Three Steps to Hell (8 page)

“Very well then, but please respect his privacy to a degree and I would like to be present.”

She left the room with Dave Sweeting and went to Colin Peterson’s office.

Tom had also engineered this opportunity in order to have a private moment in the kitchen with Jackie. In his experience cleaners/housekeepers were often more knowledgeable about their employers than they were given credit for. They would always deny prying into their employers’ personal matters but human nature usually prevailed.

“Do you want a hand making that coffee Jackie?”

“No I’m okay thanks Sergeant, black with sugar wasn’t it?”

“Yes please, did you have a good walk with Jasper?”

“Oh, wonderful, that’s one of the parts of my job here that I really love. The grounds here are beautiful and a long walk with the dog down towards the cove is just so tranquil and what’s even better I get paid for it.”

“What are they like to work for?”

“Really good, they look after me well, strange couple though, don’t really seem very close in the husband/wife way but seem to get on fine. What do you think has happened to Mr Peterson, Sergeant?”

“I have no idea, thought you might have some thoughts on the matter yourself. Has he disappeared before without the police being told?”

“No he goes away on business regularly, always on his own I think. But he’s on the phone all the time to her. He goes off to auctions all round the country I think and sometimes abroad. Don’t see much of him really.”

“What’s he like? Mrs Peterson paints a picture of a hard ruthless business man.”

“She always does when she’s talking about him. Yes, I think he’s quite hard by nature but she seems to wear the trousers. Maria is the one I would be more nervous of upsetting. They’re both always very private and very careful not to leave much around when I’m cleaning, particularly in his office over here, but I’m not a nosy person. As long as they pay me I’m not interested in their private lives. If you ask me I always get the impression he’s a little scared of her rather than the other way round. They always seem careful not to discuss much when I’m around other than what they want me to do or want me to hear. I only work four hours a day for them.”

“Do you clean their offices over in the old barns as well Jackie?”

“Oh no, she does that herself and when they’re not over there its always kept locked. I have offered to do it but she says I have enough to do in the house. But if you ask me they just don’t want people snooping around. They certainly seem to make a lot of money. Perhaps they keep cash over there, so they want to keep it all secure, who knows! They always pay everyone cash but then they all do these days don’t they. Want to hide it all from the tax man don’t they!”

“Oh, shouldn’t have said that really should I,” added Jackie.

“Don’t worry Jackie I’m not at all interested in his tax affairs.”

Tom continued his chat with Jackie and established that she lived with her husband and two dogs in Brampton. She had just finished providing her address and phone number when Mrs Peterson and Sweetface returned to the kitchen.

“All done Sarge, no further forward really, there’s nothing I can see that might suggest where he was going or who he was meeting and Mrs Peterson has been all through his desk with me.”

Tom was thoughtful for a moment.

“What about the computer Mrs Peterson. Does he keep a computer diary or is there anything in his e-mail inbox that might help us?”

“First place I looked Tom, I’ve done all that, cleared all his messages, inbox and outbox and monitor it all daily. He is very suspicious about the privacy and security of computer information so he chooses to keep a hand-written diary which he carries everywhere with him.”

Dave Sweeting was staring out of the kitchen window deep in thought about Colin Peterson’s Aston Martin, more through envy than from an investigative point of view.

He asked, “Where would his car have been the morning he left?”

“Just out in the drive next to mine, he loves his car but never puts it in the garage.”

“Just before we leave can we have a look at his desk in the other office over in the barns?”

“Tom, there’s really no need. I have things to be getting on with, I am an intelligent woman and have looked through anything that might give a clue as to his whereabouts. It’s mainly me that uses that office and I know everything that’s in there, I have checked the computer, files and everything and I’m really feeling a little tired and upset now. I have given you an immense amount of information Tom, both private and business. Surely you do not need anything else for now. In his absence I have to keep businesses running. I really must get on.”

Tom sensed her agitation with the suggestion of further probing and had more than enough to start essential enquires.

“Okay Mrs Peterson, I’m sorry if these questions have upset you. I’m sure we will find him, that he’ll be okay and that there has been some logical reason why he hasn’t been in touch.”

Mrs Peterson looked visibly tired and upset. She stared down at Jasper lying on the the floor and said, “I’m so worried that he’s had a car accident and is lying unconscious in his car in a ditch somewhere. He always drove so fast. When he bought the Aston Martin I was convinced he would kill himself.” Mrs Peterson started to gently cry, tears welling in her eyes.

“Tom, I need to be on my own now.”

Tom imagined how it would feel to hold her close to cuddle and reassure her, to feel the warmth of her body, the gorgeous smell of her perfume. Sweetface brought him back to the present.

“Nice to have met you Mrs Peterson, try to get some rest, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“We’ll let ourselves out. I promise we will do everything we can to find him for you,” Tom added.

“I will circulate all the information we have as soon as I get back to the office.”

After a few more reassuring words both Detectives said goodbye, walked through the hall, out onto the shingle drive and got into the car to return to Brampton.

“Strange one isn’t it Sarge?” said Sweetface.

“Certainly is Dave.”

“I reckon he’s cleared the bank account and taken his money and Aston Martin off somewhere with a young blonde. Monaco or somewhere, probably in some yacht bonking like fucking rabbits.”

Tom laughed, “Dave, why is it that everything that happens in life has to revolve around sex and young blonde chicks?”

“What else is there in life Sargie, you’re not getting enough, that’s the problem” laughed Sweetface.

“Hey, talking of sex Sarge, you’ve really got the hots for that Maria Peterson haven’t you? Mind you I can see why, she is one tasty woman. Too old for me though, I like them younger and firmer, about mid twenties for me.”

“What are you on about Sweetface?”

“You can’t hide it from me, I saw the look on your face when she shook your hand, you looked like a love sick puppy. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you like that. I reckon she was a bit taken with you as well Sarge. In fact perhaps more than a bit. I reckon it was lust at first sight for both of you.”

“Hey Sweetface, I should be so lucky. A woman like that fancy me? I don’t think so. Anyway, I was totally professional at all times,” remarked Tom.

“Yeh, when your eyes popped back in your head and you got that love sick facial look under control. She is a pretty amazing looking woman though and what a figure! You wait till I tell the lads in the office that Sargie is in love at last.”

“Shut up Dave you’ll be getting me all embarrassed, I don’t think! Do me a favour and call the office and see if there are any messages will you.”

“Do you want me to get on to Interflora for you to send twelve red roses and lots of kisses to Maria? I tell you she fancied you. There was major chemistry there. Gorgeous looking, rich, possibly a divorce coming up if her husband’s off playing away from home. Could be the answer to all your problems Sarge.”

“Very funny. Probably the start of a lot more.”

Tom drove quietly towards Brampton on the A693. He was experiencing difficulty getting his mind off Maria Peterson. Her beauty and femininity had made more of an impression on him than he would like to admit. The image of her he first saw when he entered her kitchen was impacted on his mind like a photo. Why couldn’t someone like that truly be interested in me, he thought to himself. Perhaps love at first sight is real after all. Dave Sweeting broke Tom’s silent satisfying thoughts of Maria.

“No messages Sarge, all quiet on the western front thank God. You were deep in thought.”

“Mmm, a lot on my mind Dave.”

“A lady with a name starting with M perhaps,” retorted Dave.

Tom was aware of a white lorry heading towards them in the opposite direction being followed by a motorcycle with its headlight on full beam.

“Look at the speed that bike’s approaching the back of that lorry Dave, he must have some sort of death wish.”

As the lorry got closer the large powerful black motorcycle pulled out sharply and accelerated hard to overtake, head on towards Tom. Such was the motorcyclist’s acceleration past the lorry that the front wheel momentarily left the tarmac.

Tom was forced to brake slightly and pull over as close to the nearside kerb as his driving skills would allow to avoid a head on impact with the bike, which did not slow at all. Tom flashed his headlights and shook his fist angrily. The bike negotiated its way back onto its own lane in front of the lorry narrowly avoiding a collision, the rider seemed oblivious as to their presence. As the bike had passed, the pillion passenger had glared at Tom and stuck two fingers up.

“Christ, I thought they were going to hit us head on then,” said Tom still shocked.

“Fucking idiots will be in casualty before they know it riding like that, must have been doing about 90.”

Tom’s nerves and anger settled and he returned to a leisurely drive back to the station.

After several minutes he looked in his rear view mirror.

“Hey Dave, we’ve got that fucking bike behind us now, he’s going quite slowly now though.”

Dave Sweeting unlocked his safety belt, moved in his seat and turned so he could watch out of the back window. “Don’t know what they’re up to, the pillion has got his rucksack off his back and looks like he’s trying to get something out of it but I can’t see what.”

Sweetface watched with interest while the pillion replaced his rucksack on his back and pulled his visor down over his face.

“Don’t know what they’re up to Sarge. Perhaps they’ve just been using the road like a race track and decided to get sensible.”

“Here you go they’re off again now,” said Tom as he glanced in his mirror.

The bike suddenly gained very quickly on them and started to overtake at speed. As it passed the front offside corner of their car the bike slowed and the pillion passenger turned round and pointed a revolver in Tom’s direction. He braked and swerved harshly as they heard a shot. Tom clipped the kerb then mounted the grass verge and brought the car to a halt. No damage, no impact. The motorcyclist continued ahead of them, the pillion firing the gun into the air.

“You okay Dave?”

“Yeah fine. Fucking bastards. Shit, what was that all about for fuck’s sake?”

“Road rage I reckon. I’m sure it was an imitation though and they were just blanks,” Tom said as he started to manoeuvre the car off the verge.

“Well it scared the shit out of me!” exclaimed Sweetface.

The bike had disappeared in the distance at speed and was now well out of view.

“Obviously didn’t like you shaking your fist at them when they nearly hit us the first time Tom.”

“I don’t suppose you got the number Sweetface? I was too busy trying to keep us in one piece!”

“No it looked like there might have been a back plate but it was really small and bent up.”

“Bastards” said Tom. “Fucking bastards” He repeated with rage as he got the car fully back on the road and made the best progress he could in the direction that the bike had disappeared. “How is it when you need a traffic unit there’s never one around,” he said punching the steering wheel in anger.

“Give control a shout on the radio Dave and see if there is a unit further up the 693 just near town and alert them to what’s just happened.”

Sweetface’s enquiries with control room were in vain.

“Nothing Sarge, sorry.”

“Bastards” Tom said again with even more anger this time.

“Why do they give us these shit diesel cars these days? We couldn’t catch a fucking cold in this - budgets, budgets, budgets. Everything these days is about saving money and giving us crap equipment. Sorry Dave, but times like this I get so livid with how the job’s changed.”

“Quite agree with you Sarge. I don’t reckon they want us to catch anyone these days ‘cos if we do it costs them so much more to deal with them and lock ‘em away. Must be even more frustrating for you though ‘cos of all those years you had on the RCS (Regional Crime Squad). All those nice fast motors, travel, manpower, surveillance equipment and big budgets. And now a cheap shitty diesel motor and bugger all back up. Bet you’re glad you came back to division,” said Sweetface sarcastically.

Both men continued the short remaining journey towards Brampton Police Station without conversation.

Dave Sweeting broke the silence, “You know I’m just thinking about Martin’s description earlier today.”

“Of what?” queried Tom.

“Of the bike and two guys he saw coming from near Wayne Evans’ house this morning. A lot of similarities from what he described to me. I wonder if it’s the same guys.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me at all. Most of Evans’ mates are complete arse-holes.”

Tom pulled into the police station yard.

“I’m going up to the office Dave. I want to catch Crime Intelligence before they go home and get all these circulations organised about Peterson. Can you take the car round to the workshop and ask them to check the tyres and tracking on the front wheels ‘cos I gave the kerb a hefty whack back there. Also, if you can find Martin have a chat with him about the bikers he saw this morning, see if there are any similarities and do an occurrence book entry about the incident with the bike please.”