Buried Secrets: The Freeman Files Series: Book 11

by Ted Tayler

  “What time, sir?” asked Gus.

  “No specific time yet, Freeman. Ah, you mean for our meeting. Well, get in that rust bucket of yours and get here as soon as possible. I can’t sit around waiting all day. I’m a busy man.”

  “Be with you in thirty minutes, give or take, sir,” said Gus.

  Gus replaced the phone on its cradle before the ACC could pass comment. He collected the report file from Alex Hardy and made for the lift. Thirty minutes, what was he thinking?

  The sun shines on the righteous, or so they said, thought Gus as he followed the tractor and trailer through Seend. He would struggle to be with Kenneth Truelove by lunchtime at this rate. When he turned off London Road into the visitor’s car park, he could see the ACC staring out of his office window.

  Gus paused in Reception to sign in.

  “You must be Mr Freeman,” said a female voice.

  The way she stressed the word ‘must’ suggested to Gus that he matched her expectations.

  Gus turned around. He didn’t need to ask the name that belonged to the unfamiliar face.

  “Gus Freeman, yes, that’s me. You must be DI Geraldine Packenham.”

  “I have it on good authority that you make a habit of being late for meetings, Mr Freeman. That is unacceptable. It does nothing to help deliver a first-class service to the residents of this county.”

  “I can see we’re going to get along famously,” said Gus, taking the stairs two at a time. “Can’t stop to chat. I don’t want to have to tell Kenneth that you delayed me.”

  Vera Butler heard his comment and grinned at him as he moved across to the ACC’s office.

  “I warned you,” she said.

  Gus knocked and entered the office in one swift movement.

  “Apologies for being late, sir. Our local farmers are making the most of the opportunity to make hay. I might have passed the tractor in Seend, but the trailer that was bobbing along behind it proved too long an obstacle. I’m here now, bearing gifts.”

  Gus handed Kenneth truelove the Read case file.

  “You have your shortcomings, Freeman,” said the ACC, “but you never cease to deliver the goods. A nasty business this one, I imagine?”

  “One of the worst I’ve had to handle, sir,” said Gus. “You’re the second person this morning to mention my shortcomings. DI Packenham had a quiet word in Reception.”

  “I must get Mercer to rein in that woman, Freeman. He told Geraldine quite clearly that you were off-limits.”

  “It’s water off a duck’s back, sir. I’ve seen them come, and I’ve seen them go. Let’s forget her for the present. Geoff Mercer’s staying here so everything is going to plan. As soon as the PCC announces your Coronation, you can nudge him into his next action. Onto the next matter. Gablecross will handle the Read case from here. What have got up your sleeve for the Crime Review Team next?”

  “Do you remember the Alan Duncan case from 2008?” asked Kenneth.

  “Was that the one the press dubbed the murder of the long-distance runner?”

  “That’s the fellow. Duncan lived in Biddestone, a picturesque village between Corsham and Chippenham.”

  “The village with the duck pond. I’ve driven through it, but never stopped.”

  “Around five hundred inhabitants, but popular with tourists as it’s on the edge of the Cotswolds and an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.”

  “No doubt you pay a hefty sum for a property around there,” said Gus.

  “Alan Duncan and his partner, Madeleine Mills lived on Cuttle Lane in one of the more modestly priced cottages. They had lived there for less than four years. Duncan was thirty-six when he died, three years older than Madeleine. She had worked at a call centre in Chippenham for eleven years. Duncan worked as a draughtsman for a company based on the Leafield Industrial Estate in Corsham. Before he moved back to Corsham in 2004, he had served in the Royal Navy for over a decade.”

  “The press made a lot of the running and cycling this Duncan character enjoyed in his leisure time, didn’t they?” asked Gus. “They were careful not to print any actual accusation that he was happier alone, or with men than with his girlfriend. But that was the inference.”

  “I don’t think the original investigation ever found anything to support that view,” said Kenneth. “On Wednesday the twenty-eighth of May 2008, Alan Duncan left home at half-past six for a run. Madeleine Mills said these runs took several routes, but neither lasted longer than an hour and a half. Duncan was a familiar sight in the village, so we have eyewitnesses who saw him running on Cuttle Lane, by the Green and the duck pond, and on Challows Lane that evening. Those sightings ranged from six-thirty to a few minutes before seven. Challows Lane leads directly onto Ham Lane. A horse rider spotted a suspicious shape in one of her fields as she rode past. Davinia Campbell-Drake phoned it in at once. I think she told the officer who took the call that her fields were not an area where fly-tipping would be tolerated. He recorded the details, plus her admission that the culprit would be horse-whipped if she caught him before the police did. Two uniformed officers went to investigate, and they found Alan Duncan’s dead body at eight thirteen. His mobile phone lay on the grass beside him.”

  “Did the phone yield anything useful?” asked Gus.

  “Nothing that led the investigating team to a potential suspect. DI Phil Banks was Senior Investigating Officer on the case, and his main partner was DS Connor Tallentire. They both worked out of Chippenham. They’re at opposite ends of the country these days. Alan Duncan’s contacts were what you might expect. His partner and parents, of course, plus a handful of close friends and work colleagues.”

  “Nothing relating to his naval career?” asked Gus. “I thought camaraderie was a strong point in the services. Friendships formed during training and on overseas operations can last a lifetime, so I’ve heard.”

  “They didn’t make it onto his most recent phone, Freeman. That’s all I can tell you. Madeleine Mills should be able to offer information on whether Duncan had an address book at home that contained names from the time before they met.”

  “Where is Miss Mills today?” asked Gus.

  “Married with two children. One of each,” said Kenneth. “The Telfer family live on the Cepen Park estate in Chippenham. Almost on the same street as Wayne and Anna Phillips.”

  “Why are they important?” asked Gus.

  “Anna is Madeleine’s best friend. They worked together for years. Wayne Phillips had met Alan Duncan through their mutual love of cycling. Wayne introduced Alan to Madeleine. In the first twenty-four hours after discovering the body, the only people Banks and Tallentire spoke with were his partner, parents, and those two. Until the coroner determined the cause of death, they followed the first instincts of one of the uniformed officers who found the body. He thought it was a suicide. Duncan appeared to lead a quiet, ordinary, mostly solitary life. His partner described him as Mr Dependable. When the cause of death turned out to be strangulation, it put a different slant on things. The murder occurred between seven and seven-thirty.”

  “A narrow window of opportunity. Who had a motive?” asked Gus. “What about Miss Mills, for instance?”

  “She had no alibi until nine-thirty. Someone saw Duncan running alone in the thirty minutes after he left home. He was alive at seven o’clock. Anna Phillips received a call from Madeleine two-and-a-half hours later because she was worried about Duncan not getting home at the usual time. Miss Mills said she was home alone throughout the evening doing housework.”

  “Madeleine might not have been at home when she made that call,” said Gus, “but what was her motive?”

  “The uniformed officers who notified Miss Mills asked if Alan was depressed, whether they had argued, but Madeleine Mills was adamant there were no financial worries, and there was nothing wrong with their relationship. Alan Duncan’s parents said the same thing when the officers visited them later the same evening.”

  “Women rarely strangle a male partner,”
said Gus. “What about Wayne Phillips, where was he that evening?”

  “He arrived home minutes before his wife received the call from Madeleine. Wayne Phillips played five-a-side football every Wednesday evening. He had plenty of witnesses who confirmed he was kicking lumps out of them between seven and eight-thirty.”

  “So, where did Banks and his team turn to next?” asked Gus.

  “I imagine they wondered whether they were dealing with the same case. Bob Duncan, Alan’s father, had taken the rest of the week off work to stay at home to comfort, Elizabeth, his wife. Madeleine Mills spent much of the weekend with Wayne and Anna Phillips. All perfectly understandable, life was on hold as they came to terms with the devastating news. You don’t need me to tell you what that period is like, Freeman, between the end of life and the funeral. You exist and little more. Alan’s father returned to work on Monday morning. His colleagues commiserated with him and offered their condolences, but he sensed they were holding back. Later in the day, he visited Alan’s office, where he worked as a draughtsman.”

  “He worked at the same factory as his father?” asked Gus.

  “He did, well, he had, until Monday the twenty-sixth of May. When Bob spoke to Alan’s boss, he learned that Alan had walked into the office first thing the previous Monday morning and quit. He left without notice or explanation. Bob phoned Madeleine Mills as soon as he returned home. She was as shocked as he had been. Alan had never mentioned being unhappy in his job. He had left for work and returned in the late afternoon at the same time as usual. Then she recalled her conversation with Wayne Phillips on the night Alan died.”

  “I thought Madeleine rang her friend, Anna,” said Gus. “Was this part of the same conversation?”

  “Yes,” said Kenneth, “Madeleine thought Wayne was more likely to know Alan’s plans for the evening. They spoke every weekend when they cycled together. Wayne didn’t know which route his friend was taking for his run, but he offered to drive to Biddestone to help in the search. Madeleine said she would manage on her own and call back when Alan returned. The police were on her doorstep when Madeleine returned from a drive around the village lanes. When Bob Duncan told her Alan hadn’t been at work that week she remembered Wayne telling her he’d seen Alan in the centre of Corsham on Tuesday afternoon. He was on the pavement outside a bank. My wife and I didn’t live together before we married, Freeman, but we opened a joint account and closed our individual accounts as soon as we were able. That was what one did back then. These days, couples handle their financial affairs in various ways, Madeleine Mills and Alan Duncan had separate accounts in different banks. He transferred a monthly sum to her account by Direct Debit, and she paid the mortgage, utility bills and so forth. When she contacted her bank, that month’s amount had arrived from Duncan’s bank on the fifteenth of the month as usual. Madeleine contacted the police to tell them of this latest development. When they checked with Alan’s bank, they discovered that he’d closed his accounts and withdrawn the balance in cash.”

  “How much are we talking?” asked Gus.

  “Eight and a half thousand pounds,” said the ACC.

  “The police found Duncan’s mobile phone next to the body,” said Gus. “Did any of the eyewitnesses report seeing him carrying a bag?”

  “No, it wasn’t a robbery, and blackmail didn’t match what followed. When police visited the house in Biddestone, they conducted a thorough search. In the spare bedroom where the couple stored clothing and footwear, they found over two dozen pairs of Alan’s trainers in shoeboxes. One box contained the eight and a half thousand pounds in fifty, twenty, and ten-pound notes.”

  “Hidden in plain sight,” said Gus. “What was Madeleine’s reaction?”

  “Stunned,” said Kenneth. “With every passing day, Madeleine was learning things about her late partner that made her question whether she ever really knew him. Alan’s parents could not explain his movements. The detectives had a puzzle wrapped in an enigma, as someone once observed. Alan Duncan had no known enemies. He wasn’t known to the police, and they could find nothing in his life to suggest he was in danger. Why then did Alan quit his job and withdraw every penny he had in the world? Was he planning a midnight flit? If so, why not leave on Tuesday night once he had the money in his hands? Even at six-thirty on Wednesday evening, he followed his normal routine and set off on a weekly run.”

  “There’s no escaping the fact that his behaviour was out of character,” said Gus. “This could be our toughest assignment yet. Please tell me you have something more, sir?”

  “Wayne Phillips recalled a second odd incident as they returned from a fifty-mile cycle ride on Saturday the twenty-fourth. As they cycled along The Green, they passed the Biddestone Arms and the duck pond, before turning into Cuttle Lane. Phillips spotted a man stood by his car near the pond. He appeared to recognise Alan, who was leading and waved, but Alan ignored him and cycled faster. When Wayne asked who it was, Alan said he had seen no one.”

  “Could Phillips describe the man, or identify the car?”

  “Only a vague description,” said the ACC. “Medium height, medium build. Crewcut, fair-skinned, possibly late thirties, early forties. The car was a family saloon, but no make, model, or registration.”

  “It could have been anyone,” said Gus. “Someone from work Alan Duncan didn’t get on with, or he didn’t recognise from a distance. Anything else?”

  “A neighbour from Cuttle Lane reported seeing a Vauxhall Zafira pass her house on more than one occasion in the weeks before Alan Duncan’s death. DI Banks appealed for the car owner to come forward, but he could not identify the car or the driver. It might have been the same car and driver that Wayne Phillips saw, but it could have been unrelated.”

  “Is that everything, sir?” asked Gus more in hope than expectation.

  “I’m afraid so,” said Kenneth.

  Gus tucked the Alan Duncan murder file under his arm and left the room.

  “Can’t you spare time for a coffee, Mr Freeman?”

  Kassie Trotter had just emerged from the dark recesses leading to Geoff Mercer’s office. Ms Packenham hadn’t curtailed Kassie’s bun run as yet.

  “I need to return to the office, Kassie,” said Gus.

  “My gossip will have to wait then,” she sighed. “You’re no fun anymore, Mr Freeman.”

  “Life’s hard, and then you die, Kassie,” said Gus. “Look, do you still catch the bus home to Worton after work?”

  Kassie nodded.

  “I’ll pick you up this evening and drive you home. Save me any spare rock cakes, and you can chat while I carry out a taste test. I’ll take a doggy bag home for Suzie.”

  “Thanks, Mr Freeman. See you later.”

  Kassie gave her trolley a shove and got moving again. Her next port of call was to the ACC.

  Gus gave Vera a friendly wave and skipped downstairs. Anything for a quiet life.

  CHAPTER 3

  Gus glanced at the clock on the office wall as he exited the lift. The return journey hadn’t improved his demeanour. Lunchtime had come and gone, and he could do with one of those rock cakes right now.

  “Okay, listen up,” he said. “I’ve got a murder file from a decade ago. Someone strangled Alan Duncan while he was out running in the lanes around the village of Biddestone. Let’s get started; you know the drill.”

  The team swung into action like a well-oiled machine.

  “Where do you want to start, guv?” asked Luke.

  “The victim’s partner, Madeleine Telfer,” said Gus. “That will be our first interview, but a visit to the village has to be top of my list. I need to get perspective. The murder file mentions lanes which run into lanes and past duck ponds. Villages vary considerably. Some spread over a wide area; others are a single thoroughfare with several access points from surrounding towns and villages. Alex, perhaps you could accompany me?”

  “Yes, guv,” said Alex. “When do you want to leave?”

  “A coffee first, and then we
’ll take advantage of this weather. It’s a fine day for a walk in the country.”

  “I’ll have a timetable for your appointments by the time you return, guv,” said Luke.

  “I can always rely on you, Luke,” said Gus.

  Gus checked his desk drawer to see whether the bara brith Kassie Trotter had entrusted him with last Tuesday was still edible. He needed to have something to say about it later this evening; good or bad.

  Thirty minutes later, Gus and Alex were in the lift heading for the ground floor and the car park.

  “Everything okay, guv?” asked Alex.

  “One of Kassie Trotter’s experiments is weighing heavy on my stomach, Alex,” said Gus. “No worries. I’ll walk it off as we stroll around Biddestone.”

  “Just as well that Biddestone is only a twenty-minute drive from here, guv,” said Alex.

  Gus sat back in the passenger seat and hoped Kassie’s hot gossip occupied their conversation so much this evening that she forgot to ask if it was any good. The bara brith wasn’t one of her triumphs.

  “We’re coming up to Chippenham Lane on our right, guv,” said Alex. “That becomes Sheldon Corner in time, and then it joins the main A420 road by the Allington Farm Shop and café. The murder file showed that Alan Duncan used that as one of his runs: six miles door to door.”

  “Six miles?” asked Gus. “He was keen. I suppose it kept him fit for the weekend cycle tours of Wiltshire and Gloucestershire.”

  “We’re on what they call The Green now, guv,” said Alex, slowing to a crawl. “The actual green is on both sides of the road. If we turn left by the Pond bus stop ahead, that takes us to Church Road. Cuttle Lane is this road that veers off to the right. There aren’t that many properties on the right before you enter the open countryside again. The cottage where Alan Duncan and Madeleine Mills lived is on our left, just before reaching the Wesleyan Chapel ahead. The village cricket club is on the opposite side of the road. Do you want to stop and walk from here?”

  “Good idea, Alex,” said Gus. “We’ll walk back to The Green and the duck pond. I’d like to see where Wayne Phillips says he spotted this mystery car driver. What distance was that man from the two cyclists? Is it more likely that Alan Duncan recognised him and didn’t want Wayne to know?”