The Paderborn Connection by William A. Newton

mobile rang.
    â€œInspector Joyce?”
    â€œSpeaking,” confirmed Mick.
    â€œInspector Reynolds here, from Guildford, we met last week when you came to see Mrs Austen.”
    â€œYes that’s right,” said Mick.
    â€œWell I was at the golf club last night and I told a few friends there about the death of Phil Austen, without going into detail of course. One of the group, Kenneth Taberner a financial advisor that quite a few of the members use, waited until just he and I were alone and he said did I know about Phil’s financial situation. I said I’d not heard anything from Phil for quite some time and he told me that Phil was investing a lot of money in shares, he thought the amounts involved were far and above what he would be earning from the army. I thought you ought to know Inspector although I don’t know if it’s important.”
    â€œI’m not sure if it’s relevant or not but I will certainly enter it on the file, it may prove to be important. Thank you for ringing Inspector.”
    Mick rang his oldest friend from outside the job, Ronnie Townley, to tell him that he couldn’t go to the match that week-end because of work. Mick was a season ticket holder at White Hart Lane. Ronnie was a year older than Mick and they had been friends since that day in the park on the way home from school when Mick was being bullied by two older boys and Ronnie had intervened.
    Sue drove Mick into work and he spent the day reviewing the information that they had got to date and planning the trip to Germany. He made several copies of the photos of Phillip Austen and the Major.

    *
    Mick drove home with one of his favourite CD’s on, ska music from the late seventies and early eighties, Madness, Desmond Decker, The Specials, music from the time that he was working hard and playing harder. It was at a disco that had a ska night every Friday that he had met Sue. He had his new suit on, she was wearing a black and white checked dress fairly short and tight fitting, with her short dark hair it was lust at first sight. They had hit it off straight away, they had the same sense of humour, liked the same music, both had jobs with good prospects and lived reasonably close together, he in Enfield and she in Cheshunt.

    *
    He pulled onto the drive behind Sue’s Mini and went in.
    â€œDid Helen find an outfit?”
    â€œYes, a lovely salmon pink dress and jacket.”
    â€œDid you treat yourself to anything?”
    â€œJust a skirt and top for work.” she said “And I got you an English – German phrase book. It’s on the desk.”
    â€œDanke mein fraulein,” he said laughing.

    *
    That evening they ate their steaks and drank the wine, an Etta James CD playing and the light dimmed. Mick was fairly quiet and Sue knew the signs, he was deep in thought.
    â€œWhat are you thinking about Mick?”
    â€œOh, sorry, it’s just this trip to Germany. I need to make a list of everything I need to do, the questions I need to ask, the people I need to see.”
    â€œWell you can do that tomorrow, tonight you can pay some attention to your wife of twenty five years and one week.”
    She cleared the table and took the dirty dishes into the kitchen and put them into the dishwasher. She ran some hot water into the sink, added the washing-up liquid and started to wash the saucepans. Mick walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on. Standing behind Sue he slid his hands around her waist and then under her white sleeveless jumper, kissing her neck as he did so.

    *
    Sunday morning dawned and Mick was up before eight, he wanted to go and see his father at the hospice. He shaved, showered and dressed and drove to the hospice in Stevenage, parked under the chestnut tree and went in.
    â€œGo straight up Mr Joyce,” said Mrs Carmichael “I think he’s eating some breakfast so you might be able to have a few words with him.”
    Mick walked up the