The Invisible Man Page 2

  Slater was still studying the message.

  'This message was sent a week ago,' said Slater.

  She looked surprised, but Slater couldn't be sure if she were surprised by the date, or by the fact he had noticed it.

  'Er, yes, that's right. I tried to ignore it at first, but it's been playing on my mind so much I can't sleep. I had to do something about it.'

  'Do you recognise the number this was sent from?' he asked.

  'No. I tried calling it to see if I could speak to whoever sent it, but all I got was a message saying the number was unobtainable.'

  'What do you think this is, Lizzie?' asked Norman.

  'I think it's some evil person playing a nasty trick.'

  'Can you think of anyone who might want to do that to you?'

  She frowned and shook her head. 'God, I hope no-one I know would stoop so low.'

  'Have you been to the police about this?' asked Norman.

  She shook her head again.

  'I'm sorry,' she said, 'but I lost faith in them when they persuaded the coroner to agree it was death by misadventure. Because of them, I had to bury my little girl with everyone thinking she was a car thief!'

  The last sentence was almost shouted, such was her anger, and there was an intense silence when she finished speaking. Guiltily she looked at them both in turn.

  'I'm sorry,' she said, sheepishly. 'It's just that-'

  'I think we both understand,' said Norman, 'and you don't owe us any apologies.'

  'I'll just take a photo of this text message,' said Slater, 'and then you can have your phone back.'

  'Do you think you can find out who sent it?' she asked.

  'I have a friend who does tech stuff for us now and then,' said Norman. 'He's a bit of a genius. If he can't find where this came from, no-one can.'

  Norman was referring to his friend, and technical genius, Vinnie. Normally Slater would balk at the idea of using Vinnie, whom he considered a hacker, but on this occasion, he wasn't going to argue. As Norman had stated, if Vinnie couldn't do this, no-one could.

  'What happens now?' asked Lizzie. 'Do I pay now? I can afford it, you know.'

  'These are our terms,' said Norman, handing her an envelope. 'You make your way home, then read these, think about it, and get back to us if you want to proceed. In the meantime, we'll do a little preliminary work, then we'll be ready if you want us to investigate.'

  'But I already made my mind up,' she said. 'I want you to do it.'

  She slipped a photograph from her handbag and passed it to Norman. The photo showed Lizzie Becker and a pretty, dark-haired girl. They were hugging and laughing at something.

  'This was taken a few weeks before she died. Does she look like a car thief?' she asked.

  Norman passed the photograph to Slater.

  'I can see this is an emotional issue for you, Lizzie,' he said. 'I think you need to go home and think—'

  'I've had over two years since the accident, and a week since the text to think about it,' she said, adamantly. 'I don't need any more time. I want your help.'

  'What do you think?' asked Norman, once he had escorted Lizzie Becker out to her car and she had driven off.

  'I think someone must have a seriously twisted mind to have sent a text message like that to a bereaved mother,' said Slater. 'But I think it's weird she waited a week to do something about it.'

  'Yeah, but she knew it couldn't be from her daughter, so I can see why she thought it must be some crank. Maybe she thought if she ignored it they would leave her alone, but then she found it was impossible to ignore.'

  'Yeah, you're probably right about that,' agreed Slater. 'By the way, I think using Vinnie is a good call.'

  Norman's eyebrows shot upwards.

  'You do? Wow, that's a first,' he said.

  'That doesn't mean I think we should use him all the time. I think it's a case of horses for courses, and in this instance, he's our best shot.'

  Norman recognised this was a significant admission for Slater to make, so he decided he shouldn't antagonise the situation with any smart remarks.

  'I'll give him a call and see if he can spare a couple of hours,' he said.

  Slater headed for his own small office.

  'While you're doing that, I'm going to see what I can find out about this car crash.'

  4

  It was almost an hour later when Norman joined Slater.

  'Vinnie thinks the number must belong to a Pay As You Go sim card,' he said.

  'Does he think he can track it down?'

  'He says it's no problem as long as the phone is live. Of course, if it's switched off, its a different ball game. But you know Vinnie; give him a challenge, and he'll rise to it.'

  He peered over Slater's shoulder at his monitor.

  'How are you doing here?'

  'According to the press reports, the car Lilly Becker is alleged to have stolen was a 1966 Austin Healey 3000 sports convertible, owned by sports car enthusiast, Jason Crothers who, as Lizzy said, was a family friend of the Beckers.'

  'Even I'm not old enough to remember their heyday,' said Norman, 'but I seem to recall they were considered pretty hot back then.'

  'Yeah, that's right, and enthusiasts still race them even now,' said Slater.

  'How did Lilly manage to steal the car?'

  'As Lizzie told us, the families were friends, and Lilly and Mickey were often at each other's houses.'

  'So she would have known about the car,' suggested Norman.

  'That's right. The story is Lilly was in the house on her own and decided to take the car for a spin. On the way back she lost control, and it turned over. A roll-over bar was fitted to the car, but as it was an open top, there was nothing else to protect her when she hit a tree, and the car turned over. She had no seat belt on, so she had no chance.'

  'Poor kid,' said Norman.

  Slater eased his chair back and stretched.

  'If this case landed on your desk, what would be your first question?' asked Slater.

  'How d'you mean?'

  'Well, we just stood next to Lizzie Becker. How tall would you say she was?'

  'She's not very big. I guess about five feet four.'

  'Right,' agreed Slater. 'So, going by that photo Lizzie gave us, how tall was Lilly?'

  'No more than five feet at best.'

  'Exactly.'

  'Jeez,' said Norman. 'I see what you're getting at.'

  'This car was built in the sixties, right. It was pretty powerful and would have weighed over a ton. And power steering didn't exist.'

  'You think a small fourteen-year-old girl wouldn't have the strength to keep hold of a steering wheel if it was suddenly wrenched from her hands. But that's probably why she crashed.'

  'Sure,' said Slater, thoughtfully, 'but my question is, would she have had the strength to drive it at all?'

  'I'm sure they would have considered that,' said Norman. 'What do the reports say?'

  'All the reports I've found say the police found no evidence another person was involved, and Lilly was in the driving seat when she was found.'

  'There you go, then,' said Norman. 'Obviously, she did have the strength to drive it.'

  'Not necessarily,' insisted Slater, stubbornly. 'I'm no expert, but I think we should take a look at one of those cars. I mean, nowadays you can adjust the seats, steering wheel, and who knows what else, but I don't think that was possible back then. Would someone as small as Lilly even be able to reach the pedals? And don't forget, according to Lizzie, Lilly had no idea how to drive and had never shown any interest in driving.'

  'I can see what you're saying, but if there was no-one else involved…' Norman left the rest unsaid. 'You said she was in the house on her own; how did that happen?'

  'It seems the Crothers family was away when the accident happened, but Lilly had a key. She used to go in and feed their two cats whenever the family were away.'

  'So she was trusted by the Crothers?'

  'Yeah,' said
Slater. 'Apparently, she'd been feeding the cats for a couple of years without a hint of trouble which makes me wonder why such a well-behaved kid would suddenly do something like that?'

  'But it happens, doesn't it?' said Norman. 'No-one's perfect. Don't forget she lied to her mother that day. Didn't she say she was going to meet Mickey Crothers? But if she were feeding the cats, she would have known the family were away, right?'

  Slater sighed.

  'Yeah, that's true enough, but even so, there must be an explanation for her behaviour. It seems so out of character.'

  'Maybe she had another boyfriend apart from Mickey, and he put her up to it,' suggested Norman.

  'So, where is he?' asked Slater.

  Norman pursed his lips. 'Perhaps he didn't have the guts to face up to what had happened, and he ran away.'

  Slater said nothing.

  'Well, I wouldn't get hung up about it,' said Norman, patting his shoulder. 'I don't like it any more than you do, but it looks as if there wasn't much doubt about what happened. Besides, we're only supposed to be trying to find out who sent a malicious text to Lizzie Becker.'

  Slater rose from his chair.

  'Yeah, I suppose you're right,' he agreed, 'but there's nothing we can do about that until Vinnie locates that phone for us.'

  'So what do you want to do in the meantime?'

  'I figure it wouldn't do any harm to learn a little more about Lilly, and Mickey Crothers might be able to help with that.'

  'I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get a little background,' said Norman. 'I'll give them a call and see if they'll let us speak to Mickey.'

  5

  'Mrs Crothers? My name's Norman Norman, and this is my colleague Dave Slater. I'm sorry to arrive unannounced. I've been calling, but your phone doesn't seem to be working. It just rings and rings.'

  'The phone doesn't work because I unplug it to stop nuisance calls,' she said, pointedly. 'What do you want?'

  'We're private investigators looking into an incident involving Mrs Lizzie Becker.'

  'What is that woman trying to blame us for now? I haven't set eyes on Lizzie Becker since her daughter stole my husband's sports car. Whatever has happened now has got nothing to do with me.'

  'Actually, we were wondering if we could come in and have a word with your son.'

  'My son? I might have known the Beckers would try to drag his name through the mud if they got half a chance.'

  'As far as I'm aware, no-one has accused your son of anything,' said Slater. 'We wanted to ask him about Lilly Becker.'

  'What for?'

  'We just want someone who knew her to give us a little insight into what she was like.'

  'What's to know? She went bad, stole a car, and got what was coming to her.'

  Slater stared, open-mouthed.

  'What?' she said. 'Don't expect any sympathy from me. We trusted that girl. We treated her like one of the family, and look at how she repaid us.'

  'Does your son feel that way? We understand they were pretty close.'

  'I don't know what he feels. He never talks about that girl or what happened to her.'

  Slater and Norman exchanged a look.

  'If you wouldn't mind,' began Slater, 'we'd just like to come inside and ask him a few quest—'

  'Certainly not!' she snapped.

  'Perhaps you could ask him what he thinks.'

  'That will be difficult,' she said, with a triumphant smirk on her face. 'My son's not here. He's gone to be with his father for a few days.'

  'Oh. Your husband's not here?' asked Slater.

  'That's none of your business,' she snapped.

  'Can I ask where he is?'

  'No, you cannot!'

  'Marriages end, people divorce,' said Slater. 'It's nothing to be ashamed of.'

  'I'm not ashamed,' she snapped. 'I'm not the one who walked—'

  'Ah, so he left. I'm sorry, and you're right, it is none of our business,' said Slater. 'I didn't mean to pry.'

  'You said you were a private investigator,' she hissed. 'That's what you people do, isn't it?'

  Slater couldn't deny there was an element of truth in what she said so he chose not to argue.

  'He moved to somewhere out of the way. He doesn't live here any more,' she said, red-faced. 'There, I've said it. Is that enough for you?'

  'That's okay,' said Norman, amiably, 'We don't mind travelling to speak to your son.'

  'I forbid you—'

  'Yes, but maybe his father won't be so difficult—'

  Her nostrils flared, and her face began to redden.

  'Difficult?' she shrieked, her eyes blazing. 'How dare you! I'm just looking after my son's best interests.'

  Norman was going to explain that wasn't actually what he was going to say, but when he looked into her eyes, he could see it would be a waste of his time.

  'Maybe if you could tell us where we can find your husband, we could ask him what he thinks. If he agrees with you, then fair enough, we'll have to think of something else,' suggested Slater.

  'I can assure you he will agree with me.'

  'Yes, but if you could tell us where to find him, we can make sure,' Slater insisted.

  Suddenly she didn't look quite so sure of herself.

  'You do have an address for your husband?' asked Slater.

  She shifted from foot to foot.

  'Actually, I don't think I can tell you where he is.'

  'But you just told us your son is staying with him,' said Norman, doubtfully.

  'I said nothing of the sort. I said Mickey had gone to be with his father.'

  'Is there a difference?' asked Norman.

  'Yes, there is.'

  'You don't know where your husband is, do you, Mrs Crothers?' asked Slater.

  A look of great distaste crossed her face, but she wouldn't look at either of them.

  'It's a difficult situation,' she said, bitterly.

  'So, you and your husband are what, divorced?' asked Norman.

  'Separated.'

  'Right, separated. But wouldn't you need to know where your husband is? I mean you have a son. What if—'

  'My husband walked out, not long after that wretched girl stole the car. He didn't want anything to do with us, and I damned well don't want anything to do with him. I haven't spoken to him since he left, and I don't care where he lives.'

  'Don't you care where your son is?' asked Norman, innocently.

  'Of course I bloody well do, but it's not that simple. Mickey has chosen to visit his father, and he has assured me if I call the police, or try to stop him, he will never speak to me again. I can't let that happen.'

  'So your son has gone off on his own, and you have no idea where he is?'

  'But I do know where he is,' she said, savagely. 'He's with his bloody father. It's just that he won't tell me where that is.'

  'You could call his bluff and report him missing,' suggested Norman.

  She shook her head.

  'Don't think I haven't thought about it. But Mickey's done his homework. If I call in the police, they'll tell me that as long as he's happy and healthy, they won't intervene. They don't even have to tell me where he is!'

  'Mickey must be sixteen, is that right?' asked Slater.

  'Yes.'

  'Then he's right. As long as his father's looking after him, Mickey can go to see him as often as he wants, and you can't stop him.'

  She gritted her teeth but said nothing.

  'But you can speak to Mickey on his mobile phone, right?'

  'Yes, of course, but if you think I'm going to give you his number—'

  'That's not what I was going to ask,' said Slater. 'Do you have a number for his father?'

  She thought about it for a moment, then turned away and disappeared into the house. A minute later she re-appeared with a couple of business cards.

  'Here,' she said, handing it to Slater. 'This is his business card. It's all I have. I assume he still works there.'

  Slater looked at the cards.


  'He has someone screen his calls,' she added. 'I presume that's so he won't have to speak to me, but you might have more luck.'

  'Okay, thank you, Mrs Crothers—' began Slater, but the door had already closed.

  Slater looked at Norman who grinned and shrugged.

  'Beats me,' he said. 'If it was my son, and I was separated from his father I would want to keep in touch with the guy. I wouldn't mind the boy seeing his father, but I'm damned sure I'd want to know where he is.'

  'You and me both,' said Slater.

  'C'mon,' said Norman. 'Let's get out of here. I feel about as welcome as typhoid.'

  6

  'Let's try this phone number,' said Slater when they got back to the office. 'Maybe Jason Crothers will be a bit more amenable than his wife.'

  He picked up the office phone, punched in the number, and waited as it began to ring at the other end.

  'Hello,' said a female voice. 'Thank you for calling Keeling Security.'

  'Oh, hi, my name's—'

  'I'm afraid there's no-one here to take your call right now, but if you'd like to leave a message someone will get back to you later.'

  'Bollocks,' muttered Slater, as he put the phone back on its cradle. 'It's an answering machine.'

  'Really?' said Norman. 'But it's mid-afternoon. Surely the office must be open now.' He sat at his desk and began tapping at the keyboard of his laptop.

  'When she said he has the calls screened I thought she meant someone answered it for him, not that he was using a bloody machine,' said Slater. He tried the number again but, as before, he was confronted by the same answering machine.

  Norman had found what he was looking for, and now he turned to Slater.

  'Can I see that card?' he asked.

  Slater passed him the card.

  'That's funny. This number isn't listed on the website.'

  'Maybe they don't list mobile numbers,' suggested Slater.

  'Yeah, maybe, but even so, he's a company sales director. He would want to be contactable. If he wanted his calls screened wouldn't he use a secretary to do that? An answering machine might be okay at night, but using one during the day implies a one-man band.'