Free Altered Egos by Bill Kitson

Passport Office. He was born in Leeds, forty-five years ago. Interestingly, his mother’s maiden name was Richards. That was the surname on the mail sent to the Gorton address. That was what the locals knew him as.’
    ‘I wonder why they needed to use assumed names? What were they hiding from? Or who? Did you make enquiries with the authorities in America?’
    ‘I did, I sent an e-mail to the FBI, but as yet I haven’t had a reply, unless something came in overnight. Mind you, I’m not sure I want to know what they find out. The problem with this case is, every bit of new information we get throws up more questions.’
    ‘If you’re going to be tied up ringing universities this morning, why not get Viv to do an internet search on Richard North? It may give us something. I realize it could be historical, if he’s been living under a false name for a while, but it could shed some light on what the elusive Mr North was up to, before he found it necessary to disguise his identity.’
    Nash paused, as a random thought struck him. ‘Whilst he’s doing that, get him to enter Dr Richard North as well. If he’s a lecturer, we could safely assume him to be well qualified.’
    ‘OK, I’ll get him onto it as soon as he gets here.’ Clara turned to leave; then looked over her shoulder. ‘By the way, Mike, it is good to have you back.’
    Nash looked at her suspiciously; then realized she was being serious, not lining him up for another insult.

    By mid-afternoon, Nash was beginning to wonder whether he’d have been better off at home watching
Cash in the Attic, Bargain Hunt
or
Loose Women
. The first intimation that all might not be as it should came via a reply from the FBI. Sent from their Quantico headquarters, it was phrased in terms that could be diplomatically described as curt, but more accurately, downright rude. The message was to the effect that even had the American law enforcement agency been in possession of any information about Richard North they were either unable or unwilling toshare such knowledge with their British counterparts.
    Nash was still trying to work out whether the FBI actually knew anything and were being deliberately obstructive, or they didn’t and weren’t prepared to admit their ignorance when Clara entered his office. ‘I’ve tried all the universities in the north of England,’ she told him, ‘including those Metropolitan ones.’
    Nash smiled. ‘They used to be called Technical Colleges in my day.’
    ‘I’d no idea there were so many. Not that it did me any good. None of them have a Richard North on their teaching faculty. There’s a Helen North at Newcastle, but she’s sixty-three, comes from Northumberland and teaches Eastern history. I think we can count her out.’
    Nash’s phone rang. It was Superintendent Edwards. ‘How are things going?’
    ‘How did you know I was here?’
    ‘Guesswork!’
    ‘I’ve a few difficulties to sort out.’
    ‘They wouldn’t be about the Adam North murder by any chance, would they?’
    Nash’s eyes opened wide with surprise. ‘How did you guess that?’
    ‘That wasn’t a guess. To be honest, I had a phone call about half an hour ago, some captain from Military Intelligence. He informed me that inquiries into this matter were out of our jurisdiction and that I should instruct my officers to refrain from asking any questions that were unconnected with the actual killing. He went on to suggest we concentrate on the drugs connection, and that he felt sure we’d find that was the motive behind the crime. On no account were we to attempt to involve other members of North’s family in our investigation.’
    ‘Really? And what did you say to that?’
    Her reply left Nash grinning. ‘I apologized for missing the announcement of his appointment as Chief Constable. And I followed that up by explaining that the Chief Constable was the only person I take orders from. I certainly don’t instruct my detectives to follow lines of inquiry