by Ted Tayler
“I’ve got the idea, guv,” said Neil.
“Off you go then,” said Gus, “and good luck.”
Gus’s phone rang within a minute of Neil and Lydia leaving the office.
“Hello,” said Gus.
It was Alex Hardy ringing from the Hub.
“We discovered something late yesterday afternoon, guv,” said Alex.
He described Hayden Vincent and Kelly Dexter, and that they were Mr and Mrs Brown. Alex also told Gus about the CCTV images captured by Avon and Somerset Police in November 2012. When he mentioned the tall red-haired man caught on camera speaking to a police officer, Gus sat up straight in his chair.
“I need to look at those images, Alex,” he said. “This could be the lead we’ve been desperate to find. That officer can identify him.”
“I understand that, guv,” said Alex. “But he’s someone the police were comfortable working alongside that day. Why would he be lying on a warehouse roof blowing Grant Burnside’s brains out eighteen months later?”
“Let’s tackle one thing at a time, Alex. Find the officer, get her to name the man we saw. If he’s our mystery man, we’ll drag him in for questioning. Get Rick started on that, then come back to me. I’m tied up from ten o’clock onwards.”
Gus ended the call. What was it that Alex had said that rang a bell? Gus went over the conversation he’d had with Jack Sanders. The Porsche 911, that was it. If Dexter drove the Porsche, then it was her at the traffic lights in Old Town that night. Dexter and Vincent were in this from the beginning. They didn’t just turn up to collect Tanya Norris. They had also helped to eliminate the grooming gang members.
Gus grabbed his phone on the first ring.
“Alex, is that sorted? Right, carry on.”
“Rick’s on the phone to Portishead now, guv. We’ve got another Hub staff member hunting more recent CCTV images of Vincent and Dexter. The other angle we tried yesterday afternoon was locating the girls’ mobile phones using their GPS. I thought the kit malfunctioned first time because it suggested the five phones were pinging off the same tower. The kit was AOK. We’ve just searched again for the five numbers, and they’re still in the same area.”
“Where’s that?” asked Gus.
“The GPS pinpointed a place a few miles outside Bath,” said Alex. “In the countryside between Englishcombe and Wilmington.”
“I know exactly how long it will take us to drive there,” said Gus. “Blessing’s parents live in Englishcombe village. We can be there in less than forty-five minutes. All we have to do then is find the building containing these phones. Then whoever is holding them will need to give us answers. Well done, Alex. It’s coming together nicely.”
“When do we leave, guv?” asked Alex.
“I need to speak to DCI Eddie Sinclair in half an hour about the team’s latest case. Look, if we wait until we’ve got something more on Vincent and Dexter, plus whatever Rick gathers from this policewoman, we’ll be in better shape. I’ll drive to London Road from home in the morning. If you and Rick meet me there, perhaps I can persuade Geoff Mercer to go with us. We might need someone with clout. It will do him good to get out of the office.”
“Okay, guv,” said Alex. “In the meantime, we’ll keep digging, and if those phones move, I’ll warn you.”
“Fair enough,” said Gus.
“Don’t tell me my father has moved my mother into a danger zone,” said Blessing.
“I hope not, Blessing,” said Gus. “How are you getting on with the social media searches?”
“Nothing yet, guv,” said Blessing. “I don’t think Sally Kendall has a digital presence of any kind. Alexa will be the one to use a raft of sites. On my first pass, I stuck to Alexa. Perhaps when you speak to people in Pontyclun, they might know whether her schoolmates called her Lexie, or something similar. I’ll keep going as I am and adjust my parameters when I learn more. Fingers crossed they didn’t change their names altogether.”
Gus wondered whether he should tell Blessing to look for people with surnames Black, Brown, Green and White. Stop being negative, he thought. Today has had a decent start.
“Blessing, you’ll be in the office alone after eleven o’clock. Are you okay with that?”
“I’ve worked alone in the past at my old place, guv. We’re not expecting visitors, are we?”
“No, and unless they have a swipe card,” said Luke, “they can’t use the lift, anyway.”
“If we’re expecting a visitor, we switch on the camera over the lift door,” said Gus. “The switch is on the panel on the wall. If you know who’s there, then send the lift for them. As Luke says, we’re not expecting visitors.”
“Neil and Lydia will be back before mid-afternoon,” added Luke. “Gus and I should be back by five.”
“I wasn’t worried until you started explaining how it worked,” sighed Blessing.
“Come on, Sinclair,” said Gus, looking at his watch. “I want to get moving.”
“We’ve got a lot of plates spinning in the air, haven’t we, guv?” said Luke.
“We do, Luke. It doesn’t help that we’re trying to solve two cases at once, but if we were dealing with live cases, we’d have even more to cope with.”
“Andy Carlton often had five jobs running at once, guv,” said Blessing.
“My first Inspector told me that any detective that landed himself with that many ought to find another career. Although, they were different times and in my book Andy Carlton is a good copper.”
Blessing made her way to the restroom. Luke looked at Gus.
“I need a cuppa, Luke. But, yes, better safe than sorry. Give Blessing a helping hand with the Gaggia. Neil said it frightens her when it gets noisy.”
“To be fair, guv, every pump-driven espresso machine has a unique sound. Ours is a cross between a cement mixer and a strimmer.”
“I blame Geoff Mercer,” said Gus. “He told me it was the bee’s knees when I came here to inspect the office.”
“It makes a decent cuppa though, guv,” said Luke.
“So did my mother, but she never made such a song and dance about it.”
CHAPTER 5
Bang on ten o’clock DCI Eddie Sinclair called.
“Thanks for ringing, Sir,” said Gus. “I know my colleague DS Sherman explained who I was and why we needed to get details from you. Can you remember the Ivan Kendall murder back in March 2014?
“I can, Gus,” replied Eddie Sinclair. “I’d not been in the town long when that case landed on my desk. A strange affair.”
“You had a DC Trainer working for you, is that right?” said Gus.
“Trainee, more like, and green as grass. Still, we all had to start somewhere. Clive got nothing wrong as such. It was a big mistake to leave everything unfinished overnight while he watched a rugby match and had a few too many jars with his mates in the aftermath.”
“What did you make of the crime scene photos?” asked Gus.
“A savage attack. If only we’d had a wide CCTV coverage on the platforms. I wanted to see who left the train with Kendall. My first thought was that he’d gone to that cubicle with a partner, and someone walked in on them. But that didn’t work. We had our fair share of troublemakers when I worked there, but it wasn’t common for someone to wander onto the station platform, or anywhere else in town, with a baseball bat and an iron bar. The forensic people convinced me there were two attackers. So, it was two on one in the cubicle and not a homophobic attack. The two thugs had planned the attack and arrived with the necessary tools.”
“That’s my interpretation of events too,” said Gus. “Kendall didn’t travel from Pontyclun expecting to get a vicious beating, so something happened in the first few minutes after he got off the train. Did you, Trainer, or anyone from the Cardiff end come up with a motive for the murder?”
“What are these arguments usually about?” asked DCI Sinclair. “Drugs and money was our next avenue of enquiry. We looked into that aspect without ever finding eviden
ce tying Kendall to the drug scene. I believed that the men Kendall met were locals. We analysed each of our likely suspects, but they were in prison or had irrefutable alibis.”
“So, these two weren’t on your radar? Perhaps, because they’d never got caught before, or Kendall’s trip had something to do with a business that you never considered.”
“We looked at the crime figures. Violence and sexual offences ranked highest, anti-social behaviour, and arson attacks were next on the list, but in this instance, nothing sprung out as being a connection. It was a violent crime with no identifiable motive.”
“Were there any newcomers in the area?” asked Gus.
“There’s a permanent Wiltshire Council site out Dilton Marsh way,” said Eddie Sinclair. “Several permanent caravans; with up to seven pitches. A few travellers caused trouble, minor stuff mostly, but they move on, don’t they? Then turn up like a bad penny the next year. I can’t recall names, but that’s a possibility for new faces back then. Good luck finding them now.”
“If it’s an official site, then there should be a record,” said Gus. “They should have paid council tax, utility bills and the like. Thanks. That might be worth a look.”
“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” said Sinclair.
“You’ve given us more than we had before, Eddie. We’ll let you know if we close this one for you.”
“I’d be grateful,” said Sinclair, “the Kendall murder is one of three cases that kept me awake over the years. You know what I mean?”
“I do,” said Gus. “It was the reason I came back. My boss warned me he’d never let me review one of my unsolved cases, but he promised that if I cleared just one case from the books, I’d have the undying gratitude of the detective involved.”
“You can’t beat job satisfaction, can you?”
“You certainly can’t,” said Gus.
DCI Eddie Sinclair ended the call. Gus made a note of Dilton Marsh on the whiteboard.
“That’s interesting,” he said as he checked the local map, “it’s next door to Westbury Leigh, where that train conductor lived.”
“Luke’s gone to the restroom, guv,” said Blessing. “You’ll be leaving soon, won’t you?”
Gus nodded. He decided he should make himself comfortable before undertaking the two-hour car journey. He passed Luke on his way back from the restroom.
“Did I miss anything, Blessing?” asked Luke.
“Gus realised Westbury Leigh and Dilton Marsh are right next door to one another. He thought it was interesting.”
“Did he?” said Luke. “I wonder why. It’s a mile further on the same road into the town.”
When Gus returned, he and Luke gathered their things and headed for the lift.
“We’ll see you before going-home time, Blessing,” said Gus. “Good hunting.”
“And you, guv,” said Blessing.
In Weymouth, Neil Davis was hunting a parking spot on the Esplanade.
“Why couldn’t this Tommy Griffiths live ten miles inland?” he moaned. “It’s the build-up to the holiday season, and this place is packed.”
“There’s a car moving away up on your right, Neil,” said Lydia.
“Excellent spot,” said Neil, “even if I scared the living daylights out of that little old lady when I crossed in front of her.”
“Her hair was already white, Neil,” said Lydia.
“What was she shouting? Could you make it out?
“My lip-reading skill isn’t highly developed,” said Lydia, “but she used three swear words in succession.”
“Right, let’s find this pub. It’s along the seafront somewhere. A decent spot to attract holidaymakers throughout the day.”
“I wonder why Sally Kendall didn’t throw her lot in with Tommy. Weymouth has to be a more pleasant place to live than Pontyclun.”
“Here we are,” said Neil. “Good, the board outside says they serve food from half-past eight in the morning.”
“We’re here to interview the landlord, not to give him with a rating on Trustpilot,” said Lydia.
They entered the pub and asked the young girl behind the bar for Tommy Griffiths.
She took a second look at Lydia, then disappeared into a back room. Thirty seconds later, the fifty-nine-year-old landlord limped through the door. Lydia wondered what had attracted Sally Kendall to the overweight, balding man who faced them.
“You’d better come through to the office,” Tommy said, lifting the flap on the counter at the end of the bar.
Neil and Lydia eased their way past the sullen young barmaid and along a corridor. It was a stretch to call the cramped, overcrowded space an office, but it contained a desk and a chair. Tommy leant against the desk, and Neil and Lydia stood as close to the door as possible. Lydia thought a windowless cupboard described the room best, and Tommy’s hygiene left a lot to be desired.
“What do you want me to tell you?” asked Tommy.
“The truth,” said Neil. “I need not remind you that Ivan Kendall’s murder is an open case. His killer is still at large.”
“It wasn’t me then, and it isn’t me now,” said Tommy. “I’ve tried to put it all behind me.”
“How did you meet Sally Kendall?” asked Lydia.
“She walked into my pub in Cardiff one afternoon. We were quiet, so I chatted to her while she had a drink. I asked if she’d come into the city for the shops or sightseeing. She said she’d left her husband and needed a place to stay and was looking for a job. I had a few rooms upstairs for the staff. I didn’t live on the premises myself. A week earlier, I discovered one of my bar staff had their hand in the till, so I was looking for a replacement. Sally took the room and started work the same evening.”
“When did the relationship start?” asked Neil.
“Six to eight weeks after she moved in,” said Tommy. “She was a good worker, warm and friendly with the customers. We became a good team behind that bar, then one night after we closed up, you know, one thing led to another. After that, Sally slept at my flat several nights a week. Then after six months of me believing we were a couple, she ups and leaves, just like that. We’d had a busy weekend, with regular customers eating and drinking. One reason they kept coming to us was because of Sally. She always made everyone welcome. I was behind the bar, checking the stock when Sally came from her room to start work. Or so I thought. She had her bags in her hand and said she’d decided to give her marriage another go. I was gobsmacked. I told her I loved her, something I hadn’t done before. Sally told me she didn’t feel the same way. I was just scratching an itch, she said.”
“That must have made you angry,” said Neil.
“What if it did?” said Tommy. “It didn’t stop her leaving, did it? Anyway, if I was angry at Sally, I didn’t have cause to kill her husband. I’d never met the bloke.”
“What prompted the move to Pontyclun?” asked Lydia.
“With Sally gone, my regulars dwindled, and the pub felt empty. My heart wasn’t in the place any more. I looked for something else—a new challenge as far away from South Wales as possible. Like a fool, I thought my best chance of making a success of it was for Sally to come with me. This pub came on the market, and when I’d handed in the keys to the gastropub, I gave our partnership one more try. I rented a room in the village and tried to speak to Sally about this place. I could see how profitable we could make it if we worked at it together. Sally left her husband again, and I thought I’d convinced her to give us a go. But she went back to her mother and refused to talk to me. I realised I’d been an old fool, left my flat and took on this pub alone. I’ve got several local staff who have stayed loyal. With the summer trade picking up, I’ve got casual staff like Terri out in the bar for the next eight weeks, and then it will be downhill to Christmas. It’s a living, but nothing as great as it might have been.”
“Did you ever meet Ivan Kendall?” asked Neil.
“He knew who I was,” said Tommy. “Sally told him she’d met someone
when she was in Cardiff. Ivan took her back anyway. He never hit her. Sally swore to me that Ivan was never a violent man, even though she left him repeatedly. He never hit their daughter either, despite the worry she caused them. How she reached sixteen without getting pregnant was a miracle.”
“Did you ever speak with Ivan or Alexa?” asked Lydia.
“I passed Ivan in the street twice while I stayed in the village. He just nodded to me but never spoke. As for the daughter, she was always with a bloke if I saw her at night time, not the same one. Alexa gave me the death stare a few times. I don’t think she would have come with Sally if things had worked out differently. The only other times I saw the daughter was walking the dogs. Well, getting dragged along by the dogs is a better way to describe it.”
“Did Sally ever get in touch after you moved here?” asked Lydia.
“I didn’t hear from anybody in that family after I moved here,” said Tommy. “When the police found Ivan’s body, they messed around for a week then came straight here and dragged me out from behind the bar in handcuffs. They charged me with Ivan’s murder without a scrap of evidence. All they had to go on was that Sally and I had a fling. Because of that, I wanted her husband dead. It never made sense. Sally would have told them it never meant a thing to her, but they didn’t let it go until half a dozen of my staff and regulars gave statements saying I was behind the bar while a karaoke singer murdered songs from the Sixties. I would have loved to be somewhere else that night, but thank the Lord I wasn’t.”
“Thanks for your co-operation, Mr Griffiths,” said Neil. “If you remember something you think might help our investigation, call me. I don’t think we’ll revisit you. What did you do to your leg, by the way?”
“The limp, you mean?” said Tommy. “Both my knees are knackered. The doctor says I need to lose weight. My right knee’s worse than the left this week.”
“Did you know that Sally and Alexa disappeared nine months after the murder?” asked Lydia.