Game Over

Fifteen

A Tale of Two Kitties

Hardly had Slider regained his desk when Bates rang him. There was a change in the man. The self-conscious calm and confidence were gone. He sounded angry for the first time.

‘All right, Plod,’ he almost snarled, ‘I’m done with you. I’m done playing with you.’

‘Whoever asked you to?’ Slider retorted, too wearily angry himself with the whole thing to be much afraid. ‘Starting to repeat your effects, aren’t you?’

‘Don’t interrupt me! You’ve been warned to keep your nose out, and you won’t listen to warnings, so I’m going to have to put you out of the game. Permanently.’

‘If it means I don’t have to go on listening to you quoting from bad gangster movies any more—’

‘Oh, you think you’re quite the hero, don’t you?’ Bates sneered. ‘Well, the next time you hear from me will be the last, all right. I’m going to get you – and then I’m going to get that woman of yours. And in the split second when you realise you’re about to die, which is all you’ll have, I hope you’ll think of her and remember that it’s you who’ve condemned her to death.’

Slider was cold to the pit of his stomach at this direct threat to Joanna, but there was only one way to talk to people like Bates, who got pleasure from intimidation. ‘Oh, sod off,’ he said, and put the phone down.

What had made him change, he wondered, as he sat staring at the telephone, squatting on his desk like a malevolent toad. Something had put the wind up Bates. Was it his visit to Solder Jack? Had Bates had him followed, seen him go in, guessed what it was about? He was intelligent enough to put two and two together; and if that was it, it rather confirmed Jack’s diagnosis, that it was Bates who made the device for the door at Valancy House. If Tyler was behind the murder, it would be natural for him to consult his electronics-expert friend. Was Bates afraid that Slider was closing in on him? He did so hope that Bates was afraid.

Maybe it was Bates himself who had followed him. Bates on the motorbike, who had twice tried to kill him. It would explain how he had called the moment Slider got back to his desk – following him back to the station and giving him just enough time to get upstairs. He felt a sort of perverse relief at the thought, because if Bates was actively following him, he couldn’t also be following Joanna.

He checked the time. She’d have finished her rehearsal by now. He rang her mobile number. It rang too long before she answered it.

‘You had me worried,’ he said.

‘Sorry, I’m driving. I had to pull to the side of the road in the approved manner before I could pick you up. Trouble with dating a cop.’

‘I’ll have to get you a hands-free set.’

‘They’ll be banning those, too, soon. Talking is distracting. What’s the matter?’

‘How do you know something’s the matter?’

‘I can tell from the quality of your silence.’

‘I just had another comedy phone call from The Needle.’

‘Oh. The usual? Don’t be alarmed – be very afraid?’

‘That sort of thing.’

‘Any further along with catching him?’ she asked in a studiously calm voice.

‘I wish I could say yes. He must have a safe house somewhere local, but where?’

‘I’m glad you’re going to a safe house tonight, anyway.’

‘Ditto. You’ve got a hotel room?’

‘Yes, and Sue’s staying on with me, which is noble because she’d sooner go straight home. Like all of us.’

‘Offer to pay for her, and I’ll give you the money.’

‘It’s not costing her anything. You pay for the room in these places,’ Joanna pointed out. ‘But I will stand her a meal, if she’ll let me.’

‘Good. Well, be careful. I don’t think anyone’s watching you, but keep an eye out. And I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Yes, thank goodness. We miss you. Little Derek keeps asking after you.’

‘How?’

‘In Morse code. With his feet.’

‘Come to the station tomorrow when you get back. Don’t go to the house.’

‘Are we ever going to be able to go home?’ she asked, and sounded upset.

‘Of course we are. As Mr Porson says, it’s a long road that has no turnstile, and every dog has his Daimler.’

‘I wish I’d thought of that.’

‘I can’t think of it now.’

Slider left his car in the yard and let Atherton drive him home, with Emily following in her hire car. He was dog-tired, and the headache that had been hovering like a thunderstorm over the hills all day seemed to be settling in for the night. He needed an early one.

‘Do you mind if we don’t talk about the case tonight?’ Slider said, breaking the silence as Atherton pulled into his road and started looking for a parking space. ‘I need a break from thinking.’

‘Good idea. The unbent bow, and all that sort of thing. You look pretty terrible, s’matter of fact.’

‘I couldn’t look terribler than I feel.’

‘I think we should have a large drink followed by a superb meal and listen to a bit of soothing music. Luckily, I nipped out and bought some stuff this afternoon.’ He pulled up parallel to the car in front of a parking space, and before he could change gear, Emily nipped into it forwards. Slider saw in the wing mirror on his side her grin through the windshield. Atherton made a threatening gesture in his rear-view and drove on. ‘It’s good to see her show a bit of spirit. I keep worrying that she’s going to have a relapse and sink into gloom and guilt.’

‘It will probably happen when the case is closed,’ Slider said. ‘Then it’ll all come home to her.’

‘And then what will happen to me?’ Atherton said. ‘She might hate me.’

‘There’s always that,’ Slider said.

Atherton glanced at him. ‘A comforting reassurance would have been nice.’

‘You could always go back to Sue.’

‘No, once the trust has gone out of a relationship, it’s no fun lying to them. Ah, here’s a space. And not even in the next county.’

Atherton’s arms being full of groceries, he gave Emily the key and she opened the door and went in first, to receive two half-grown cats full in the chest. They pronged their way up on to her shoulders, purring like JCBs.

‘They’ve really taken to you,’ Slider observed, easing in behind her.

‘I’m a good twiddler,’ she said.

Slider was too tired to ask what she meant, and let that one go.

Atherton kicked the door closed behind him. ‘Can you make us all a drink while I unload this lot?’ he asked her.

‘Of course. Get thee to thy kitchen, scullion. Bill – is it all right if I call you Bill? Why don’t you sit down, because you look as if you’re about to fall down?’

Blessedly soon he was in the fireside chair, a large gin and tonic in his hand, and one of the cats – he had no idea which one – on his lap. Emily put on a Brahms’ serenade, one of Slider’s favourite pieces, and sat down on the floor, as Joanna had liked to do before she got too big, with a cat on her shoulder, to talk to him. Her interview skills were soon apparent, as she got him talking about himself, despite his tiredness and his natural reticence; and at the very moment when he noticed he was talking about himself, she changed the subject with graceful ease to architecture, which he must have mentioned in passing was an interest of his.

‘When you say architecture, I suppose you mean ancient rather than modern?’ she invited.

‘Most modern architecture seems to me to be a mixture of ambition, distraction, uglification and derision,’ he said. ‘But there are honourable exceptions. I think the Gherkin is a wonderful design, for instance. But I wonder whether even a really good joke will go on being funny century after century, whereas if you look at the great churches—’

‘Is that where your real interest lies?’

‘I’m not exclusive. But something like Salisbury or Durham – mankind at its absolute best.’

‘I suppose in your job you need an injection of mankind at its best now and then, to make up for mankind at its worst.’

‘It helps,’ he said.

‘We had an absolutely lovely church in our village when I was a little child. I used to go and sit in it sometimes, because I liked the smell and the silence.’

‘You didn’t go to services?’ Slider asked.

‘No. Dad was a furious atheist. He was too pig-headed to be religious. Would never be told what to do. People think because he was so good he must have been religious too, but he wouldn’t even have us taught about Christianity. I had to study it for myself, later.’

‘Why did you bother? If you weren’t brought up religious?’

She smiled. ‘It was a very embarrassing incident from my teenage years, just the age when you feel social gaffes the most. I was about fifteen, I suppose, or sixteen. I went to stay with a girl I knew from school, at her parents’ house. They were very well off – big house, servants and everything – and they were Catholics. Well, I was already worried about what was going to happen on Sunday, when they had this big dinner party on Saturday night. All grown-ups except for Jen and me, and what with all the knives and forks on the table, and wine and everything, I was in a state of panic, terrified I was going to do the wrong thing. Then suddenly someone put a little bowl of water in front of me, beside my plate. Well, I had no idea what it was for, but I knew they were Catholics, so – I dipped my fingers in and crossed myself.’ She sighed and shook her head at the memory. ‘It was the most mortifying moment of my life.’

Atherton came in. ‘Nearly ready. You two look very cosy.’

‘We’re swapping embarrassing moments,’ Emily said. ‘Can I do anything?’

‘You could lay the table.’

Slider’s phone rang. He didn’t recognise the number, and was in two minds about taking the call, but Emily had got up and left him to get cutlery from the kitchen, so he answered, a little gingerly in case it was Bates again.

It was Pauline. There was a lot of noise in the background. ‘Where are you?’ he asked.

‘At a garage. I’m sorry I couldn’t call you back before, but I never know at work who might be listening. I tell you, it’s a bloody reign of terror these days. I’m thinking of getting out.’

‘Oh, Pauly, is it that bad?’

‘You don’t know the half of it. What did you want?’

‘As one of my snouts said, it’s a nobby murder of a nobby bloke. Ed Stonax.’

‘I’ve read about that,’ she said, and, curiously, there was relief in her voice. ‘And seen it on the telly. Could hardly miss it. But I thought you’d got your man.’

‘There’s more to it than meets the eye. I wondered if you’d heard anything.’

‘Not a thing. Sorry. So that was it, was it? I knew it couldn’t be a social call.’

‘Would you welcome a social call?’ he asked. ‘When I said it was Stonax, you sounded relieved. What did you think I wanted to talk to you about?’ She didn’t answer at once, and he said, ‘You’ve always helped me when I was in trouble.’

‘And a lot of good it’s done me! Look, Bill, there are things going on at the high levels that I don’t approve of. Well, that’s putting it mildly. I’m not supposed to know about them, of course, but sometimes being a woman has its advantages. Sometimes they’ll say things in front of you, or in earshot, because they just don’t see you. You’re part of the furniture, you know?’

‘What have you heard?’

‘I don’t know the ins and outs of it. But I’m guessing one of your old cases has come back to haunt you – am I right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, watch out, that’s all I can say. Someone’s got it in for you, and that boss of yours won’t be able to protect you.’

‘Can’t you be more specific?’

‘I’ve said too much already. Go back over your old cases, put two and two together, try to keep out of sight. That’s all I can say. And please don’t call me, not at work or at home. I love you, Bill, but you’re bad news.’ And she was gone.

Atherton popped his head round the door enquiringly. Normally he wouldn’t ask, of course, but given the Bates situation . . .

‘Who was that?’

Slider decided on the instant not to pass it on. ‘Someone who doesn’t want to talk to me,’ he said.

‘Smart of them to ring and tell you. Want to open the wine?’

By the time Slider had eaten and drunk his share of the wine he was utterly spent, and hardly had the strength to fall asleep. But he slept like the dead, secure in the knowledge that if the bad men broke in to get him, the cats would get them first; and in the morning he felt a lot better, stronger, clearer-headed, more optimistic. They drove in together in convoy, Slider keeping a look out for motorbikes and black Focuses, and looking forward to seeing Joanna. If he knew her, she’d be up at sparrow’s and on the road early.

Atherton and Emily went to their respective computers to continue their researches. Slider got on with necessary paperwork while the troops filtered in. When everyone was there they’d have a meeting to establish where they had got to.

It was Norma who got to him first. She brought him in tea and an apricot Danish, and said, ‘Boss, I’ve got something, but I don’t know if it’s anything.’

‘Anything could be anything. Fire away.’

‘Well, you know I’ve been going over all Bates’s known associates with Fathom?’

‘Yes.’

‘They all check out – most of ’em were normal employees and business connections. He didn’t seem to have any friends, and we know what his sexual preferences were like.’

‘Did you check with the pro’s he used to go to?’

‘Yes, and with a lot more besides.’ She grinned suddenly. ‘I put Fathom on to that. Thought he may as well start at the deep end. Sent him round all the brothels and establishment whores in the area. It’s not likely Bates’d take one off the street.’

‘Right. I’m sure Fathom was extremely thorough?’

‘I hope so. But anyway, none of them have seen hide nor hair of him since we nicked him the first time. And nobody seemed to know he was on the loose, either. They all thought he was banged up awaiting trial – some even thought he’d had the trial and was doing his time. So wherever he is and whatever he’s been doing since he escaped, he hasn’t been having fun.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Slider said grimly. ‘So what was the thing that wasn’t anything?’

‘Well, the only suspicious contacts we had were his bodyguard, who’s safe in Pentonville, his butler Archie Gordon, and his driver Thomas Mark. We had nothing on those two, as you know, and Gordon got out and went to Spain. His mum and dad have retired there, near Barcelona, and he’s living with them and the local police say he’s not been in any trouble.’

‘And that leaves Mark.’

‘Who disappeared as soon as Bates was arrested and hasn’t been seen since. Well, I’ve just been trawling every source I could think of, and it occurred to me that maybe Mark had family in the area, so I went into the BDM register, and found his birth certificate, and it turns out his mother’s maiden name was Steel.’

Slider jumped as if he’d touched a live wire. ‘The man in the pub! Don’t tell me – his father’s name was Patrick?’

‘Well, no,’ Norma said, reluctant to deny him anything, ‘it was John. But it’s possible, isn’t it, that when he had to give a false name to old Dave Borthwick in the pub, that that was all he could think of.’

‘It’s certainly possible. We’ve got a photograph of Mark, haven’t we?’

‘Yes, boss. Not a very good one – he’s in the background of a picture of Bates. We never had a mugshot of him, because he was never arrested. But you can see who it is.’

‘Get a print-out and get Fathom to take it down to the cells, see if Borthwick recognises him.’

Hart appeared behind Norma at the door, wondering what the excitement was about. ‘Guv? Something up?’

‘Thomas Mark’s mother’s maiden name was Steel,’ Norma said as she pushed past her.

Hart’s eyes widened. ‘Wait a minute!’ she exclaimed, and dashed off to her desk.

The word spread from person to person and the room buzzed with renewed vigour. A breakthrough made everyone feel better. Fathom came back, his fleshy face pink with exertion, to say, ‘He thinks it’s the same bloke. He’s not sure. He says it’s hard to tell from a photograph.’

‘God, the useless twonk!’ Swilley exclaimed.

‘But he thinks it’s him,’ Fathom said eagerly. ‘And in a line-up – in the flesh . . .’

‘Yeah, we’ve got to get hold of him in the flesh first, haven’t we?’

‘Crop it and get some copies made,’ Slider said, ‘and take them to the people who were in the Sally that night. Start with the staff and then try the customers.’

‘Guv?’ Hart looked up from her desk as she put the receiver down. ‘I was just on to Mrs Masseter. Asked her if the inspector who took away Danny’s things might have been “Steel” instead of “Strong”, and she jumped at it. Said yes, that was the name all right.’

Slider’s blood sang. ‘When Fathom’s got the photo ready, send it over to the local police, ask them nicely to take it round to her, see if she can identify him.’

‘So, boss,’ Swilley interjected, ‘are we saying that Bates and Mark are connected with the Stonax murder? That the two cases are linked after all?’

‘I think we are saying just that,’ Slider said. ‘It’s not a coincidence that Bates has turned up here and now.’ He told them about his visit to Solder Jack, without mentioning his name, and Jack’s immediate fingering of Bates as the possible manufacturer. ‘So Bates makes the device to open the door, and Mark persuades old dipstick Borthwick to let him install it,’ he concluded. ‘I wonder, could Bates have been the “man in the van” that Borthwick never saw? The one Mark said was going to do the actual fitting?’

‘Bates would be careful not to be seen,’ Norma said. ‘That would be why he’d put Mark up as the front man in the pub, make him do the public work. But who did the actual murder? Mark? I can’t see Bates getting his hands dirty.’

‘He’s killed before, with his own hands,’ Hart said. ‘Susie Mabbot, the prostitute.’

‘By accident,’ said Swilley, ‘or at least in hot blood. The other deaths we think are down to him he may have had someone do for him. You don’t get to be a master criminal by doing your own dirty work.’

‘If Thomas Mark is mixed up with the Masseter death,’ said Hollis, ‘maybe he was the one that did both of them.’

Slider interrupted. ‘But even if Bates and Mark were implicated in Stonax, or Stonax and Masseter, we still don’t know why. What the hell was it all about? There’s got to be a reason, and it’s got to be a bloody good one, if I know my Bates. And we still don’t know where he is – or they are. Norma, does Mrs Steel still live in the area?’

‘She’s dead, sir. Both the parents are. I checked that right away. I’ll have a look to see if there were any brothers or sisters, but it’ll take a while.’

‘Do it. Mark seems to be the only friend Bates has in the world.’

Mackay, who had been answering the phone across the room, called out, ‘Guv, they’ve found the car. The black Focus. They think it’s the same one because it’s got the damage in the right place. The number’s different from any of the ones we’ve reported, but the number it has got is from a scrapped car.’

‘Where did they find it?’

‘A traffic warden called it in, illegally parked in a residents’ bay without a permit. Duchess of Bedford’s Walk.’

‘Sinning above its station,’ Slider commented.

‘Where’s that?’ asked Hart, who hadn’t lived in Shepherd’s Bush all her life.

‘Just off the Campden Hill Road,’ said Swilley, who had. ‘And just round the corner from Aubrey Walk, where Bates’s house is.’

‘Creatures of habit, criminals,’ said Slider. ‘Even the ones who think they’re uncommon criminals. And overconfidence has brought down the mighty before. Get the car in, go over it with a fine-toothed comb. One nice dab or one long red hair inside would be very nice. And a bit of something interesting on the tyres or the wheel arches would be even better.’

‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ Hart said.

‘I don’t think my hopes know where up is,’ Slider said. ‘Also get a paint sample and photographs of the damage and send them through to the Reading police. See if they can get a match with the damage to Masseter’s motorbike. If we can get Mark it may lead us to Bates.’