A Handsome Stranger

by

P.F. Ford

Cover Design by Angie Zambrano

Edited by KT Editing Services

© 2013 P.F. Ford

All rights reserved

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events in this book are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real life counterparts is purely coincidental.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

A Complete Fiasco

Chapter One

The last few days had been pretty crappy. My best mate Positive Pete was still not talking to me, my girlfriend, Sophia, was annoyed with me for waking her in the middle of the night to ask for the spare key to my flat, and I figured Detective Sergeant Dave Slater was still smarting over the tall story Pete and I had told him, as I hadn’t heard from him.

But at least I had managed to find someone who didn’t seem to be annoyed with me. I had been brooding over a cup of coffee in Sophia’s tea shop below our flats when her niece and business partner, Jelena, had come over with her own coffee to join me.

‘You want to keep sulk yourself, or can I join you?’ she asked.

Her English had improved enormously from when she had first arrived, but there was still the occasional grammatical lapse. I know she was working hard to improve still further, but secretly I hoped she never got to be perfect. To me, the idiosyncratic nature of her speech, combined with her accent, were part of her charm. Add in her engaging attitude and stunning good looks, and it was no surprise the tea shop had grown into a thriving business which she now ran with the help of two assistants.

I looked up and smiled. Jelena never failed to raise my spirits with her infectious brand of humour and common sense, often offering opinions and advice that seemed to come from the wisdom of someone much, much older. I’d decided not long after we’d first met that if I had ever had a daughter, I would have liked her to have been just like Jelena.

‘Of course you can join me. I always have time for you, you know that,’ I said. And I meant it.

She eased herself into the seat opposite me and looked hard at me with her big, beautiful, brown eyes.

‘You want talk about?’ she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

‘It’s just been a crappy few days,’ I said, glumly. ‘I’m sure it will pass soon enough.’

She took a sip from her coffee. ‘So tell me.’ She smiled from behind her cup. ‘Maybe if share load, make pass quicker.’

‘Well, where shall I start? First of all, there’s your Aunt Sophia. She wasn’t exactly happy about her next door neighbour coming round to borrow a spare key in the early hours of the morning. Not that I blame her for that, but it was an emergency. I seem to have the unfortunate knack of moving our relationship forward one step and then taking it back two steps by doing something to annoy her.’

‘You can stop worry. Aunt Sophia not annoyed. Know what happen that night. Think you very brave to rescue that man. I tell you before, she like you very much. Problem is, you don’t believe.’

This was a favourite theme for Jelena. It wasn’t the first time she had lectured me about my relationship with Sophia.

‘But she hasn’t spoken to me since. It’s been four days now,’ I said.

‘And have you been to see her and speak to her?’

Is there anything worse than being told the obvious?

‘Err, well, no. I just assumed she wouldn’t want to see me.’

‘How you say…’ She thought for a moment, then a twinkle came into her eyes as she remembered what she wanted to say. ‘When you make assume you make ass of you and me. Yes?’

She said it slowly and carefully, as if she was explaining something really difficult to a small child.

‘Yes. Right,’ I agreed reluctantly.

‘Okay,’ she assured me. ‘So you only have make big ass of yourself. Now go see Aunt Sophia and talk to her.’

She gave me an impish smile. ‘Is right. Problem solve. Anyway, she already upset by something else that night, before you came wake up.’

‘What?’ I asked, curious now. ‘What upset her?’

‘Don’t know. She had phone call. Whatever was make her angry, but not tell me who call or what about. She is, how you say, moody ever since. To be honest, I worried about her, but I can’t make her talk. Whatever is, I know is not you.’

‘Do you think I can help her? You know I will if I can.’

‘Maybe you ask her, when you speak to.’

She sat back and looked pleased with herself. As far as she was concerned, problem number one had been dealt with.

‘Is good, yes? Okay, next problem,’ she said, warming to her task.

‘I don’t think you can sort this one out quite so easily.’

‘So tell me.’

‘It’s Positive Pete.’

Positive Pete was my best mate. We’d been through all sorts together, but I’d made a big mistake during our last escapade and I was really concerned I may have pushed my luck a bit too far.

‘I like Peter,’ she said, smiling. ‘Nice man, and much happier now have Daphne as partner.’

‘Yeah,’ I agreed. ‘He is a nice guy. One of the best. But I made a mess of things while we were looking for Billy Bumble and I may just have ruined the best friendship I’ve ever had.’

Jelena looked horrified. ‘Oh no! Whatever you did?’

‘It was stupid of me,’ I began. ‘We had trekked across this bog, up a damned great hill, and then crawled under this filthy, dusty hedge. We were just sort of resting up wondering what to do next when I mentioned that the guy holding Billy hostage might have a gun. I hadn’t said anything before because I really didn’t believe it was true, and in the excitement of it all I just seemed to forget.’

‘And what Peter say?’ she asked.

‘He went ballistic. Called me all sorts of names. He was going to turn around and leave me there. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. He was right, of course. I should have told him. I just didn’t think…’

I stopped talking as I relived that moment. My hands were on the table. Jelena reached out and laid her hand on mine.

‘Then what happen?’ she quietly asked.

‘Before he could get away, this huge guy, Gregov, you remember him?’

Jelena nodded. It was an incident involving her and him that had brought us together in the first place.

‘Well,’ I continued, ‘Gregov came out of the house waving a shotgun at us and we had to surrender. Pete thought we were going to die. I think we both did.’

‘Is not good,’ said Jelena, looking gloomy. ‘No wonder not happy. Is still angry with you?’

‘I guess he must be – he won’t answer my calls. Daphne says he doesn’t want to speak to me. She thinks he’ll come round in a while, but I’m not so sure. He’d just asked me to be his best man, too. He’s going to ask Daphne to marry him.’

I don’t know if I looked as helpless as I felt right then, but I think I might have because Jelena gave my hand a sympathetic squeeze.

‘You have been friend long time,’ she said, solemnly. ‘Daphne right.’ She took my hand in both of hers and looked into my eyes. ‘I don’t know answer this problem now, but I think about.’

I wasn’t optimistic about her coming up with an answer if her current mood was any sort of guide. It wasn’t like her to be sombre, but the mood didn’t last long. Her impish smile was soon back in place to lift my gloom.

‘Are more problem you want talk about? Nurse Jelena still has few minute break time left.’

Now it was my turn to take her hands.

‘It’s very good of you to take the time to listen, but you shouldn’t be sitting here listening to the self-made problems of an old fool like me,’ I told her.

She gave me a look of disdain.

‘But what is friend for?’ she said. ‘Good friend share bad time as well as good time. You were only person help me when first came here. Jelena not forget this. You good friend to me, and I good friend to you, forever, yes?’

‘Yes. Yes of course,’ I agreed.

‘Is good,’ said Jelena.

In Jelena-speak, ‘is good’ simply means the issue is resolved and there is no need for further discussion.

‘So, who else you piss off?’ she asked, making me laugh out loud with the simple directness of her question.

‘Have I mentioned Dave Slater?’

She looked puzzled.

‘You remember the detective sergeant who helped me when I was a murder suspect?’

‘Ah, yes. I remember him,’ she said, with a sly grin. ‘Have hots for me, I think.’

I laughed again. ‘I don’t think that should be held against him,’ I said. ‘I would imagine most guys Dave Slater’s age “have hots” for you. You’re a very attractive young lady.’

She gave me a conspiratorial wink. ‘Oh, I not unhappy about. Maybe I have hots for him!’

I smiled, ruefully. ‘Well, whatever you two may feel for each other, I’m certainly not in his good books right now.’

‘You break law?’

‘Not exactly. Let’s say I had to be a little economical with the truth about what happened when we found Billy Bumble. The thing is, he knows we told him a pack of lies and he’s not happy about it.’

‘But, he catch bad men and rescue Bumbly Billy, yes?’

‘Oh yeah, it all worked out okay. I think he was just a bit hacked off that we got there first. But we couldn’t tell him what really happened because we didn’t want to get Nugent involved. The thing is, without Nugent we would have been dead. It’s all a bit complicated. It would take ages to explain it properly.’

She shook her head. ‘Not know this Nugent.’

‘Probably better you keep it that way,’ I said. ‘He’s not exactly the sort of guy I’d want to introduce you to.’

‘So why you think you upset Dave Slater?’

‘He said he’d be in touch and he hasn’t.’

‘Maybe he busy. Maybe something more important. Like Aunt Sophia, maybe you need call him. Yes?’

‘Err, well, yes. I suppose you’re right.’

She smiled a sweet, knowing smile.

‘I am woman. Of course I am right.’

She had finished her coffee and now she stood up.

‘Sorry, I have to go now,’ she said. ‘And you need speak to Aunt Sophia, Positive Pete and Sergeant Slater, yes? How you say? You know it make sense, yes?’

‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘It makes perfect sense.’

‘Problem solve,’ she said as she turned to go. ‘Is good.’

As always, spending just a few minutes with Jelena was enough to lift my spirits, and make my problems seem much more manageable. And, of course, she was right. I did need to do some talking. And I was going to start with Sophia.

Chapter Two

A couple of miles away at Tinton police station, Detective Sergeant Dave Slater was not having a good morning. It had started well enough but events had taken a turn for the worst the moment he had arrived for work.

Three days ago, a major alert had been instigated and for a day, the whole station had been in uproar. Apparently, some heavyweight London gangster was on the run and according to the smartarses in London’s Serious Crime Unit, he was somewhere in the Tinton area.

By the end of that first day, it emerged that the general feeling among the police officers down in Tinton was that this scenario was highly unlikely, and as a result of their own assessment, they had been going through the motions ever since, using it as an excuse to clock up some easy overtime and delay the laborious form-filling that had become such a huge part of their jobs. 

To a man, they were quite convinced it would blow over in a week or so when the smartarses finally realised no self-respecting London gangster was going to waste his time in a tinpot little town like Tinton. So the atmosphere in the station had been almost holiday-like for the last couple of days. Slater realised things were about to change big-time, however, as soon as he arrived for work and was told he should report to the briefing room.

‘And if I were you,’ warned the duty sergeant, ‘I would forget about collecting a bacon sandwich and cup of tea first.’

‘You’re kidding, right?’ said Slater.

‘You’re already ten minutes late for work.’

‘Yeah, but who’s counting?’

‘Chief Inspector Smartarse from the Serious Crime Unit is upstairs now waiting to hold a briefing. He was ready to start at zero-seven-hundred when all of you lot should have been coming on duty. I don’t know how much patience he has, but as only two out of six have bothered to turn up so far, I’m sure we’re going to find out very soon. You walk in there carrying your breakfast and how do you think that’s going to look?’

‘Ah. Right. I see what you mean. But why didn’t anyone bloody warn us he was coming?’

‘Because we didn’t bloody know he was coming until he walked in here at six-thirty this morning, that’s why. You obviously don’t have a bloody crystal ball, so why the hell do you expect me to have one?’

The sergeant was glaring angrily at Slater.

‘Ok, Bill. Point taken,’ said Slater hurriedly. ‘Blimey, who’s pulled your string this morning?’

‘Perhaps, instead of complaining that you weren’t warned the guy was coming, you should consider the fact that if you lazy buggers were doing your jobs properly and getting here on time, I wouldn’t have got my balls chewed off by the chief inspector when he arrived today. The man’s not an idiot. He knows you lot have been sitting on your arses waiting for this alert to blow over. He knows it, I know it, and you all know it, so don’t be surprised if the first thing he does is kick your backsides all over the shop.’

The duty sergeant pointedly turned his attention away from Slater and back to the paperwork he had been studying before he had been interrupted. There was an embarrassing silence as Slater accepted his guilt. It was true, none of them had taken this thing seriously, and now they were going to have to take the bollocking that was coming.

‘Well, go on,’ snapped the sergeant. ‘Get moving. I’ve had my balls chewed off, now you can go and get yours done.’

‘Right. Yes,’ agreed Slater. ‘Better not keep him waiting any longer.’

What a great way to start the day, thought Slater, as he reluctantly climbed the stairs up to the briefing room.  

The bollocking was delivered with great purpose by Chief Inspector Smartarse – or whatever his real name was –  and had obviously been carefully designed to make them all feel small and ineffective. In Slater’s eyes, all it really succeeded in doing was driving an enormous wedge between the Tinton officers and the Serious Crime Unit. It seems they were all ‘lazy, useless and pathetic’. They wouldn’t last five minutes in ‘a place where they do real police work like the Serious Crime Unit’.

The speech wasn’t so much peppered with ‘f’ words as slathered with them. Even DC Richie Weir, a long-standing officer with little ambition and about an equal amount of ability, who could swear with the best of them, looked a little taken aback by the sheer ferocity of the swearing.

‘I thought I could swear,’ he whispered to Slater, ‘but this bloke makes me sound fuckin’ polite.’

Then the chief inspector announced he was going straight on to see the chief constable to make his feelings known about the useless bunch of wankers at Tinton, who thought they had a right to call themselves police officers. But first, he introduced them to the man who was going to lead the investigation in Tinton.

His name was Detective Inspector Jimmy Jones. Slater didn’t envy the man, having to follow the chief inspector. Picking up the pieces and trying to create some team spirit and unity wasn’t going to be easy. Slater almost felt sorry for him.

‘Right, gents,’ he began, looking at the motley collection of detectives. Tinton was only a small town and there were just six of them in total. Jones was probably used to having plenty of skills to choose from.

‘Before we try to sort out this shambles, I suggest we all grab a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich. Then, when you come back we’ll get started. It’s a much smaller team than I’m used to working with, but once we know for sure our man’s here we’ll maybe draft in some expertise from Serious Crime.’

He looked at the clock before turning back to them.

‘Right. Go and sort yourselves out and do whatever you need to do. I want you all back here for a proper briefing at zero-eight-hundred sharp. You will be wide awake and ready for action. Everybody got that?’

He looked around the room. There were no dissenting voices.

‘Thank you, gentlemen.’

Well, there goes his chance to make a good impression, thought Slater, as the atmosphere in the room lowered to an icy silence. The only sound was that of chairs scraping as the team stood to leave the room.

‘Which one of you is DS Slater?’ asked Jones before Slater could escape.

‘That’s me.’

‘Could I have a word, please?’

Slater’s face fell as he saw his chance to grab some breakfast disappearing.

‘It’s okay, I’ll get it for you,’ called his young partner, DC Steve Biddeford. They’d only been partners for a short while, and even though Biddeford could be remarkably naive at times, there was no doubting he was keen to learn and would make a good copper in time. And anyway, Slater thought Biddeford was a genuinely good guy, the sort he was happy to work with. And there weren’t many of his colleagues he could say that about.  

‘Thanks, Steve.’

Slater made his way across to Jones who was sorting through a pile of paperwork on the desk in front of him.

‘Sir?’ said Slater, showing the necessary respect for the other man’s superior rank.

Jones looked Slater up and down. ‘I’m told I can rely on you,’ he began. ‘Of course that remains to be seen, but you’ll have to do for now. I shall be leaning quite heavily on you because you have the local knowledge that I don’t have. Okay?’

‘Err, yes, sir.’

‘You don’t look very happy about that, Sergeant. Is there a problem?’

Slater thought that yes indeed there was a massive problem, and it was standing right in front of him. But he also knew better than to antagonise a senior officer, especially one who already thought he was dealing with a bunch of idiots.

‘Well come on, man, speak up. You won’t hurt my feelings.’

Slater wanted very much to tell Jones what an arrogant git he was, but now probably wasn’t the best time.

‘You don’t like my attitude do you, Sergeant? You think it would be better if I used a softly, softly approach to win you all over. Is that it?’

‘Err, well,’ said Slater awkwardly, ‘I’m not sure telling us we’re a shambles is the best way to make friends.’

‘I’m not here to make friends, Sergeant. I’m here to find and catch a dangerous criminal. A very dangerous man. Yet when I get here, I find no one seems to be taking this very seriously. It’s like carnival week at this station. Perhaps you think we don’t know what we’re talking about at Serious Crime. It’s as if you think you know better than us and we’ve got it all wrong. You’re all behaving as if it’s Coco the bloody Clown who’s on the loose!’

He almost shouted the last few words as he paced up and down, his red face a perfectly clear indicator of just how angry he really was. And Slater knew he was right to be angry. In fact, he felt distinctly embarrassed, because he had been as guilty as anyone of failing to take this thing seriously.

Gradually, DI Jones calmed down and finally stopped pacing up and down. He reached for a folder, which he handed to Slater.

‘Go and have a look through that file. It will tell you what you need to know about the man we’re after. When I do the briefing I want you up at the front with me, and I expect you to back me up. Is that clear?’

Slater nodded.

‘And make sure you get everyone back here by zero-eight-hundred,’ finished Jones, and with that, he marched out of the room.

Having had a quick look through the file, Slater made sure everyone was back in the room, ready and waiting. At exactly eight o’clock on the dot, DI Jimmy Jones entered. He marched to the front of the room and handed Slater a pile of files to hand around.

‘Right, gentlemen,’ he began. ‘Before we go any further, let’s get something clear. I’m sure some of you don’t like me or my attitude. Well, guess what? I couldn’t give a toss. The fact is, you lot are a bloody shambles, and if any one of you had walked into this situation at this station, as I have done, you would agree with me. So, before you start to question my attitude you might first consider your own attitudes and ask yourself this question. Do you think I would have anything to complain about if you had all approached this as the professionals you are supposed to be?’

No one said a word, but there was no need. The guilty faces said it all.

DI Jones let them all stew on their discomfort as he looked at each face in turn. After a prolonged uncomfortable silence, he moved on.

‘Now, I know you all think I’m a total arsehole coming in here like this, but as I already said, I really don’t care what you all think. As I explained to Sergeant Slater, I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to get a job done, and you’re all going to help me to do it.’

Again he paused to let this sink in.

‘However, I’m also not one for brooding. I’ve told you what I think and that’s an end to it. As far as I’m concerned, we’re starting from scratch now. Fuck up again and I’ll bollock you all again. Do your job like professionals and we’ll all get on just fine.’

He paused again and stared at each face in turn again, before nodding to himself.

‘Right. Let’s get down to business,’ he said, waving one of the folders in the air. ‘You all have one of these folders in front of you.’

He turned to Slater.

‘DS Slater is going to give you a quick run through now, but I expect each and every one of you to read it thoroughly. You have a very dangerous man on your patch. You need to make sure you know who you’re up against, and then we need to find him. So no more pissing around, right?’

This time, there were nods and noises of assent. DI Jimmy Jones had just raised his popularity several notches. Slater was duly impressed. Maybe the guy wasn’t such an arrogant git after all.

Turning to his presentation board, Slater turned over the cover to reveal an enlarged head shot of the villain in question. The handsome face could have easily been that of a 50s or 60s film star. In fact, it looked a bit like Dean Martin.

‘So this is the man,’ began Slater. ‘Don’t be fooled by the film star looks. This guy is the real deal. His name is Antonio-’ He squinted at the surname for a moment and then thought better of it. ‘I’m not going to even try to pronounce his surname – you’ve all got the file. He’s known to everyone as Slick Tony. He originates from Serbia…’

Chapter Three

One of the advantages to living close to the High Street is that it’s never far to go if you need shopping in a hurry. In less than twenty minutes, I had walked around to the little florist shop, had a lovely bouquet made up, and walked back. This particular bouquet was going to be delivered by hand, by me.

Now I don’t know about you, but I tend to think most women would be pleased to see a huge bouquet especially for them. But Sophia didn’t look too happy to find me on her doorstep. This wasn’t quite what I was expecting. Jelena had assured me that Sophia wasn’t mad at me. Could she really have got it so wrong?

‘Oh. Alfie,’ she said.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, feeling somewhat deflated. ‘Were you expecting someone else?’

‘No. No, of course not.’

She seemed distracted, not like the Sophia I had come to know with her beautiful warm smile. I always felt she didn’t look anything like her fifty-plus years and could have passed for a woman in her thirties, but today she looked every one of her years and a bit more. She had a sort of haunted look about her.

‘These are for you,’ I said, offering her the bouquet. ‘To say sorry for the other night.’

For a moment she looked as though she didn’t understand. Now I was really concerned.

‘Sophia? What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ She sighed. ‘I’m just not sleeping very well.’

She took the flowers from me. ‘Thank you. They’re beautiful,’ she said, just about managing to summon up a half smile. Normally, I would have expected her to kiss me at this stage, or at least to see a big beaming smile, but today there was nothing. It looked as if she wasn’t even going to invite me in. I couldn’t just let this go.

‘Are you still annoyed with me?’ I asked.

‘No. It’s not that,’ she said. She looked desperately unhappy. I wondered what on earth could have happened.

‘We are still friends aren’t we?’ I thought I sounded a bit desperate, but then I realised I actually felt a bit desperate.

For the first time since she had opened the door, she looked into my eyes and for a moment I thought she was going to burst into tears. She managed to stop the tears, but she was obviously too upset to talk. I reached across, placed my hands on her shoulders, and turned her around.

‘Come on,’ I said, walking her indoors. ‘Let’s go inside and talk about it.’

I quietly closed the door behind us, took the flowers from her, and left them on the kitchen table. They could wait for a while. Sophia just stood where I had left her in the hallway. Then she let me steer her through her flat until I sat her down on a settee. I was really worried now. It was like leading a zombie through the flat.

I sat down next to her and took her hands. She looked up at me sadly and a single tear trickled down her cheek. I used a finger to gently wipe it away.

‘You’ll feel better if you talk about it,’ I said, encouragingly.

She gave a huge sigh in reply.

‘Is it to do with the phone call you had that night?’

A trace of alarm flickered in her eyes and then it was gone. ‘How do you know about that?’

‘Jelena mentioned it.’

‘She has no right,’ she snapped. ‘It’s not her place to go around telling people-’

‘Whoa! Hold on a minute. It wasn’t like that at all. I was asking her if you were still angry with me. She told me the phone call had upset you before I even got here. That’s all. She’s just concerned about you. And now I’m here, I’m concerned too. What on earth has happened?’

‘It’s nothing, honestly. My ex-husband called. It was totally unexpected and it brought back some painful memories I’d more or less forgotten about. It’s nothing for you to worry about, really.’

I knew she wasn’t telling me everything. She wasn’t making eye contact, and she certainly wasn’t being very expansive. But I also knew she had difficulty talking about her ex and her time with him. If I pushed her to talk it was likely to simply upset her even more. There was obviously more to it than she was saying, but I figured if I gave her some space she would talk when she was ready.

I shuffled up closer, put my arms around her, and gave her a big hug. She was very tense, but I felt her relax into me and she snuggled up closer and rested her head against my chest. A single, huge sob shuddered through her.

‘Oh Alfie,’ she said, sighing. ‘You are so good for me. What would I do without you?’

And then she began to cry, waves and waves of sobs making her tremble in my arms. I picked her up and carried her through to her bedroom, curling up on the bed with her still in my arms, gently stroking her hair, while she cried and cried.

Eventually, she stopped crying and her breathing became smooth and regular as she gradually slipped into a deep sleep. At one stage I tried to move, but even as she slept she clung on tight to keep me where I was, close to her, protecting her.

But from what? I wondered.

I heard a door close. Briefly, I wondered where I was, then I became aware of Sophia curled up next to me. She was still sleeping like a baby, and I had obviously dozed off too. Carefully I eased myself away from her and pulled the quilt over her. I looked at my watch. Jeez! It was past five pm. We must have been asleep for hours.

I made my way from her bedroom and pulled the door closed behind me. I guessed the sound I heard must have been Jelena coming home. I knew exactly what she was going to think.

‘So,’ said a voice. ‘I see you still friends. Have you been make up all afternoon? No wonder Aunt Sophia not come to work.’

She had adopted an ‘I’ve caught you red-handed’ pose, standing with her arms folded and one foot tapping on the floor. It was the sly grin that spoiled the pose and gave her away.

‘Shhhh!’ I hushed her. ‘It’s not what you think.’

‘You say that last time-’

‘And I’m saying it again,’ I assured her.  I pointed to the kitchen. ‘In there,’ I said. ‘We need to talk.’

She followed me into the kitchen and pushed the door closed.

‘Sophia’s asleep,’ I explained, ‘and she has been since she cried her eyes out several hours ago. My guess is she hasn’t slept properly for days. There’s something badly wrong but she won’t tell me what it is. Will you keep an eye on her while I pop home? I have a couple of things I need to do. I’ll be back in a while, and I’m only next door so if you need me call me, okay?’

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘So I right to worry. Did she say what is?’

‘She hasn’t really told me anything yet, but maybe when she wakes up she’ll feel more like talking. Are you sure you’ll be alright?’

‘Is okay. I will sit with her until she wake up, and I call you if I need you. I promise.’

‘Right. I won’t be long.’

Chapter Four

As I stood under a hot shower, I was feeling quite guilty about leaving Sophia, but then again I was sure she was in good hands with Jelena. To be honest, I was feeling confused. On the one hand, Sophia wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong, but then she obviously wanted me to be there when she had finally let it all go. Now I wasn’t really sure what to do next. The last thing I wanted was for her to think I was forcing myself on her and making her talk, but then I didn’t want her to stay away and make her think I didn’t care…

Not for the first time, I wondered why it is that some people always seemed to know what to do in these situations, and I never seemed to have a clue.

I towelled myself dry and wandered through to my bedroom. As usual, the window was open. A slight breeze was ruffling the curtains. I had just finished dressing when I thought I heard a noise from the kitchen. I stopped moving and listened hard. There was definitely a noise, although I couldn’t make out what it was.

Carefully and quietly, I crept through my flat. The kitchen door was open. Keeping close to the wall, I got as close as I could and peered in. I’m not sure what exactly I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what I saw.

‘Good evening,’ I said. ‘And what can I do for you?’

A large cat sat in the centre of the floor. As I spoke, he turned his gaze in my direction and made a little mewing noise, almost like a greeting. He was almost completely black with just a single splash of white on his face. He didn’t look remotely concerned by my sudden arrival. In fact, it was almost as if he had been expecting me. As if to prove the point, he stood, tail erect, and walked over to me, where he proceeded to rub around my legs as if we were old friends.

Now I have to confess I do love cats, and this one seemed to have taken an instant shine to me, so I bent down to fuss him. He began to purr furiously. I realised I knew this cat. Not much longer than a week ago I’d had a dream in which I was fighting with someone who was on top of me pinning me down with a hand over my mouth. As I had awakened from the dream, I had found this very cat stretched blissfully upon my chest with an outstretched paw on my lips.

‘We’ve met before, haven’t we?’ I said.  ‘You’re the chap who came in through my bedroom window and overpowered me a few nights ago.’

This provoked an outburst of even louder purring, almost as if he was agreeing with me. I wondered who he belonged to. He certainly hadn’t been living rough – he was far too well fed for that and his coat was beautiful. If anything, he was slightly overweight. And anyway, he was way too affectionate to be a street cat.

‘So,’ I said to my new friend. ‘Where do you come from and what are you doing here?’

I stopped stroking him and went over to the fridge. As I opened the door to look inside, he curled around my legs so he too could see what was on offer.

‘I’m afraid I’m all out of cat food, but I can offer you some milk. Would you like that?’

He gave me another loud purr, which I assumed meant ‘yes please.’ This seemed to be the correct assumption as he settled in front of the small saucer of milk I placed on the floor and began to eagerly lap it up. I didn’t have a problem with him being here, but what if he actually belonged to someone else? I didn’t think it would be right to encourage him if that was the case. It would almost be like theft.

The main reason I had left Sophia was to shower and get changed. The cat was a fun diversion, but I had promised Jelena I wouldn’t be long.

‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave,’ I explained to the cat. ‘I have to go next door.’

If I didn’t know better, I’d have said the cat was listening to me and that he understood exactly what I had said. But cats can’t do that, can they? Whether he understood or not, he followed me to the front door and as I opened it, he stepped outside. He waited while I closed the door behind us and then escorted me around the corner to Sophia’s door. I knocked and we waited.

‘I’m not sure you’ll be allowed in here,’ I said, looking down at him.

The door opened and Jelena looked out. She smiled at me, and then she noticed the cat.

‘Dibby!’ she said. ‘What you do here?’

‘Dibby?’ I echoed. ‘Do you know him?’

She looked as though she was going to tell me something, but then she seemed to change her mind and knelt down to fuss the cat.

‘He come tea shop for few weeks,’ she said. ‘He stray, I think. I feed.’  She poked him gently in the ribs.  ‘Oh! Maybe feed too much. Bit tubby.’

She stood up and looked at me. ‘Surprised you not see him around,’ she said.

‘Oh, we’ve met. I just didn’t know he was called Dibby. He seems to be thinking about moving into my flat.’

‘He is nice cat. Make nice friend for you. Is good.’

She stepped back to let me into the flat.

‘Is she still asleep?’ I asked quietly.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘She not move.’ Then she turned back to the cat. ‘Are you come in?’

The cat took a look inside the flat, seemed to think about coming in, but then decided the night was still young and maybe there were better things to do. Having graced us with his company for long enough, it was now time to saunter off and do some cat things.

‘Okay.’ Jelena smiled, waving to him as she closed the door. ‘Have fun, Dibby.’

‘Why d’you call him Dibby?’ I asked, as she turned away from the door.

She looked a little uncomfortable. ‘I don’t call him Dibby,’ she said.

I was confused, and I obviously must have looked it. ‘But you said he was called-’

‘No. I call him DB. Not Dibby, but letter ‘D’ and letter ‘B’ – DB!’

DB was an old friend of ours. We all knew him as Dry Biro, but tended to shorten it to DB. He was as good as a mentor to me, and all of us had huge respect for him. It was through him that I had become involved with helping people and solving problems. Sadly, he had been attacked following one of our investigations and he’d been in hospital in a coma ever since.

‘But why would you name a cat after DB?’

‘Where I come from it tradition. You have word for, but not know.’ She looked a bit worried now, so I tried to help her.

‘You mean superstition?’ I offered. ‘It’s a sort of belief. Like believing in ghosts.’

‘Is right,’ she agreed. ‘Superstition. Like believe ghost. Exactly.’

She looked satisfied with her explanation but I needed a little bit more than that.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Never see cat before DB in hospital. Two day later, cat here. He DB as cat, so I call him DB. Is right.’

‘You mean you think the cat is DB? Like his ghost? But, Jelena, he’s not dead, he’s in a coma.’

‘Remember you say person in coma like he trapped in body. I say he find way to escape trap. Become cat.’

‘And you believe that’s true?’ I said, quite astonished that she seemed so sure of herself.

‘You can prove is not true?’ she challenged, folding her arms defiantly.

‘Well, no. I can’t actually prove it’s not true.’

‘But you don’t believe,’ she finished for me. ‘Okay. You believe what you want, I believe what I want.’

I had to admit, I was rather surprised by her conviction, but I had no intention of falling out with her over a cat. If she wanted to believe it was DB in another form, that was fine with me. Just as long as she didn’t expect me to start taking advice from him.

‘Okay,’ I conceded. ‘I’m not going to argue with you about it, but I insist we call him Dibby and not DB.’

She gave me one of her full power smiles. As far as she was concerned, she had got the better of me, but she was gracious enough not to gloat.

‘Dibby nice name. Is good.’

So that was it then. Discussion closed.

‘Now you here I do dinner. I do some for Aunt Sophia too. You want? Is only pasta.’

I knew Jelena’s ‘only pasta’ would be a delight. She had cooked for me before. And I realised I hadn’t eaten anything for ages.

‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’

She gave me a ‘don’t be so stupid’ look.

‘Would I ask if mind? See Aunt Sophia awake yet. Dinner in half hour.’

Sophia was awake when I entered her room, but she pretended not to be. I walked over and sat on the bed.

‘Hey,’ I said quietly, stroking her hair. ‘I know you’re awake. Jelena’s just doing some dinner for us.’

Finally, she cracked her eyes open and slowly sat up next to me.

‘Hi,’ I said. ‘How are you feeling.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

‘It’s alright,’ I said. ‘We all get upset at times, and sometimes we don’t really know why. As long as you’re feeling better. That’s what matters.’

‘Yes. I am feeling much better, thank you. I have been very foolish, but now I can see much more clearly. I have to make some big decisions. There are things I need to do.’

‘What decisions? What things? Let me help you.’

‘Listen to me, Alfie,’ she said. ‘I’m where I am now because of you, and it’s because of you I need to do what I have to do. But you have to let me do this on my own.’

‘What do you mean “because of me”? What have I done? Are you in trouble because of me?’

‘Shhhh!’ she whispered, placing a finger against my lips. Then she moved her hand to pull my face down to hers and gently kissed me.

‘Listen to me,’ she whispered. ‘I have waited a long time for someone I could trust enough to let near me. I know I am very hard work, but you have been more patient than a girl could really expect. You are kind, you are loyal and you are honest. You are a good man, Alfie. It’s time I stopped messing you around, but first there is something I must do. You have to trust me on this. Please.’

‘But-’

‘Please,’ she insisted.

I looked into her eyes. I knew I could do just about anything for this beautiful woman. Trusting her was not going to be a problem. She seemed to know what I was thinking and she pulled me in for a much longer kiss this time.

‘If you’re sure you’re okay?’ I asked as I held her.

‘Really. I know what I have to do. Trust me. I’m fine now,’ she assured me.

‘You want me to go now?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, releasing me. ‘But yes. The sooner I get this done the better.’

‘But you’ll call me if you need me?’

‘Of course I will. I just need a day or two.’

I’m not sure I really understood what was happening, but there didn’t seem to be anything else I could do if she really wanted me to go.

Chapter Five

I had continued trying to call Positive Pete but it seemed he didn’t want to talk to me. Every time I called his mobile number it went straight to voicemail. I’d left a message the first time, but I didn’t see any point in leaving more. He would know from the first message that I wanted to talk to him; leaving more would just look desperate. I admit I was beginning to feel a little desperate, but I didn’t want to make it too obvious. I wondered if he would still want me to be his best man? Would he even want me at his wedding?

The more I thought about it, the more miserable I became. I needed to get busy and find something else to think about for a few hours. Then maybe my subconscious could figure out the best way to get through to Pete. Yep, that sounded like a plan.

Let’s try Dave Slater again. Perhaps he’ll answer my call this time…

‘Dave Slater.’

His tone was curt to say the least. He would know it was me from the caller display, so I figured this meant he was still hacked off with me. I wondered how I should play this to try and win him over, finally settling for trying to act normal and see what happens.

‘Ah, there you are at last. I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.’

‘No, I’m not avoiding you, it’s just that sometimes my job needs my full attention. Right now I’m only answering because I’m on a break, but I’ll warn you now, if you’ve called just to feed me another one of your fairy stories I’m going to hang up.’

‘Actually, I just phoned to see how you are and to find out if you’re still pissed off with me, but I think I’ve already found that out.’

‘I don’t like someone I thought was a friend treating me like I’m stupid. Is that so surprising?’

I had to confess he had a point, but I was in between a rock and a hard place with this one. Perhaps I could appeal to his better nature.

‘How about we meet up and I’ll buy you a beer.’

‘Not much chance of that happening in the near future.’

‘What? You’re not in trouble because of our evidence are you?’

‘What? No, don’t be daft. It’s nothing like that. I haven’t even written my report yet. All the usual stuff’s been put on hold. We have a major alert going down right now so everyone’s working non-stop. No chance of a social life.’

He was trying to sound hard-done-by, but I could tell he was excited by the situation. This was what his job was all about.

‘Wow!’ I said. ‘What’s the big deal?’

‘It’s all hush, hush, mate, so I can’t really tell you. But I can tell you this much – if you read the newspapers you should be able to work it out.  We’ve even got a big noise from London down to show us how to do our job properly. In fact, now I’m thinking about it, you’d probably get on well with him – he thinks we’re all bloody stupid too.’

‘Ouch!’ I said. ‘That hurts. I don’t think you’re stupid as it happens, and you know it.’

‘Yeah, right. So you said before. But that’s not how it feels.’

‘Look, you caught the villain red-handed and you rescued the victim. What more do you want?’

‘Alright,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘That much is true, but you owe me big-time if you want to put this right.’

‘Okay. Whatever. I do want to put it right. Just say the word,’ I conceded.

‘I’ll hold you to that when I get the chance,’ he said, eager to push home his advantage. ‘But right now I’m going to have to go.’

Slater seemed well satisfied with his moral victory. I was pleased too. Although it had been just a brief conversation, it seemed that at least this was one friendship that might just weather the storm.

Next, I decided it was time to check up on the person who had caused all these problems.

To be fair, it wasn’t really Billy Bumble’s fault. I mean, in the first place he didn’t ask to be kidnapped, and it was actually his wife Allison who had contacted me to ask for help in finding him. Billy really was the innocent victim in this whole situation.

To cut a long story short, Billy had been kidnapped by deranged Detective Inspector ‘Nasty’ Nash, who had decided it would be a good way of getting his own back on Allison. Nash also knew that Allison didn’t trust the police to help her and she would turn to me for help. Sure enough, Allison contacted me and I fell very neatly into Nash’s trap, taking Positive Pete with me. It all got a bit complicated from there, but with the intervention of local gangster Nugent, Billy was rescued, Nash was captured, and DS Slater got the credit. Like I said, it’s a long story…

Anyway, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a ride out to see them and make sure they were alright – at least they might be pleased to see me, and I could do with a couple of friendly faces right now.

The Dump was the local name for the rather crappy housing estate where Allison and Billy lived. It wasn’t far from the centre of town where I lived, so it only took a few minutes to get there.

I parked outside their house with its signature pile of rubbish blocking the path to the side door. Allison refused to accept that no one was going to collect her rubbish until she put it in a bin and left it out the front of her house like everyone else. I was pretty sure it was only a matter of time before the local council pointed out the fact that it was becoming a health hazard, but I didn’t envy the poor guy who would have to serve the notice to her. She was notorious for her mistrust of authority and harboured a huge persecution comple,x which I have had the misfortune to be on the wrong side of in the past.

So, even though I was visiting as a friend, I was filled with trepidation as I walked up to the front door and knocked. Would I be welcomed or assaulted? I took a couple of steps back from the door just in case. Allison was a rather large lady so I should be able to run faster than her, and now I had a start. But nothing happened.

Gingerly, I stepped back up to the door and knocked again. This time I stayed by the door and listened. Not a sound. They must be out. So that had been a wasted journey. I was disappointed to have missed them, but at the same time I was relieved to have avoided being mistakenly identified as the enemy once again. At least I was in one piece.

I walked slowly back to my car, climbed in, and started the engine. Most of the houses on this part of the estate were arranged around the outside of a central green. Or at least, it was called a green, and I suppose one day it had been covered in green grass. Now, though, it would have been more appropriately named a brown.

Most of the grass had been worn away by the local kids who used the area as a football pitch, skate park etc. The odd patch of grass had survived here and there, so maybe it would qualify as a ‘green and brown’, or perhaps an ‘olive’. Worse still, many of the local residents regarded the green as the ideal place to dump broken machinery. It was littered with old washing machines, dead fridges, and even a couple of broken cars.

The green was roughly rectangular and the road served as the perimeter, with each house set back far enough to allow for a driveway long enough to park a car. When it was first built, this had been a great idea and the road was kept clear of cars. Nowadays, when almost every family had two or even more cars, many parked in the road, which meant there was only just enough room for through traffic. This was a particular problem in the evenings, at night, and at weekends when people were at home, but not so much during the day when most people were at work.

I cruised slowly around the green, not really focusing on anything in particular. As I reached a point opposite Allison’s house, I had the feeling I was being watched. I looked at the house I was passing. It had net curtains, but the curtain had been pulled back in one of the bedroom windows and I could clearly see a face looking down at me. It was a man’s face, and it seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I had seen that face before, but couldn’t think where. Isn’t it annoying when that happens?

Heading off the estate and back onto the main road I quickly forgot about the face and headed back into town. Right then, I had nothing better to do so I thought about what Dave Slater had said. He couldn’t tell me what he was working on, but he said if I read a newspaper I should be able to work it out. In that case, perhaps I’d better pick one up on the way home.

I resisted the temptation to open the newspaper until I got home. I tended to keep up with the news by listening to radio or catching bulletins on TV, so actually reading a newspaper was a bit of a novelty. The best way to enjoy it would be to make a cup of tea, sit at the table, and spread the newspaper out. It was almost like a big event.

I worked my way slowly through the newspaper from the front page, making sure to check out every story. I had got to page seven and so far nothing had caught my eye. I turned over to page eight. There was a big head and shoulders photo of a man under the headline ‘Fugitive on the run!’ Now I’m not one for theatricals and overacting, but for a moment I stopped breathing and I’m sure my heart missed a couple of beats. I’d seen that face before.

Just a few nights before, when Billy Bumble had been rescued, I’d been given a lift home in a police car in the early hours. They’d dropped me off in town and shortly afterwards, a Rolls Royce had glided past. That man had been looking at me from the back seat. He’d made a gun with his hand and aimed at me. And that same man had been watching me drive around the green at The Dump less than an hour ago.

There was a major criminal on the run and he was holed up in Tinton. And I knew exactly where he was.

Holy shit! Just wait until I tell Dave Slater about this. 

Chapter Six

I’d been ringing Dave’s number since lunchtime. I’d left at least three messages, but it was now close to five pm and still he hadn’t called me back. I decided it was time to bypass his mobile and try calling the station – maybe I would have a bit more success that way. It took a whole lot of hanging on and I had to relay the same reason for calling to three different people, but eventually I tracked him down.

‘DS Slater,’ said the familiar voice.

‘Dave, it’s Alfie. I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon.’

‘Yes, I know. It’s very flattering that you feel the need to pursue me, but I told you we’re working our arses off here. I haven’t got time to go for a pint. This had better be important.’

‘Now who’s treating a friend as if they’re stupid?’ I said. ‘I’m well aware how busy you are. D’you really think I’d be calling if it wasn’t important?’

‘But I’m tied up on this big case, and-’

‘And have you found him yet?’ I interrupted.

‘Found who?’ Slater sounded cautious so I guessed there must be unwelcome ears nearby.

‘Slick Tony. That’s what the papers are calling him.’

‘Look, I haven’t got time for this now-’

‘I know where he is.’

There was a brief, stunned silence, followed by an unexpected shift in his attitude.

‘Look,’ he snarled. ‘If this is another one of your stunts, I’ll, I’ll…’

‘Is that what you really think of me?’ I asked, disappointed. ‘Do you really think I would want to waste your time? Or is it more likely I would want to try and help you?’

Now there was a different silence. I could almost hear him struggling to believe me.

‘Well, it’s your choice, Dave. I can put the phone down now and stop wasting your time, or you can listen to what I have to say and maybe you’ll learn where your fugitive is.’

Finally, he seemed to make his mind up.

‘Alright,’ he said. ‘I’ll buy it. But this is too big for me to meet you for a pint. You’ll have to come down here and talk to me and my temporary boss, DI Jimmy Jones.’

‘I’ll be at the front desk in fifteen minutes,’ I agreed.

‘We’ll be waiting,’ he said.

True to his word, a worried-looking Dave Slater was waiting for me by the front desk at the Tinton police station. I was quickly whisked away and found myself being led into an interview room. A single table was in the centre of the bare room, two chairs to one side and one chair on what I assumed was going to be my side.

DI Jimmy Jones stood to greet me and shake my hand.

‘Mr Bowman, do take a seat.’

I’m not really sure what I was expecting, but the young man before me wasn’t it. By my reckoning he looked a bit young to be a DI so I immediately marked him down as some sort of ‘smartarse whizz-kid’. Judging people on first appearance is a very bad habit of mine which most times I’m able to curb, but every now and then I find it quite impossible. This was one of those occasions.

We settled in our seats, me on one side and the two police officers on the other. It was Jones who took the lead and made the introductions. I half expected him to remind me that wasting police time was a serious offence, but he made no mention of it. I hoped this meant Dave Slater hadn’t told him about our recent falling out.

‘Dave here tells me you fancy yourself as a bit of a Sherlock, Mr Bowman.’

‘I do seem to have found myself in one or two interesting situations,’ I said carefully, not quite sure where this was going.

‘Yes,’ said Jones doubtfully. ‘I’m sure you have. But here’s the thing you need to understand. I have no time for amateurs. In my experience, they tend to be interfering busybodies who try to force their own theories into police investigations, and invariably they have a completely different agenda to mine. I’m not interested in helping you to cover yourself in glory. I just want to catch the villain. I hope you understand where I’m coming from.’

He finished his little speech with the sort of smile I thought a shark might offer to its victim just before dinner. I smiled back as I upgraded my opinion of DI Jones to ‘smartarse whizz-kid arsehole’. I allowed myself time to think before replying. This was a good idea; otherwise, I probably would have told him to go and take a running jump.

‘Well here’s a something for you to consider, DI Jones. I’ve come here today to volunteer some information which may help your enquiry. I am not seeking glory, nor do I have the slightest desire to get involved in your investigation. My only agenda is to enjoy my life and try and have as little contact as possible with smug arseholes who think they’re superior to everyone else, but sometimes they can’t be avoided. I hope you understand where I’m coming from.’

The smile had slowly faded from Jones’ face as I said my little piece. Now he looked as though he would like to strangle me, but I met his glare with a sweet smile. We were supposed to be on the same side, but I wasn’t going to sit there and be intimidated by the likes of him. Dave Slater looked as if he would like the ground to open up and swallow him. I would apologise to him later, but he would have to deal with it for now. To his credit he stepped in to defuse the situation.

‘Err, to be fair, guv,’ he started, ‘Mr Bowman has proved to be very helpful to us in the past. And I can assure you he’s not one for getting in the way of an investigation.’

Jones turned to look at Slater and then back at me.

‘Oh. I get it.’ He sighed. ‘You two are mates, aren’t you?’

‘Well, we know each other, of course,’ said Slater, ‘but why is that a problem? I mean how does it make Alfie’s information any less relevant or important? My mum could come in later. Would her information be less important because she knows me?’

Jones turned back to Slater again. Sat opposite, in my ringside seat, I was beginning to enjoy myself.

‘Alright, Sergeant.’ said Jones, backing down somewhat. ‘I was speaking from personal experience, you understand.’

‘So am I, sir,’ said Slater respectfully. ‘You have to remember, this isn’t London. As you were so quick to point out earlier, this is just a tinpot little town in Hampshire. You asked me to help with my local knowledge, and my local knowledge is that Alfie Bowman wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have some information that he felt would be useful to our enquiries. And, for what it’s worth, it’s my professional opinion we could do with some help.’

Jones sighed heavily. He looked at Slater with a new respect.

‘I stand corrected, Sergeant,’ he acknowledged, then he turned to me, ‘and I apologise if I have offended you, Mr Bowman.’

My opinion of Jones went up a notch of you. You have to respect a man who’s prepared to admit when he’s got it wrong. Perhaps this had something to do with why someone so young had risen through the ranks so highly.

‘Right,’ said Slater, looking as though he, too, had a new-found respect for DI Jones. ‘So what have you got for us?’

‘Your man, Slick Tony. I saw his picture in the newspaper and I recognised him. I know where he is, and I think he’s been here for a few days.’

‘You’re quite sure?’ asked Jones. ‘That picture in the newspapers isn’t very good.’ He slid a photograph across to me. ‘This is a much better one.’

I looked at the photo. There was no mistake. It was definitely the same guy.

‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘that’s him. No doubt at all. I first saw him a few days ago after the Billy Bumble thing.’

‘Billy Bumble?’ asked Jones, looking quizzically at Slater.

‘A local villain,’ explained Slater. ‘It’s nothing to do with this case, but it was just a few days ago. Alfie helped us with that one.’

Jones looked unimpressed.

‘Perhaps you could enlighten me later,’ he said to Slater, then he turned back to me. ‘But you said this was few days ago. Why didn’t you come forward then?’

‘Because I didn’t know he was a fugitive then, did I? It was in the early hours of the morning. I was in the High Street when this Rolls Royce glided by. Slick Tony was in the back. He was staring at me and then he made a gun with his hand and aimed it at me. It was really weird.’

‘What’s so special about you that he would he make a gun and aim it at you?’ asked Jones. ‘Have you met him before? Do you know him?’

‘As far as I’m aware, I’ve never set eyes on him,’ I said, ‘but then he’s got one of those faces. Like a film star you feel you should know but you don’t. Does that make sense?’

‘Yes,’ agreed Dave Slater. ‘That tends to be the general opinion. We all feel we should know who he is but none of us do. He manages to be well known and unknown at the same time.’

‘Yes, alright. Enough of that,’ said Jones. ‘You say you know where he is now?’

‘That’s right. I was up at The Dump this morning.’

‘The Dump?’ Jones looked at Slater.

‘It’s a housing estate,’ Slater explained.

‘I went to see Billy Bumble, but he wasn’t in,’ I continued. ‘As I was driving around the estate to come home, there he was again, watching me from a window in number thirty-eight, opposite Billy’s house.’

Jimmy Jones looked at me with scepticism.

‘Slick Tony,’ he explained patiently, ‘is a very dangerous man. He’s what I would call serious business. Yet you would have us believe he’s holed up in a council house on a crappy housing estate called The Dump in a tinpot little town like Tinton.’

He paused to let this sink in. I had to agree with him – it did sound seriously unlikely.

‘Not only that,’ Jones continued, ‘but he seems to have taken a great interest in you, Mr Bowman. First he’s making an imaginary gun in the early hours and firing at you, and now he’s watching you from his hideout. Why would someone like him, a genuine Mr Big, take an interest in someone like you?’

‘I know,’ I agreed. ‘It sounds very unlikely to me too. And I have no idea why he should be watching out for me. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Maybe I’m mistaken. I can only tell you what I saw.’

We all sat staring at each other for few moments. Finally, Jones seemed to make up his mind.

‘Right, Mr Bowman. Thank you for coming in to see us. We’ll be in touch. The constable outside the door will see you off the premises.’

He doesn’t believe me, I thought in disbelief. He thinks I’m making it all up.

Without saying anything further, I stood up and left the room.

Slater waited until the door had shut behind Alfie and then turned to DI Jones.

‘You see,’ said the inspector. ‘That’s exactly what I mean about these amateur bloody detectives. They always want to make it all about themselves. I mean, come on. Slick Tony watching Alfie Bowman? How likely is that?’

‘About as likely as a DI from the Serious Crime Unit in London coming down to a tinpot little town like Tinton to lead a manhunt,’ answered Slater. ‘Look, you know the guy’s in this area somewhere, so why not on a rundown housing estate? It sounds to me like it’s the perfect place to hide, especially if the DI leading the hunt thinks it’s the last place he’d choose.’

Jimmy Jones drummed his fingers on the table while he digested Slater’s words. Then a broad grin spread across his face.

‘Do you know, Sergeant,’ he finally said. ‘I’m glad I don’t have to work with you every day.’

‘Sir?’ said a puzzled Slater.

‘I think I’d soon get pissed off with you proving me wrong several times a day.’

‘Ah. Right. So you think maybe we should look into this a bit further?’

‘I think we can’t afford not to. However, we need to be very careful. We can’t just go marching in there, mob-handed. The guy’s likely to be armed and we know he’s dangerous. If your friend Mr Bowman is correct and Slick Tony’s been here for a few days undetected, the chances are he thinks he’s safe for a few more days. What’s this estate like? Could we set up a surveillance operation to watch that house?’

‘I’ll get us a map,’ said Slater, a rush of adrenaline boosting his enthusiasm.

‘Good idea,’ agreed Jones. ‘I’ll see you upstairs in five minutes.’

Chapter Seven

‘So where’s this house then?’ asked Jones, as Slater indicated The Dump, aka The Valleys estate.

The map showed the houses arranged around the central green. Slater pointed to one of the houses.

‘Alfie said it’s number thirty-eight which would be on this side here.’

‘Right,’ said Jones, ‘with your local knowledge, I’m sure you must know some of the people who live on this estate. So tell me – which house has occupants who would be likely to allow us to set up a surveillance operation in their front bedroom?’

‘Ah. Yes, well,’ began Slater. ‘The Dump is not exactly one of those estates where we’re likely to win a popularity contest anytime soon.’

‘Bugger.’ Jones sighed. ‘I had a feeling this was all going too well. Get a lot of trouble up there do you?’

‘More than anywhere else,’ Slater said, nodding.

‘Okay,’ said Jones. ‘So if no one likes us up there, is there anyone we can lean on? Or someone who owes us, even if they don’t like us? What about that Billy bloke you mentioned earlier?’

‘Billy Bumble?’ Slater smiled ruefully. ‘Billy Bumble has been a pain in the arse for years. He’s a petty thief who can’t seem to help himself. He regards us as a challenge so I can’t see him helping us out. And his missus is even worse. She absolutely friggin’ hates us!’

‘So what happened a few days ago? And how come your mate Alfie Bowman got involved?’

‘Err, well. It’s a long story and a bit embarrassing to be honest, but I’ll give you the short version. Billy got kidnapped by a rogue police officer-’

‘I beg your pardon?’ interrupted Jones in disbelief.

‘We’ll be here all night if you want to know the whole story, guv. Trust me on this. Billy got kidnapped. His wife hates the police or any sort of authority, so she didn’t report him missing. But she did go to Alfie and ask for his help. Long story short, we didn’t get involved because no crime had been reported. Then we got a call to go to this disused old house where we find Billy Bumble, the kidnap victim, all trussed up like a turkey ready to go in the oven. We also find the rogue police officer who had kidnapped him handcuffed to his own car.’

Jones laughed out loud, his disbelief even more evident.

‘How very convenient for you, Sergeant,’ he said, when he’d finished laughing. ‘Anyway, what has this got to do with Alfie Bowman? How was he involved?’

‘He tracked down the house on his own. Because Billy’s wife Allison asked him for help, he managed to do the job for us.’

‘Is it always like this down here?’ asked Jones. ‘It sounds a lot more fun than where I work. It’s like a bloody circus. Maybe I should ask for a transfer.’

He chuckled away happily to himself. ‘So, Bowman tipped you off then.’

Slater thought about how he should answer this. He decided to use caution and avoid answering it altogether.

‘He got there just moments before us.’

Jones studied Slater’s face shrewdly but seemed to decide against probing any further.

‘Well, whatever,’ he said. ‘The point is, this Billy Bumble guy lives right opposite the house we think Slick Tony is hiding in, and he has reason to be grateful to you. He owes you a favour, so get over there and lean on him.’

‘It’s not quite as simple as that,’ said Slater, sighing. ‘It’s Billy’s wife, Allison. She won’t let any of us anywhere near the inside of her house. She was abused as a kid and really hates any sort of authority. She’s a bit of a psycho and she’s dangerous. If we turn up there, the chances are there’ll be a battle on her doorstep. Slick Tony will know we’re on to him before we get a chance to set up any sort of surveillance.’

‘Are you telling me you’re all frightened of just one woman? What is she, some sort of ninja superwoman?’

‘Oh no,’ said Slater. ‘Believe me, she’s much worse than that. Ask Alfie Bowman – she beat the crap out of him a couple of times before he eventually got through to her. As far as I know, he’s the only person she trusts enough to let into her house.’

Jones beamed. ‘Well, there you are then,’ he said. ‘Get onto your mate Alfie and take him up there with you.’

Slater turned pale. ‘You want me to go up there?’ he gasped.

‘Yes, Sergeant. Is that a problem?’

‘Err, no. I suppose not, sir. But what happened to “not wanting amateurs involved in police investigations”? Now you’re inviting an amateur on board.’

‘Needs must, Sergeant, needs must. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t really want to do. It’s all for the greater good, you know what I mean?’

‘Right. Yes. Of course, sir.’

Slater contemplated the idea of arriving on Allison’s doorstep, and how happy she would be to see him. Not.

‘And, Sergeant?’ Jones interrupted his train of thought. ‘This is urgent, remember?’

‘Yes, of course. I was just wondering how we should go about it that’s all.’

‘I can help you there,’ said Jones. ‘Let’s grab a cup of tea and I’ll tell you the sort of thing we usually do up in London. I’m sure it will work just as well down here…’

Chapter Eight

‘So let me get this straight.’ I was on the phone to Dave Slater. ‘You want me to go with you to Allison’s house, and then when we get inside you want me to persuade her to let three policemen camp out in her front bedroom to spy on the house opposite. Is that right?’

‘That’s about it, yes,’ said Slater’s voice down the telephone.

‘It isn’t April Fool’s Day, is it, Dave? I mean, this is a joke, isn’t it?’

‘No, it’s not a bloody joke. I need to get into Allison’s house. You’re the only person she trusts.’

‘Well pardon me for sounding a tad dubious, but just two or three hours ago your boss dismissed me and my information like I was some sort of time-waster. Now I seem to be a vital part of your master plan. How did that happen?’

‘If you must know, I pointed out that what you said was no more unlikely than a DI from the Serious Crime Unit coming down to a place like Tinton to lead a manhunt. When I put it to him like that, he seemed to think maybe he should take you a bit more seriously.’

‘Really?’ I asked in surprise. ‘You stuck up for me?’

‘Don’t sound so damned surprised,’ said Slater. ‘It just so happens I believe you. I think it’s just the sort of place someone would hide if only because it’s the last place we would expect him to hide. And anyway, you said I just had to let you know and you’d be there. Well, here I am letting you know. I really need your help.’

‘So we’re alright then, you and me?’ I asked.

‘Of course we’re alright. But will you do it?’

‘You know she won’t let us in, don’t you?’

‘Why not?’ asked Slater.

‘Because as far as she’s concerned, it was you lot that kidnapped Billy and then did nothing to help get him back. Anyway, once she sees you it’ll give the game away and we’ll have no chance. Probably better if I go on my own.’

‘Ha!’ said Slater. ‘Believe me, mate, if I could keep away from there I would, but Jones is insisting that I have to go, and I have to do the talking. You’ve just got to get us in there. Anyway, we’ve got a cunning plan for approaching the house. Direct from the Serious Crime Unit’s own book of cunning plans.’

‘Oh, right. Somehow I doubt you have any plan that will outwit Allison and her personal persecution complex, but I’m always game for a laugh. Go on then, let’s hear it.’

And so Detective Sergeant Dave Slater explained his cunning plan. And as he did, I proceeded to laugh my head off.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ I asked when I eventually stopped laughing.

‘No. I’m not bloody kidding,’ he snapped.

‘Oh, you are, Dave. Honest, you must be. But it’s okay. I’ve always wanted to be in a Carry On film. This’ll be close enough to the real thing, I’m sure. What time do we start?’

‘We need to get on with it as soon as we can.’

‘Well, I’m not doing anything right now, and I could do with a good laugh. I’ll be there in about half an hour.’ 

It was just after eight pm when the gas board van drove onto The Valleys housing estate, aka The Dump. Slowly, the van made its way around the green, stopping outside number 8. Unseen by anyone, a net curtain twitched in one of the upstairs windows of number 38, across the green from number 8. Inside the van, two men dressed in gas board uniforms were arguing.

‘This has to be the dimmest idea ever,’ I said.

‘Well, you agreed to play your part and you’re here now, so just stick to the plan and we’ll be fine,’ said Dave Slater.

‘You think?’ I said. ‘Just make sure you don’t do anything to antagonise Allison or I could be visiting you in hospital later. Remember, you have been warned.’

I waggled a finger at him just to emphasise my point. The sadist in me was rather enjoying his discomfort. I get nervous every time I come anywhere near this house, and Allison regards me as a friend. I could only imagine how Dave must have been feeling. He certainly looked nervous enough.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get this over with before I lose my bottle.’

We climbed from the van and began to walk up the path to Allison’s front door.

Just as Dave leaned forward to knock on the door, it flew open and there stood Allison. She seemed bigger than ever, her huge bosom jiggling dangerously towards his face.

‘Wha’thefuckdoyouwant?’ she snarled.

Dave took a quick step back so he was behind me.

‘Well?’ she snapped, turning her attention to me.

Oh bugger, this is going to be difficult. She hasn’t recognised me.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been in this situation. Last time, she had actually assaulted me before she realised who I was. I was just thinking maybe it was time I suggested she pay a visit to an optician, when she suddenly had a broom in her hand and was threatening me with it. I quickly forgot about opticians, but I was supposed to play a part in case anyone was watching or listening.

‘Err, good evening, madam,’ I began, hoping she would recognise me before she assaulted me. ‘We’re from the gas board.’

‘I can see who you are,’ she said. ‘I jus’ wanna know why you’re on my doorstep?’

‘Ah, yes, well,’ I began, then lowered my voice. ‘Allison, it’s me, Alfie.’

But she didn’t seem to hear me. I thought perhaps she was going deaf as well.

‘If you don’t fuck off right this minute, I’m gonna-’

I swear I could feel Dave Slater shaking behind me.

‘Allison, it’s me. Just let us in, please.’

In desperation, I removed my hat. It was totally contrary to the plan, but I wasn’t going to just stand here and get beaten up by Allison, again.

For a moment, her mouth dropped open in disbelief.

‘Ow long you been workin’ for the gas board?’ she asked in surprise.

‘I don’t,’ I said, replacing my hat. ‘It’s a ruse to get to speak to you. Can we come in?’

‘But we don’t have no gas,’ she said. ‘There ain’t no gas on this estate. Never has been.’

‘Oh shite!’ came Dave’s voice from behind me. ‘This is a right balls-up then.’

‘Don’t panic,’ I told him out of the corner of my mouth. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

I turned my attention back to Allison. ‘Can we come in for a minute, please?’ I begged her.

She looked over my shoulder at Slater. ‘I recognise him, don’t I?’ she said. ‘Isn’t he a copper?’

‘Yes,’ I pleaded. ‘But he’s with me. It’s Dave Slater. Don’t you remember him?’

‘They’re all the bloody same to me,’ she said. ‘Didn’t want to know when my Billy got kidnapped, did they?’

‘No,’ I agreed, hoping to soothe her. ‘You’re right. That’s why Detective Slater’s here now. He’s come to apologise.’

‘Oh no he bloody hasn’t,’ Slater muttered from over my shoulder.

I turned to face him. We were almost nose to nose.

‘Oh yes he bloody has,’ I warned him quietly. ‘Unless he would rather go home without getting inside the house.’

He let out a world-weary sigh. He didn’t like it, but he knew I was right.

‘Yes. Right,’ he said, through gritted teeth. ‘Of course that’s why I’m bloody well here. I’ve come to apologise.’

He slowly and reluctantly spat the words out, but it seemed to be enough for Allison to let us in, so at least we weren’t going to be stuck on the front step like a pair of idiots. Now we were going to be inside the house like a pair of idiots.

Allison stepped back and let us in, but only as far as the hall. She kept the brush in her hands and I didn’t doubt she would use it if she felt the need.

‘Right,’ she said. ‘I know you all think I’m stupid, but I’d be hard pushed to be as stupid as you two, coming up here dressed as gas board men when there’s no bleedin’ gas on the estate. I wasn’t born yesterday. You’re obviously up to something, so come on? What do you want?’

‘Well,’ I began. ‘It’s like this...’

And so I explained the situation, and how we were hoping Allison could help us. She stood quietly listening to me until I had finished. Then she thought about it for a short while. And then she told us what she thought we should do with our plan.

It was nothing personal, she assured us, but we really ought to remember how her husband Billy had been kidnapped by a police officer and how the rest of the police force had done Sweet Fanny Anne to help rescue him. And, quite frankly, she didn’t feel inclined to do Sweet Fanny Anne to help us.

‘So,’ she finished, ‘to put it bluntly, you can stick your request for help right up where the sun don’t shine.’

She opened the door for us. ‘And now you can fuck off,’ she said.

Dave Slater went to open his mouth but, before he could say a word, Allison cut him off.

‘Don’t make me throw you out,’ she warned him. ‘I’ve been polite so far, but only coz Alfie’s here. Right now, you’re starting to push your luck.’

It didn’t seem possible for her to adopt a more aggressive stance, but somehow she managed it. The threat was pretty impressive. Only a fool would have been prepared to stand his ground. We might have proved we were a couple of idiots by coming here dressed as gas board workers, but we weren’t fools. I took hold of Dave’s arm.

‘Come on, Dave, let’s go.’

Then, addressing Allison, I said, ‘Thanks for letting us in and listening, and I do understand how you feel. But is there anyone else along here who might be willing to help us out?’

She gave me a sad little smile, ‘Seeing as how it’s you that’s asked. You could try number twelve. She’s about the only decent person along here. She might help you.’

‘Thank you,’ I said.

We trooped back to the van and climbed in.

‘Bloody brilliant.’ said Slater, bitterly. ‘Not only have we picked the wrong utility company to impersonate but the bloody woman won’t help us anyway!’

‘Well, I did warn you,’ I said. ‘But at least we’ve got an alternative to try now.’

‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘But what do we do now? We can’t go on pretending to be the gas board, can we?’

‘Then again,’ I mused, ‘if we’re being watched, we can’t just drive off, can we?’

‘What a bloody cock-up.’ Slater sighed, putting his head in his hands. ‘My temporary London boss is going to be so impressed. He already thinks we’re a bunch of idiots. Now we’ve proved it.’

‘I thought it was his idea?’

‘Well, yeah it was,’ he agreed. ‘But as the local force, we ought to know there’s no gas here, shouldn’t we?’

‘Ah! Right. I see what you mean.’

I couldn’t think of anything else to say right then so I sat quietly while Dave thought about how popular he was going to be when he tried to explain his way out of this latest fiasco. Then I had an idea.

‘But if we were from the gas board,’ I began, ‘there is one reason we could have for being here.’

He turned to look at me as though I’d gone completely mad.

‘What possible damned reason could we have for being here? There’s no bloody gas, you idiot!’

I smiled, patiently.

‘But suppose the gas board was considering installing a gas supply to these houses.’

‘But they’re bloody not, are they?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘But if they were, wouldn’t it make sense to come and speak to the people in these houses to find out if they wanted gas?’

A tiny spark seemed to light up Slater’s face.

‘What? You mean like a customer survey?’

‘Well, it would be more of a survey to see if there would be any customers. I mean, they wouldn’t spend all that money putting gas pipes in unless they knew they had customers waiting, would they?’

‘So the story is we’re here to carry out a survey? But it’s starting to get dark. Who would start surveying people at this time of night?’

‘Well, of course, if you’ve got a better idea,’ I said, huffily. ‘Please feel free to tell me what it is.’

‘The idea’s alright,’ he agreed. ‘But it’s too late to start knocking on doors now. People will just tell us to sod off.’

‘So what do we do then?’

‘Right now, I think we should retreat. There’s a good chance Slick Tony hasn’t seen us. He’s got no reason to think we’re onto him. Then tomorrow morning, we can come back and carry out our survey like you suggested.’

‘You’re the boss, Dave. Whatever you say.’

He fired up the van and we crawled slowly around the green. Even though most houses had a drive, the road was now packed tight with cars, and although there was a clear passage through, it was quite narrow. Number 38 was in darkness as we passed.

In the gloom of the front bedroom at number 38, Slick Tony watched the van make its way slowly around the green and off the estate. He knew there was a connection between Alfie Bowman and Allison Beatty, but why would he dress up like a gas board worker to pay her a visit, especially when there was no gas on the estate? And wasn’t the guy with him a copper? Of course he was.

This could only mean they knew he was here and they were trying to find somewhere they could set up to watch this house. He smiled to himself. A lesser man would have cut and run there and then. But Slick Tony was not a lesser man. He knew there was no need to run just yet. It was okay if they knew he was here, as long as he knew they knew he was here. He was one step ahead of the police, and all the time he was one step ahead, there was no need to panic.

Chapter Nine

‘What do you mean she wouldn’t co-operate?’ asked DI Jimmy Jones. ‘You told me with Alfie Bowman on board you’d have no trouble getting in.’

‘Oh, we got in alright,’ said a tired, pissed-off Dave Slater. ‘She just won’t do anything to help the police. I told you she hates us, but it seems I underestimated just how much.’

Jones was not amused. He was clearly used to things going his way without too much trouble.

‘Well that’s not bloody well good enough, Sergeant. I was led to believe Alfie Bowman would get us in. We’ve let a bloody amateur into our investigation for nothing. Where is he anyway?’

‘I sent him home. And it’s not his fault. He got us into the house and she did listen to him. It’s just that-’

‘Yes. I know. It’s just that we’re the police and she friggin’ hates us,’ finished Jones.

He slumped unhappily in his chair. Slater stood on the other side of the desk waiting for the rest of his bollocking.

‘Well come on, Dave. We need some ideas. All the time you lot are farting around getting nowhere, our criminal mastermind is preparing to do a runner. At this rate, he’ll have skipped town before we even get set up. How do you think that’s going to make us look?’

Slater looked sheepish. He hadn’t told Jones the worst bit yet. But first, maybe he could sweeten Jones up with the one bit of good news they did manage to gather.

‘Before she kicked us out, she did mention that number twelve would be willing to help.’

This wasn’t quite what Allison had said. She had actually said that number 12 ‘might’ help them, but Slater thought this was no time for pessimism. He would find out if his optimism was justified later.

‘So why didn’t you go to number twelve and ask, Sergeant.’

‘Err, we did but there was no one home,’ lied Slater. ‘There’s something else, guv.’

‘Don’t tell me it gets worse,’ said an exasperated Jones. ‘What now?’

‘Well, we made a bit of a mistake. We were wearing gas board uniforms.’ He stopped, not quite sure of the best way to explain it.

‘So?’ asked Jones. ‘Why’s that a problem? We do that all the time up in London.’

‘Yeah. The thing is, you’ve probably got gas all over London.’

Jones slumped forward and rested his head on the desk. Then he quietly banged it against the desk as he spoke.

‘You mean – you went up there – dressed as gasmen – and there’s no – bloody –  gas?’

‘Don’t do that, guv, you’ll give yourself a headache,’ said Slater with a measure of genuine concern.

‘I’ve already got a fuckin’ headache!’ roared Jones, sitting up straight. ‘I’ve been sent to Noddy Land and asked to work with a bunch of country bumpkins who couldn’t find their own arses without a diagram. That’s my bloody headache, Sergeant, and it doesn’t look like there’s any sodding cure.’

He slammed his fist down on the desk as he finished. Then, very slowly, he lowered his head back down until it was resting on the desk. Slater wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, so he settled for doing nothing. At least now Jones had stopped shouting at him. But when he’d been standing watching Jones for five minutes and nothing had happened, he started to become concerned.

‘Err, guv? You alright?’

Suddenly, Jones sat upright.

‘Absolutely, Sergeant,’ he said. ‘It’s not your fault you’re not trained for this sort of job, and I need to take that into consideration, but, at the same time, I don’t want to treat you like a moron. That’s something I’m going to have to learn to deal with. Right now, I think we should have a short break, grab a cup of tea, and get something to eat. Be back in half an hour and then we’ll start again. Alright?’

‘Yes, sir. Right,’ said Slater looking up at the clock. Working with DI Jimmy Jones and his mood swings was like riding a rollercoaster. Unless he could come up with some bright idea fast, this was going to be a bloody long night. But maybe if he used a little initiative he could save them some time.

Thirty-five minutes later, a beaming Dave Slater bounced into Jones’ office.

‘You’re late,’ said Jones, looking pointedly at his watch and tapping the face.

‘Sorry about that, sir.’ Slater beamed at him. ‘I just had to make a couple of phone calls. We’re on for number twelve!’

‘Pardon?’

‘Number twelve. I just phoned. She’s a nice old dear, bit deaf, but once I started shouting she was alright. Told me she was out at the bingo earlier. I told her we wanted to watch the green and see who’s doing all the damage and dumping rubbish out there. She thinks it’s a disgrace and she’s only too pleased to help. Says she has a front bedroom that looks across the green and we’re welcome to use it. I said we’d be there first thing in the morning but we’d be coming in over her back fence so no one would see us arrive.’

Slater was suitably impressed with his work, and to his delight, so Jones seemed to be too.

‘Well done, Dave. Have you got a team ready to move in?’

‘I’m taking DCs Biddeford and Weir, sir. Biddeford’s my partner and Weir’s the nearest thing we have to a surveillance officer. He does most of our surveillance work.’

Jones sat back in his seat and a smile spread across his face.

‘I’m impressed, Dave. Well done. Excellent work. There’s just one more thing we need to do. Have we got someone here who can creep round to the back of that house and fit up a camera so we can watch the back? Looking at the map, it doesn’t seem likely our man will try to escape that way, but it won’t hurt to be able to see if there’s anything going on round there.’

‘We’ve got a techie guy we use for that sort of stuff. He thinks he’s a bit of a James Bond, but he’s okay. He can set up a remote camera that will feed a picture into our setup at number twelve. I’ll get it organised.’

‘D’you know, I thought we were in for a long night. I underestimated you, Dave and I apologise for that,’ said Jones, beaming happily. ‘You get off now. I’ve just got some paperwork to catch up on and I’ll be away too. I like to be kept in the loop with surveillance so don’t be surprised if I call you, and don’t be frightened to call me. It doesn’t matter how trivial it might seem, I want to know. Even if you hear him fart, I want to know. Got that?’

‘Yes, guv. Got it. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Chapter Ten

While Dave Slater was having his ears bruised by Jimmy Jones, I was climbing into my car to drive home. I had just started the engine when my mobile phone began to ring.

‘Ah! Mr Bowman. I’m so glad I found you,’ said an unfamiliar voice. It was a sort of flat, toneless voice that told me absolutely nothing about its owner except it was obviously a man. Was there a trace of an accent? Possibly, but I couldn’t even hazard a guess at the origin.

‘Who is this? How did you get this number?’

‘You don’t know me, my friend. We’ve never met. But trust me, I’m calling to do you a favour.’

It’s funny how some people can imply a threat with the mere tone of their voice. This guy appeared to be one of those people.

‘And what sort of favour do you think you have to offer me?’

‘I don’t think, my friend, I know. I’ve got some advice you would do very well to listen to, and then act upon.’

He’d only been talking for a few seconds but already he was beginning to piss me off.

‘Let’s get a couple of things straight, shall we?’ I said. ‘You’ve just said we’ve never met, so you’re not my “friend”, okay? And when I need advice, I generally turn to people I trust. I don’t take it from complete strangers.’

‘But maybe your friends are unaware of your situation and so unable to advise you.’

‘What do you mean “my situation”? And why do I feel this is sounding more and more like a threat?’

‘Let me make it as clear as I can, so you understand exactly what I’m saying,’ he said, very deliberately. ‘Right now, I’m offering you some friendly advice. However, should you choose to ignore this advice, I may have to be a little more persuasive.’

I was getting really irritated now.

‘This doesn’t sound very friendly to me,’ I said. ‘So let me tell you what you can do with your advice. Why don’t you-’

‘Oh dear,’ he interrupted. ‘I don’t seem to have your attention. That’s a pity. Perhaps if I was to mention a name it might help you to focus your mind on what I’m trying to tell you. How about Sophia Ingliss? Does that name mean anything to you?’

I had been about to hang up, but he certainly had my attention now.

‘Sophia? What about her? What’s she got to do with this?’ It was no good. I couldn’t disguise the panic in my voice.

‘Oh good. Now I seem to have your attention. Are you listening now?’

‘Yes,’ I said, through gritted teeth. ‘What do you want?’

‘I just want to advise you to keep away from her. That’s all. It’s quite simple. Even someone like you should be able to do that.’

‘But she’s my neighbour. She owns the flat I live in. I can’t just ignore her.’

‘Naughty, naughty, Mr Bowman. You shouldn’t lie to me. We both know you and Sophia are much more than just neighbours, don’t we? And of course you can ignore her, and you must. This is not negotiable. Sophia’s husband made it very clear to me that I must insist. In fact, he asked me to tell you to go and see her tonight and explain to her that you never want to see her again.’

I was struggling to get my head around this. What was he talking about? Sophia was divorced. She told me so. Didn’t she? Why would she lie about something like that?

‘You seem to have gone very quiet, Mr Bowman. Has the cat got your tongue? I understood you were a rather moral person – surely you don’t think it is right to be having an affair with a married woman, do you?’

I could hardly think straight. Surely this couldn’t be right. Could it? And what do I say now?

‘I hate to disappoint you,’ I said, ‘but we’re not having an affair. And anyway she’s not married. She’s divorced.’

‘Is that what she told you? Oh dear, oh dear. How very remiss of her. You just don’t know who you can trust these days, do you?’

There was a brief silence, then he added his final thoughts.

‘Let me put it like this,’ he said. ‘If I find out you’ve been anywhere near her after you have spoken to her tonight, you’re both going to regret it. And trust me, I will find out.’

And with that, he ended the call.

I stared out of the windscreen at nothing at all. I was stunned. What on earth was all that about? Why would Sophia lie about being divorced? I mean, I wasn’t actually divorced – technically I was still married to Gloria – so it’s not as if I was going to judge anyone. And even if she was still married, they obviously weren’t living together. And we really weren’t having an affair.

It all seemed a bit over the top to me, but the threat had sounded real enough. If his threats had just been aimed at me, I would have been tempted to ignore it, but he had mentioned Sophia by name so there was no way I could take any chances. I was going to have to tell her about the threat and ask her what this was all about.

It had taken a long time for the two of us to get our relationship to where it was, and even then it was still a bit hit and miss. Now here was yet another obstacle to overcome. I had the feeling I was approaching a minefield. I was just hoping I could tiptoe through it without blowing our relationship apart.

But then I realised there was something positive about this. Despite the threat, I hadn’t once considered the possibility of just doing what the guy had said and walking away from Sophia. My only thoughts had been about how we might get through it. It was a sign, I thought. It was actually quite clear what I really wanted.

Chapter Eleven

I had been so taken aback by the unexpected phone call, that it was only as I was parking my car I remembered Sophia saying she had been upset by a phone call from her ex-husband. Funny that he should be hassling her, and then just a few days later he’s threatening me. It obviously wasn’t a coincidence, so what was going on? Was Sophia hiding something from me, and if so, why?

I had promised to give her a couple of days, but in the end I decided I couldn’t wait. The only way to find out what I needed to know was to ask the question, and anyway, I felt I had a duty to tell her about the phone call and the threats.

She seemed to be genuinely shocked when I told her why I had broken my promise to stay away for a couple of days, her normal cool and collected demeanour rapidly deserting her. Now we sat across the dining table, Sophia nervously wringing her hands as she told me about a part of her past she would rather forget.

‘I think I only married him because I was all alone. He promised to take care of me, but marrying him was the biggest mistake of my life, and I knew that within a matter of weeks. He was an evil man. He didn’t want a wife, he wanted someone he could use and abuse whenever it suited him. I was like a prisoner – I wasn’t allowed to have any sort of life of my own.

‘I had turned down the chance to come and live in England for him, but fortunately when I escaped from him, your government was still prepared to take me in. So you see, I gave up everything to get away from him. I even took on a new identity. Do you think I would do that if I still wanted to be with him?’

I knew it was true she had been given a new identity, but I thought it was for her own safety because of the role she had played in the Bosnian war. That much was obviously true, but I’d had no idea the deciding factor for her had been to escape a violent husband. This guy must be a real piece of work, and now he was over here looking for her.

‘Do you know how long he’s been over here looking for you?’ I asked.

‘I honestly have no idea,’ she said. ‘He could have arrived last week, or he could have been here for years. But, like me, he must have a new identity. I was promised his name was on a watch list and that if ever he came to England I would be told, but that’s never happened.’

She shook her head sadly.

‘So much for my new identity keeping me safe. He’s the one person I really would want to hide from and he’s found me. And now he’s found you too. I’m so sorry.’

‘What does he look like?’ I asked. ‘At least then if I see him I’ll know who’s looking for me.’

‘I suppose he was quite good-looking,’ she said, ‘in an old-fashioned sort of way. But, of course, he may have changed his appearance before he came here.’

‘That’s a bit of a vague description,’ I said.

‘It was a long time ago, believe me. And I certainly didn’t keep any photos. I just wanted to forget all about him. And I had, until the night he called me.’

She reached across the table and took my hand. ‘That’s why I was so upset when you called round for your key. It was hearing from him that had upset me. It was nothing you did.’

‘I know that,’ I said, giving her hand a squeeze. ‘I just wish I’d known why you were upset. I would have stayed with you.’

‘Always thinking of me,’ she said. ‘You couldn’t be more different from him. And now he wants to keep us apart. But I promise you I am divorced. I have been for years. I can find the papers to show you if you really don’t believe me. But,’ she added, staring intently into my eyes, ‘why would I lie to you about something like that?’

This was exactly what I had been asking myself ever since that phone call. It made no sense that I could see.

‘Come on, Sophia,’ I reassured her. ‘You know I don’t need to see any papers. If you say you’re divorced that’s good enough for me, but I need to understand why we’re getting threatened by this guy. And how come he knows so much about us? He seems to know everything. He even told me he would know if I had been to see you tonight.’

Saying it out loud like that seemed to make the threat all the more real, and it made me realise something else too. Sophia’s grip on my hand tightened and she spoke the words before I had a chance.

‘He must have someone watching us.’

At times like this, I tend to lean towards the attitude of ‘let’s go and confront the guy and sort this out.’ Not because I’m naturally aggressive, but simply because this just wasn’t right. This guy was way out of line and I wasn’t going to just sit back and be pushed around.

‘Right!’ I said. ‘That’s it. I’m not going to let him get away with this. He might be trying to frighten us apart but he’s not going to succeed. I’m going to find him, and-’

‘No!’ She almost shouted the word. ‘You can’t do that. Think about it. If he has someone watching, he will know you’re coming. Listen to me. This is not a normal person we’re talking about. He will kill you and think nothing of it. I can’t let that happen. It’s me he wants, not you.’

‘We’re in this together, Sophia,’ I said. ‘Don’t think I’m going to let you face him on your own. That’s just not going to happen.’

‘I’m not saying that,’ she said. ‘But we need to think. And we need to try and find out how he knows so much. If he has a spy, who is it? And where are they watching from?’

I suddenly found myself looking around the room, as if I was suddenly going to find a spy hiding behind the TV, or perhaps lurking behind the door. But Sophia was still thinking about what to do.

‘Right now,’ she went on, ‘I think we need to let him think we’ve taken his warning seriously. I suggest we don’t see each other for a few days. In the meantime, we’ll try and work out what do.’

I really wasn’t happy about this, but I also didn’t have any better ideas right now.

‘I told you yesterday,’ she said, very quietly. ‘I’ve waited a long time to find you. I’m not going to lose you because of this. We will work it out, I promise. But you have to trust me.’

As I left her that night I was feeling uneasy. I wasn’t sure exactly why. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her. I’m sure I would have trusted her with my life if necessary. I just had this feeling there was something unsaid.

Chapter Twelve

It was just coming up to seven am and it was raining. Dave Slater was quietly cursing Slick Tony. DC Richie Weir was less forgiving, and was very loudly cursing Slick Tony, DCI Jimmy Jones from the Serious bloody Crime buggering Unit, and just about anyone else he could think of. He was especially pissed off with Dave Slater, who had volunteered him for this stupid job in the first place, but he knew better than to complain out loud. For now, at least, he contented himself with just thinking what he thought of Slater. These were by far the foulest of his curses.

‘Bloody Biddeford should be carrying this stuff,’ he complained. ‘I’m supposed to be the sodding surveillance expert not some friggin’ pack animal humping all the equipment.’

‘Will you stop complaining?’ replied Slater. ‘Biddeford is with the techie guy setting up a camera at the back of the target house. You had the choice and you didn’t want to do it, so you’ve only got yourself to blame.’

‘I would have done it if I’d known what the bloody alternative was,’ grumbled Weir.

‘Yes,’ agreed Slater, ‘I’m sure you would have, but you thought you were picking the easy ride, as usual, so it’s your own fault. Now quit bitching and let’s get on.’

There were three of them in the team: DS Dave Slater, his young, inexperienced, but mad-keen partner DC Steve Biddeford, and the unambitious, untalented, and uncouth DC Richie Weir. If Steve Biddeford was the policeman of the future, Richie Weir was definitely the policeman of the past. In fact, he was from so far back in the past that Biddeford had likened him to a dinosaur, but with worse manners. Needless to say, the two did not get on well.

When Slater had given the other two the choice of helping the techie or helping him, Weir had jumped at the chance to help Slater. Unfortunately for him, he had assumed Slater would have kept the softest job for himself – it’s what Weir would have done – but Slater was a leader who was happy to get his own hands dirty and lead by example. Right now, he was leading by example across a ploughed field, laden with surveillance equipment.

‘I don’t see why we couldn’t just drive the sodding van up to the old girl’s front door and unloaded it like a normal job,’ Weir complained.

‘But it’s not a normal job, is it?’ snapped Slater. ‘If it was a normal job, we wouldn’t have the SCU down here watching our every move, would we? If it was a normal job, we wouldn’t have a guy like Slick Tony on our patch. And’ – he raised his voice for this last bit – ‘if it was a normal job I wouldn’t have to listen to you bloody whingeing, would I?’

‘But look at this mud!’ complained Weir. ‘I’m knee-deep in the bloody stuff.’

‘No, Richie. We’re knee-deep in the bloody stuff. It’s not just you. I’m here too. But it’s what we’ve got to do, alright? And I’m warning you, if you don’t stop complaining I’m going to dump you on your arse in the bloody stuff.’

Slater looked towards the fences at the back of the houses they were approaching.

‘Look, we’re nearly there now.’

They had decided to approach their surveillance house from the back so they couldn’t be seen bringing in all their equipment. The plan had been to drive across the field behind the houses, stop by the fence, remove a panel, and walk their equipment the few yards across the back garden and into the house.  This had seemed a brilliantly simple idea. What could possibly go wrong?

Unfortunately, this brilliantly simple plan hadn’t taken into account the fact this was farmland. Farmland that had been freshly ploughed just the day before their arrival. Even when he had opened the gate and waved Weir through, Slater hadn’t noticed what should have been obvious. Weir would later claim he was merely following orders, but he should have seen the danger too.

Even a Land Rover would have been in trouble trying to cross this freshly ploughed field. Their van had no chance. Before they knew it, they were up to their axles and going nowhere. They couldn’t even reverse back out. They had something like two hundred and fifty yards to cover. They hadn’t even covered twenty-five yards before they became stuck fast.

‘Oh shit,’ Weir had announced. ‘Looks like we’re stuck. Better call for some help.’

Having stated the blindingly obvious, he had then started to settle himself for a long wait. He knew it was likely to be two or three hours before help arrived, and he wished he’d brought a newspaper or something. His contentment had been rudely shattered by Slater making his own announcement.

‘Sorry, mate,’ he’d said. ‘We can’t hang around here. We were already late before we got stuck. We’ll just have to walk the stuff across to the house. This is way too important for us to just sit here and do nothing.’

Despite Weir’s protests, Slater had got his way. And, of course, just to punish them even further, the minute they started walking it began to rain…

At last, they reached the fence. It was wooden panels set in grooved concrete posts. At least this part of the operation presented no problem. It was a simple matter to lift a panel out and place it carefully to one side. Roughly twenty yards of lawn remained between them and the back of the house. Just twenty yards more and they could put their equipment down. In the early morning quiet, laden like pack horses, both puffing and sweating profusely, they began to walk across the lawn.

They got just halfway before the silence was shattered in spectacular fashion by the abrupt arrival, seemingly from nowhere, of a snarling, yapping dog which proceeded to attack DC Weir’s ankles.

‘Aaarrgghh! The little fucker’s bitten me,’ screamed Weir, dropping his precious cargo to clutch his freshly gnawed left ankle. He began to hop on the spot, the dog rushing in to snap at his unprotected right ankle.

‘Mind the bloody gear,’ cried Slater, as the equipment Weir was carrying crashed to the ground.

‘Bugger the soddin’ gear,’ yelled Weir. ‘The friggin’ thing’s drawn blood.’

He released his ankle long enough to aim a kick at the on-rushing dog, but the dog was way too quick and he missed by miles. Seeing an easy opportunity, it rushed in and took another hefty nip at the same ankle.

‘Aya bastard!’ I’ll fuckin’ get you for this.’

Just as the dog seemed to be about to launch another attack ,it suddenly stopped, looked to the back of the house, and then trotted off as if nothing had happened.

Then they heard a voice calling, ‘Bobby, Bobby. Come here, you naughty boy.’

A little old lady appeared at the back door. ‘Coooee,’ she called. ‘Is that you, Sergeant Slater?’

‘Mrs Thatcher,’ Slater called back. ‘Sorry we’re a bit late.’

‘Sorry we’re a bit late?’ hissed Weir. ‘What about my friggin’ ankle?’

‘All I can say is it can’t have tasted very good,’ said Slater, quietly, with a grin, ‘or he’d still be chewing it now. Let’s just hope he doesn’t get food poisoning. And I don’t want you making a fuss about this. We need this lady on our side so you say nothing.’

Slater marched across to speak with Mrs Thatcher. As he approached, the dog peered at him from behind her skirt.

‘I see you’ve met Bobby,’ she said. ‘He does like to say hello in his own way.’

Slater smiled at her.

‘Yes, he does,’ he agreed. ‘He’s certainly made an impression on my colleague.’  

Across the other side of The Dump, blissfully unaware of the mess his colleagues had managed to create for themselves, DC Steve Biddeford hummed happily to himself as he stepped back to admire their pet techie’s handiwork. Despite the early morning gloom under the trees, they’d quickly managed to find the perfect place for the camera, and it now nestled up in a tree overlooking the back garden of number 38. It had been safely fixed in place, and was working. He could see the results for himself on the portable screen he was now holding.

‘Great job, Mike.’ He patted the techie on the back. ‘I owe you a pint.’

‘Or maybe two pints. Can I get off out of the rain now?’

‘Yes, you get off home. And I’ll carry this little baby with me.’ He tucked the portable screen inside his jacket to keep it out of the rain. All he had to do now was meet up with the other two and add his contribution to their collection of surveillance equipment.

In the back bedroom of number 38, Slick Tony was lying on the bed watching early-morning TV. But this was no ordinary early-morning TV. The programme he was watching featured two guys setting up a camera in a tree beyond the garden of this very house.

Slick Tony had managed to build an empire and stay out of trouble by making sure he was always one step ahead of everyone else. And even now he was on the run, his escape plan included staying ahead of the police.

‘So.’ He smiled to himself. ‘Now they’re watching the back garden.’ He had expected that, so there was no need to panic.

Chapter Thirteen

At last, Slater and Weir had reached terra firma in the form of the patio outside Mrs Thatcher’s back door. The rain had now settled to a steady drizzle and both men were soaked to the skin. A trail of muddy footprints led across the lawn and patio. The unfit Richie Weir was exhausted and wondering loudly why they were still out here in the rain when they could be inside getting dry and drinking tea.

He took a step towards the back door, but Mrs Thatcher held her ground.

‘Shoes!’ She pointed down at their shoes, covered in sticky mud. ‘You’re not coming in my house with your shoes in that state. You’ll have to leave them outside.’ She took a good look at both of them. ‘And look at the state of your trousers. You look as if you’ve walked across a ploughed field. Fancy turning up in that filthy state and expecting to come into my house. I’m telling you now, you’re not coming in here until you clean yourselves up.’

‘But we need to get set up as soon as we can, Mrs Thatcher,’ pleaded Slater. ‘It’s important-’

‘Oh rubbish! It’s taken years for anyone to bother about doing this. And anyway there’ll be no kids out on the green in this weather.’

Slater was momentarily confused, then he remembered the cover story they had used to convince Mrs Thatcher to let them use her house. Weir looked totally confused, having no knowledge of any cover story.

‘Kids?’ he said, looking at Slater. ‘What bloody kids?’

Slater immediately regretted the oversight of not telling Weir about their cover story.

‘It’s okay, Richie, I’ll explain later,’ he said.

‘But I’m friggin’ soaked,’ Weir hissed, ‘and I’m bloody freezin’. And my leg’s throbbing from where that little sod bit me.’ He glared hard at Bobby, still hiding behind his owner.

‘I may be a bit hard of hearing, young man,’ snapped Mrs Thatcher, ‘but I can hear your bad language clearly enough. I’ll ask you not to swear in my house.’

‘We’re not in your bloody house yet, are we?’ muttered Weir under his breath, his face being to turn purple with rage.

‘Is there somewhere dry we can wait for our colleague to arrive with clean, dry clothes?’ asked Slater, trying desperately to keep everyone happy. The last thing he needed was a war of words that might end up with Mrs Thatcher turning them away.

‘You can wait in the garage.’ She pointed the way. ‘I’ll bring you over a cup of tea in a minute.’

As Slater led the grumbling swearing DC Weir to the garage, he fumbled for his phone and called Steve Biddeford.

‘I’m just on my way, sir.’

‘I need you to make a detour,’ explained Slater. ‘We need clean clothes and shoes. Oh, and you’ll need wellies. We all need wellies.’

‘Wellies?’

‘Wellington boots. For wet and muddy conditions.’

‘I know what wellies are. I just didn’t think they were necessary equipment for surveillance.’

‘Trust me, it’s a long story, Steve. Just don’t drive into that bloody field behind us. Leave your car outside the gate and walk from there. You’ll see why, and why you need the wellies. Just be as quick as you can, please.’

As he ended the call, Slater thought things couldn’t really have got off to a worse start, but then, he figured, they could only get better from here on in, couldn’t they?’

They’d been waiting half an hour for Biddeford to come back with their clean, dry clothes. At least they had found a heater in the garage, and having been fed bacon sandwiches and tea by Mrs Thatcher, Weir’s mood had finally improved to the point where had stopped swearing and muttering to himself. Slater’s phone began to ring.

‘DI Jones here,’ said the now familiar voice of Slater’s temporary boss. ‘Would you like to fill me in on why your partner’s been sneaking about downstairs gathering dry clothes, shoes and wellington boots? You’re supposed to be on a stake-out, not parading about in a bloody fashion show.’

‘Ah. Yes, sir. I can explain that,’ said Slater, cursing their luck. He was rather hoping Jones wouldn’t find out.

‘Please do, Sergeant. I’m all ears.’

And so Slater explained about the ploughed field, and how they’d had to carry the equipment, and how it had rained.

‘It was bad luck the field had been ploughed just the day before, sir,’ he finished.

‘Of course it could simply have been bad planning,’ said Jones. ‘Why didn’t anyone check?’

‘Errr. Right. Yes, I suppose I should have checked. Sorry, sir,’ Slater agreed reluctantly.

‘So you haven’t even got set up yet?’

‘I’m afraid Mrs Thatcher won’t let us into her house until we’re in clean clothes and shoes, sir.’

‘And I can’t say I blame her, can you?’

‘No, sir,’ said Slater. He was wondering how much more demoralised Jones wanted him to become. Didn’t the DI think he was feeling bad enough already?

‘Well, let’s hope the bugger’s still in there when you do get set up,’ said Jones. ‘Anyway, that’s not what I really wanted to talk to you about.’

‘Sir?’ Slater wondered what he was going to get blamed for now.

‘What do you know about the person listed as the tenant of that house?’

At least this wasn’t something Slater could be blamed for.

‘Nothing really. Only the guy’s name. Fletcher and Silcock are tracking him down.’

‘Well,’ said Jones, and Slater was sure he could hear Jones smiling. ‘They’ve found him.’

‘Great! Have you had a chance to talk to him yet?’

‘I’m afraid that’s going to be a little difficult.’

‘Don’t tell me he’s done a bunk,’ said Slater. ‘Let me guess. He’s in Spain?’

‘Oh, he’s somewhere a bit more inaccessible than that.’

‘Oh hang on,’ mused Slater. ‘There’s an Eastern Europe thing going on here isn’t there? I bet he’s in Bulgaria or some place like that.’

Jones heaved a heavy sigh. ‘Not even close, I’m afraid. The only way we’ll be speaking to him is through a medium.’

‘You mean he’s dead?’ said a surprised Slater.

‘Apparently he died two years ago. But the interesting thing is his rent and all his bills carried on being paid on time, just like they always were, so no one has ever questioned what’s going on. Of course, it could just be his ghost haunting the house.’

‘Surely someone like Slick Tony wouldn’t maintain an empty house just on the off chance he might need a bolt-hole for a few days?’

‘It seems unlikely,’ agreed Jones. ‘The utility bills suggest someone has been living there, but we don’t know who or what they’ve been doing. And, of course, we can’t go charging in and talk to the neighbours because the main man’s still in the damned house.’

‘So someone’s being living there incognito for the last two years,’ said Slater, thoughtfully. ‘But doing what?’

‘Now there’s a question we’d all like answered.’

‘The thing that bothers me about all this,’ said Slater, ‘is why Tinton? I mean, if you wanted somewhere to hide prior to making an escape, you’d choose somewhere near a port or an airport, wouldn’t you? I just don’t understand why he’d pick on a tiny, nondescript town like Tinton. It’s got nothing going for it that I can see. It’s nowhere near the coast, or an airport, or anything.’

‘I’ve been wondering that myself,’ agreed Jones. ‘It doesn’t seem to make sense, unless it’s some sort of counter-intuitive thing and he’s picked it because it’s nothing like the obvious hiding place. Anyway, we’re getting off track here. Just keep an eye out for anyone else in or around that house. Perhaps you’ll get a glimpse of our ghost.’

Slater laughed.

‘Maybe we should organise a séance,’ he suggested, as they ended the call.

Once again, he had to admit DI Jimmy Jones was very good at delivering a bollocking and then raising your spirits afterwards. Perhaps he’d been a bit too hasty in judging the man.

Chapter Fourteen

At last, they had their equipment set up. It wasn’t exactly the height of sophistication – they had two small screens set up on a table. One was being fed from the camera at the back of the house, and one from a camera set up to watch the front from the window of the room they occupied. They were recording what they were seeing, just in case. They also had binoculars and a camera with a huge lens.

The bedroom they had been allocated by Mrs Thatcher was a bit cramped, but it gave them a perfect view of number 38 across the green. There was only one big drawback as far as DC Richie Weir was concerned – he had to share the space with that young idiot Biddeford. People like Biddeford shouldn’t be allowed to work as detectives. He was so young and he had a degree. What did you need a bloody degree for? He was just a waste of space.

‘I know you two don’t get on,’ warned Slater, ‘but these are unusual circumstances, so you’ll just have to make the best of it. Steve, I want you watching through the window, using the camera, and Richie, I want you watching the screens. Just do your jobs and try not to balls it up, okay? I don’t want Jones going back to London telling them we’re a bunch of idiots. We want to know everything that happens, and we want photos of everyone who comes or goes. Got it?’

‘Yes, guv,’ they chorused.

‘I’ve got to go and meet up with Jones now. I’ll be back later, and I don’t want to find out you two have been arguing, right? Just do your jobs.’

‘Right, guv.’

Slater left the room, muttering something about putting his wellies on.

Richie Weir sat in front of the table with the two monitors. Just his luck to get lumbered with the most boring job. He leaned over to one side, farted loudly, and then settled his generous buttocks back on the chair. He sighed happily.

‘Oh for God’s sake,’ complained Biddeford. ‘Do you have to keep doing that? It stinks bad enough in here without you adding to it every five minutes.’

‘Better out than in, mate,’ Weir said to the younger man.

‘Not for the rest of us, you dirty sod,’ wailed Biddeford. ‘What have you been eating? Raw sewage?’

‘You can laugh, mate.’

‘I can assure you I’m not laughing. I find nothing remotely funny in having you pollute the atmosphere every few minutes.’

‘Hey, listen. You never hear me complain of gut-ache, do you? If everyone farted when they felt the need, instead of trying to be polite and holding it in, there wouldn’t be half as many stomach complaints, you know. It would save the health service a bloody fortune.’

‘Yeah, maybe, but think what it would do to the ozone layer,’ said Biddeford.

‘You what?’ said a puzzled Weir.

Environmental concerns were beyond Weir’s sphere of interest. In fact, most things were. If it didn’t have big tits or great legs, it was boring and not worth a second glance. This saved wasting a lot of thinking time on pointless, boring, crappy subjects. The environment was a prime example of a pointless, boring, crappy subject.

‘Oh, never mind,’ said Biddeford, sighing in exasperation.

They sat at their positions in silence, and relative harmony, for a couple of minutes before Weir spoke again.

‘It’s a doddle this surveillance lark, you know. We get to sit here in the warm, out of the rain, doing bugger all, while everyone else is running around like blue-arsed flies, trying to keep that poncey DI from London happy.’

‘You speak for yourself,’ replied Biddeford. ‘I’m not doing nothing. I’m watching that house across the green. If anything does happen, I’m not going to miss it.’

Weir looked across at Biddeford and gave a pitying shake of his head.

‘Yeah, righto, Mr Goody Two-Shoes. You keep staring out there like that and it’ll do your head in. That’s why we record everything. You mock me now, mate, but you’ll see. In a couple of years, you won’t be looking down your nose at me, you’ll be asking me how to make the time pass because you’re so friggin’ bored.’

He’d brought a small personal bag with him, and he rummaged inside it now, eventually producing a crumpled newspaper.

‘You can’t read the newspaper!’ cried Biddeford. ‘You’re supposed to be watching the screens.’

‘Oh cobblers,’ replied Weir. ‘Nothing’s going to happen, is it? I expect the guy’s long gone anyway. He’s not going to sit around waiting for the likes of us. You mark my words – when they eventually move in on that house I bet you a tenner it’s empty. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s all a load of old bollocks and he was never here in the first place.’

Having given the young Biddeford the benefit of his years of experience, Weir sat back and returned to his newspaper. He shook the creases out and carefully opened it at page three. He sighed happily.

‘Cor,’ he said. ‘Look at the tits on that!’

Back at Tinton police station, Slater was being briefed by DI Jimmy Jones.

‘We’ve been given some intelligence that suggests our man’s going to disappear tomorrow night, so we need to put a plan together to move in the early hours of tomorrow morning and catch him before he goes,’ he explained.

‘This is your area of expertise, sir,’ said Slater, respectfully. ‘What do you suggest?’

‘Okay. Let’s work it like this. I have a plan, and I’ll explain it to you, but then I want you to tell me which bits might not work. Remember, Tinton is your area. You’ll know if there are things that won’t work. Don’t be frightened to say. This needs to be right when we go into action, so I’m counting on your local knowledge to make sure it is.’

‘Right, sir.’

‘Ok. This is my idea…’

Chapter Fifteen

The plan was in place. DI Jones was taking overall control and would be leading the secondary charge into number 38 once the firearms team had secured it. Slater would be monitoring events from the surveillance house with a direct link to Jones, should it be needed.

Everyone had been briefed and so, in theory at least, everyone knew what they had to do. Slater knew from experience that being briefed and actually understanding what had to be done were often two very different things for some of the Tinton force, so he’d done his best to make sure those who were known to be a little slow on the uptake had been double briefed.

But the firearms team was a different matter. He’d met their team leader and been completely underwhelmed and totally unimpressed. Apparently there was some big security alert going on and the team Jones would usually be able to call on were unavailable. It appeared he was as unimpressed as Slater with the team he had been allocated instead. His advice for Slater to ‘make sure anyone going anywhere near the firearms team was wearing body armour’ seemed to confirm Slater’s suspicions.

It would all kick off tomorrow at 6am. Right now, it was 6pm. With twelve hours to kill, Slater was sat at his desk still puzzling over why Slick Tony should choose Tinton. He was poring over the files again. Maybe they’d missed something in his background that would give a hint.

The guy seemed to have just arrived from nowhere, so it seemed probable he had left his past behind him and had entered the UK using a fake identity. Slater could see Jones had submitted a request for information across Europe via Interpol, but there didn’t seem to have been any response yet.

There was a knock on the door. It opened a few inches and a head appeared.

‘I’ve got a fax for DI Jones but I can’t find him. Any idea where he is, Sarge?’

‘A fax?’ said Slater, leaning back in his chair and yawning. ‘Where’s that come from?’

The owner of the head entered the room. It was PC Jane Jolly, better known as Jolly Jane because she always had a smile on her face.

‘1980 I think,’ she said. ‘Apparently there are still some places in the world that haven’t heard of email.’

‘Is it relevant to this case?’

‘Don’t know, sir,’ she said, with a grin. ‘It’s marked “private and confidential” so I haven’t read it.’

Slater smiled at her. ‘Yeah. Right,’ he said. ‘Of course you haven’t read it.’ He reached his hand out. ‘DI Jones has gone out for a while, but I’ll take it.’

She handed him the fax. He scanned it quickly. ‘You must be psychic, PC Jolly. I was just wondering if there had been any response to an Interpol request, and here you are with a fax for us.’

‘It’s just come in and I thought it might be important.’

‘Whether it’s any use remains to be seen, but thank you for bringing it straight up.’

‘No problem, sir.’ She smiled again and then was gone.

Private and confidential. That’s a joke in this place.

Just at that moment Jones burst back into the room.

‘This has just come in,’ said Slater, holding the fax out to him.

‘Anything important?’

‘It’s the first response to your Interpol request.’

Jones took the fax and read through it carefully and slowly before handing it back to Slater.

‘Doesn’t seem to tell us anything we don’t already know,’ he said, disappointed. ‘There’s a name that might mean something to someone, but it means nothing to me. It’s probably a waste of time but here, see what you think.’

He handed the fax back to Slater and retreated to his own desk. Slater set the fax down on his desk and read it through carefully. There was the name – Senka Ilic. Apparently she was significant in Slick Tony’s life at some stage but she had vanished without trace some years ago.

‘What is it with these people?’ he said to Jones. ‘This Senka Ilic is as bad as him. They’re all disappearing and then reappearing as someone else. Why would they do that?’

‘In my experience, people don’t disappear unless they’ve got something to hide, or they’re running away from something,’ said Jones, looking up from his desk. ‘So your question should be, what’s Senka Ilic hiding or running from, and where did she go?’

‘Suppose she’s here in Tinton? Perhaps that’s why Slick Tony’s here.’

Jones looked at him as if he were slightly deranged. ‘Well, well. How could we all have been so stupid? We’ve all been scratching our heads wondering what to do, and all we had to do was check the phone directory for a local resident called Senka Ilic!’

‘Okay, okay. I was only thinking out loud,’ said Slater, defensively. ‘No need to get all sarcastic on me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Jones, gloomily. ‘I just wish it was that easy. It’s like you said, why would he come to a tinpot little place like Tinton? It makes no bloody sense. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know the real reason why.’

Something was nagging away in the back of Slater’s mind. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but somewhere deep in the depths of his memory an alarm bell was beginning to ring. But why? What was he missing here?

‘Can I ask you something, guv?’

‘Go on, fire away,’ said Jones.

‘Do you trust your hunches?’

‘Of course I do. Our job relies on us having instincts and hunches. You should always listen to your gut.’

‘Well, my gut’s telling me Senka Ilic is important. It’s telling me I’m missing something that’s right under my nose. It’s-’ His mouth dropped open. The penny had dropped. He knew who Senka Ilic was.

‘Stupid bloody moron,’ he swore to himself.

‘Sergeant?’ said Jones indignantly.

‘Sorry. Not you, sir. It’s me. I’m the bloody moron. I knew that name rang a bell.’

‘You’re losing me.’ Jones’ irritation was clear.

‘The woman, sir. Senka Ilic. I know who she is. I’ve met her. She lives right here in Tinton.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Oh yes, sir. She has a new identity now. Her name’s Sophia Ingliss. She’s Alfie Bowman’s girlfriend.’

Chapter Sixteen

It’s a weird thing – even though Sophia and I were next door neighbours, we sometimes went for days without seeing each other. We didn’t plan it that way, that’s just how it was, and it never really bothered me before. However, now we had made a conscious agreement to keep away from each other for a few days, it did bother me. It bothered me a lot.

I had spent most of the day trying to write, but there was no chance of doing that all the time my head was full of concern for Sophia. I felt sure she was in danger and that I should be there by her side. But if I was with her, would it put her in even greater danger? Arrggh! What the hell should I do? It had only been one day and it was driving me mad already.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my doorbell ringing. I suppose I was hoping it would be Sophia at the door, so I was rather disappointed to find Dave Slater and Jimmy Jones facing me as I opened the door. There were no smiles on their faces.

‘I take it this isn’t a social call?’

‘Can we come in, Alfie?’ asked Dave Slater. ‘We need to talk.’

‘We do?’

‘Please,’ he said. He looked genuinely worried, and I knew they wouldn’t be here if they didn’t think it was important.

‘Yeah, sure,’ I said, stepping back to let them in. Slater led the way through to my lounge. I closed the door and followed.

‘So what’s this about?’ I asked.

‘Is Sophia Ingliss here, Mr Bowman?’ It was Jones who asked the question.

‘This is all a bit formal, isn’t it?’ I was beginning to feel uneasy now.

‘Is Ms Ingliss here?’ he insisted.

‘No, she’s not,’ I answered, my irritation quite clear. ‘What’s this all about?’

Slater could obviously sense that DI Jones was getting my back up.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘let’s all sit down and I’ll explain why we’re here.’

Jones exchanged a look with him that suggested they would be having words later, but Slater ignored the silent threat and focused his attention on me. Once we were comfortable, he told me what they’d discovered.

‘We came over to speak to Sophia,’ he finished, ‘but her niece told us she came round to see you about half an hour ago.’

‘No. She’s not here. I haven’t seen her since yesterday evening.’

This was a worrying turn of events. Where had Sophia gone? And why would she lie to Jelena about where she was going?

‘Are you sure about all this?’ I asked.

‘We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t sure, Alfie, now would we?’

No, I realised, of course they wouldn’t.

‘I’m sorry. It’s just come as a bit of a shock, that’s all. But now a lot of things start to make sense.’

‘What things?’ asked Jones.

‘Well, it started on the night I first saw Slick Tony. Remember I told you he made the finger gun and pointed it at me?’

They nodded.

‘Well, when I got home I didn’t have my keys. Sophia has a spare so I went round there to borrow it. She was upset about something. I thought it was just because I had got her out of bed, but it turns out she’d had a phone call from her ex-husband.’

‘She’s been talking to Slick Tony and you didn’t tell us?’ Jones was aghast.

‘Yes. But I didn’t know it was him at the time, did I? As far as I knew it was just some bloke hassling his ex-wife.’

‘Go on, Alfie. What happened next?’ said Slater, stepping in to avert an argument.

‘Next, I got a threatening phone call warning me to keep away from Sophia because she’s married and her husband isn’t happy about our relationship. He didn’t threaten anything specific but he said we’d both come to harm if I didn’t end it.’

‘What did you do then?’

‘I went round to see Sophia to ask her what the hell was going on. That’s when she told me about the phone call she’d had in the beginning. We also realised that for him to know so much about us he must have someone watching us. He even said he would know if I had been round to see her.’

‘So where’s Sophia now?’

‘I haven’t got a clue. When I left her last night, we agreed we’d not see each other for a few days so that if we are being watched, it will look as though we’re doing as we’ve been told. In the meantime, we were going to try to figure out what we could do about it.’

‘All this bloody time,’ said Jones, his annoyance crystal clear, ‘you and Ms Ingliss have been talking to the man we’re watching?’

Now it was my turn to be annoyed.

‘Hang on a minute with the attitude, will you?’ I said. ‘I just told you I didn’t know it was the same guy. I don’t think even Sophia knows who he really is. She believes he used a fake identity to get into this country. She knows who he was, but not who he is now.’

‘Let’s all calm down, shall we?’ Slater was playing peacemaker again. ‘What we need to figure out is why he’s come here when he’s on the run, and why he’s been in touch with Sophia.’

‘I can’t tell you exactly what they’ve said, but I know she’s not happy he’s here. She feels threatened by him, and he’s obviously threatened me, so presumably he must regard me as some sort of threat to him. She did tell me he always regarded her as some sort of possession. Maybe he still does.’

‘Right,’ said Jones, decisively. ‘Let’s look at the possible scenarios. One: Slick Tony has come to re-possess Sophia Ingliss. Two: he’s come to do harm her.’ He looked across at me. ‘And maybe harm you as well. Three: she’s been in league with him all along and she plans to leave with him.’

‘Well, I can tell you that number three is complete bollocks!’ I snapped. ‘There is no way-’

‘I appreciate how you feel about Ms Ingliss,’ interrupted Jones, ‘but to do my job I have to be objective, even if it does hurt your feelings.’

‘You’re barking up the wrong tree, if you think she’d willingly associate with him,’ I repeated. ‘If he’s come to do anything it’s most likely number one: re-possess her.’

‘Look, Alfie,’ said Slater, apparently beginning to tire of the role of peacemaker, ‘you’re probably right, but we have to consider all possibilities, no matter how unlikely we think they are. I’ve met Sophia, and I also know how much she means to you. Whichever scenario is correct, she’s in danger, and so are you. When a guy like Slick Tony makes a gun at you, it’s not just a warning. It’s a threat!’

In the silence that followed, I could see that what he said was true. Whatever was going to happen next, Sophia was in danger.

‘So, what do we do now?’ I asked, feeling pretty helpless.

‘You stay here, out of harm’s way,’ warned Jones.

‘It’s okay, Alfie,’ reassured Slater. ‘We’ll find out where she is, and we’ll make sure she comes to no harm.’ He looked at his watch. ‘But we need to get a move on.’

Chapter Seventeen

I did try to let the police do their job and to keep out of their way. But my resolve lasted less than five minutes. I mean, come on, get real. I cared deeply about this woman. There was no way I could just sit there and do nothing, was there? But where should I start? The obvious place, of course, was her flat.

I rang her doorbell and waited. The door opened just a crack and Sophia’s niece, Jelena, peered out.

‘You are alone?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘Yes,’ I said, wondering who she thought I might have brought with me.

‘Police gone?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you can come in.’

She swung the door open to let me in.

‘Sorry I sent police,’ she said. ‘I knew she not with you, but could not think what to tell. So I say she with you.’ Her normally happy, smiley face had been replaced with a frown. She looked desperately worried.

‘It’s okay,’ I said, ‘don’t worry about that. They just want to ask her some questions about her ex-husband.’

I wasn’t sure how much Jelena knew, so I thought I needed to tread a bit carefully.

‘I worry for Aunt Sophia,’ she said. ‘She act strange all week, and now vanish. Something big problem for sure.’

The poor girl was obviously worried sick, so I figured now was not the time to treat her like a child. She needed to know what was going on, so I quickly explained. When I had finished she looked horrified.

‘This bad,’ she muttered. ‘Even more worse than bad.’

‘Jelena, what do you know that I need to know?’ I was getting an uneasy feeling.

‘Come,’ she said. ‘We need check.’

Not sure what she was talking about, I followed her to Sophia’s bedroom. She ran straight to the bedside cabinet and pulled open a small drawer at the bottom, carefully lifting out a box. She slid the lid off and let out an anguished groan.

‘Oh no, Sophia,’ she said. ‘What have you done?’

I was genuinely alarmed now. ‘What? What has she done?’

‘She keep gun in box. It gone, she gone. Is bad!’

‘A gun? She has a gun? What does she need a gun for?’

She looked at me as though I were an idiot. ‘Why you think she need gun?’

She had a point. There were doubtless enemies from Sophia’s past who would love to find her. Jelena had proved only recently that a new identity couldn’t stop a really determined hunter. Of course, she had been looking for Sophia for all the right reasons. Now Slick Tony had proved she could also be found for the wrong reasons.

‘But if she keeps the gun here to defend herself, where is it?’

‘Sometime, you very clever,’ said Jelena, giving me that idiot look again. ‘But other time you not clever at all.’

‘Yeah, but why would she take it with her? I mean, where would she be going that she needed a g…’

As I spoke, I began to realise what Jelena was suggesting. To make sure, she filled the blanks in for me.

‘This man. This Tony. He make threat at you, yes?’

‘Well, yeah,’ I said. ‘But I’m sure it was just empty threats.’

‘You have to understand. Sophia know this man. She know he mean what he say. She have to stop him.’

‘You mean she’ll kill him?’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘If need, yes.’

‘But this is crazy. What if he kills her? And anyway the police are just about to catch him. There’s no need for-’

‘Police will not catch,’ she interrupted. ‘Sophia know this. And he make threat you. She rather die.’

I felt my mouth open, but for a moment I couldn’t speak. She was going to take this guy on because he had threatened me.

‘I tell you enough time she love you,’ said Jelena, sighing. ‘Maybe now you believe me.’

‘But she doesn’t need to do this. We’ve got to stop her.’

‘You know where he is?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes I do.’

Chapter Eighteen

It was two am when everything started to go wrong. There was obviously no point in simply driving onto The Valleys estate and heading for number 38 where Slick Tony was supposedly hiding out. The man himself would see us coming, and I knew the police had surveillance in position so they would see us coming too. So, I’d figured if we could get around the back of the house, we could maybe sneak up unnoticed.

Yeah, I know – I can be seriously naive at times, especially when I’m stressed, and right then I was seriously stressed, so my decision making left a lot to be desired. Even the dimmest person should have been able to figure out that the police would be watching the back of the house as well as the front.

We were doing fine, right up to the point where we had got to the fence at the end of the garden at number 38. It was a six-foot wooden fence with trellis on the top, making it almost eight feet in total. We decided the best thing would be for Jelena to sit on my shoulders so she could see over the top and get an idea of the layout. Then we’d figure out what to do next.

I got down on my hands and knees and Jelena swung a leg across my shoulders and shuffled into position.

‘Okay,’ she whispered.

I put my hands up to her legs to steady her, and then slowly and carefully I began to raise myself. She was small and slender like Sophia, so she seemed to weigh hardly anything. I stood taller and taller, until I was just about three quarters of the way to being upright.

‘What can you see?’ I hissed.

‘Two people about to be arrested,’ hissed a man’s voice in reply from behind us. ‘Just stay right where you are.’

I froze, my nose just far enough away from the fence to keep Jelena’s knees from grazing it. Although she wasn’t heavy, stopping in this position wasn’t doing my back any good. I began to rise higher again.

‘I said stay still,’ the voice hissed, right in my ear this time.

I stopped again just to keep the owner of the voice happy, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold this position. I either had to stand up straight, or get back down and let Jelena off my shoulders.

‘Turn around,’ commanded the voice.

Very much aware of Jelena’s safety, I carefully turned around, using this as an opportunity to stand up straight and remove the strain from my aching muscles. A sergeant and two police constables were facing us.

‘And what do we have here?’ asked the sergeant. ‘Practising for when the circus comes into town, are we?’

‘Err, I can explain,’ I began. ‘But can I put the young lady down first?’

‘By all means put the young lady down,’ he replied, ‘but you can save your explanations until later. Right now, I don’t want to hear it. I just want you out of the way.’

I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but I thought it best to solve these problems one at a time. Gratefully, I lowered Jelena back to the ground.

‘As I was saying,’ I said, struggling back to my feet, ‘I can explain.’

‘Yes, I’m sure you can,’ said the sergeant, wearily, ‘and you’ll have plenty of time to do exactly that. But right now, we have something rather more important to attend to.’ He looked at the two constables. ‘Lock these two in the back of the van. We’ll deal with them later.’

‘Hang on a minute!’ I said. ‘You can’t do that. I need to speak to DS Slater. Or DI Jones. They both know who I am.’

‘I must congratulate you on the quality of your friends,’ said the sergeant. ‘But it makes no difference. I can assure you they’re both very busy right now and they don’t have time to chat. Now, if you’d just go with the two constables, you and your young lady friend can get comfortable in the back of our van.’

Despite my protests, we were led away and, as promised, we found ourselves locked in the back of a police van. Jelena hadn’t said a single word since we had been so rudely interrupted, but her face told me everything I needed to know as we were marched across to the waiting van. It wasn’t until we had been locked away and the two officers had gone, she actually volunteered her opinion.

‘Is fuckup bad, yes?’

I thought, as summaries went, it was pretty much spot on.

I knew from what Dave Slater and Jimmy Jones had told me that the boys in blue had a big job on their hands, so I could understand they’d want us out of their way, but they’d been in such a hurry to sweep us out of sight they’d forgotten to search either of us. I still had my mobile phone.

Once I was convinced we had really been left on our own, I slipped it out of my pocket. If the sergeant wouldn’t let me talk to Dave Slater, I’d just have to contact him myself. Jelena watched as I found Slater’s number and pushed the button. There was just one little problem.

‘Bugger! I’ve got no signal.’

Undismayed, she fished around in her own pocket and produced her own mobile phone. She studied it for a moment.

‘Have signal,’ she said, handing me her phone. ‘Here. Make call. Get out here.’

I tapped in his number. I could hear it ringing. But then it went straight to voicemail. I cut the connection.

‘Oh shit!’ I said, desperately. ‘It’s gone straight to bloody voicemail.’

‘So, leave message,’ said Jelena, stating the obvious.

‘Ah! Yeah. Right,’ I said, sheepishly. ‘I suppose that will be better than nothing.’

I tried again. This time I left a message asking him to call back straight away on this number. He surely couldn’t be away from his phone for long with such a major operation going down right now.

Slater looked at his phone. He made a habit of doing it because there were lots of black-spots around Tinton where there was just no signal. No one seemed to know why, it’s just how it was, but it meant it was easy to miss calls. Right enough, he noticed he had a voicemail.

He looked at the number. It wasn’t one he recognised, so he decided it could wait. It was probably just some stupid spam message about accident insurance. He was too busy to fart around right now. He put the phone back down and looked at his watch.

They’d drawn a complete blank looking for Sophia Ingliss. They’d had everyone out looking, but she had managed to evade them so far. He wasn’t really surprised. He’d read her file. She knew a lot more about this sort of lark than all of them put together. If she really wanted to stay out of sight, she certainly knew how, and there wasn’t much any of them could do about it.

He couldn’t spend any more time looking for her. It was nearly time to get back to the surveillance house. He had a bad feeling about this job. It just seemed to have disaster written all over it. 

It had been an hour since I’d left Slater his voicemail message. Why hadn’t he called back? Jelena was managing to keep remarkably calm, but I knew she was becoming increasingly worried about Sophia. What if she shot Slick Tony? What if she actually killed him? We had to stop her somehow, and surely Dave Slater had to be our best hope.

Not for the first time, it was Jelena who proved to be the clear thinker.

‘He not call back,’ she explained. ‘He know your number, not know mine. Would you answer call from not known number if you busy?’

Of course she was right. He’d need the minimum of distraction right now. And no, I wouldn’t answer a call from a number I didn’t know if I was busy.

‘What about a text?’ I said.

‘Can try,’ she agreed. ‘Better tell she have gun.’

And so I sent the weirdest text I’ve ever sent.

‘Dave, Sophia may have gun. Alfie.’

Chapter Nineteen

It was four am. PC Steve Biddeford groaned as he struggled to wake up. He was as stiff as a board and he ached everywhere. Thank goodness this operation would soon be over. Sleeping on a camp bed was the worst idea ever. He rather wished he’d just stayed awake. Even his aches seemed to ache.

They had agreed to grab four hours sleep each while they could. Richie Weir had been first, sleeping from 8pm until midnight. Having to keep watch in the same room meant Biddeford now understood exactly why Weir was single. When he was awake, Weir was the most uncouth slob Biddeford had ever met. To his utter amazement, the man was just as bad when he was asleep, punctuating his snores with a continual stream of loud farts. There had to be something medically wrong with him, surely? To top it all off, Biddeford had been subjected to a tirade of foul language when he’d woken Weir at midnight as agreed.

It suddenly dawned on him that Weir was supposed to wake him at four, but it had been the alarm on his mobile phone that had roused him. So where the hell was Weir? A sound not unlike a pig snuffling for truffles told Biddeford what he suspected. Bloody Weir; he was asleep when he should be on watch.

He struggled to his feet, his rage barely in check. If Weir wants to ruin his own career that’s fine, but he’s not ruining mine.

Weir was stretched out on his back on the floor. Biddeford kicked him hard. ‘Wake up, you lazy bugger,’ he roared.

There was a grunt from the floor, but that wasn’t enough for Biddeford so he kicked Weir again. This seemed to do the trick.

‘Whathefucksupwiyounow?’ groaned Weir sleepily.

‘You bloody, lazy, useless git,’ spat Biddeford. ‘You’re supposed to be watching the damned house. What if he’s done a runner?’

When he’d first joined the police force, Biddeford had been a non-swearer. The frustrations of policing had soon fixed that but, even so, he wasn’t one for frequent profanity. However, working with Weir was giving his patience a severe test.

‘Oh don’t panic,’ yawned Weir. ‘It’ll be fine. I told you before, he’s probably not there anyway.’ He climbed slowly to his feet and stretched. ‘If it’ll make you happy, just whizz through the recordings. I bet you nothin’s happened.’

Frantically, Biddeford sat at the table, did a fast rewind, and then set the recordings running at speed. After twenty minutes, he was happy that nothing had happened at the front of the house. Then he did the same thing with the recording from the back. He knew straight away that something wasn’t right, but it took a couple of minutes to work out what it was. He clutched his head in his hands as if in agony.

‘Oh fuck!’

Weir jerked his head, looking surprised that Biddeford had sworn. He ran over to the monitor.

‘What?’ he said. ‘What is it?’

Biddeford pointed to the screen.

‘Look,’ he said.

Weir studied the screen, and then shrugged.

‘But there’s nothing happenin’,’ he said. ‘It looks like a nice day.’

‘And you think that’s a good thing, do you?’ said Biddeford, turning to face him.

‘But there’s no one doin’ a runner or anything, so what’s the problem?’

‘And if you look out of the window now,’ said Biddeford slowly, ‘is it a nice day?’

Weir looked out through the window.

‘Can’t see, can I? It’s dark.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Am I missing something?’

‘Watch carefully,’ said Biddeford, much more patiently than he felt.

He switched back to the live feed from the camera behind the house. It showed a beautiful sunny day. Then he pointed to the monitor showing the camera from the front of the house.

‘See,’ he said. ‘It’s dark out the front, and it’s a sunny day out the back.’

‘Oh fuck!’ said Weir.

There was a noise from downstairs.

‘It’s only me,’ shouted Dave Slater as he came in the back door. Biddeford heard his footsteps coming up the stairs and his heart sank. What was he going to say?

‘Everything alright?’ Slater asked as he entered the room. His phone pinged to announce the arrival of a text message but he ignored it, obviously taking in the look on Biddeford’s face.

He heaved a heavy sigh.‘Ok,’ he said, resignedly. ‘Let’s hear it...’

Slater had been sitting in stunned silence for at least five minutes, but he knew he couldn’t just sit there any longer.

‘Let me get this straight,’ he said. ‘You’re saying someone has messed around with the feed from the camera in the back garden and we’ve basically been receiving a photograph instead of a live feed.’

‘Yes, Sarge,’ said a very unhappy-sounding Steve Biddeford. He was sitting with his head hung. Slater glanced at Weir, who was sitting up, nonchalantly, his arms folded in front of him. Slater was pretty sure that Weir was to blame in some way. He’d probably fallen asleep on the job – it wouldn’t be the first time.

‘And do we have any idea how long it’s been like that?’

‘No, Sarge. But looking at the picture I figure it’s probably been like that since around midday.’ Biddeford seemed to slump inwards.

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ Slater wanted to kick something. ‘So, basically, there’s been enough time to move a fuckin’ army into that house, and then out again, and we wouldn’t have seen a bloody thing.’

It wasn’t a question; it was merely a simple statement of the obvious.

‘So we’re about to launch one of the biggest operations there has ever been in this town, and in all probability our target buggered off at least twelve hours ago. There’s nothing like giving him a head start is there?’

This time he did kick something. The chair slid across the carpet before tipping on its side at Weir’s feet. He looked at Slater in alarm.

‘Hey!’ he said, ‘Careful.’

‘Careful?’ yelled Slater. ‘I ought to be careful to make sure it’s your arse I kick next time, Weir. I think it’s safe to say you’ve pushed your luck a little too far this time. You’ve always been lazy and careless. Well, now you’ve proved you’re bloody useless too. How do you think I’m going to explain this to Jones? Do you think this sort of cock-up happens in the Serious Crime Unit? He thought we were a load of bloody idiots when he came down here. Now he’ll know he was right.’

He walked over to Weir and stood right in front of him, just inches from his face.

‘You know what’s worst of all? You haven’t just buggered up your own career, you’ve buggered up mine, and probably young Steve’s, in the process. Now, go and do something useful like make the tea. And when you’ve done that just keep out of my way. Alright?’

‘Err, yes. Sir,’ gulped Weir. He slunk off, muttering to himself.

‘Err, it’s my fault too, you know, Sarge,’ Biddeford said, guiltily.

‘I know that, Steve,’ said Slater, sighing, ‘but that bugger’s been doing this sort of thing for years. He’s always got away with it before, but I’ll bloody make sure he doesn’t get away with it this time. He’s made us all look like idiots.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Right now, I’m going to call Jones and explain to him what a bunch of wankers we are at Tinton. After that I don’t know. It’s too late to call everything off now. I just hope there’s still a target in that house when it all goes down, then we might just get way without too much shit hitting the fan.’

Chapter Twenty

It was coming up to six am, and it was just about light enough to see what was going on outside. Dave Slater stood at the front bedroom window of number 12, binoculars at the ready, his ears still ringing from the bollocking he’d had to endure earlier when he’d called DI Jimmy Jones to impart the good news about the camera feed.

The fact that the camera had been tampered with was bad enough, but Jones had been gracious enough to concede that this could have been done remotely. What had really got to him was the fact that the two officers watching the monitors had failed to notice anything was wrong even – when night had fallen. He had left Slater in no doubt that if Slick Tony wasn’t in that house when it was raided, the finger of blame would be pointed firmly in his direction.

‘Ready, Steve?’ Slater asked his young partner who was watching the screen displaying the feed from the front of the house opposite.

‘Yeah, ready,’ said Biddeford.

The incompetent DC Richie Weir had been removed from the surveillance team. He would be dealt with later. Right now, it was down to Slater and Biddeford to watch as events unfolded across the road.

Slater focused his binoculars across to the far end of the estate. This was the direction the assault team would be arriving from. They should be here any minute.

‘Right,’ boomed DI Jones’ voice across the airwaves. ‘You all know what to do so I don’t expect to hear a lot of chat over the air. DS Slater can see what’s going on and he will be in constant contact with me. I’ll be arriving with the backup team. Okay. Let’s do it.’

A battered transit van slowly trundled into sight. The plan was for the van to go anti-clockwise around the green, as it was the shortest distance to number 38. To Slater’s surprise, it took the clockwise route, slowing to a halt just past their own house, number 12.

‘What are they bloody doing?’ Slater cried, in disbelief.

In panic, he grabbed his radio, forgetting all his communications training.

‘This is DS Slater. You’re outside the wrong house, you idiots.  The suspect is in number thirty-eight.’

There was silence for a moment and then a voice came back at him.

‘You sure about that? I could have sworn they said number eight.’

‘Of course I’m bloody sure. It’s number thirty-eight. That’s why we’re in number twelve, because it’s the house across the green from the suspect. We wouldn’t be able to see much if we were next door but one, would we? Do you need me to wave out of the bloody window? Just look at the house numbers.’

A cry from Biddeford caught Slater’s attention and he lowered his radio. He followed Biddeford’s finger where it was pointing on the screen, and let out a groan. He watched as a dustcart drove carefully onto the narrow road of the estate

‘Oh shit!’ he said, as the dustcart took the anti-clockwise route around the green. ‘This is going to complicate things.’

He glanced through his binoculars and, with a surge of horror, saw that the transit van had disappeared from view. He jerked back to the screen and let out an even louder groan.

‘Oh God, no,’ he said, as he watched the two vehicles approach each other. ‘I don’t believe this is happening.’

Bobby Geddis had been driving his dustcart for years. He had started driving one back when they were still called binmen. Now, of course, they had to be called by the poncey, politically correct title of ‘waste disposal operatives,’ but as far as Bobby Geddis was concerned, they were still binmen and he was still their driver.

He felt responsible for his crew. It was his job to collect everyone in the morning, and take them off to the Station Cafe for breakfast before they started their round. So, every morning at the same time, he drove onto the estate and around the green to number 26. It was his first pickup every day, and as far as he was concerned, today was no different to any other day. Except today there was a battered transit van coming the other way.

He’ll just have to back up, thought Bobby, and he hummed to himself as the dustcart trundled along.

In the police transit van, the assault team were beginning to get hot and bothered. It was hot work wearing body armour, especially when there were eight of you crammed in the back of a van together. But they were professionals, and despite their discomfort, no one said a word. When the van had stopped, they had all been holding their breath waiting for the signal to go, but it hadn’t come. Now, even though they were on the move again, they were all on edge, adrenaline pumping, waiting for the two thumps on the side that would tell them it was time to launch the assault. 

PC Murray was driving. He really should have been wearing a hearing aid, he reflected to himself sadly. His hearing was getting worse. But then if he did that, everyone would know, wouldn’t they? Anyway, it was the sort of mistake anyone could make. Eight, thirty-eight – there’s not that much difference, is there?

He pulled away from number 8 and the van lumbered off around the green. It was just as he reached the halfway point to his destination that he realised there was a dustcart coming the other way.

He’ll just have to back up, thought PC Murray, and kept his foot pressed on the accelerator.

Just seconds later, however, he was forced to slam on the brakes. The two vehicles sat bumper-to-bumper; there was no way they could pass each other. Someone was going to have to give way.

PC Murray flashed his lights and waved his arms furiously, but the man behind the wheel of the dustcart just stared at him blankly.

From his viewpoint up in number 12, Slater watched in dismay as their slick, supposedly well-planned operation slowly began to turn into a disaster right before his eyes.

‘You couldn’t make it up,’ he said, despairingly, staring down at the two vehicles. ‘Should I resign now, d’you think? Or shall I just wait until I get the sack?’

Biddeford had been tasked with watching the screens and he let out a low whistle, that made Slater’s heart sink even lower.

‘You’re not going to believe this,’ he said quietly to Slater, ‘but there’s a van delivering milk coming onto the estate now.’

As Slater moved his binoculars to watch the new vehicle, he felt like crying.

‘I didn’t even know they still delivered milk,’ he said, sadly. ‘Why does it have to be here, and why does it have to be right now? Honestly, it’s like we’re watching a bloody Carry On film.’

As the milk van made its way onto the estate, Biddeford turned his attention back to the screen.  Hold on, was that a figure? No, perhaps he had imagined it. Wait, there it was again. It was real enough. But who was it, and where were they going? Maybe it was just somebody walking home…

Down on the road, PC Murray was now out of his van remonstrating with the dustcart driver who looked down benignly from his cab.

‘Well, like I just said,’ said Bobby Geddis, smiling patiently. ‘If you just back up out of the way, I can come through, and then you can have the road all to yourself.’

‘This is a major police operation. You’re obstructing us from doing our public duty,’ insisted PC Murray.

‘And you’re obstructing me from doing my public duty.  And anyway, it will be much easier for you to back up than it is for me.’ 

Meanwhile, the milkman had chosen to take the clockwise route around the green. He only had one call to make on this estate. It was at number 20. As he cruised around the green, he noticed two vehicles pulled up near where he was going to stop. The drivers appeared to be having a chat.

It’s amazing how many people do that these days, he thought. Just stop for a chat, blocking the road. Selfish buggers. Now I’m going to have to reverse out when I’ve finished.

Leaving his engine running, he stopped as close to number 20 as he could, right behind the tatty-looking transit van blocking the road. He grabbed two pints of milk from the back and walked off to make his delivery. No milk today, said the note. The milkman plodded back to his van and climbed inside. He reached forward to make a note in his book that number 20 had had no milk today.

PC Murray had given up trying to argue with the dustcart driver. The man was an arsehole. It was just going to be quicker in the end if he backed up and let the dustcart through. Barely suppressing his anger, he jumped back into his van, pushed in the clutch and slammed the van into reverse gear. There was a satisfying crunch from the gearbox. He let the clutch out and put his foot down.

The police van leapt backwards, straight into the milk van. There was a crash and crunch of broken tail lights.

The milkman had taken his handbrake off and was about to set off for his next delivery, when his van was shunted back a few yards. He yanked the brake on now and jumped out. He ran towards the van that had just reversed into him.

‘Hoy! You stupid tit!’ he yelled at the driver. In frustration he banged hard on the side of the police van. Twice.

Inside the van, eight sweaty, heavily-armed police officers in body armour had just been thrown in a heap on the floor. They didn’t know what had happened to dump them on the floor, but now they heard the sound they had all been waiting for. Two thumps on the side of the van meant it was time to go.

Slater had a grandstand view as the eight armed officers swarmed from the van. The milkman flung his hands up in the air and screamed. PC Murray tumbled from the front seat, trying to shoo the armed officers back into the van, but it was too late. They were off, heading towards the nearest house, automatic weapons poised ready.

Then they seemed to hesitate and they stopped in front of the house, peering at the number on the front, and then at each other.

Upstairs at the window, Slater hung his head. It was a complete debacle.

‘All that’s missing is the bloody Benny Hill music,’ he said.

It was Biddeford who made Slater tear himself away from the unfolding fiasco.

‘Bloody hell, Sarge!’ he said. ‘You’d better take a look at this.’

What?’ he said, swinging the binoculars back towards number 38.

‘Walking down the road, heading towards number thirty-eight.’

Slater swung the binoculars past number 38 and on down the road until he saw the figure. He could see quite clearly that it was a woman. She was wearing jeans, a light coat, and a headscarf. Wherever she was headed, there was something about the way she walked which made him feel she had a definite purpose in mind. She was almost close enough for him to make out her face. He quickly adjusted the focus to be sure, but he already knew who it was.

‘Sophia Ingliss!’

‘What the hell’s she doing here?’ asked Biddeford.

‘We’re just about to find out,’ said Slater, as he watched the figure slow down. She was checking the numbers. She was at number 40 now. Surely she wasn’t going to go to the house? Had Alfie misjudged her? Had he misjudged her? But why else would she be here?

She seemed to come to a decision and moved forward with renewed purpose. As she walked, she put her hands into her pockets, and for the first time Slater noticed the bulge where her right hand pocket was. Suddenly his blood seemed to turn to ice. Jones had told him to follow his hunches, and this was a hunch he couldn’t ignore. But surely there wasn’t enough time…

‘Quick,’ he said, tearing the binoculars from around his neck. ‘Call Jones and tell him to get here now.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Over there,’ said Slater, pointing through the window.

Chapter Twenty-One

Slater ran down the stairs, threw open the front door, and ran as fast as he could. He vaulted the small wall at the end of the front garden, tore across the verge, and stumbled over the road. Then he was on the green, still galloping as fast as he could. As he ran he chanted to himself over and over ‘please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong.’

Across the green, he could see Sophia hesitate momentarily and then march down the path to number 38. There was no front door as such, it was on the side of the house. Still running flat out, Slater could see her knocking on the door. In the distance, he could hear the sound of sirens approaching. But they were all going to be too late if anyone answered that door.

He was beginning to flag and slow down, but he kept his legs pumping, gulping in huge amounts of air. He was still watching Sophia. His mind had gone into overdrive and now he considered another scenario. Maybe there was another reason for her being here? Had Jones been right? Was she in league with Slick Tony? How would he break that news to Alfie? Please don’t be in league with him. Please don’t.

The sirens were getting nearer, but he knew they wouldn’t get there in time. He’d promised to keep her safe. What if she got hurt, or worse? How would he explain that to Alfie? He tried to summon up some more energy from somewhere, some more speed. He was getting closer, but now he was really struggling.

Up ahead he saw Sophia take a step back. Had someone opened the door? Then a man stepped out. He was at least a foot taller than her, and his intent was clear. He lunged for her. It looked as if she was in big trouble. Please don’t hurt her,  just wait until I get there and you can fight someone your own size. Then she took her right hand from her pocket. Oh no! Not the gun…

And then something completely unexpected happened, and it happened so fast, Slater wasn’t sure exactly what he’d seen. Instead of the sound of the gunshot he was expecting, there was a blur of movement and suddenly the man was reeling backwards, clutching his left arm. Now Sophia was going after him. Another blur of quick movements and he was down on the ground clutching his testicles.

Slater slowed down as he crossed the road to reach the gate to number 38. Behind him in the road, the first of the backup vehicles arrived. DI Jones jumped from the car as it skidded to a halt.

‘Sophia Ingliss,’ he called, as he ran past Slater. ‘Stay where you are. Don’t move. Keep your hands where I can see them.’

Sophia did as she was told.

It’s not her hands you need to worry about, mate, thought Slater, as he leaned against the wall of the house, hands on his knees, desperately trying to reinflate his lungs. The sound of pounding boots was getting nearer. The assault team, alerted by the arrival of the backup vehicles, had finally found the right house.

Better late than never. He heaved himself upright and started towards DI Jones, who was instructing two police officers to arrest the figure curled up in a ball clutching his testicles, and then directing the rest of the assault team into the house. Jones turned to him as he approached and pointed at the man on the ground.

‘Who the hell’s he?’

‘I have no idea, sir,’ said Slater. ‘Ms Ingliss knocked on the door and he answered it. When he saw her, he attacked her. I saw the whole thing. It just happens she knows a bit more about self-defence than he does.’

‘So where’s Slick Tony? If that woman’s allowed him to escape, she’s going to be in big trouble. I told you she was in league with him.’

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said Slater. ‘But if he’s not in that house he didn’t come out this way. And, as for being in league with him, I have to tell you that’s just a crock of shite. If she’s in league with him, then so am I.’

‘Don’t worry, Sergeant, that possibility has crossed my mind. The way you’ve handled this whole operation I have to consider the possibility that you’re either incompetent, or you made sure it went pear-shaped.’

‘The way I’ve handled it?’ said an incredulous Slater. ‘You’re supposed to be the bloody expert. Don’t think you can just dump it all on me.’

Jones glared at him, and began to turn purple. Slater thought he was about to explode, and he was pretty sure that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from punching DI Jimmy ‘Pass the Buck’ Jones on the nose.

‘Get her out of here, Sergeant,’ Jones growled, finally. ‘I want her interviewed now. And when you’ve done that, you can wait for me at the station. This whole operation has turned into a bloody fiasco and I’m holding you responsible.’

Now it was Slater’s turn to turn purple. So this was how it was going to be. Jones was going to use him as a scapegoat to save his own face. The temptation to flatten him was almost too much to resist, and Slater knew he could take him easily, but he stood his ground, silently fighting to control himself. Thumping Jones would only make it even easier for him to cause trouble.

As they stood glaring at each other, a head appeared from the front door.

‘All clear, sir. No one in the house!’

‘This is all your fault,’ Jones said, his voice hard. ‘Get out of my sight. Now!’

‘Right away. Sir,’ said Slater through gritted teeth. He knew there was a huge bollocking coming his way, but at least he could get Sophia out of the station before Jones got back.

An embarrassed Sophia stood to one side watching the exchange. Slater turned to her.

‘Would you come this way, Miss?’ He smiled at her.

She nodded her head and walked with him.. As they walked, his phone pinged in his pocket.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘I’d better just check this.’

‘Of course,’ she said, smiling at him.

He looked at his phone and read the short text message. Then he looked at the one he had ignored earlier. He passed the phone over to Sophia.

‘You’d better read that.’

She read the text and handed the phone back.

‘I have it for self-defence,’ she said quietly. ‘I have a licence for it.’

They kept walking. All the while Slater was thinking, hard.

‘But you didn’t use it, did you?’ he said. ‘And no one else saw it?’

‘No, it’s still in my pocket.’

‘Okay,’ he decided. ‘I think we can sort that out. Now, do you know who sent this text, because it’s not a number I recognise.’

‘My niece, Jelena.’

‘Here,’ he said, handing her the phone. ‘You’d better give her a call and let her and Alfie know you’re alright. They must be worried about you.’

He waited while she made the call, and then when she finished, she told him what had happened to them. He smiled. And then he began to laugh, and as he laughed, it seemed to ease the tension within her and she started laughing too. It was only as they were getting into his car that he finally stopped laughing and spoke.

‘We’d better go and rescue them,’ he said, ‘and then on the way back to the station we’re going to stop at your place. When we get there you’re going to go inside and empty your pockets. Then we’ll go and get your statement sorted out.’

‘But I don’t want to get you into trouble,’ she said.

He gave her a grim smile. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ he said. ‘It looks like I’m already in about as much trouble as I could possibly be. It would be really hard to make it much worse. And anyway, they won’t worry about what they don’t know about. Right?’

Chapter Twenty-Two

We had been locked in the back of the van for hours now. It had been parked in such a way that we couldn’t see anything outside, and in the interior darkness it was getting uncomfortably hot. The only good thing about the whole situation so far had been the brief call from Sophia telling us she was safe and with Dave Slater.

Apart from that, we had no idea what had happened, what was happening now, or what was going to happen next, so the sound of doors being unlocked and opened was as unexpected as it was welcome. As the door swung open, early morning light shone in our faces. I put my hands up to shield my face, and then I heard the sound of laughter. And I recognised the voice. It was Dave Slater.

‘Well, well. Look what we have here,’ he said, laughing.

‘What’s so funny?’ I asked indignantly.

‘Where shall I start?’ He paused momentarily for effect. ‘You’ve missed all the fun. While you two have been sat on the naughty step here, that lady of yours has been battering the crap out of some bloke back at the hideaway.’

‘Is she alright? I mean really?’ Suddenly this seemed to be all that mattered.

‘Yeah, really, she’s fine. And I have to tell you she’s damned good. Took on a guy twice her size and absolutely slaughtered him.’

He stopped briefly to relive the moment before continuing.

‘And you got nicked peeping over a fence. I thought you were supposed to be good at this stuff.’ He began to laugh again.

‘Look,’ I said, wearily, ‘technically it was Jelena looking over the fence not me. And if all you’ve come to do is gloat, you can just clear off again.’

Jelena hadn’t said a word since the doors had been opened, but she’d obviously had enough of being locked in the van with me.

‘No!’ she yelled in alarm. ‘Don’t send away. Get us out.’

‘Actually,’ said Slater, obviously enjoying my discomfort enormously, ‘I’m not here to gloat. Well, not specifically anyway. Let’s just say being able to gloat is like an added bonus.’ He laughed again. ‘What I’m really here for is to rescue you. The nice sergeant has agreed to hand you over to me.’

‘Thank goodness,’ said Jelena, sighing.

‘That’s very decent of him,’ I agreed.

‘I hate to disappoint you, but decency has nothing to do with it. He just doesn’t want to have to do the paperwork when he gets back. Anyway, come on, let’s get going.’

He very gallantly took Jelena’s arm to help her out of the van. She immediately had his full attention, and he carefully led her off to his car, leaving me to climb down from the van on my own. Now there’s a surprise…

He had parked as close as he could, but even so, we had a fair walk before we got to it. From my position bringing up the rear, I thought Slater was paying just a tad more attention to Jelena than was really necessary, but then she was a very attractive young lady, and after being shut in the back of a cold, dark van for a couple of hours with an old fart like me, she probably deserved a little care and attention.

As we neared the car, the passenger door suddenly burst open and Sophia rushed towards us. She didn’t stop running until she was in my arms, holding me so tight I could hardly breathe. As I held her close I could feel her sobbing against me. We stayed like that for what seemed like an age, but was probably no more than a few seconds. I had a head full of questions, but I figured they could wait for now.

‘Hey, come on,’ I said, stroking her hair. ‘Hush now. It’s over. We’re safe.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I should never have let you get involved in this.’

I tilted her head up and looked into her eyes.

‘I think you’ll find I chose to be involved in this. Don’t you see? I want to be involved with every “this” in your life.’ Then as an afterthought, I added, ‘If you want me to be involved, of course.’

She looked at me for a long moment before she spoke.

‘I’ve realised something over the last couple of days,’ she explained. ‘Maybe it had to take something like this to open my eyes. All this time you’ve been so patient with me, and I’ve been frightened to make any sort of commitment. But then something came along that threatened to come between us, and I knew straight away that I couldn’t allow that to happen. I think that tells us both what we need to know, don’t you?’

She reached up so our lips could meet.

‘Now,’ she said, ‘We’d better go. We owe Dave Slater a big thank-you and he needs to get on quickly.’

As we walked over to his car, the driver’s window wound smoothly down and his face appeared.

‘I think you two had better sit in the back.’

As he started the car we slid into the back seats, Sophia clutching my hand as if she was frightened I might run away at any moment. Five minutes later, we pulled up outside our flats and Slater turned to Sophia.

‘Okay,’ he said quietly. ‘You know what you have to do?’

She nodded, opened the door and slid out.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked, confused.

‘It’s alright,’ said Sophia, ‘I’ll just be a moment.’ Then she closed the door and was gone.

‘Dave?’ I asked. Now I had a head full of even more questions.

‘Do you remember Billy Bumble?’ he said turning to me.

‘What’s that got to do with this?’

‘Remember that story you made up about what happened that night? And remember how you told me it was all I was going to get?’

‘Yeah, but-’

‘I’m not going to insult your intelligence by telling you a load of lies. I’m sure Sophia will explain it to you in a day or two, but for now, especially as we’re going to the police station, I’m asking you to trust me. I know what I’m doing, and right now, that’s all you’re going to get. Alright?’

He was right. We hadn’t actually told that many lies that night, it was more a case of not exactly telling him everything, but the principle was the same. And I did trust him. After all, he was one of the good guys.

Sophia was back in the car and we were headed off to the station. As we drove, Slater explained what he was going to do when we got there. Jelena and I were to be released without further action. In fact, he was going to forget all about us. Sophia was to be interviewed, but very quickly. He explained to her that all she had to do was tell him she had gone to the house to talk to her ex-husband, but he wasn’t there. The other guy had attacked her and she had defended herself.

‘With any luck,’ he finished, ‘I can get you in and out again without any hassle from DI Jones.’

I couldn’t help but notice the weariness in his voice, but I thought there was more to it than simple tiredness.

‘What’s going on, Dave?’

He let out a huge sigh. ‘The whole operation’s gone pear-shaped. Slick Tony wasn’t there.’

‘But, I saw him,’ I said.

‘Oh, he was there earlier in the week, but he was gone before we went in. I said all along we should have stormed the house as soon as we knew he was there, but DI Expert insisted we should wait. It’s like the guy knew exactly what we were doing and when we were coming.’

‘But it’s not your fault. How can it be?’

‘Of course it’s not my fault. The blame should lie with the guy running the operation, but he’s going to offer me as the sacrificial lamb to save his own skin.’

‘You think Slick Tony has someone on the inside?’

He thought for a few moments before answering. Then, as he swung the car into the police station car park, he replied.

‘Well, if he has got someone on his payroll, my logic says it’s not likely to be someone from this tinpot little town where he’s never been before. Much more likely he knows someone from London, wouldn’t you think?’

True to his word, he managed to take Sophia’s statement in record time and we were back home before we knew it. Sophia was still clutching my hand as we approached our flats.

‘I need my hand to open my door.’

‘No,’ she said, pulling me past my own flat and towards hers. ‘You’re coming with me.’

Jelena had said very little since our release from the van, but now she spoke her approval of this new step in our relationship.

‘At last! Thought would never happen.’

Despite her tiredness, a cheeky grin lit up her face.

‘But please not make too much noise. One of us have to work in a few hours.’

‘Jelena!’ Sophia was shocked.

‘What? You lovers now, right? Is not problem, just please not be too noisy.’

She opened the front door to the flat and stepped inside.

‘I have to sleep now, but I very happy for you. Is good.’

‘Is good’ was Jelena’s seal of approval. We had her blessing.

We stood on the step. Sophia still looked shocked.

‘Maybe I should go back to my own flat,’ I said. ‘I mean, if you’re not ready-’

‘Not ready?’ she interrupted. ‘I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t ready.’ Then, cheekily she added, ‘Of course, if you’ve changed your mind about getting involved…’

I hugged her to me. ‘I promise you I’m never going to change my mind about that.’

She stood on tiptoe so she could whisper in my ear.

‘If you carry me inside, I promise not to make too much noise.’

I didn’t need to be asked twice…

*****

A Complete Fiasco

Thank you for managing to read through to the end of this novella series. I know they are not to everyone’s taste, so not all who started this journey will have got this far! If you have got this far, it’s reasonable to assume you’ve enjoyed them, so don’t forget there is an alternative version of the last one, called A Complete Fiasco.

The stories are essentially the same, but the original Alfie version is written in the first person, whereas the Dave Slater version is written in the third person. If you haven’t already downloaded a copy, you can get it by clicking this link.

Thank you once again for downloading these stories.

Best wishes,

Peter (P.F.) Ford.

Books by P.F. Ford

Dave Slater Mystery Novels

Death of a Temptress

Just a Coincidence

Florence

The Wrong Man

The Red Telephone Box

The Secret of Wild Boar Woods

A Skeleton in The Closet

The Kidney Donor

The above books can all be purchased individually

but they are also available as great value two book sets.

Dave Slater Mystery Doubles

Set One includes

Just A Coincidence & Florence

Set Two includes

The Wrong Man & The Red Telephone Box

Set Three includes

The Secret Of Wild Boar Woods & A Skeleton In The Closet

P.F. Ford links:

P.F. Ford website

P.F. Ford’s Author Central page