sea. He turned and looked at Norman as if he was a gibbering idiot.

  ‘It’s all I can do to get from my room out to this bloody terrace, son,’ he said. ‘I’m dyin’ of the cancer. Do you really think I could get up there and look after a garden?’

  ‘I didn’t mean you,’ said Norman. ‘But maybe you had someone helping you back then.’

  ‘The only one I ever let help me in that garden was my wife, and then when she died I was on my own, until young Florence turned up. She loved the gardens. If she’s living there she’ll be the one taking care of the plants. She won’t need any help, she’s a natural.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Norman. ‘She must be even better than I thought.’

  ‘It’s time for you to start talking, Dougal,’ said Slater. ‘You can’t keep on saying nothing.’

  The old man returned his gaze to the sea once more.

  ‘D’you know what a cadaver dog is, Dougal?’ asked Norman.

  The old man didn’t appear to move, but Norman had spotted the slight, nervous, tic that briefly affected his right eye.

  ‘They’re amazing animals,’ said Norman. ‘Their noses are so sensitive they can detect a dead body underground. They can smell the decay. It’s incredible. We’ve got one that can even detect skeletons long after the body’s decomposed.’

  The tic worsened.

  ‘The thing is,’ confided Norman, ‘we’ve been searching the walled vegetable garden at Hatton House. You remember that walled garden, right? You’ll recall there’s a big old compost heap. Guess what one of our dogs has found under it?’

  The old man said nothing.

  ‘But then, we don’t think you need to guess what the dog found, do you, Dougal? You know exactly what that dog found, and you know whose body it is.’

  The old man sniffed a couple of times, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and pulled a huge handkerchief from his pocket. He blotted his eyes, but continued to stare out to sea.

  ‘I should deny it and tell you I know nothing,’ he said at last. ‘But I’ve carried that secret for fifty years and now I’m close to meeting my maker maybe it’s time to confess and get rid of my burden.’

  ‘Confess to what, Dougal?’ asked Slater. ‘Is this what you were telling me the other day? About how they had threatened to report you to the police?’

  ‘I didn’t kill her,’ said Ferguson, vehemently. ‘It was an accident. She slipped and fell, hit her head. It was just a terrible accident.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Norman. ‘Who are you talking about?’

  ‘My wife, of course,’ said Ferguson. ‘It would have been my word against theirs. I didn’t know what else to do, so I did as they said and buried her in the garden. If anyone asked I was to tell them she’d run away with another man.’

  ‘You buried your wife under a compost heap?’ asked Norman, aghast.

  ‘So what are you going to do about it?’ snapped Ferguson, turning to face Norman, clearly upset by the whole situation. ‘You want to throw me in jail? Fine. I’ll be dead in six months so what do I care?’

  ‘Just calm down, Dougal,’ said Slater. ‘No one’s going to throw you in jail. But you know it’s time you told us everything, don’t you?’

  The old man turned his gaze back to the sea.

  ‘Even now,’ said Slater, ‘fifty years on, people are still dying because of what went on back then. Do you think that’s right, Dougal? If you tell us what you know we can stop this before anyone else dies.’

  ‘You’ll have to arrest me,’ said Ferguson. ‘And even then you’ll be wastin’ your time. I’m telling you nothing. Now, what time is it?’

  ‘Coming up for three-thirty,’ said Norman.

  ‘They’ll be coming to take me in for my doctor’s appointment shortly. So you might as well be on your way.’

  ‘Tell me about Florence,’ said Slater.

  ‘There’s nothing to tell.’

  ‘What about The Magic Roundabout?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Dougal,’ said Norman, impatiently. ‘She had posters and toys. She was Florence, her brother was Dylan, and you’re Dougal. Was it her escape?’

  ‘What do you mean she had posters? You said she was Florence. What’s happened to her?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but she was murdered, Dougal,’ said Slater. ‘Bashed over the head and then dumped into the freezing canal. It was DS Norman, here, who found her.’

  ‘We think she was killed because someone thought she knew something and was going to talk,’ said Norman. ‘She had been hiding for the best part of fifty years. So what did she know that make her hide for all that time, and still get her killed?

  The old man said nothing, but he seemed to slump even lower in his seat. A tear slipped quietly from his eye and rolled slowly down his cheek.

  ‘Poor wee thing,’ he muttered.

  ‘Mr Ferguson,’ called an approaching female voice. ‘Come on inside now. Dr McKenzie’s here to see you.’

  ‘Can you help me to my feet?’ said Ferguson, turning to Slater. ‘I have to see the cancer doctor just now.’

  They helped him inside for his appointment and made their way back to the car.

  ‘So, what do we do now?’ asked Norman as they climbed in. ‘Poor old guy can hardly walk from A to B. If we arrest him there’s a good chance it might kill him.’

  ‘Yeah,’ sighed Slater. ‘I thought telling him about Florence might have been enough to tip him over the edge, you know?’

  ‘Perhaps it would have if that nurse hadn’t whisked him away at the vital moment,’ said Norman, gloomily.

  ‘Maybe he’ll feel different when he’s had time to think about it,’ suggested Slater. ‘He’s obviously scared of something, or someone, but there must be a tipping point. Perhaps we need to find a child’s body. Maybe then we would have a big enough lever to overcome his fear.’

  ‘I suppose he’s not going anywhere in the meantime, is he?’ agreed Norman.

  They had only been on the road for ten minutes when Slater’s mobile phone began to ring.

  ‘Hi Becksy, what have you got for us?’

  ‘Are you in the car?’ asked Becks.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Slater. ‘But I’m hands free so you’re alright. I’ve got Norm here too.’

  ‘Right,’ said Becks. ‘You wouldn’t believe the progress we’ve made this afternoon. I was expecting two forensic pathologists to arrive, but they’ve brought a small army of students with them.’

  ‘Sounds like chaos,’ said Norman.

  ‘These are keen students,’ said Becks, laughing. ‘They’ve come to learn, and they’re not frightened of hard work.’

  ‘So what have you found?’ asked Slater.

  ‘They’ve not finished yet, obviously, so these results are yet to be confirmed, but so far, we’ve recovered the skeleton of an adult female and two children from beneath the compost heap.’

  ‘Any idea what age these kids were?’ asked Slater.

  ‘They’re guessing right now, but they reckon about twelve years old.’

  ‘Shit!’ said Norman, in dismay. ‘So when they finished abusing them they just killed them?’

  ‘Looks that way, doesn’t it?’ said Becks. ‘Do you want to hear the rest?’

  ‘There’s more?’ asked Norman.

  ‘Well, yeah,’ said Becks. ‘Remember I said the dog had suggested w
e check under the shed? Well, with all these workers around it was no trouble to clear the area and start digging there, too. We’ve found three more children, so far.’

  Slater swore, loudly.

  ‘How many more are you going to find?’ asked Norman, appalled.

  ‘We’ve already got more than I ever wanted to have to deal with,’ said Becks, sounding grim. ‘We’ve been working the dogs as well, but they’ve not found any more sites. They’ve finished for the day, but they’ll be back tomorrow as well.’

  ‘Well, thanks for letting us know, Ian,’ said Slater. ‘Are you working into the night?’

  ‘We don’t plan to. The light’s fading already. We think we’ve maybe got another hour at best, then we’re going to call a halt until tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m not sure we can get there before you’ve finished,’ said Slater. ‘We’ll catch you tomorrow. Thanks for what you’re doing, Ian.’

  ‘I’d like to say it’s a pleasure,’ said Becks, ‘but I’ll be bloody glad to get out of here.’

  ‘I think we’ll all be glad when this is over,’ said Norman.

  Ten minutes later, the phone was ringing again.

  ‘Hi, Jane,’ said Slater.

  ‘I thought I’d better ring,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know what time you would be back, and I didn’t want to miss you.’

  ‘What have you got?’

  ‘Maunder’s broke,’ she began. ‘He’s already received a payment from the insurance company, yet that money’s gone straight out again in cash withdrawals.’

  ‘How the hell did he get paid out already?’ asked Norman.

  ‘I guess if you’re a knight of the realm, you get special treatment. I’ve also been looking at his mobile phone records. He doesn’t use it very often, but one of the numbers he calls, and gets calls from, is another mobile phone. I’ve checked but it’s not registered to anyone. It’s a pay-as-you-go phone.’

  ‘A burner,’ said Norman. ‘This smells.’

  ‘Oh, it stinks, Norm,’ said Jolly. ‘All the calls have occurred around the time Dylan and Florence died.’

  Chapter 32

  ‘One adult and five children?’ Bob Murray looked horrified when Slater and Norman broke the news to him. ‘Who’s the adult?’

  ‘We believe she was the wife of Gordon Ferguson who was the gardener there at the time. He has suggested he buried her there.’

  ‘What do you mean, “he has suggested he buried her there”?’ asked Murray.

  ‘We tracked him down and went to speak to him,’ said Slater. ‘We’re sure he knows what was going on, but something, or someone, has put the wind up him.’

  ‘There’s also the problem he’s almost ninety years old and he’s dying,’ added Norman.

  ‘I don’t care about that,’ said Murray. ‘We’ve got six dead bodies. You bring him in here and find out what he knows.’

  ‘Yes, Guv,’ said Slater. ‘I’ll get him in here tomorrow.’

  ‘What about Maunder?’ asked Norman. ‘We need to question him. When’s he coming in?’

  ‘He’s not,’ said Murray, shifting uncomfortably. ‘We suggested it would be in his interests to come in, but he’s refused.’

  ‘Guvnor,’ said Norman, impatiently. ‘We’ve got six bodies buried in the gardens of an old children’s home. All the staff who used to work there seem to have very conveniently died, except for the old gardener. The only other person who may have some idea what was going on is Maunder. We have no choice. We have to question him, and you know it.’

  ‘On what grounds? Where’s the proof?’

  ‘This bogus robbery of his,’ cut in Norman. ‘He’s already had the pay-out and drawn the money out in cash. He gets weird calls from a burner phone around the time Mr Winter and his sister were killed. That looks mighty suspicious to me, and if the chief constable can’t see it, it’s only because he’s got his nose shoved so far up Maunder’s arse he can’t see anything.’

  Slater winced as Norman finished his speech. Oh shit, he thought. Here we go. The Old Man isn’t going to like that. But to his great surprise, the explosion he was expecting didn’t arrive.

  Murray sagged in his chair, and let out an enormous sigh. He looked thoroughly worn out and fed up.

  ‘Alright,’ he said. ‘But you need to understand, when the CC finds out he’s going to go berserk. I will be his first point of contact, so I need to know exactly what’s going on.’

  ‘Right,’ said Slater. ‘We understand what you’re doing for us, Sir. We’ll do it by the book, and we will keep you informed.’

  ‘I want that old gardener brought in and questioned as well,’ said Murray. ‘I don’t want it to look as though Maunder’s being singled out for special treatment. You’ll need a search warrant.’

  ‘Are you going to phone the CC?’ asked Norman.

  ‘Of course, I am. I have my orders. I’ll call him in the morning, but I’ll wait until ten o’clock. You make sure you’re at Maunder’s by nine and you should have at least an hour. After that I’ll probably be ordered to pull you out, so make sure you find what you’re looking for.’

  ‘Thank you, Sir,’ said Slater. ‘We’ll get on with it now. And I’ll arrange to get Mr Ferguson brought up here tomorrow as well.’

  ‘Right,’ said Murray. ‘That’ll be all.’

  When they got back to their office, Jolly was just getting ready to go home.

  ‘I’ve just left you a note,’ she said. ‘The sister from The Belmont Nursing Home called. Apparently, your retired gardener has taken a turn for the worse. He’s on the way out, but he wants to make a statement while he still can.’

  ‘Time to clear his conscience, I suppose,’ mused Slater. ‘I’ll arrange for a car to pick him up.’

  ‘No can do,’ said Jolly. ‘I suggested that, but sister says he’s too ill to make the journey, and you need to get there sooner, rather than later.’

  ‘He really has taken a turn for the worse, then.’

  ‘Maybe the news about Florence was too much for him,’ said Norman.

  ‘Sister says he wants to do it first thing tomorrow morning, and he says he’ll only talk to you. And it’s not negotiable.’

  ‘But I’m supposed to be up at Maunder’s with Norm,’ said Slater. ‘I can’t be in two places at once.’

  ‘The sister says he’s adamant. If you’re not going to be there, he’s not talking.’

  ‘We’re a team, right?’ said Norman. ‘Division of labour. You go down and interview Ferguson, and I’ll go and see Maunder. I can handle him. I owe him for causing me all that grief over the so-called break-in, remember?’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Slater.

  ‘It’ll be a pleasure,’ said Norman, grinning. ‘I’ll supervise the search, and then drag his sorry arse back here. I’ll wait for you to get back here and we can interview him together.’

  Chapter 33

  It was exactly nine o’clock the next morning when Norman rang the bell on Sir Robert Maunder’s front door.

  ‘Oh. Good morning. It’s Sergeant Norman isn’t it?’ asked Maunder’s wife as she swung the door open.

  ‘Err, yes, that’s right,’ said Norman, awkwardly. ‘Good morning, ma’am.’

  Her smile slowly disappeared as she took in the small posse of officers and forensic technicians gathering behind him.

  ‘I take it you haven’t come looking for a cup of tea, this time,’ she said, acidly.

  ‘I’m sorry, ma’am,’ said Norman. ‘Is your husband in?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Sergeant. You’ve just missed him. You’ll have to come back later.’

  She made to shut the door, but before she could, Norman placed his hand against it.

  ‘It’s a pity he’s not here,’ said Norman. ‘But we’re going to have to come in anyway.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she snapped.

  ‘I have a search warrant,’ said Norman, gently pushing against the door. ‘Please, ma’am. You have no choice. Let’s not make thi
s any more unpleasant than it already is.’

  She looked as though she might burst into tears, but then she seemed to get a grip on herself. Inwardly, Norman breathed a sigh of relief. He really didn’t want to see her in tears. He had been hoping it would be Maunder who answered the door. It would have been much easier to play bad cop with him.

  She stepped back and let them in. The team had been briefed earlier. They already knew where to go and what to look for.

  ‘I’m disappointed with you, Sergeant,’ she said, as they trooped past. ‘My husband said you were a sneaky one.’

  Norman didn’t know quite what to say to that, but in a way he was pleased to see she was ready to fight. He would much rather hear her having a go at him, than see her in tears.

  ‘What’s my husband ever done to anyone?’ she asked. ‘He’s a good man. I should know. I’ve been married to him for over fifty years.’

  ‘I’d rather not discuss this right now,’ said Norman, trying to dodge the issue.

  ‘No. Of course you wouldn’t,’ she said bitterly. ‘He’s an easy target, isn’t he? You should be out catching criminals not wasting your time here. Why aren’t you arresting the man who’s been calling my husband and upsetting him?’

  ‘I don’t know anything about that,’ said Norman. ‘Has your husband made a complaint?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘He thinks he can deal with it on his own. He thinks I don’t know about it, and he won’t mention it because he doesn’t want to worry me.’

  Before either of them could say another word, a PC came out from the kitchen.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said to Norman. ‘But there’s smoke coming from down the garden.’

  Lady Maunder looked guilty.

  ‘I thought you said Sir Robert was out,’ said Norman.

  ‘He is,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, right. He’s out in the garden. Please wait here ma’am.’

  He turned to the PC.

  ‘You come with me.’

  He led the way through the kitchen and out to the back of the house. There was a row of old stables and outbuildings across a courtyard. In the centre, an archway gave access to them. A thin trail of smoke could be seen coming from the other side of the buildings.