DEATH BY CARPET a gripping British crime mystery full of twists (Slater and Norman Mysteries Book 1) by P.F. FORD

Author:P.F. FORD [FORD, P.F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JOFFE BOOKS crime thrillers and mysteries
Published: 2024-02-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

It had taken all Bob Murray’s guile to persuade Mark Clinton it would be in his best interests to meet up with one of his officers for an informal chat. His initial hostility to the idea had been overcome by Murray’s assertion that he was quite sure it was some sort of misunderstanding and that he was equally sure Clinton could very easily and quickly put their minds at rest.

‘I like to think we can sort these things out without the need for paperwork. I’m sure you know what I mean,’ Murray had said. ‘It’ll be much quicker than the official route.’

His assertion that a meeting should take place in a neutral venue seemed to convince Clinton he had nothing to worry about.

‘Police stations are very good places for rumours to start, don’t you think?’ Murray had suggested. ‘I’ll tell Detective Sergeant Salter you’ll meet him then, shall I?’

* * *

At seven thirty a.m. on Wednesday morning, Dave Slater approached a man sat on his own at Heston Services on the M4. He was at a corner table, far away from the busy end of the cafeteria, reading a newspaper and sipping a cup of scalding hot liquid that was supposed to be coffee.

‘Chief Inspector Clinton?’ asked Slater politely.

Clinton looked up at him. His face made it quite clear what he thought about this whole situation, but Slater could handle a bit of hostility. It went with the job most of the time.

‘I want to see your warrant card,’ said Clinton.

Slater handed his card over. Clinton studied it, and then looked up.

‘Murray told me I was meeting Detective Sergeant Salter,’ he said warily.

‘Ah!’ said Slater with a cheeky grin. ‘He’s always getting my name wrong. It’s his dyslexia.’

Clinton looked hard at him and Slater could tell he wasn’t amused. He wondered if Clinton had recognised his name.

‘I’m a busy man, Slater,’ he warned, his voice full of his own importance. ‘So you’d better make this quick.’

‘Oh, I don’t think it’ll take long. Is it alright if I sit down?’

‘Help yourself.’

Clinton pointed at the empty chairs opposite him. Slater dragged one out and made a big deal out of getting comfortable. He couldn’t use his rank to intimidate Clinton, but he could certainly annoy the hell out of him.

‘Right, Sergeant,’ snapped Clinton. ‘You can stop with the “aggravating and incompetent” act, and get to the point. I’m only here as a favour to Chief Inspector Murray. I hope you realise that.’

‘Oh yes, of course, sir. And I’m very, very grateful,’ Slater gushed. He thought about doffing an imaginary cap, but decided that might be going just a bit too far.

‘Well, come on, man. Get on with it.’ Clinton’s fuse was getting shorter by the minute, which was good for Slater, but he knew if he pushed it too far, he might lose this chance.

‘Well, I’ve been investigating this case,’ he began, ‘and your name’s come up. Naturally I don’t want to bring your name into it if it can be avoided—’

‘Yes, yes,’ snapped Clinton.

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