find out as much as we can
about him. Information is power, remember. When we pick him up we'll have
something on him. He's got away so he'll think he's untouchable. That'll make him
careless.'
Wesley could just about make out
some logic in his boss's arguments. He looked out to sea. 'Wonder how the
diving's going... the Armada wreck.'
'It'll be freezing down there in
March. You're better off where you are. Let's go and have a chat with Mrs
Slater. We've not got a statement off her yet. I wonder why she didn't report
the incident with the knife. She didn't look the type to ignore that sort of
thing.'
'Perhaps it was a stick after all.
What is it they say? Don't let the facts get in the way of a good story.'
'And nobody likes a good story as
much as people who live in small villages where it's news if the vicar farts.'
Mrs Slater greeted them in her office
behind the reception desk. It was a small, neat room painted in uniform
magnolia; rot a thing out of place. Dorothy Slater herself sat at her desk, a
single ledger open in front of her. He suit was uncreased. her hair cropped in
a style that suggested utility but not vanity. Heffernan would have described
her as scrawny rather than fashionably slim. She was probably in her
mid-fifties: frown lines were clearly visible despite a discreet layer of
make-up. She greeted them formally
and ordered tea.
At Heffernan's nod. Wesley spoke
first. 'Mrs Slater, we've had occasion to take some youths in for questioning.
One of them was begging outside this hotel yesterday. You told him to go.'
Mrs Slater nodded. 'They've been a
nuisance.'
'We've heard they've been more than
a nuisance." Heffernan said sharply- 'We've heard one of them pulled a
knife on you.'
Mrs Slater went pale.
'Why didn't you report this to us?'
'It's nothing I couldn't deal with.'
'Was it a knife?'
She nodded warily. 'He didn't mean
to use it. He was just ...'
'Is there something you want to tell
us, love?' said Heffernan gently. 'Something we should know?'
Mrs Slater sighed and stared at the
silver ballpoint pen laid neatly by her ledger. She picked it up and twisted it
in her fingers. 'He's my nephew ... my sister's boy. He's always been a problem,
always in trouble at school... then with the police.'
"The one with the shaved head?'
She nodded. 'He ran away from home
when he was sixteen ... lived on the streets. No one in the family had heard
from him for eight years, then he suddenly turned up here last week with two of
his hangers-on. I didn't recognise him at first, not after all this time. He
was always so hard ... such a nasty little thing. He was a difficult child right from the start. I thought of my
poor sister and told him to go back home and let his mother know he was all
right but ...'
But what?'
'Some of the things he said about
her ... the words he used, about his own mother.'
'Did he tell you why he came here?'
'He said he came to see his gran. My
mother was the only member of the family who ever really got on with Nigel.'
'Where does your mother live?'
' Here. She has a small flat at the
back of the hotel. She's very fit... very independent,' she added almost with
pride.
'Can we talk to her?'
'It wouldn't be any use. I didn't let
him in. I told him she wasn't here ... that she was in a home. I didn't even
tell her he'd called. I was afraid she might meet him on one of her walks, but
luckily she hasn't so far.'
'Would your mother be pleased to see
him?'
Mrs Slater thought for a moment.
'Mother has always been a little ... eccentric. Her obsessions have got worse
with age. Not that I'm saying she's senile, you understand... just stubborn.'
'I see,' said Heffernan. not really
understanding.
'I would prefer it if you didn't tell
her Nigel was in the area. I think it's best for everyone if he just goes back
to wherever it was he came from. It would upset her to see that
about him. Information is power, remember. When we pick him up we'll have
something on him. He's got away so he'll think he's untouchable. That'll make him
careless.'
Wesley could just about make out
some logic in his boss's arguments. He looked out to sea. 'Wonder how the
diving's going... the Armada wreck.'
'It'll be freezing down there in
March. You're better off where you are. Let's go and have a chat with Mrs
Slater. We've not got a statement off her yet. I wonder why she didn't report
the incident with the knife. She didn't look the type to ignore that sort of
thing.'
'Perhaps it was a stick after all.
What is it they say? Don't let the facts get in the way of a good story.'
'And nobody likes a good story as
much as people who live in small villages where it's news if the vicar farts.'
Mrs Slater greeted them in her office
behind the reception desk. It was a small, neat room painted in uniform
magnolia; rot a thing out of place. Dorothy Slater herself sat at her desk, a
single ledger open in front of her. He suit was uncreased. her hair cropped in
a style that suggested utility but not vanity. Heffernan would have described
her as scrawny rather than fashionably slim. She was probably in her
mid-fifties: frown lines were clearly visible despite a discreet layer of
make-up. She greeted them formally
and ordered tea.
At Heffernan's nod. Wesley spoke
first. 'Mrs Slater, we've had occasion to take some youths in for questioning.
One of them was begging outside this hotel yesterday. You told him to go.'
Mrs Slater nodded. 'They've been a
nuisance.'
'We've heard they've been more than
a nuisance." Heffernan said sharply- 'We've heard one of them pulled a
knife on you.'
Mrs Slater went pale.
'Why didn't you report this to us?'
'It's nothing I couldn't deal with.'
'Was it a knife?'
She nodded warily. 'He didn't mean
to use it. He was just ...'
'Is there something you want to tell
us, love?' said Heffernan gently. 'Something we should know?'
Mrs Slater sighed and stared at the
silver ballpoint pen laid neatly by her ledger. She picked it up and twisted it
in her fingers. 'He's my nephew ... my sister's boy. He's always been a problem,
always in trouble at school... then with the police.'
"The one with the shaved head?'
She nodded. 'He ran away from home
when he was sixteen ... lived on the streets. No one in the family had heard
from him for eight years, then he suddenly turned up here last week with two of
his hangers-on. I didn't recognise him at first, not after all this time. He
was always so hard ... such a nasty little thing. He was a difficult child right from the start. I thought of my
poor sister and told him to go back home and let his mother know he was all
right but ...'
But what?'
'Some of the things he said about
her ... the words he used, about his own mother.'
'Did he tell you why he came here?'
'He said he came to see his gran. My
mother was the only member of the family who ever really got on with Nigel.'
'Where does your mother live?'
' Here. She has a small flat at the
back of the hotel. She's very fit... very independent,' she added almost with
pride.
'Can we talk to her?'
'It wouldn't be any use. I didn't let
him in. I told him she wasn't here ... that she was in a home. I didn't even
tell her he'd called. I was afraid she might meet him on one of her walks, but
luckily she hasn't so far.'
'Would your mother be pleased to see
him?'
Mrs Slater thought for a moment.
'Mother has always been a little ... eccentric. Her obsessions have got worse
with age. Not that I'm saying she's senile, you understand... just stubborn.'
'I see,' said Heffernan. not really
understanding.
'I would prefer it if you didn't tell
her Nigel was in the area. I think it's best for everyone if he just goes back
to wherever it was he came from. It would upset her to see that
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