Fatal Decision

by Ted Tayler

  Lydia unzipped her jacket. The orange, red & yellow top almost blinded Gus.

  “I got it wrong again, didn’t I?” she said. “You need me to dress for the occasion. I get it now.”

  “Cover yourself up. There may be others enjoying a stroll in the countryside.”

  “Who in their right mind carries a pair of sunglasses in April, on the off chance they need to ward off the sun’s glare?”

  Gus relaxed. Lydia could take it as well as dish it out. She would prove a valuable asset to the team for as long as they hung on to her.

  “This is where Daphne stopped with her dog to talk with someone she knew,” said Lydia.

  “It was assumed so. Without identifying that person we can’t be sure. After several minutes chatting, Daphne walked over there to that gap in the hedge. That’s where the path runs through to Lowden Park.”

  “This doesn’t match the pictures of the murder site,” said Lydia.

  “Ten years growth will have produced a different canopy overhead. Councils have suffered just as severe cuts as the Police. I doubt there’s been much of a woodland husbandry programme in place. They will fell a tree if it dies or becomes a danger to the public. There are hundreds of trees on Lowden Hill. It’s not hard to imagine several being damaged by the storms and high winds we’ve experienced over the years. The undergrowth looks to have been allowed to grow unchecked. The only cutting back has been confined to the edges of the pathway. They’ve preserved the right of way and that’s it.”

  “Where was the body discovered?”

  “I reckon it was over there. Ten paces from the path, behind those oaks.”

  It was a struggle to reach the trees and the clearing that had existed in 2008 was almost covered now in brambles and bracken.

  “The still photos of this area suggest to me maybe two people could have been here and not be seen by anyone on the path. Looking back to where Daphne was walking, the massive tree trunks provided an effective screen.”

  “So, what alerted her? Why did she leave the pathway and come in here?” asked Lydia.

  “Someone called out to her. A voice she recognised. Or, perhaps a noise she overheard and was nosy.”

  “What were they doing? If it was more than one person?”

  “Based on Neil’s local knowledge and Pickering’s voyeuristic hobby then it doesn’t take much imagination. Daphne disturbed a couple having sex. One of those people was young. He or she may have known Daphne and struck her over the head, killing her. They ran towards the Park and Holly Wells saw them.”

  “Who was the other person? Were they young or old? Did they know Daphne? Were they male or female?”

  “There’s something that’s been troubling me ever since I picked up the file on this case. This place is renowned for being a lover’s haunt. So what? The police will act if we receive a complaint from the public where someone is offending public decency. It’s not at the top of the list of things we actively investigate. We still draw the line if children or animals are involved, thank goodness. What I want to understand is, what made this so important its discovery had to be hidden at all costs?”

  Gus made his way back to the pathway. There seemed little point in following it into Lowden Park. He and Lydia returned to the car.

  Gus prayed Holly Wells might have information to help answer his question.

  CHAPTER 9

  “We’re heading for Barken Road, Chippenham then, guv?”

  “Holly lives in a three-bedroomed, older semi-detached house with her husband, Danny and two boys. Both boys will be at school. Danny works in Swindon, at the Honda factory.”

  “Is it okay to open my jacket indoors, guv? It’s getting warm.”

  “I’m sure Holly Wells will be fine with that, Lydia. Just remember. Watch and learn.”

  Holly stood on the doorstep before they reached the gate.

  “Hiya, come on in.”

  Marriage and motherhood have toughened her up, Gus thought. The file had given the impression of a very nervous young woman.

  “Coffee?” asked Holly as soon as they were inside the living room door.

  “That would be nice,” said Gus. “black, no sugar, please.”

  “Mine’s black, with one sugar,” said Lydia.

  Holly switched on the kettle and fetched mugs from a kitchen wall-cabinet.

  “So, what did you want to know?” she asked, continuing to chat to them as she took a carton of milk from the fridge.

  “My colleague will have told you we’re looking into Mrs Tolliver’s murder again. The name’s Freeman and this is Lydia Logan Barre. We are part of the Crime Review Team.”

  Holly brought the two coffees and placed them on china coasters on the table between Gus and Lydia. She returned to the kitchen for her own mug.

  “It was a terrible time,” she said, blowing on her coffee as she walked to a chair opposite them.

  “It must have been distressing for you to discover a scene such as that,” said Gus. “We wondered whether you remembered any more details about the person you saw running away.”

  “I stood by the pathway, watching the dog. It kept coming towards me, then scampering back behind the tree, into the clearing. I knew something was wrong. Where the other person had been hiding, I don’t know. I heard a noise and as I turned, I caught a glimpse of a blue anorak. The hood was up and they sprinted off towards the Park.”

  “You say ‘the other person’,” said Gus, “did you see two people?”

  “Well, no, I only saw one. When I stepped into the clearing and saw the body I screamed.”

  “A natural reaction,” said Gus.

  “Yes, but it wasn’t just the blood and her eyes staring up to the heavens. I sensed someone watching me. That’s what scared me and made me scream as loud as I did.”

  This was news to Gus Freeman. Holly hadn’t told the detectives this detail back in 2008.

  “Let’s return to the young person running away from the scene. Can you remember any extra detail of the way they were dressed?”

  Lydia leaned forward and looked as if she wanted to speak to Holly. Gus paused.

  “Close your eyes, Holly,” she said, “try to think of the first thing you noticed.”

  Holly closed her eyes and breathed out.

  “The trainers they wore. They were white and looked brand-new,”

  Lydia glanced at Gus. Was this the first time the trainers had been mentioned?

  “Go on,” said Lydia, “work your way up from there.”

  “Jeans, stone-washed. Then the blue anorak. Royal blue. There was something odd. I never thought about it at the time. When Danny and I got together, he remarked what small feet I had. Size three and a half. We were in a shoe shop in Swindon and it popped into my head. When I saw that person running I wasn’t sure whether it was a boy or a girl. That’s what I told the detective. Danny put his foot next to mine that day in the shop and his black trainers dwarfed my little feet. Those white trainers were big too, size nine or ten, same as Danny. That was why I kept having this feeling something didn’t feel right. The trainers made me think it was a boy, but the face I saw was more feminine.”

  “That’s very interesting, Holly,” said Lydia.

  “It certainly is,” said Gus, “many thanks for your help and a lovely cup of coffee. We’ll let you get on with your day.”

  Holly walked with them to the door.

  “I hope you find the person who did it, Mr Freeman. My Princess never got over the shock. She died within the year.”

  As they walked to the gate, Holly called out.

  “Lydia, I love your top, by the way. I wish I was brave enough to wear something like that.”

  Gus opened the gate for Lydia. She didn’t berate him this time.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “Watch and learn,” Gus said, with a grin.

  Fifteen minutes later, Gus eased his way into the traffic on the M4 at Junction 17.

  “Who was Princess?” ask
ed Lydia,

  “Holly’s Bichon Frise puppy. That’s why she visited the Park. We couldn’t have expected as much progress as that from her. It puts a whole new complexion on the case.”

  “I’m sorry I butted in. I felt her initial answers sounded too much a repeat of her original statement. By making her stop and consider it differently, I hoped we might get her to remember something she’d forgotten. It worked.”

  “There were two people in the clearing. One was an effeminate young man. I’m still wondering why this led to murder. We’re long past being shocked to hear of two men having sexual relations on Lowden Hill.”

  “Unless this wasn’t a loving relationship,” said Lydia, “but prostitution.”

  “A male prostitute with a client. Yes, that’s a distinct possibility. We’ll need to continue our investigation into the data provided by the Hub. One shouldn’t pre-judge, but I doubt that we’ll find too many male prostitutes among our thirteen hundred residents. Based on Holly’s account, the killer hung around after his partner had fled. He hid in the bushes and slipped away unseen.”

  “Hang on, guv, that begs the question, doesn’t it?”

  “Exactly, if it was a casual financial transaction, that boy becomes a problem.”

  “If it became necessary to kill Daphne Tolliver to prevent the liaison from being made public…”

  “There were no murders or unexplained deaths in the months that followed. Of course, people leave an area without telling anyone where they’re going every day. He could have scarpered before the killer traced him. We may have misread the situation. They could have been in a long-term relationship, meaning neither man wanted the incident made known. One lashed out and bludgeoned Daphne with a rock. The other ran away. They could be living together in Brighton for all we know. Other seaside resorts are available.”

  When they arrived at HMP Leyhill they were shown into a side room. Percy Pickering was escorted in by an officer. Pickering’s face was as grey as the tracksuit top and bottom he wore. Lydia saw his eyes light up as soon as he realised there was a woman in the room. She removed her coat and folded it over the back of her chair. She felt unclean when she turned around to see Pickering licking his lips. His tracksuit bottoms showed he was becoming aroused. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she sat back on the metal chair opposite him.

  “My name is Freeman,” said Gus, “a consultant with the Wiltshire Police. My colleague Ms Barre and I wish to discuss what you said you saw on Saturday, the twenty-eighth of June 2008. Your statement in 2013 stated you saw Mrs Tolliver and her dog on Battersby Lane at just after seven in the evening. Is that correct?”

  “I did see them,” replied Pickering.

  “Did you photograph them for your collection?”

  “No, she was just talking,”

  “Who was she talking with?”

  “A bloke. Tall, stocky. He crouched to cuddle the dog. Knelt on the pavement. The ground was still wet from the earlier rain.”

  “How old would you say he was?”

  “Twenty, maybe, but you had to be daft to kneel in those puddles.”

  “You didn’t recognise him?”

  Lydia stretched her back. The metal chairs were uncomfortable. Pickering swallowed hard.

  “I’d seen him around. It was the Attrill lad.”

  “Attrill?”

  “He fell on his head when he was a boy. He wasn’t right after that.”

  “You didn’t give us this information when first interviewed, Mr Pickering. Why not?”

  “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, did I? I was a mug to come forward after the reconstruction five years ago, but I didn’t realise the harm at the time.”

  “You might have mentioned Attrill’s name then. It would have helped us with our enquiries.”

  Pickering didn’t respond. He no longer stared at Lydia. His head was on his chest.

  Gus nodded to the prison officer. Pickering was led away to his cell.

  “What a pathetic little worm,” said Lydia.

  “Was that a deliberate attempt to provoke him?” asked Gus.

  “These chairs are bloody uncomfortable,” she replied.

  “That’s okay then, I hope you didn’t use your feminine wiles to advance our progress. If a defence solicitor had been in the room he would have pounced on that and claimed harassment.”

  Lydia scoured his face for the hint of a smile. She saw none. Had she misheard what the three of them were saying in the office yesterday? She thought Gus had approved of a distraction technique. Men, she’d never understood them.

  “We need to trace this Attrill character,” said Gus, as they drove back to the office.

  “Could he be the killer, guv?”

  “Attrill spoke with the victim less than half an hour before her murder. Even if he wasn’t involved, he may have seen one or both men before they got to the clearing in the woods. Where did the killer slip away to after the killing? Did he reappear on Battersby Lane? Did he move further up Lowden Hill? Where was Attrill then?”

  “We’re getting closer, guv, aren’t we?”

  “Who knows? We’ve uncovered a few nuggets that Culverhouse and his team didn’t find. Whether we can make something with them? Only time will tell. When we get back to the office, remember to update the Freeman File with your record of the interviews and of our visit to the crime scene. Do it while your memory is still fresh and your notes are still legible. So much has gone on today and this was your first time in the field. It would be easy to forget something in the excitement.”

  “Thanks, guv. This has been a great experience so far.”

  “Better than interpreting reams of data from the Hub, I bet.”

  Alex and Neil were buried in whatever details they were sifting through on their computer screens when they did get upstairs to the office.

  “Listen up,” said Gus, “we’ve made two, no, maybe three breakthroughs.”

  “You two will work together again then,” said Neil, his shoulders slumped in mock resignation.

  “Lydia got Holly Wells to remember the running man wore white trainers that were size nine or ten. This jibed with her glimpse of the face she had seen partially obscured by the hood of the anorak. At first, she believed it could have been a man or a woman. The shoes convinced her in retrospect it was a man, who might pass as a woman.”

  “A ladyboy?” asked Neil, “are you serious?”

  “A male prostitute, or a rent boy, why not?” asked Lydia, “the description Holly gave us fits that profile far better than anything we’ve come up with before.”

  “Holly also says her scream at the sight of Daphne’s body was magnified because she sensed someone lurking in the bushes. She wanted to attract the attention of those close by to her in case she was threatened. That was a new admission. Holly didn’t say that before. So we have a killer and his partner. Two people in the clearing. We need to establish a true relationship between these two. Were they two male lovers? Or was it a man who paid for casual sex with the boy and Daphne recognised him? Either way, she was killed to stop her talking. If the sex was consensual and part of an ongoing relationship, we need to find the young man with the white trainers and royal blue anorak. He’s guilty of murder by association. He was present when a murder was committed. If he was a male prostitute who fled the scene, then if Daphne had to die, this young man was in grave danger. Who was he, where did he go immediately after the attack? Where is he now? Are we looking for a second body?”

  “Blimey, you two uncovered a can of worms,” said Alex, “it makes our efforts look pedestrian by comparison.”

  “What did Percy the Pervert come up with,” asked Neil.

  “Based on the small tent in his tracksuit bottoms, very little,” said Lydia.

  “When he dragged his eyes away from Ms Barre he identified the young man in Battersby Lane. He’d known all along, but because his perversions needed keeping under wraps, he only revealed the absolute minimum to Culverhouse
. We’re looking for a bloke called Attrill, around thirty years old today. He fell on his head as a young boy and is less advanced in his mental development than his age suggests.”

  “Call Megan Morris, Neil, and find out if she knows this Attrill. He’s obviously local and if he knew Daphne and Bobby, then she’ll probably know of him.”

  “This puts a totally different slant on the case doesn’t it?” said Alex.

  “It does,” said Gus, “and it means unless your work today has thrown up new names then we can virtually eliminate the people on that list of long shots. So, we scrub the ex-colleagues at the Post Office and the volunteers at the Charity shops. Ditto the lady of the Manor and her old retainer, plus the staff at the Primary School. Wally’s mates and Daphne’s neighbours can rest easy too.”

  “Megan Morris says his name is Simon,” said Neil, replacing the phone. “The kids at the Primary School where Daphne worked used to call him ‘Simple Simon’. His mental age is eight. He is thirty, as you suggested and he still lives at home with his parents. Megan told me that Daphne had reported the children involved in the name-calling. The culprits were lectured by their teacher and their parents received a letter from the school. That put a stop to that nonsense for a while. Simon Attrill was bullied by Carl Brightwell and the crowd he hung out with. Most of that has stopped since Carl went to prison. Megan described Simon Attrill as a ‘gentle giant’.

  “We need to talk to Simon and his parents. To discover if he can tell us anything about the hour after he left Daphne Tolliver on Battersby Lane.”

  “Once that’s done I believe we’ve crossed another name off, don’t you, guv?” said Neil.

  Gus nodded.

  Thursday, 12th April 2018

  Gus and Lydia left the office at a quarter past nine, leaving Alex and Neil searching social media and discussing the local prostitution scene with colleagues at the new police station.

  “What will happen to Simon when his parents are no longer around to care for him, guv?” asked Lydia.

  “Over eighty per cent of people in Simon’s situation live with their parents until they pass,” said Gus. “Community care services help those who need care and support to live with dignity and independence and avoid isolation. The services are aimed at those who have a mental illness, learning disability and physical disability. They won’t want to hear it but the best thing his parents could do would be to prepare Simon for his future without them. There are places in the community where he could live independently, with support on hand when he needed it.”