An Unnecessary Murder Read online

  ‘Come on,’ he said to Biddeford, climbing from the car.

  The bewildered PC Biddeford climbed obediently from his car and began to follow Slater. ‘What are we going to do? Arrest them all?’

  Slater swung round to face him. ‘What should we arrest them for? Being scared of spiders? Sitting in a car? Or going shopping?’ He couldn’t resist adding one more. ‘Or making you look like a tit?’

  Biddeford blushed furiously. ‘We could arrest the Ingliss woman,’ he said desperately. ‘She’s supposed to be responsible for Bowman.’

  ‘Biddeford, you really are clutching at straws,’ said Slater, laughing. ‘She’s the one who got him released, so she obviously knows people in high places. Do you really think arresting her would do us any good?’

  Biddeford looked miserably at the ground. Slater gave him an encouraging pat on his arm.

  ‘Look, do you really think you’re the first bloke to make a mistake? We all balls things up from time to time. That’s life, right? But it doesn’t have to be the end of the world. Just have a bit of faith in my judgement and experience and we can get over this. Stick with me, and promise me you won’t say anything that’s going to make us both look like idiots. In fact, it’s probably safest if you say nothing. Ok?’

  Biddeford nodded unhappily. Slater reflected that he was hardly in a position to argue, was he?

  My doorbell was ringing and ringing and ringing.

  ‘Alright, alright, I’m coming.’

  I opened the door. Ah. Detective Sergeant Slater and the young ‘wet behind the ears’ detective from the car park. Great.

  ‘Oh deep joy!’ I said. ‘My favourite police force on my doorstep once again. What is it this time? You’ve tried trashing the place, and arresting me, so let me guess. I know! You must be the assault squad, come to batter me into submission.’

  ‘Look,’ said Slater. ‘I know you’re pissed off with me, but what else could I do? The texts on her phone indicate you as the sender. Would you have preferred it if Nash had come on his own? If he had his way, I’d be off the case altogether, so think yourself lucky I’m here looking out for you.’

  I wondered if I could really trust him. But then he did have a point. Nash would probably have invented some excuse to kick the crap out of me for resisting arrest, and if he was really intent on proving I was a murderer, I could use all the help I could get.

  ‘So you’re not here to arrest me again?’

  Slater held his hands up. ‘We come in peace. And off the record too.’

  The young sidekick looked rather alarmed when Slater mentioned ‘off the record’.

  ‘Is he on our side?’ I asked, pointing at him.

  Biddeford opened his mouth but Slater spoke first.

  ‘He is. No thanks to you lot. You could get the poor guy sacked.’

  ‘And you lot could put me away for something I haven’t done. What do you want me to do, just sit here waiting for Nash to invent enough evidence to convict me?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Slater, eager to keep the peace. ‘I can’t argue with that.’ He looked around. ‘Look, it’s a bit public out here. Can we come in?’

  ‘There are two of you,’ I said. ‘Do I need a witness?’

  ‘You don’t need one, but if you don’t trust me…’

  I thought I could, so I stepped back to let them in.

  ‘So, how come you’re here talking to your number one murder suspect? Still hoping I’m going to confess?’

  ‘Don’t be an arse,’ said Slater. ‘We’ve just been through all that. You know damned well why you were the chief suspect.’

  ‘Were? Have I been downgraded then?’

  ‘You have in my eyes,’ he said. ‘But Nash still fancies you, and he seems to be holding back information that clears you. I’m not supposed to know that, and obviously I shouldn’t be telling you. I am willing to tell you, but if I do, I want you to help out young PC Biddeford here.’

  Biddeford was sitting next to Slater on the sofa. I could see his eyes getting wider and wider.

  ‘But sir,’ started Biddeford.

  ‘What did I tell you outside? Keep quiet, Biddeford.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  I looked at the uncomfortable-looking Biddeford. ‘What do you want me to do for him?’

  ‘That stroke you lot pulled this morning. You could get him the sack. Where did you go?’

  ‘Shopping,’ I lied. ‘He saw me carrying the bags when I came back.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said Slater. ‘You’d go to all that trouble just to go shopping? Come off it.’

  ‘That’s all I’m saying, Dave. Take it or leave it.’

  Biddeford’s head had been whipping back and forth during his exchange.

  ‘He’ll still get the sack if Nash finds out,’ said Slater. ‘How about we say nothing happened and you didn’t go anywhere.’

  ‘What? You think I’m going to tell Nash?’ I asked, incredulous.

  ‘If anyone should ask,’ explained Slater. ‘I know you’re not going to go around telling people, but I don’t want Biddeford to get into trouble just because you lot made him look a fool.’

  ‘Okay,’ I agreed. ‘It suits me. I’ve been nowhere. I’ve been here all day.’

  ‘What about your accomplices?’

  I couldn’t help but smile at that. ‘You make it sound like a major conspiracy. Of course they won’t say anything.’

  Slater looked at Biddeford. ‘Is that okay with you?’

  Biddeford looked horrified. He gulped like a stranded fish and then the words started to come out.

  ‘Is this a bribe? Because-’

  ‘Biddeford, don’t be such a pillock,’ said Slater. ‘Do you want the sack?’

  ‘Well, no, of course not. I love my job.’

  ‘Well, this way you get to keep on loving your job. No one is bribing anyone, and no one is getting sacked.’

  ‘Yes but-’

  ‘I’m going to get pissed off in a minute,’ said Slater, sounding as if he really meant it. ‘Do you want my help or not? Because if you don’t, I can easily go and tell Nash what happened on your watch myself.’

  ‘Yes, Sarge. Thank you, Sarge,’ said Biddeford obediently.

  ‘Right. Just sit there and listen. You might actually learn something. And if you breathe one word of this to anyone, you’re dead. Okay?’

  Biddeford nodded unhappily

  ‘What kind of information is Nash holding back?’ I asked, starting to get much more interested.

  ‘Whoever killed Marie knew exactly what they were doing.’ He demonstrated in the air with his right hand. ‘One blow, one neck broken. Now, I might be wrong, but you don’t look like a trained killer to me.’

  ‘It’s not on my CV,’ I agreed.

  ‘This is the weirdest bit, though,’ said Slater. ‘The text messages found on Marie’s phone show they’ve been sent from your number, but your phone records show you never sent them.’

  ‘Now that is weird. So how does that work?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet, but I intend to find out.’

  ‘Sir,’ began Biddeford, ‘I’m not sure-’

  ‘If you’re going to say you’re not sure I should be sharing information, I’m going to kick your arse from here all the way back to the station, Constable. Try to understand that your wonderful DI Nash is trying to keep all of this information out of the investigation. Do you want to see an innocent man wrongly convicted?’

  ‘No I don’t, sir. But that’s not what I was going to say. It’s about the mobile phone.’ He stopped, seeming uncertain if he was allowed to continue.

  ‘Yes, go on,’ encouraged Slater.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure I remember the details exactly, but I read somewhere about cloning sim cards. Could someone have cloned Mr Bowman’s sim card and sent the texts that way? Or maybe there’s some software that works in a similar way…’ He stopped speaking as he realised both Alfie and Slater were staring at him and looked sheepish.

  It
was Slater who broke the silence. ‘You little beauty,’ he said, smiling broadly. ‘If you were a WPC I’d be tempted to give you a big kiss.’

  Biddeford backed away. ‘I’d rather you didn’t, sir. If you don’t mind.’

  ‘Now it makes sense,’ I said.

  ‘Where is your phone anyway?’ asked Slater.

  ‘I dunno,’ I said. ‘I must have left it somewhere.’

  ‘Have you tried ringing it?’

  You know that feeling you get when someone states the blindingly obvious and you realise you haven’t done it? Well, that was how I felt right then.

  ‘You haven’t, have you?’ said Slater gleefully. ‘You dopey sod. And there I was starting to think you were intelligent.’

  He chuckled quietly, before adding another observation. ‘Mind you, the combined brains of our enquiry team haven’t tried ringing it either. Anyway, what’s the number? Oh, I’ve got it here somewhere haven’t I?’

  He produced his own phone from his pocket and searched through the contacts. He found the one he wanted and pressed the button.

  ‘Hello. It’s Detective Sergeant Slater here from Tinton police. This phone you’re using has been reported stolen. Can you tell me who you are and why you’re using it?’

  Slater was quiet for a moment and then turned to me. ‘It’s at the Cask,’ he said. ‘Apparently it was left there.’

  I listened as he arranged for PC Biddeford to go down and collect it. That solved that little mystery, then.

  When he hung up, he turned to the younger officer. ‘Biddeford, look lively. Whip round to The Cask in the High Street. Ask for Jane, tell her who you are, and bring that phone back here.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Biddeford, looking happier again. ‘I’m on my way. Back in ten minutes.’

  There was a slam as he pulled the front door closed behind him.

  ‘Got yourself an understudy?’ I asked.

  ‘No, not really,’ said Slater. ‘Poor kid. Nash should never have put him in that position this morning. You’ve got a mad-keen officer there. He needs help and encouragement, not some prick like Nash setting him up for a bollocking.’

  ‘Trust me, our lips are sealed. We know nothing.’ I smiled.

  ‘I’ve been poking around at the hospital,’ Slater said, changing the subject.

  ‘Should I be concerned about that?’

  ‘You might be interested in what I found out,’ he said, looking pleased with himself. ‘I was looking into this assault that Nash wants to both hide and use as your motive for murder. I got chatting to one of the nurses. She told me that you asked her to phone a mate to pick you up, but it was actually your wife who came to pick you up.’

  ‘Ex-wife,’ I reminded him. ‘So? What about it?’

  ‘Doesn’t that strike you as a bit odd?’

  ‘I must admit I wasn’t overjoyed to see her, but I didn’t give it that much thought at the time. I was a bit battered and bruised, you know?’

  ‘They said she caused a bit of a scene.’

  ‘Gloria could cause a scene in a room on her own, mate,’ I said. ‘But on that particular occasion it was my fault. I didn’t want her finding my flat so I did a runner while she was fetching her car. She was just a tad annoyed. She got a parking ticket too. She couldn’t find me so she took it out on the staff – gave them a right going over apparently.’

  ‘Yeah, she did. They’ve blacklisted her. Bit of a dragon is she?’

  ‘You’ve never met my ex-wife have you? Imagine you’re a bomb disposal expert and she’s the bomb you’ve got to defuse. Only you don’t have a clue what might trigger the explosion…’

  ‘Right. A bit touchy then. I’m thinking about asking her why she was the one to pick you up. Don’t you think it’s a bit suspicious?’

  ‘If you mean do I think my mate is shagging my ex-wife, the answer is I really don’t care. As far as I’m concerned she’s a free agent and she can do what she likes with whoever she likes. I just don’t want her finding my flat or she’ll be round here every five minutes.’

  And it was true, I didn’t care about her sex life. Yet something about the whole situation was bothering me…

  ‘What’s he like? This mate of yours?’ said Slater, breaking my train of thought.

  ‘I’ve known him for years on and off. He’s ex SAS or something like that. He runs The Cask. To be honest, I’m not sure we are mates anymore. He always seems to avoid me lately. I don’t know what I’ve done to upset him, but I’m getting too old to chase after people. If he doesn’t want to know me anymore, that’s okay. I’ll live.’

  Slater continued to ask about Dave until Biddeford returned and handed him my phone.

  He thumbed his way through a few menus and then looked at me.

  ‘You haven’t deleted any messages?’

  ‘No I haven’t, but even if I had you have the phone records.’

  ‘I’m sure no texts have been sent to Marie from this phone,’ he said, looking pleased. ‘But I’ll have to take it in as evidence. Is that okay?’

  ‘Be my guest,’ I said. ‘I haven’t missed it.’

  He looked at his watch. ‘We’d better go,’ he said to Biddeford. Then he turned to me. ‘I’ll keep you informed.’

  ‘Thanks, Dave, I appreciate your help.’

  ‘I owed you one from before, remember?’

  ‘Am I still going to be under surveillance?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s necessary, do you Biddeford?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Back in The Cask, Dave Burnham, the landlord, was searching the shelves under the bar.

  ‘Have you lost something?’ asked Jane.

  ‘I thought there was a mobile phone under here.’

  ‘It’s been reclaimed.’

  ‘Has it? Oh bugger!’ he said, looking worried.

  ‘Is there anything wrong?’

  ‘Eh? Oh, no. No,’ he said, distractedly. ‘It’s just that I know someone who wanted one. If it wasn’t claimed I was going to give it to them, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh. Right,’ said Jane, wondering exactly when the lost phone policy had changed, and why no one had bothered to tell her…

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Are you in a hurry to get home?’ Slater asked Biddeford as they walked to their cars.

  ‘No, sir,’ said Biddeford, eager to make amends.

  ‘You don’t have to keep calling me sir. There’s a time and a place, and it’s certainly not all the time. Okay?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I mean yes. Thank you.’

  ‘So, d’you want to come for a ride? I’m going to have a little chat with Gloria Bowman. Apparently she’s a bit feisty, so it might be fun. Come along if you want. Watch and learn.’

  Once they were in Slater’s car, he turned to Biddeford.

  ‘This isn’t really an official interview,’ he explained. ‘However, as she’s the sister of the murder victim we’ve got an excuse to talk to her, and I believe she could prove to be very helpful with our enquiries.’

  ‘I sense there’s a missing “but” in that sentence,’ said Biddeford.

  Slater was impressed. ‘Good observation, Biddeford,’ he said warmly. ‘If I’m wrong about this, and Nash finds out what I’m doing, the shit will hit the fan big-time. So if you’d rather not come you can step out of the car now and go home.’

  PC Biddeford didn’t think for one moment. ‘Are you kidding? Come on, let’s go!’

  ‘Good lad! What’s your name anyway?’ Slater asked Biddeford as he drove out of the car park. ‘I can’t keep calling you PC Biddeford all the time.’

  ‘Stephen or Steve,’ said Biddeford happily.

  ‘Right Steve, I’m Dave,’ said Slater. ‘When there’s just the two of us or we’re off duty.’

  Biddeford grinned at him. He had certainly perked up.

  They drove along in silence for a few minutes until Biddeford piped up. ‘Can I ask a question?’

  ‘Fire away,’ said Slater.

 
‘What’s this thing between DI Nash and Alfie Bowman?’

  And so Slater filled the journey to Gloria’s with the story of how Alfie Bowman had come up with the evidence proving Nash’s father Tommy, a former DI himself, had covered up one murder and then committed another, and how he had passed that evidence on to Slater who had subsequently made the arrest.

  ‘Wow! No wonder he hates Bowman,’ said Biddeford at the end.

  ‘But it’s not Alfie’s fault that Nash’s old man’s a murderer, is it?’ said Slater. ‘Any more than it’s my fault.’

  ‘And that’s why he gives you a hard time, too,’ said Biddeford, realisation dawning on his face.

  ‘Right,’ agreed Slater. ‘I can understand he’s not happy, but trying to fit Alfie up for murder is way out of line, and I’m buggered if I’m going to sit back and let that happen.’

  ‘Now I’m beginning to understand all that stuff back at his flat,’ said Biddeford. ‘I was getting a bit worried.’

  ‘What? You think I was going to get a back-hander from Alfie?’ Slater laughed. ‘No way. I saw how Nash tried to intimidate him away from his old man’s story, and I know what he’s trying to do to Alfie now. I can’t just stand back and watch it happen. Trust me, if anyone’s bent around here, it’s Nash, not me.’

  Biddeford’s face fell a bit. Slater got the impression the young officer had seen Nash as someone to look up to.

  Slater thought that, at first glance, Gloria Bowman didn’t look half bad. She had a great figure and she knew how to dress to show it off. She certainly knew how to look good. Sadly, her mood didn’t match her appearance. Slater felt about as welcome as herpes. But at least she let them in.

  ‘I’ve already told you lot all I know,’ she complained as she led them into her house. ‘I thought it was all done and dusted and the killer was locked up.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ asked Slater. ‘Done and dusted?’ This was news to him, and looking at Biddeford’s face, it was news to him too.

  ‘According to your Inspector Nash, that evil bloody husband of mine killed my sister. But he’s locked up where he can’t kill anyone else. Right?’