The Freeman Files Series Box Set

by Ted Tayler

  “It sounds like they’ve landed us with a locked room mystery to solve, guv,”

  “Nobody said all these cold cases would be easy, Neil,” said Gus.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Where on earth do we start, guv?” asked Lydia.

  “Get the murder scene photos onto the whiteboards. Find a street map for the area surrounding Old Town and Broadgreen. Something covering a two to three-mile radius of the football ground will do for starters. We can change things up if necessary.”

  “Are we moving to the Gablecross building on Shrivenham Road, guv?” asked Neil, “it gives us easy access to anyone who worked on the case still stationed there.”

  “The option exists to use facilities there temporarily, Neil, but I don’t want us to become part of the furniture. I want to keep them at arm’s length. We need to find our witnesses, our clues if possible. The cursory glance I made last night suggested despite hundreds of interviews in the weeks that followed; nothing came from them to throw up the name of a suspect.”

  “This doesn’t feel like the first two cases we investigated, guv,” sighed Neil.

  “No matter how different it may appear, nothing changes in our approach, Neil,” said Gus. “We take it one day at a time and keep turning over pieces of the puzzle until something fits.”

  “I’ll get the original investigation details into the Freeman file, guv,” said Alex. “The sooner we can produce a list of people to interview the better. What about the Hub? Did you think of anything we need to give them to do?”

  “The attack was frenzied,” said Gus, leafing through the file to refresh his memory. “There was no weapon left at the scene. Forensics recovered several complete and partial fingerprints from the room, but they never matched to anyone. Wiltshire Police have appealed for new information every year on the anniversary of Laura’s death. They receive a few calls, but no forensic evidence has ever surfaced which might offer a new lead.”

  “How often have the fingerprints been checked against those stored around the country?” asked Alex, “we should get them interrogated by the Hub. Can you sort that out, Neil?”

  “Will do, mate. Isn’t it unusual for a girl to work alone, guv?”

  “It’s not common. On this occasion, Maggie Monk was late,” replied Gus, “she was due to arrive by half-past eight to stand in for a member of staff who left early. One point worth remembering. Those prints haven’t matched in seven years. If it was someone targeting working girls, that’s far less likely to be the case. They would have slipped up somewhere in that time. So, we’re probably looking for someone Laura knew. It could be a punter with a grudge or even a co-worker who argued with her. We need the names of girls this Monk woman employed and their whereabouts.”

  “We know from our recent case that stabbing a person to death can be someone’s first and only crime,” said Alex, “especially if it’s a crime of passion.”

  “Do many tourists visit Swindon?” asked Lydia, “could it be someone who visited from abroad, and that’s why his print had never matched?”

  “It wasn’t a football supporter from overseas,” scoffed Neil, “Swindon haven’t had a European match in decades.”

  These casual comments accompanied the work on the whiteboards and the computer file. The team were becoming more comfortable in their roles within the CRT. Gus let them consider various lines of inquiry. Some would prove invaluable. Others would get discarded. He didn’t have a clue at this stage whether anything either of the younger members threw into the mix would end up in the invaluable camp.

  Neil was next to think of something.

  “Did you ever hear a rumour other coppers used Gentle Touch, Alex?”

  “What, you think Laura was killed by one of our own, and they covered it up? Not a chance, mate.”

  “One angle we need to consider,” said Gus, “did Laura have regular clients? One of them might have developed a one-sided attachment. If he became obsessed with her and couldn’t stand the thought of her pleasuring other men, he could have returned that Sunday evening and killed her.”

  DS Alex Hardy made a note to follow up on that angle.

  Gus paced across the room, firing thoughts at them while raising one finger at a time on his left hand.

  “Did they know who was there that night? Who paid for these appointments? Were they for thirty minutes or an hour? We need more information about these places. Do they keep proper records? Would it be possible for someone to enter the premises before or after nine? The door is down an alleyway, so it’s unlikely anyone saw an intruder. If other men visited the parlour that didn’t come forward seven years ago, how do we trace them?”

  Alex grabbed the second sheet of paper. There were plenty of questions. How long before they headed to Swindon to hunt for answers?

  Thursday, 26th April 2018

  It was the morning after the night before. That meant different things to different members of the team.

  Neil was suffering the impact of Melody’s crazy combination of hormones plus her understandable excitement and concern at the prospect of motherhood. It wasn’t just his wife that felt emotional and stressed this morning. He was in favour of her sharing her feelings with their family and friends, but he needed his rest. He’d had less than four hours sleep a night since last Friday, and they were only six weeks into her pregnancy if Melody had her dates right.

  Neil liked a drink. Not when inappropriate. He took a taxi or got Melody to pick him up when he had a night out. He was careful not to drink if he was due to drive first thing the following morning.

  Melody announced last night that she was now teetotal. Fair enough, but why did she insist he gave up too? Apart from sex, five pints on a night out with his mates was the best way to relieve stress. The first would be less frequent as the months progressed, meaning the second was vital to keep him from blowing a fuse.

  Neil was not alone. Gus Freeman had his troubles. He’d driven to the supermarket in Devizes for the supplies he’d listed on Tuesday evening. As he transferred his bags from the trolley into the boot of his car, he spotted a familiar figure. Suzie Ferris strode across the car park towards the town centre, arm in arm with a tall, dark and probably a handsome man.

  Gus couldn’t see her companion’s face, but the way he moved marked him out as an athlete. Broad shoulders, narrow hips and a full head of hair. He was twenty years from fretting over bushy eyebrows and nasal hair. Gus hated him on sight.

  Whether Suzie noticed him and steered her new beau away to avoid an uncomfortable moment, Gus couldn’t tell. Why did it bother him so much? He was seeing Vera on Friday night. It shouldn’t have been an issue. Nevertheless, Gus had ignored his good intentions and picked up a Chinese takeaway.

  He devoured that within minutes of reaching home. It made sense. He had far more time for a drink to drown his sorrows while he listened to Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Wednesday Morning 3 AM.’ It might have been ten to nine when he arrived in the car park at the rear of the Old Police Station building, but it was still three in the morning in his head.

  At least someone in the office looked happy.

  Alex and Lydia had visited the Imperial Dragon last night. Jason Li and his staff had looked after them superbly. There was no sign of his parents. The food was spectacular, and the wine helped the conversation flow.

  As they settled the bill, fifty-fifty as they had agreed, Lydia asked after Steve and Mary Li. Jason told them they had left on Sunday for a cruise around the Mediterranean.

  “Only fourteen nights,” he’d told them, “they sailed from Southampton, and my father has called three times a day to check everything’s okay. He’ll never retire.”

  Jason smiled a rueful smile as he held the door open for Lydia to push Alex’s chair out onto the High Street.

  “Come and see us again,” he said.

  “I’m sure we will,” said Alex.

  As they waited for the traffic lights to change at the zebra crossing, Lydia asked: -

/>   “Why don’t you follow me back to mine for coffee, to complete a lovely evening?”

  The lights changed, and Lydia watched Alex propel himself across the road and head towards their workplace parking bays off Church Street. She had to quicken her pace to catch him.

  “I’ll get off home if that’s okay,” said Alex, “tonight has been great, Lydia. I meant what I told Jason Li. We will go back there. Next time, I’ll walk through the door with you.”

  Lydia could tell Alex was trying to keep things light-hearted. He had been in relationships before his accident, so it wasn’t a fear of the unknown. She may have only asked him back for coffee, but he would have guessed that she hoped he would stay. It was only natural to be reticent. Lydia resolved she would be the one to heal those post-injury doubts.

  “You’re on,” she said, grabbing the back of his chair, “but you’re not leaving without a goodnight kiss.”

  As they sat in the office the following morning, trying to avoid looking at one another, they could see Gus and Neil were out of sorts. Ah well, time enough for big, cheesy grins along the line. After all, last night, it was only a kiss.

  “Where are we with that list, Alex,” asked Gus.

  “Maggie Monk should be our first interviewee, guv, don’t you agree?”

  “Maggie’s our best bet for the names of her staff, potential customers and the general running of her parlours,” said Neil.

  “Have we traced her latest address?” asked Gus.

  “She’s still in the same place, guv. Although the Swindon premises closed after Laura Mallinder’s death, her empire has continued to grow. There are parlours in Marlborough and Cirencester now. The larger towns have a branch of both Cleopatra’s and Gentle Touch.”

  “Get her on the phone and make an appointment to meet her, Alex. Neil and I will interview her at home. Where is that, by the way?”

  “Castle Combe, guv. It’s a village in the heart of the country fifteen miles from Bath.”

  “I know where Castle Combe is, Alex,” said Gus, “and my sat nav will get us there in due course. Who’s next?”

  “DI Theo Hickerton and DS Jake Latimer are at Gablecross. Both worked on the Mallinder case. The police surgeon who dealt with Laura’s body was Stuart Fitzwalter. He may have something to offer that’s not in the original file.

  “This list is like a bloody catwalk model. It’s painfully thin,” said Gus.

  “Maggie Monk will add the more significant names to our list, guv,” said Lydia, “that’s where we’ll find our leads hidden. Hickerton and the others will only provide background data.”

  “Lydia’s learning fast, lads,” said Gus, “you had better watch out. You’ll be saluting her in years to come. What about Laura’s family, Alex?”

  “Mrs Mallinder died of breast cancer aged sixty-three in 2016,” said Alex. “Laura’s father is still alive. Sam Mallinder’s retired now, aged sixty-seven, and he lives in Bristol.”

  “It appears Mrs Mallinder knew of her daughter’s chosen profession, guv,” said Neil. “In her statement at the time, she insisted that Laura was still her daughter and it didn’t matter what she did for a living.”

  “Did any other family members know what she did for a living?” asked Gus.

  “The father never mentioned it in his statement. Laura had two older brothers; both are married and work in the building trade. Whether they knew or not, isn’t recorded. Laura’s sister-in-law Emma seemed to be closer to Mrs Mallinder. Jake Latimer noted that Emma mentioned Laura had been involved with a lad once when she was just out of her teens. She didn’t have a partner at the time of her death. Emma didn’t recall Laura dating much after she ended that relationship.”

  “Why did the relationship end, do you know?”

  “No idea.”

  “Did Emma Mallinder remember the chap’s name?”

  “Hewson, Ian Hewson; he was with the football academy at Bristol City. Good-looking and as fit as a flea, according to Emma. I checked that out. I don’t think they kept him on their books. A high percentage look good at junior level then don’t kick on to make it as a professional.”

  “We had better keep his name on the list for now. If we need to find out where he went after Bristol City, it should be straightforward enough. Does the name ring a bell, Neil?”

  “I’ve never heard of an Ian Hewson in the Premiership, guv. If he was one of the many that fail to kick on after early promise he will be playing non-league football somewhere. It will be tougher to find him then, but not impossible. Did this sister-in-law know where he went after City let him go? Did he stay local, for instance, or might we have to start looking country-wide?”

  “There’s another question to add to that list you’re compiling, Alex,” said Gus. “We would benefit from that conversation with Theo Hickerton as soon as possible. I need to learn who identified the body. Which family member had that sad task? What was their reaction? Did anyone else ask to view the body?”

  “Or did DI Hickerton make a note of anyone who expressly declined the invitation?” added Lydia.

  “We mustn’t jump to conclusions,” Gus cautioned, “there could be a perfectly rational explanation for a loved one not wishing to see the body. However, Laura had three male family members with a possible motive and opportunity. We must check what Hickerton and his team found during their investigation. Neither man became a viable suspect, so their alibis must have been sound. Our task will be to test the strength of those alibis before we look for further suspects.”

  “So, you’re sticking to the belief that it’s more likely to be someone close to the victim than a random attack by a stranger, guv?” asked Neil.

  “You’ve read the file, Neil. I don’t see a long list of potential killers despite the hours the Gablecross detectives spent on the case. I think it makes sense to discount the father and two sons first if we can. In due course, we’ll source former clients to interview, or we’ll be handing this file back to Geoff Mercer without getting a result.”

  There was a sombre mood in the CRT office for the first time since they had worked together. All four were aware that the solution to this cold case wouldn’t fall into their lap. The graft continued throughout the morning at a steady pace. The conversation was at a premium. Alex Hardy broke the silence just after one o’clock in the afternoon.

  “DI Hickerton is available tomorrow morning, guv. Ten o’clock at Gablecross.”

  “Excellent,” said Gus, “you can come with me. I’m sure you will enjoy catching up with your old mates.”

  “You’ll have to take Neil with you, guv. My physio appointment is at noon tomorrow. It’s on the Freeman File calendar. We may struggle to get back in time.”

  “Gotcha,” said Gus, checking his copy of the file. “I spotted it the other day, but it didn’t register in the excitement of having a meeting to look forward to at last. This is an important appointment, isn’t it?”

  “The final hurdle, guv. If I get the green light, I’ll be hopping in here on Monday morning with my crutches.”

  “I’m sure we wish you all the best, Alex. Right then, Neil, you and me tomorrow morning. Pick me up at nine o’clock, please.”

  “No problem, guv,” said Neil, hoping he got a good night’s sleep tonight. It wouldn’t do to fall asleep at the wheel.

  “I’ll try Maggie Monk again later, guv,” said Alex. “While you’re in Swindon tomorrow perhaps Neil can fix up meetings with Hickerton’s DS Jake Latimer and the Police Surgeon, Stuart Fitzwalter. Both should be on the premises during the day.”

  “I doubt if we’ll be lucky enough to get access to everyone tomorrow,” said Gus. “Try to avoid Monday morning for any appointments, unless they can visit us here. We need to leave the office in plenty of time to reach the crematorium.”

  “I’ll schedule the Maggie Monk interview for Tuesday morning if I can, guv,” said Alex.

  “Don’t stand any nonsense from her, Alex. We need her cooperation in a murder enquiry; yo
u dictate the terms, not her. We’ll drive over to Castle Combe first thing Tuesday morning. Mrs Monk will be there when we arrive; is that understood?”

  “Yes, guv,” Alex replied.

  Gus knew his reaction was excessive. In truth, he was frustrated with the absolute lack of a feel for this latest case.

  They had worked on it since mid-morning yesterday, and nothing had emerged that might unlock a single thread that could lead them to a vital clue.

  “Sorry, Alex, I didn’t mean to snap. I can well imagine Theo Hickerton will tell me tomorrow that the Mallinder case was his version of the one every detective dreads. The case which keeps you awake at night sifting through the sparse details you’ve uncovered trying to determine what you’ve missed. I’ve known blokes go to their graves still wracking their brains over an unsolved murder that occurred forty years ago.”

  “It’s early days yet, guv,” said Alex, “we’ll get a break, eventually,”

  As he drove home through Devizes that evening, Gus hadn’t seen any bright, shining light to emerge from the efforts they had made after Alex’s hopeful comment. Neil’s comment about a locked room mystery stubbornly refused to fade from memory. He decided to spend time on the allotment after his evening meal. Tomorrow was another day.

  As he strolled along the lane towards the village church, he spotted Bert Penman ahead. Bert ambled, along with his usual considered pace. Gus lengthened his stride and caught the older man before they reached the allotment gateway.

  “Ah, Mr Freeman. You’ve taken a break from your sleuthing to tend to your babies.”

  “I wish I had more time, Bert. I needed a break from work to think this evening; this spot is the best place on earth for that. You’ve performed miracles while I’ve been absent. First things first, what progress have you made with arrangements for next Monday afternoon?”

  “I got together with the other allotment holders. We’re each of us encouraging our friends and neighbours to be there. Transport might be an issue, but we’re meeting tomorrow night in the pub to discuss matters.”