by Ford, P. F.
‘No,’ said Slater. ‘We’re hoping to speak to him later today.’
‘Well, it’s not my place to speak ill of the dead,’ said Hollis. ‘But when you speak to him, ask him why he left his supposedly perfect wife.’
He checked his watch.
‘Sorry,’ he said, as he opened his car door and climbed back inside. ‘But I’ve got to go. Work calls and I need to get changed before I go.’
‘We may need to speak to you again,’ said Slater.
‘Anytime I’m not late for work.’ Hollis smiled at them through the open window as he pulled away. ‘Just let me know.’
‘So what do we think so far?’ asked Norman as they continued walking back to their car.
‘I think we need to speak to Ian Woods, is what I think,’ said Slater.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Norman. ‘It looks like one of those marriage break-ups where the friends have taken sides, so there’s not much chance of learning anything we can rely on.’
‘It’s amazing so many people could be at home and yet no-one saw anything,’ said Slater.
‘But this is a rural area, right? It’s not like a busy street where someone might be sitting staring out of the window watching all the people go by. I mean, that would be a seriously boring pastime out here, wouldn’t it?’
‘I know you’re right,’ said Slater, ‘but it would make our job so much easier if someone had seen something!’
‘No doubt about that. But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Next thing we know you’ll be expecting me to buy lunch.’
They had reached their car now, and Slater plipped the locks and they climbed in. He put the key in the ignition and was just about to start the car when he realised what Norman had just said.
‘It can’t possibly be my turn again,’ he said, turning to look at Norman in dismay.
‘I left my wallet at home.’ Norman grinned sheepishly. ‘What can I say? I’m sorry, alright?’
‘That’s every day for over a week,’ said an exasperated Slater, as he started the car. ‘Next time we have a night out, I’m going to leave my wallet at home and you’re going to have to buy me the most expensive meal I can find. And I’ll be drinking champagne.’
As Slater put the car in gear and started to drive, Norman’s phone began to ring. It was standard procedure for Slater to point out how bad Norman’s ringtone was, but as he glanced in his direction he could see this might not be the right time to do so. Norman was looking at his new phone, shock and dismay all over his face.
‘You okay, Norm?’ he asked.
Norman dismissed the call and put the phone back in his jacket pocket. He gazed distractedly out of the window.
‘Norm,’ insisted Slater. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah. I’m fine,’ replied Norman, unconvincingly.
Chapter 3
‘Any luck?’ asked Jolly, when they eventually got back.
‘Nothing we didn’t already know,’ said Norman. ‘What’s been going on here?’
‘Diana Woods’ parents have identified the body.’
‘Did they have anything to say?’ asked Slater.
‘They’re waiting to talk to you,’ Jolly replied, unhappily. ‘I’m sorry. I did try, but they didn’t seem to think they should be wasting their breath on a lowly PC. They insist on talking to “the person in charge”.’
‘That’ll be him, then,’ said Slater and Norman in unison, each pointing at the other.
‘I told them it would be both of you.’ Jolly smiled sweetly.
‘Where are they?’ asked Slater.
‘I wasn’t sure how long you were going to be, and this isn’t exactly The Ritz, so I suggested they go and wait at their hotel.’
‘That’s okay,’ said Norman. ‘We can go and talk to them there. Any news on the husband?’
‘Yes. They found him at home this morning and told him. Apparently he’s on his way here now.’
‘He’s not on the run, then,’ observed Slater.
‘According to our colleagues in Wales, he appeared to be shocked by the news.’ Jolly thumbed through her notes. ‘That was at just after ten this morning. He was going to pack a bag and make his way here almost straight away. It’s just after two now, so I guess he could be here by three.’
‘Is he coming straight here?’ asked Slater, looking at his watch.
‘That’s what they told him to do. If you want to go and speak to Diana’s parents, I can look after him until you get back.’
‘That sounds good to me, Jane,’ said Norman. ‘C’mon Dave, let’s go meet the parents.’
The Coach and Horses was more of a big, old pub with a few bedrooms than a hotel, but it was comfortable, had a warm, welcoming atmosphere, and served good food. Norman thought it was infinitely preferable to many of the modern soulless places that were now so widely available.
They found Diana Woods’ parents, Mr and Mrs Hanning, in the bar area. They appeared to be in their sixties and were sat together, holding hands and staring at the floor. They seemed to share a sort of caved-in appearance, as if their world had just collapsed around them.
The two detectives had agreed Norman was taking the lead on this one.
‘I’m DS Norman and this is my colleague, DS Slater,’ he said. ‘First of all, let me say how very sorry we are for your loss.’
It was Mrs Hanning who acknowledged them. Her husband didn’t even look up when Norman spoke.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘It was such a shock to find two police officers on our doorstep, and then to be told our daughter’s dead. It doesn’t seem possible.’
She squeezed her husband’s hand.
‘Poor Arthur’s taken it very badly,’ she continued. ‘She was the apple of his eye, you see.’
‘She was so beautiful,’ said Mr Hanning, still staring at the floor, his voice barely a whisper. ‘Perfect she was. Absolutely perfect.’
His shoulders shook as he began to quietly weep, and Norman wished he could be anywhere rather than here, watching this man’s heart breaking. He snatched a look at Slater, who seemed equally uncomfortable.
‘We really don’t want to intrude at a time like this,’ said Norman, quietly. ‘But we need to ask you a few questions. We can come back later if you’d prefer.’
For a moment, it looked as though Mrs Hanning was going to take them up on Norman’s offer, but Mr Hanning was too quick for her. He seemed to summon some inner strength from somewhere and, clearing his throat, he sat up straight and looked at them for the first time.
‘Let’s get it over with,’ he said. ‘The sooner we tell you what you need to know, the sooner you can arrest that man.’
‘Err, which man?’ asked Norman.
‘Why that useless bugger of a husband of course,’ said Hanning. The sadness was gone for now, and his eyes sparkled.
‘You mean Ian Woods?’ asked Slater.
‘Who else would I mean? He’s the only useless sod she was married to. I always knew he was trouble. I told her right from the start she could have done much better for herself, but would she listen? She’d still be alive now if only she’d listened to her old dad.’
‘She was an adult, dear,’ said his wife. ‘She was old enough to make her own choices.’
‘But she wasn’t old enough to make the right choice, was she?’
‘So why do you think Ian’s responsible?’ asked Norman. He realised this was obviously something the Hannings had been arguing about, on and off, ever since Diana had married Ian Woods all those years ago, and he didn’t want it to flare up again right now.
‘Have you ever heard of King Midas?’ Hanning didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Everything he touched turned to gold. Ian Woods was King Midas in reverse. Everything he touched turned to dust. He’s bloody useless.’
‘They seem to have a nice enough house,’ said Slater.
‘That was all down to her, not him,’ spat Hanning. ‘She was a shining light and he spent twenty years doing his best to put that light out. Now it looks l
ike he’s finally done it.’
‘I understand you don’t like the man,’ said Norman. ‘But do you actually have any evidence to back up your assertion that he’s a murderer?’
‘I’m just telling you, aren’t I? The man spent years abusing her and now, after she finally kicked him out, he’s come back and murdered her.’
‘Did you ever see any signs of abuse?’ asked Slater.
‘What’s the matter with you people? Don’t you believe me?’
‘I’m afraid we need evidence, Mr Hanning, not just your opinion,’ replied Slater.
‘No,’ said Mrs Hanning. ‘We have never actually seen anything to prove he was abusing her, but after she kicked him out she told us how badly he had been treating her.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Hanning,’ said Norman. ‘You say Diana kicked Ian out. Are you sure that’s how it was? Only we’ve been told Ian left Diana.’
‘Rubbish!’ snapped Mr Hanning. ‘She was the perfect wife. No man in his right mind would have walked out on her. I’m telling you, everybody loved her. You need look no further than her husband. He did this to her!’
And so it went on until Norman decided they were wasting their time. He felt genuinely sorry for their loss, but Mr Hanning was so focused on blaming Ian Woods it was ridiculous. If he got his way, they would simply string the man up the moment he appeared.
He made all the right noises to keep the Hannings happy for the time being, made his excuses, and nodded to let Slater know it was time to go.
‘If this was the Wild West that guy would have arranged a lynching by now,’ said Slater as they left the hotel. ‘And good ol’ Woody would already be strung up.’
‘From what we’ve been told so far, this Woody guy should be easy to identify,’ said Norman. ‘He’ll have horns and be carrying a trident.’
‘Either that or he’ll have several knives sticking out of his back.’
‘So you don’t buy all this stuff about him being an arsehole, then?’
‘It’s not just that,’ said Slater. ‘I’m finding it just as hard to believe this idea that Diana Woods was so perfect. Maybe I’m being cynical, but in my experience no one’s completely flawless.’
They walked over to their car and climbed inside.
‘It was interesting to see Mrs Hanning wasn’t quite as forthright as her husband when it came to condemning Woody,’ Slater said.
‘Yeah, I noticed that,’ said Norman. ‘But does it mean anything significant? I mean there’s often a strong protective bond between a father and daughter, right?’
‘That may be so, but I got the impression Mrs Hanning might not be quite so sure about her daughter’s perfection as everyone else seems to be.’
‘She said they’re going to be here for a day or two. Maybe I should come back and see if I can get a chance to talk to her alone. She might let her guard down a bit further if “Avenging Arthur” isn’t around.’
‘He arrived about twenty minutes ago,’ said Jolly. ‘I settled him in the interview room with a cup of tea and told him you wouldn’t be too long.’
‘You’re becoming something of a slave driver, PC Jolly,’ said Norman, with a wry smile. ‘How am I supposed to maintain my energy levels if you don’t ever let me stop to eat?’
‘I figured you had enough reserves that it wouldn’t be a problem.’ Jolly pointed at his waistline. ‘Of course, if you can’t stand the pace, I could always ask for some help on your behalf.’
‘Ooh! How could you,’ said Norman in mock horror. ‘You know how to strike me right through the heart with those cutting remarks.’
‘How is he?’ asked Slater, ignoring Norman’s theatrics. ‘How does he seem?’
‘He seems genuinely upset,’ said Jolly. ‘And, in my opinion, for what it’s worth, he seems like a nice man.
‘But you’ve only just met him,’ said Slater.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll qualify my statement by saying my first impression is that he’s a nice man. Is that better?’
‘I didn’t mean to question you, Jane,’ said Slater hastily. ‘Of course we value your opinion. But the fact is you have only just met him.’
‘Yes,’ she said testily. ‘And my first impression makes me feel he’s a nice man.’
‘Okay,’ said Slater, warily. ‘Point taken. You think he’s a nice guy. I’ve got it.’
Norman was grinning like the proverbial Cheshire Cat at Slater’s discomfort.
‘You’ll split your face in two if you’re not careful,’ Slater warned him quietly.
‘It could even be worth it, seeing you squirm like that,’ said Norman, laughing.
They stopped in the observation room and peered through the window at Ian Woods. He certainly didn’t look like a thug, Norman thought. In fact, he looked quite unremarkable in every way, except perhaps in his face. His hair was receding and thinning, and he looked haggard, like a man who hadn’t slept properly in weeks. This made him look much older than the forty-six-year-old he was supposed to be. He didn’t look a well man, and he appeared somewhat undernourished too, like maybe he wasn’t eating well. Certainly there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him.
‘What do you think?’ asked Norman. ‘Does he look upset because his wife’s dead? Or because he thinks we’re on to him?’
‘He didn’t have to come here,’ Slater pointed out. ‘He could have done a runner and been well away by now. And anyway we don’t even know where he was at the time. He might have a cast iron alibi.’
‘Okay. This is how we’ll play it then. You be the good cop, and I’ll be the bad cop.’
‘Or we could just wing it, like we usually do.’
‘I’m sure we’ll end up that way,’ said Norman. ‘But how about we start like we know what we’re doing, and then see how it goes from there.’
‘Okay, let’s do it.’ Slater opened the door and stepped aside to let Norman lead the way. ‘Lead on, Macduff,’ he said, as Norman squeezed past him.
‘Yeah. Once more into the breach and all that jazz,’ muttered Norman.
He led the way up to the door of the interview room, stopped briefly outside, then swung the door open.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Woods,’ he said, as he entered the room. ‘My name’s DS Norman, and this is my partner, DS Slater. We’re leading the investigation into your wife’s death.’
Woods had jumped to his feet, and was half holding out his hand, awkwardly.
‘Please, sit down,’ said Norman. He smiled to try and put Ian Woods at his ease, but it was obvious the guy was like a fish out of water.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Woods. ‘I’m not sure if I’m coming or going right now. This is a situation no one ever prepares you for, you know. When the police arrive at your door you think maybe you’ve been caught speeding or something silly like that. Then they said my wife was dead and, well, it was like getting a kick in the guts. I’ve just driven two hundred miles to get here, but I don’t remember a single thing about the journey.’
He looked uncertainly at Norman and then at Slater. They could see he was all over the place. Norman thought if he was acting, he was pretty good.
‘I suppose I shouldn’t tell you that, should I?’ Woods looked worried. ‘About driving like that, I mean.’
‘Look, Ian,’ said Slater. ‘Is it alright if I call you Ian?’
‘Sure. Ian or Woody, that’s what my friends tend to call me.’
‘Okay Woody,’ said Slater. ‘We’re not here to talk about your driving. I understand it must have been one hell of a shock when you found out, and we’re sorry for your loss, but we need to ask you some questions about what’s happened.’
‘Can I see her? Don’t I have to identify her, or something?’
‘Her parents have already done that,’ said Norman.
Woods looked a bit miffed.
‘We found your number last night and tried ringing you, but there was no answer,’ Norman explained. ‘That’s why I left a message on your voicemail asking you to cal
l us.’
‘Ah, yeah,’ said Woods. ‘I turned my phone off while I was driving, and there’s no signal at home. In fact, the signal’s pretty pathetic all around where I live. It’s a pain in the backside, I can tell you.’
‘Anyway, we couldn’t get hold of you, so we called her parents,’ said Norman.
‘So you were driving yesterday,’ said Slater. ‘Where did you go? Anywhere nice?’
‘I’ve got a small van. I used to work as a courier for a company based in Tinton, until I split from Diana and moved to Wales. But my old boss called me. He had a pickup in Swansea. Some documents to be taken to Southampton. I’m not far from Swansea so he asked me if I’d like to help him out. It would have taken one of his guys four hours to drive across, you see, whereas I’m less than an hour down the road. I fancied a run out, so I said yes.’
‘How come he got hold of you?’ asked Norman. ‘I thought you said there was no signal.’
‘He sent me a text. I got it when I went out to the shops and then I called him back.’
‘What’s this guy’s name?’ asked Slater.
‘Jim Brennan,’ said Woods. ‘I’ve got one of his cards here somewhere.’
He fumbled his wallet from his pocket and found a card which he handed to Slater.
‘Okay, so you were doing this job,’ continued Norman, ‘and you got to Southampton at what time?’
‘I can’t remember exactly, somewhere between two and two-thirty I think.’
‘What did you do after that?’
‘I stopped for a cup of coffee, filled up with diesel and made my way slowly back home. I knew I was going to get caught up in the motorway traffic approaching Bristol so I stopped for a meal before I got that far.’
‘What time did you reach the Severn Bridge?’ asked Norman.
‘It wasn’t until about nine pm, I think,’ replied Woods.
‘You must have got home pretty late,’ said Slater.
‘It was about eleven. There wasn’t any need to rush.’
‘So, let me get this straight,’ said Norman. ‘It took you over six hours to get to the bridge, and then another two hours after that. So that’s eight hours in all, and yet you’ve just driven here in four hours.’