Slater thought for a moment.

  'She knew about the affair, so if he lost his job over that, she must know, mustn't she?'

  'But she handed you the card with his number on. Why would she do that, if she knew he wasn't working here?'

  'Maybe she wanted us to find out.'

  'Why not just tell us?'

  Before Slater could reply, they heard the heels tapping their way back across the atrium. They turned and watched Diana Williams approach.

  'Are you in a hurry?' she asked.

  'That depends,' said Slater. 'If you're suggesting we have to hang around—'

  'Malcolm Keeling would like to speak to you.'

  'Now?'

  She nodded. Slater looked at Norman, who nodded, too.

  'Yes, okay, that might be helpful,' said Slater.

  'Come this way,' she said.

  They rose quickly from their seats and followed her across the atrium and out through the glass doors, where she turned to face them. Initially, Slater thought she was going to tell them to go away and never come back, but she merely pointed to a large farmhouse across a field from where they stood.

  'Go back down the drive,' she said. 'Take the first right-hand turn, and follow it. It will take you along the edge of this field and on to the farmhouse. Malcolm is expecting you.'

  She turned on her heel and walked back into the building, not even giving them time to thank her.

  'This had better be good,' said Norman, as they climbed into the car.

  'It must be good if the big boss wants to speak to us.' said Slater. 'Maybe we just hit the jackpot without realising it.'

  9

  As they approached the farmhouse, Malcolm Keeling appeared at the front door. A tall, willowy man, with dark brown hair greying at the temples, he gave them a friendly wave as they neared the house, then indicated they should park right outside the front door. Once the introductions were made Keeling took them inside, led them to his study, and settled them in two chairs. Then he took his place behind an enormous oak desk.

  Another one with a barrier thought Slater, but at least this one was visible.

  'Diana tells me you've been asking about Jason Crothers.'

  Slater thought he could detect the faint trace of a lilt in his voice that suggested the possibility of Irish ancestry.

  'That's correct,' said Norman. 'We're trying to locate his son, Mickey. Jason's wife is worried sick about the boy. She believes he's with his father. She's asked us to find Mickey and make sure he's all right. So we'd like to know where Jason is.'

  'Yes, so would I,' said Keeling.

  He picked up a business card from his desk. It looked like the one Slater had handed to Diana Williams.

  'Can I ask you where you got this card?' he asked.

  'Mia Crothers. She said it's the only contact details she has for him,' said Norman. 'But now we hear Jason doesn't work for you anymore, so we're confused.'

  'There's nothing about which to be confused. It's quite simple. Jason doesn't work here anymore. What's confusing about that?'

  'What's confusing is he's been fired, yet he's still authorised to use your company's business cards. How does that work?'

  'Of course, he isn't! Anyway, these aren't our cards.'

  'It's your company name,' said Slater, 'and your colours. What are they? Forgeries?'

  Keeling sighed and shook his head.

  'I admit they're similar, but they're not ours.'

  'But you knew he was using them, right?' asked Norman.

  Keeling stared at Norman for a few seconds as though he was trying to decide what to say. Finally, he sighed and then spoke.

  'Yes, I knew.'

  'So why haven't you stopped him? He is poaching your customers, isn't he?'

  'But that's the strange thing. Jason hasn't approached a single one of our customers, and as far as I can tell, he's no longer active in the security business.'

  'Have you any idea what he's up to?' asked Slater.

  Keeling shook his head.

  'I would ask him, but I have no idea where to find him. I've tried calling that number, and leaving a message, numerous times, but he never calls back. I suppose I can't blame him. I did fire him.'

  Slater thought he could smell a rat.

  'I have to say I find it unlikely a man as successful as you would turn a blind eye to a former employee continuing to pose as part of the business.'

  Keeling glared at Slater.

  'What are you implying?'

  'I'm not implying anything. I'm just trying to understand why you haven't tracked Crothers down and stopped him. You're in the security business. You must know someone who could find him, but you haven't. I wonder if perhaps he knows something you'd rather he didn't know.'

  'I don't know what you mean,' said Keeling, innocently.

  'Can you tell us why you fired Crothers?' asked Norman.

  'I thought you knew that; he took advantage of his position, and had an affair.'

  'With Keira Silver?'

  Keeling tried to hold Norman's gaze, but there was just the faintest flicker of acknowledgement, and Norman didn't miss it.

  'We don't discuss what happens inside our business,' said Keeling. 'We've told you too much already.'

  'But people have affairs all the time, don't they?' said Norman. 'If they were consenting adults, and it didn't affect their work, what's the harm?'

  'When I need advice about how to run my business, I'll let you know,' said Keeling. 'In the meantime, I'll continue to do things my way. It seems reasonably successful.'

  Norman bobbed his head. There was no arguing with that fact.

  'I'm confused,' said Slater. 'Diana Williams said you wanted to speak to us, yet you don't seem to want to tell us anything.'

  'It's taken me years to build this business, and I don't want you two creating a scandal that could ruin everything.'

  'We're not trying to create a scandal,' said Norman. 'We're just trying to find the son of a mother who's going frantic with worry.'

  'That's very noble,' said Keeling, 'but I fail to see how opening old wounds is going to help.'

  'I'm not interested in your old wounds,' said Norman. 'But, if that boy is with his father, and someone here can tell us something that might help us find him, it is going to help.'

  'The problem is no-one here seems to want to help us,' added Slater. 'That seems to suggest you all have something to hide.'

  Keeling glared at Slater, again.

  'I think we're done here,' he said.

  'You think so, do you?' asked Slater. 'Because my gut tells me we've hardly got started.'

  'I think you should leave, and I suggest you stay away from my business, and my employees.'

  'Arrogant prick,' observed Slater, as he slowly drove away from Keeling's house.

  'He was never going to tell us anything, was he?' said Norman. 'He just wanted to get us away from the offices.'

  'Yeah. I wonder what he's trying to hide.'

  'Maybe Keira Silver knows.'

  'Yeah,' said Slater. 'He tried hard not to show anything when you mentioned her name, but it was right there, just under the surface, wasn't it?'

  'I think we should try speaking to her, don't you?'

  'It can't hurt, can it?'

  Norman searched through his notebook until he found the telephone number for Keeling Security and tapped the number into his mobile phone.

  'Good Morning,' he said into the phone, a few seconds later. 'I'd like to speak to Harry Sillitoe please.'

  'I'm afraid Mr Sillitoe is out of the office today, but I can put you through to Mrs Silver, his secretary, perhaps she can help you.'

  'Yes, I'm sure she'll be able to help me,' said Norman. He looked at Slater and winked.

  'Hello,' said a voice in his ear. 'This is Keira Silver speaking. How can I help you?'

  'Good morning Keira. I'm sorry to call you like this but I need to speak to you, and I couldn't think of a better way.'

  'Who are you?' The voice had raised an octave. 'What do you want?'

  'Now please don't be alarmed. My name's Norman Norman. I'm a private investigator working with my partner to try and find a missing teenage boy. He's the son of Jason Crothers, and we think he might be with his father, but we're having trouble finding him. I was hoping you might be able to help.'

  'Are you one of the two men who called here earlier?'

  'Yes, that's right. You knew we were there?'

  'Cara told me you were there, but Diana Willams wouldn't let me speak to you. Malcolm Keeling has forbidden me to speak to anyone about what happened.'

  'I don't want to get you into trouble, and we don't need to know what happened. We only want to know where Jason Crothers is.'

  'I'm sorry, I can't say any more. I have to go.'

  'Oh. Really? We were rather hoping—'

  She ended the call, and Norman sighed as he lowered his phone.

  'No good?' asked Slater.

  'She hung up. I got the feeling she would have liked to have said a lot more, but get this; Malcolm Keeling has forbidden her to speak to anyone about what happened.'

  'Makes you wonder what did happen,' said Slater.

  'Yeah, doesn't it just?' agreed Norman.

  They drove on for another ten minutes, each lost in their thoughts until Norman's mobile phone began to ring. He accepted the call and raised the phone to his ear.

  'Yo, Vinnie! How are you, my friend?'

  A protracted call ensued, of which Slater could only hear Norman's half, much to his irritation, but eventually, Norman ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

  'You could have put it on speakerphone,' complained Slater.

  'Yeah, you're right, I could have,' agreed Norman, cheerily.

  Slater waited for more information, but Norman simply stared out of the window.

  'Is it a secret?' asked Slater.

  'What?'

  'Vinnie just called. I assume it was about this case, and as I'm your partner, I'm quite interested in what he had to say.'

  'Oh, that. Yeah. Vinnie says he traced the redirect number. He knows where it's located. He's just going to text the address to me. I was going to tell you when the text comes in.'

  'Sometimes you can be as annoying as Vinnie is,' said Slater.

  Norman laughed.

  'Vinnie was right. He said it would wind you up!'

  'Ha, bloody, ha,' muttered Slater.

  Norman's phone pinged as Vinnie's text message arrived. He found the text, and read it. He didn't recognise the address, so he fired up the car's Satnav and tapped in the postcode.

  'Now that's handy,' he said.

  'What's handy?'

  'The address for this redirect number. We're almost going past it on the way back.'

  'So what are we waiting for?' asked Slater. 'Let's go pay someone a surprise visit.'

  10

  The house they were looking for was in the middle of an enormous housing estate on the edge of Basingstoke. Slater hated these vast estates.

  'Where's the imagination?' he complained. 'Every house is the same. We'd never be able to find the right house without Satnav.'

  'You're right,' agreed Norman, looking around. 'And it's not just the houses, every road looks the same, too.'

  'Here we go,' said Slater, as they rounded a bend, and he recognised the road name. 'It must be along here somewhere.'

  'You have reached your destination,' announced the Satnav.

  'There, on the left,' said Norman, pointing to one of the nondescript houses. 'Number 29.'

  An attractive woman answered the door. Her hair was dyed an unnatural bright ginger, a colour that Slater felt was too close to orange for comfort. The half-smile she wore as she opened the door was rapidly replaced by a frown when she saw the two men standing on her doorstep.

  'If you're Jehovah's Witnesses, I've told you before; I'm not interested,' she said.

  Norman adopted his most placatory smile.

  'It's okay,' he said. 'We're not Jehovah's Witnesses. We're Private Investigators.'

  Her eyes narrowed.

  'Private investigators? Then I'm even less interested.'

  She went to shut the door, but Norman reached forward to stop it.

  'Look we're not here to make trouble,' he said.

  'What do you want then?'

  'Are you Mia Crothers?' he asked.

  The boys had planned their approach to this interview on the journey, agreeing Norman would lead but allowing him to play it as he saw fit. However, his unexpected opening question took everyone by surprise, and both the woman and Slater stared at Norman, puzzled.

  'I think you've got the wrong house,' she said. 'My name's Summer Duval.'

  Now Slater turned his puzzled stare on the woman, surprised by her exotic name.

  'Oh,' said Norman. 'We must have been given the wrong information. We're looking for a man called Jason Crothers, and we were told you might be able to help us.'

  She frowned.

  'Who?'

  'Jason Crothers.'

  She studied Norman for a moment.

  'Sorry. I've never heard of anyone called Jason Crothers.'

  'Are you sure?'

  'Of course, I'm sure. Do I look like someone who has a house full of men I don't know?'

  Norman bit back his retort as Slater stuck a hand in his pocket and produced the business card he had kept.

  'Maybe this will ring a bell,' he said and offered it to the woman.

  She took the card, glanced at it, and then at Slater.

  'All right,' she said, handing the card back to him. 'So now I know how to spell the man's name, but I still don't know him.'

  She moved to close the door again, but Norman spoke before she could close it.

  'But, don't you provide a telephone answering service for him?'

  Her eyes widened, and her mouth flapped once or twice before she spoke.

  'I don't know what you mean,' she said, defiantly.

  Slater smiled.

  'Oh, I think you know what he means,' said Slater. 'But, I wonder, do the police know about your little sideline?'

  'You see, the thing is,' explained Norman, 'we know just how many redirected calls you receive every day, and we know your service isn't listed as a business.'

  'We also know just how lucrative it can be,' added Slater, 'especially if your clients are ladies of a certain kind, or a little, how shall we say, dodgy?'

  'We were wondering what the guys who deal with vice might think about your little sideline,' said Norman.

  'If you have just one or two clients they might turn a blind eye, but if it's a lot more than that, and they're mostly working ladies, they might not be quite so lenient.'

  'I don't know what you mean,' she stammered.

  'Now, we all know that's not true, don't we?' said Norman.

  The woman looked frantically from Slater to Norman, then stepped forward so she could see up and down the road. Satisfied no-one was watching, or listening, she stepped back through the front door.

  'You'd better come inside,' she said.

  They followed her into the house, where she showed them into a small dining room. Slater reached for a chair, intending to pull it from under the table and sit down.

  'Don't bother,' she snapped, her hands on her hips. 'You're not going to be here long enough to get comfortable.'

  He smiled and nodded his head. If that was how she felt, he was okay with that. He wasn't here to argue.

  'Right,' she said, defiantly. 'What the hell is this?'

  'We told you,' said Norman, 'we're just trying to find this guy Jason Crothers, but no-one seems to know where to find him.'

  'We're not interested in what you do,' added Slater. 'We just need to find this guy.'

  'And we were hoping, as you take calls from him, you might know where to find him,' finished Norman.

  'But I don't take calls for him. I know the names of all my clients, and he isn't one of them.'

  'Look, Summer, we already know you work for him. We dialled his number, and it redirects to a number which can be traced back to this house. How do you think we knew to come here?'

  Her confidence faded slightly in the face of this damning evidence.

  'But I don't know that name,' she insisted.

  'I assume you know all the numbers that redirect to you,' said Slater.

  'Well, yeah, I've got a list.'

  He handed her the card again.

  'Is this one of the numbers on your list?'

  'Christ. You don't expect me to remember them all, do you?'

  'But you could check it against your list,' suggested Slater.

  'Why do you want to know?'

  'A sixteen-year-old boy is missing-'

  'Well, why didn't you say that in the beginning?' she said, and the atmosphere in the room changed instantly. 'Hang on a minute while I get my laptop.'

  She left the room, and they listened as her footsteps thumped up the stairs and then, a few seconds later, thumped back down again. She was opening the laptop as she re-joined them.

  'They're on a spreadsheet, so it's an easy search.'

  She placed the laptop on the table, copied the number from the card into her spreadsheet, and clicked "search".

  'You're right,' she said. 'It is one of my numbers.' She compared the name on the card to her spreadsheet. 'But this isn't the same name.'

  'Can you tell us what name you have listed against that number?'

  'I don't know if I should.'

  'The guy's wife gave us that card,' said Norman. 'If this guy is up to something fishy he probably isn't calling himself Jason Crothers, he'll be using an alias. Just remember, that poor boy's life could be at risk.'

  'Think how you would feel if anything happened to him and you could have helped,' added Slater.

  They watched as Summer wrestled with her conscience.

  'If anyone was to find out I told you…'

  'We already told you we're not interested in your business, and we know how to keep quiet. No-one is going to find out, I promise,' said Norman.

  She thought about it for a few more seconds.

  'Now I think about it, this one's a pain in the arse,' she said. 'He never collects his messages on time, and he doesn't always pay on time. Yeah, sod it, why should I protect him?'

 

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