Buried Secrets: The Freeman Files Series: Book 11

by Ted Tayler

  “How far were you from the gateway, sir?” asked Gus.

  “Sixty yards. You’ve visited the crime scene, Gus, you know how that lane winds this way and that along its path. Connor signalled when I was perhaps two strides from disappearing from view. We calculated that the killer spotted Alan, got out of the car and walked along the lane on the left-hand side until he reached the apex of the bend.”

  “He assumed that Alan Duncan was running on the right-hand side facing any oncoming traffic,” said Gus. “Then the killer switched sides at the apex, taking a calculated risk that Alan wouldn’t look up as he approached the gateway.”

  “Exactly, Connor walked towards me, and I jogged along the lane. The next time I saw my DS, he was less than ten feet away. We were level with that gateway when we came face-to-face. I’d stopped jogging. We both agreed that Duncan didn’t try to escape. He had little opportunity. Where was there to run? A jogger said he saw Duncan near the village's centre while heading in the opposite direction. That meant they met as close to seven o’clock as made no difference. You already know what time someone made the emergency number call. So, there was no protracted argument. The killer confronted Alan Duncan and attacked him at once. That was not a motiveless killing, Gus. I was sure that Duncan knew who it was facing him and why he was there.”

  “What about the money?” asked Gus.

  “We didn’t know about that then,” said DCI Banks. “That only came out on Tuesday morning.”

  “I know that, but why did Duncan withdraw a relatively small sum, stash it in his spare bedroom, and then go out without it on a run that he knew might be his last? The money had to be for something or someone.”

  “We only concluded that he knew his killer after we found the hidden cash,” said Banks. “If I put myself in Duncan’s running shoes on Wednesday night, you’re right, if the man Wayne Phillips saw the previous Saturday was the killer, he might have been stalking Duncan for days. Duncan had the cash if that was what the man was after, why didn’t he carry it with him?”

  “I think we’re back to my original question, sir,” said Gus. “What did you make of Alan Duncan?”

  “Every person we interviewed had the same opinion,” said Banks. “Duncan was quiet, dependable, a good worker, a loving son and partner. Not one of them believed Duncan had an enemy in the world.”

  “Why do you think the press hinted that Duncan was gay, sir?”

  “I believe it was a local rag that adopted that line, Gus. I don’t recall the nationals taking much notice of the murder. We spoke to everyone we could connect to Duncan in the area without finding a suspect with motive and opportunity. That you’ve called me suggests you aren’t getting any further than we did.”

  “Early days, sir,” said Gus. He would not risk getting cut off by telling Banks that they’d found the pocket diary. “Can I ask a big favour, sir?” said Gus, “Do you know a Kyle Ellison? He hails from Marsden and would be in his early forties now. He was the victim of an assault in 1993 by Darren Forsyth, who came from the same village. We would appreciate the chance to chat to Ellison.”

  “I’ve made a note of his details, Gus,” said DCI Banks. “I’ll get someone to look him up and tell them to call you back.”

  “Many thanks, sir,” said Gus.

  Gus made a mental note to tell Geoff Mercer that Phil Banks was a decent chap provided you didn’t tread on his toes.

  CHAPTER 7

  Gus wondered how the rest of the team were doing this morning. He didn’t have long to wait. Minutes later, Blessing Umeh arrived back in the office.

  “I’ve got everything we need, guv,” she said.

  “How were Bob and Elizabeth?” asked Gus.

  “We got off to a sticky start,” sighed Blessing. “I rang the bell, and Mr Duncan answered. He wasn’t keen on letting me indoors and gripped the door, blocking my entry. I followed your lead, guv. I told him we could do it the easy way, or the hard way. He could let me in and help me find the photos we needed, or you would arrange for him to get taken to a police station for an interview under caution.”

  “That might have been extreme, Blessing,” said Gus. “I’m not sure we have grounds.”

  “It worked, guv,” said Blessing. “Mr Duncan said he couldn’t leave his wife alone in the house for any length of time, so he relented and let me in.”

  “Well done, Blessing,” said Gus. “Did you see Elizabeth?”

  “Bob went upstairs while I waited in the living room. Our conversation at the front door must have woken her. He came back to tell me his wife was ready for her breakfast and asked if I wanted a coffee. I carried on photographing the pictures we wanted, not forgetting those with writing on the back. When Bob returned with our coffees, he asked how it was going. I showed him what I’d done, and he pointed out two more photo frames in the hallway. While Bob took our empty cups through to the kitchen, I asked to use the loo. Their bedroom is at the front of the house, so I knocked on the door and asked Elizabeth if she wanted me to take her breakfast things downstairs.”

  “Clever,” said Gus. “Did she remember you?”

  “Yes, guv,” said Blessing. “Once seen, never forgotten, that’s me. I could tell Elizabeth was depressed, but she was willing to talk. I told her why I’d come over today. She told me that what I’d copied were the ones they had framed. There were several additional loose photos in a drawer in what used to be Alan’s bedroom at the back of the house. I asked if I could borrow them. She agreed. Most of them are photos that Alan took of places he visited, but a couple of them are of colleagues on their own.”

  “Even better, Blessing,” said Gus. “Right, get everything on your phone downloaded. Let’s see who we can match from the pocket diary. I’ll scan in the loose snaps Elizabeth gave you. I wonder why Bob didn’t remember they had them. Did he say anything when you returned downstairs?”

  “Bob thanked me for collecting his wife’s breakfast things, guv,” said Blessing. “I didn’t show him the photos I had in my handbag.”

  Blessing handed Gus the selection of loose snaps. He studied them and sorted them into three groups. Alan Duncan’s casual shots of Sydney Harbour Bridge, the Great Pyramid of Giza, and other famous landmarks he placed in a discard pile. The second group included pictures of one man, standing alone, smiling at the camera. Never the same man. Some wore a naval uniform, which Gus took to be that of a fellow submariner, others wore smart casual clothing. There wasn’t a Hawaiian shirt in sight. That left just one photo. It was of Alan Duncan himself, in casual gear, smiling at the camera. Gus knew where someone had taken it. The buildings in the background were unmistakeably St Basil’s Cathedral, in Moscow.

  “Are you ready to scan your snaps in, guv?” asked Blessing.

  “Only half a dozen matter,” said Gus. “Why, have you downloaded the others already?”

  “That part was easy, guv,” said Blessing. “I need to create a file now in which we can hold the data you collected from the pocket diary. First, I’ll crop these images to give us each individual’s face. It will get easier after the first one because several of Alan’s friends turn up repeatedly.”

  Gus looked at the clock on the wall. He would not be much use to Blessing on this job. Alex and Lydia would be back within the next thirty minutes.

  “I can tell that you need to concentrate, Blessing,” said Gus. “I’ll get out of your hair. Time to take a walk in the fresh air, get a sandwich from the deli in the Market Square, and make us both a drink when I get back.”

  “OK, guv,” said Blessing. “I’ve got this.”

  When Gus returned thirty minutes later, Alex and Lydia were waiting for the lift.

  “How was Woodpecker Mews?” he asked.

  “Busy,” said Lydia Logan Barre. “Most properties have more cars than they have driveway. Several have even converted their garages into extra rooms, so on-road parking appears to be the norm.”

  “Lydia’s miffed because we had to park six doors away from the Phil
lips’s place, guv,” said Alex with a nod to her black trainers.

  “I broke a heel on my shoes,” Lydia wailed. “They were my favourite pair.”

  “Just as well you went prepared,” said Gus as they entered the lift together.

  “I learned early on that if you might want to take me on a route march around a murder scene, I should carry an old pair of trainers and wellington boots.”

  “I promised Blessing I’d get her a coffee when I got back from my brief break,” said Gus. “You two can get what you gathered this morning into the files, while I’ll do the honours. We’ll debrief our efforts later.”

  “Okay, guv,” said Alex.

  Gus disappeared to the restroom to reacquaint himself with the Gaggia. When he returned with four coffees in Alex’s multiple mug holder, the others were hard at work. Gus placed their drinks on their desks and then sat at his desk. He wanted to hear what they had to say, but patience was a virtue.

  “I’ve got the first part of the summary ready, guv,” said Blessing a few minutes later. “The file is available for each of us to view within the Freeman Files.”

  “Good,” said Gus as he swallowed the last dregs of his cup of coffee. “Let’s stop what we’re doing and switch our attention to that for a few minutes. I want to identify our next steps.”

  Gus, Alex, and Lydia brought up Blessing’s work file on their screens.

  “Lead on, Blessing,” said Gus.

  “For Alex and Lydia’s benefit,” said Blessing, “the photos held in picture frames brought from Bob Duncan’s home, plus the pocket diary from Alan’s office, allowed me to identify seven of his colleagues. I also found loose snaps that I’ve added at the foot of the page. I’ll explain those in a minute. The ginger-headed man, Taff, who features in the photos most often is Max Hughes, from Swansea. Every man’s record follows the same pattern. So, I’ve isolated the best head-shot of Max Hughes for his profile picture. The columns include his home address, phone number, etcetera. The position the colleague occupies reflects the frequency with which he appears in the photos. Keith Smith, Craig Anderson. Rico Menghini, Freddie Watts, Drew Taggart, and Bryan Tarbuck are the actual names for fellow crew members that Alan Duncan went with on these shore leave trips. When he added their names to the back of the photos for his parents, they became Taff, of course, Smudger, Andy, Gooner, Lofty. Chuff and Tarby.”

  “I can’t think of a reason the Scots lad got called Chuff,” said Lydia. “All the rest make sense.”

  “We’re assuming that Alan Duncan wasn’t keeping one or more of these colleagues’ identities hidden from his parents by using nicknames,” said Blessing.

  “I hadn’t given that a thought,” said Alex.

  “I think we should bear it in mind in the future,” said Blessing. “Bob Duncan wasn’t the only person to mention that Alan’s underwater campaigns were top-secret. I believe it was Maddy who used the term hush-hush.”

  “Blessing’s right to advise caution,” said Gus, “Alan divulged little information about his naval career to anyone. Not to his family, his friends, or his work colleagues. Much like Maddy Telfer, he preferred to distance himself from his past. When we discover the reason for that, I hope we’ll be closer to finding his killer.”

  “We’ve got interviews to schedule, guv,” said Lydia. “How do we prioritise them?”

  “I thought Blessing had done that for us already,” said Alex, “but I suppose that’s naïve. Bryan Tarbuck only appeared in one photo, the one taken in Cape Town. The others at the top of the list were Alan’s best mates and could be shocked to learn of his murder ten years ago. Bob and Maddy didn’t know this pocket diary was available to them to notify ex-colleagues of his death, remember.”

  “Let me explain the photos underneath the main section,” said Blessing. “Elizabeth Duncan allowed me to borrow these after I spoke with her this morning. Maybe Alan didn’t send these to his parents. Perhaps he brought them home when he left the Navy, and Elizabeth discovered them one day when cleaning his old room. You can see that Keith Smith, Craig Anderson, and Freddie Watts appear to have gone on separate day trips with Alan. There are no helpful details written on the backs, and the locations aren’t immediately evident. You will recognise Alan Duncan in the photo taken in Moscow. Again, there’s no sign of who took the picture. Perhaps it was one of the other three close friends, and the background in one of those snaps is a less popular part of Moscow. That leaves the last photograph.”

  “He’s smartly dressed and mid to late twenties,” said Gus. “What nationality would you say, Alex?”

  “Our man looks European, guv, but how far East I wouldn’t hazard a guess. I reckon I know someone who could help, guv.”

  “Go on,” said Gus, “we certainly need it.”

  “It will give you an extra gold star in the ACC’s book,” said Alex. “When I was working in the Hub on the Burnside saga, Divya, one of the techies at London Road was a great help. Rather than tie up Blessing’s time searching the metadata on these photographs, we should utilise the Hub’s resources and get them doing the legwork. It could help fill in the gaps in our knowledge.”

  Gus recalled the ACC stressing how useful a facility the Hub could be to the Crime Review Team when he first approached him. But Gus preferred the traditional methods that had served him well in his career. He liked to think he wasn’t too old to learn new tricks; it just took him longer than it used to, which meant he continued to do things his way. They might take longer, but he knew they worked.

  “That’s a great idea, Alex,” said Gus. “Why don’t you contact the Hub, speak to Divya, to see if she’s willing, and then ask her manager if we can utilise her skills on a quick project.”

  “Leave that with me, guv,” said Alex. “Lydia can take you through her conversation with Anna Phillips while I’m doing that. I’ll fill you in on her husband, Wayne when you’re free.”

  “Fair enough,” said Gus, “but before we move on, what does this second collection of photos suggest? I want to hear your opinion. Lydia?”

  “Nice try, guv,” said Lydia. “Before I started working with you, if I’d just read the murder file and these photos popped up, I’d wonder whether that local rag had a point and Alan Duncan was gay. We need to speak to Smudger, Andy, and Lofty to see whether they have a similar casual photo of Alan that they took at the same time. Something to mark the occasion. We can ask about the nature of their relationship, but they can refuse to answer. It’s none of our business. I won’t pass an opinion until I’ve met the men involved, or at least read their stories in the Freeman Files.”

  “What do you think, Blessing?” asked Gus.

  “I’m with Lydia, guv,” said Blessing. “We don’t know when, or where Alan and his pals took these snaps. We haven’t even considered why. Lydia’s right, until we get both sides of the story, we can’t tell.”

  “That’s the trouble, isn’t it, guv?” asked Alex. “We’re looking at a photograph that Alan Duncan valued enough not only to take but to keep for years. I’ve got several similar photos at home. I have a photo of the guys I trained with on the motorcycle pursuit course, with our bikes. I’ve kept a picture taken on the day I got discharged from hospital, with the surgeon who operated on my legs and several nursing staff. You’re questioning why Alan held onto photos of individuals. We’re comfortable with the idea of his hanging onto the group images. As soon as everyone else goes away and it’s one person, we join dots. Would we have done that if the person in the photo was a young woman?”

  The team mulled over Alex’s words.

  He picked up the phone and contacted the Hub.

  “Maybe I’m overthinking things, guv,” sighed Blessing. “Ever since you handed us the murder file, you’ve insisted that Maddy and Alan had secrets buried in their past. We have gone over every scrap of evidence available to DCI Banks over a hundred times, without producing a positive result. So, as these new pieces of information came through, I looked at them with suspicion.�
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  “Why these men, and why that location?” said Gus.

  “I even wondered if there was a significance to the nicknames and the position each man took in the photograph, guv,” said Blessing. “I’ve watched too many spy movies.”

  “Your mind must have run riot when you found the loose photos this morning,” laughed Lydia.

  “I was creating scenarios that made sense of the photographs, not sticking to the facts,” said Blessing. “When I sit with Alex’s computer expert to work through these images, no doubt the fog will clear and I’ll see them for what they are; simple snaps they took for fun. Two colleagues who stopped for a second to create a memory on a rare day off. After all, they could have just spent ninety days trapped in a nuclear submarine under a polar ice-cap.”

  “Never stop thinking outside the box, Blessing,” said Gus. “I’ve done it hundreds of times. If you can discard the more ridiculous notions before you convince yourself they’re valid, then you’ve got it made.”

  “Sorry, guv,” said Blessing.

  “Don’t apologise,” said Gus. “At least, not until Divya has exposed what lies beneath the surface of those photos.”

  “I see what you did there, guv,” said Lydia.

  “You’ve got a green light to join Divya in the Hub tomorrow morning, Blessing,” said Alex. “She can make a start this afternoon. Send her the file with an outline of what you’re looking for from her endeavours.”

  “Thanks, Alex,” said Blessing. “I’ll do it straight away. What’s parking like at London Road? I visited Reception in a taxi when I first arrived here. It’s the only building I know.”

  “The main entrance is on your left when you drive from here,” said Alex. “The Hub is in a new building to the left of the main block. Access is by a security card. Here’s Divya’s number. Call her when you’ve parked the car, and she’ll come to let you in. Relax, don’t worry about parking, you’re fine.”