Barking Mad

by Ted Tayler

  “When are you visiting Bert?” asked Suzie.

  “I promised Clemency I’d drop by when things were quiet.”

  “We’ll both go tomorrow,” said Suzie, “otherwise you’ll keep putting it off.”

  Gus started hoeing. There was plenty to do now, without Bert’s input. He looked across at his friend’s patch of ground, and although it looked in far better condition than his, there were still a few weeds that needed attention.

  “I’ll see to Bert’s housekeeping,” said Suzie, “you concentrate on your rows of plants. Right, take me through this interview you had with Jenny Malone.”

  “It felt genuine,” said Gus, “Mark’s father left when their son reached eighteen. Jenny ran her own business, and Mark moved out at twenty.”

  “What did his father do for a living?”

  “Gerry Malone’s an architect.”

  “And Jenny’s business?”

  “An employment agency that she runs from home.”

  “Your notes suggest you’re too concerned with where Mark got the money to pay for his customised BMW.”

  “Well, wouldn’t you be? A young man, working as a pet shop manager, driving that car. It didn’t sit right with me.”

  Gus carried on working. Suzie continued to read for a while, and then she started weeding Bert Penman’s allotment.

  “Mark loved animals,” said Suzie.

  Gus was further up his patch of ground and realised Suzie had said something. He straightened up and looked towards her.

  “Sorry,” she said, “I was thinking out loud. Jenny Malone made a point of that. So did Patrick Boddington. Does it fit with being in league with a gang smuggling dogs into the country?”

  “Luke’s research suggested there was enough money in it for organised crime gangs to milk it for all it was worth. We concluded that they recruited Mark at a dog show, and he made enough money from the deal to buy his fancy motor. What do you think we’ve missed?”

  “You know I started at Pony Club as soon as I was old enough to sit in a saddle,” said Suzie. “I’ve adored horses all my life. Can you imagine me helping someone bring ponies over from the continent in horrendous conditions, just to give me the cash to upgrade my GTI?”

  “Never in a million years,” said Gus, laying his hoe on the ground. “We need to go back to something that happened before he met Emir Polat and the others. Something that enabled Mark to buy the car.”

  “Once you’ve done that, you might discover the real motive for his murder,” said Suzie.

  “Can we stop work for a while and enjoy this lunch I prepared?” asked Gus, “I put two small bottles of Chardonnay in the cooler. Your intuition might have given us a fresh lead to pursue on Monday. That’s an excuse for a minor celebration.”

  “I didn’t see a corkscrew in the bag,” said Suzie, unpacking the food.

  “Just as well I bought the screw-top variety then,” said Gus, “I’m no wine snob.”

  After they devoured the lunch and polished off the wine, it was time to resume work on the allotment. The church clock struck six o’clock before they felt ready to call it a day.

  “We’ve made a start,” said Gus, “another stint tomorrow, and I’ll be happy.”

  “We’re calling on Bert Penman tomorrow, don’t forget,” said Suzie. “His well-being is more important than that of a few plants. Anyway, those clouds hold rain. We won’t need to water this evening and tomorrow could be a washout. Why don’t we pack away your tools, get back home for a shower, and change out of these dirty clothes?”

  “Will you need to borrow my shirt again?” asked Gus.

  “I brought clean clothes in the car,” said Suzie. “This gardening lark develops a thirst, doesn’t it? No wonder Bert is such a regular visitor to the pub. I vote for a meal in the Lamb and an early night.”

  “Motion seconded,” said Gus, “and carried.”

  Sunday, 10th June 2018

  Gus was awake early and felt far better than he did yesterday.

  The Lamb had been a superb idea of Suzie’s yesterday evening. Their food was excellent, the cold lagers hit the spot, and the locals were keen to chat. Any planned early night was soon a memory.

  Gus and Suzie had sat in the beer garden. The clouds Suzie identified as rain-bearing still gathered over the village. At ten o’clock at night, they delivered that sticky, uncomfortable feeling that often precedes a thundery downpour. The deluge came at three this morning and was one reason that Gus woke so early. The storm did little to lower the temperature.

  Irene North had been the first person to leave the heat of the bar and come outside to join them last night.

  “I went to see Bert today, Mr Freeman,” she began, “he’s depressed. I took fresh fruit round to him and a half-bottle of his favourite Scotch. What a terrible thing to have happened, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, Irene,” said Gus, “we’re planning to call on him tomorrow.”

  “Suzie Ferris, isn’t it?” asked Irene, turning her attention to Suzie. “I was at school with your father. He was younger than me, of course.”

  Delicately put, Irene, Gus had thought.

  “That’s me,” said Suzie. “Dad often talks about when Frank worked on our farm. We were sorry for your loss.”

  Fifteen-all thought Gus. No doubt John Ferris had to check the contents of his barns to see nothing went missing while Frank was there. Frank North was a rascal.

  Irene North soon drank up and walked home. The bar door opened and Clemency Bentham came out with a tall glass with several ice cubes.

  “A slimline tonic, before you ask, Gus,” she said, “it took me two days to recover from that whisky you gave me the other evening.”

  “That was medicinal. By the way, we’re both visiting Bert tomorrow,” said Gus.

  “Wonderful,” said Clemency. “You’ve been busy on the allotment too; I dropped by there at eight this evening. I wanted to harvest lettuce, spring onions and radishes to add to my salads this week.”

  “Did you cycle here tonight?” asked Gus.

  “No, I walked,” said Clemency. “I cycled seven miles this afternoon while I composed my sermon. I embrace technology coming from the background I did, and I record it as I ride, then I type it into a file tomorrow morning ready for evensong.”

  Clemency chatted with them for a further ten minutes before leaving. Gus and Suzie watched the world go by until the landlord called time.

  “Your turn to cook breakfast,” said Suzie, raising her head from the pillow for the first time this morning. Gus knew any chance of a further daydream was out of the question.

  “Shower first, and then I’ll get cracking,” said Gus.

  “Wait for me,” said Suzie.

  “I’ll get brunch then, shall I?” asked Gus two hours later. Suzie nodded and turned over. Gus headed for the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, they sat together in the kitchen, eating breakfast.

  “What are your plans for the day, after we’ve visited Bert?” asked Suzie.

  “We could pick up where we left off on the allotment,” suggested Gus. “Unless you want to drive somewhere, dodge these rain showers while we take a walk, and then visit a restaurant.”

  “Highly preferable to the other weekend,” said Suzie giving a tiny shiver.

  “Do you want to discuss that now?” asked Gus, “We’ve avoided it so far this weekend. I didn’t want to spoil the mood on Friday night. What was your reaction to the news last Monday? Who told you about Sandra Plunkett’s death?”

  “Geoff Mercer called in the evening and told me the full story,” said Suzie, “I was at home when the news broke around lunchtime. They said then that it was a tragic accident. I never liked the woman, and I wanted her arrested for what she’d done, but I never wished her dead. That was a sad end.”

  “You were snooping around at London Road when news of Ricky Gardiner’s death got released, weren’t you? Kassie and Vera spotted you outside Geoff’s office.”

  “I was c
rawling up the walls with boredom sat at home,” said Suzie. “When Geoff told me Gardiner was dead, I felt empty. My day in court snatched away from me. There was nothing I could do. I’d never get the chance to watch him get the sentence he deserved.”

  “There are sure to be repercussions following the Culverhouse affair,” said Gus. “A talented prosecution lawyer will dig out his past misdemeanours. Terry Davis’s reputation might get a deserved polish at last. The more wrongdoing they can pile on the charge-list, the better.”

  “I never met Culverhouse,” said Suzie, “but hiding the hit-and-run, ordering Terry Davis’s murder, and killing Ricky Gardiner merits more than a life sentence. If he were a common criminal, it would be bad enough, but this guy was touting to be a Chief Constable. Just imagine how the media will spin it. What Culverhouse did was despicable.”

  “We can draw a line under that now and move on. London Road will have a new Police Surgeon in July, and possibly a new Chief Constable. As for the Crime Review Team, Neil’s back in the morning, and Alex is on the road to recovery. Fingers crossed there’s no relapse, and he’ll rejoin us in early July. The same week as Blessing Umeh.”

  “What a splendid name who is she, and where is she from?” asked Suzie.

  “Blessing was the DS in Leamington Spa who worked with DI Andy Carlton when they discovered your GTI. Andy rated his DS highly, and when her parents move to Bath, Blessing wants to come with them. Her father is taking up a post at Bath University in September. The ACC snatched her from under the noses of Avon & Somerset.”

  “If they haven’t moved south yet, where will Blessing stay in the interim?” asked Suzie.

  “Lydia’s place would be my first choice, as they hit it off straight away that day. Alex might not appreciate Lydia getting a flatmate, though. Vera Butler could offer to put her up for a month or two. I’m not sure what Blessing would make of Kassie Trotter, and I don’t know what Kassie’s situation is in that house in Worton. I’ve stopped outside there, watched her dart through the hedge, and heard a door slam. Whether she’s renting a room or a self-contained flat, I’ve no idea. Do you know?”

  “It’s near the pub, isn’t it? I’ve heard Kassie say she rents a room from a mate from school, but she doesn’t give much away. One thing’s certain; she’s better off than if the ACC hadn’t saved her from a life on the streets.”

  “We still haven’t decided what’s happening later,” said Gus. “Come on, let’s visit Bert and offer our condolences. Why don’t we try to persuade him to spend an hour at the allotment? If we can get him out of the house, it might kick-start his recovery. If nothing else, it will take his mind off the funerals next Friday, even if only for an hour.”

  “I agree,” said Suzie. “That’s settled. We’ll spend time with Bert, then drive somewhere for a meal. I’d better leave before eight to get my stuff ready for work in the morning. You’re right, next Friday will be awful for Bert, with not being able to get there.”

  “Clemency and Irene plan to spend time with him throughout the day,” said Gus “I couldn’t commit to a time when I spoke with Clemency. Who knows what Friday will bring?”

  Gus persuaded Suzie to let him drive to Bert’s house. He didn’t fancy trying to get Bert into her GTI.

  It felt strange knocking on his old friend’s door. They must have spoken a thousand times on the allotment, but neither man had ever visited the other’s home.

  “It’s open, come on in, Mr Freeman,” said Bert, “I saw you coming up the garden path.”

  “Why does Bert need an allotment?” whispered Suzie, “heaven knows how much land he has at the back, but there’s more than enough here.”

  “I’m guessing this front garden was Cora’s domain,” said Gus, “lots of different bushes and flowering shrubs that provide ground cover. Not the worst view to have out of your front window, is it? Tess would have approved.”

  They found Bert sat in a high-backed solid looking chair by the fireplace. The cushions softened the blow. His stick lay idle on the nearby table.

  “I’m sorry it took so long to get round to see you, Bert,” said Gus.

  “I understand, Mr Freeman. You’re a busy man,” said Bert. “I’ve met you before too, haven’t I Miss? You were with Mr Freeman when they found poor Frank North’s body.”

  “That’s right, Mr Penman,” said Suzie, giving the old man’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m Suzie Ferris.”

  “We did the weeding for you, Bert,” said Gus, “Suzie and I worked on the allotment for four hours yesterday. There are still a few things that need seeing to, but we weren’t sure what to do first.”

  “Gus tells me if he gets stuck he only has to look up and call across to you, and you have the answer,” said Suzie.

  “I haven’t been along there for a while,” said Bert, “not since it happened. I still can’t take it in, Mr Freeman. My David was such a careful driver. Forty years without an accident. What day is it today?”

  “Sunday, Bert,” said Gus, “didn’t you hear the church bells earlier?”

  “I can’t miss the darn things when I’m on the allotment,” said Bert. “My Cora wanted to live closer to the church so she could hear them, but I persuaded her to move here, on the edge of the village.”

  “How long have you lived here, Mr Penman?” asked Suzie.

  “Sixty-two years, Miss,” said Bert.

  “If we take you to the allotment in the car, Bert, can you tell us what jobs need tackling?”

  “Will that Ford Focus of yours stand the extra weight, Mr Freeman?” asked Bert.

  Suzie offered him an arm to help get out of the chair. She needn’t have bothered. Bert had his stick in his hand and was halfway to the front door.

  With Bert safely seated outside his shed, Gus and Suzie did as Bert ordered for the next hour. The fresh air and the company worked their magic. Bert would have a long hard road to travel before he could manage his loss. Gus knew it was likely that he’d never get over it totally, but this afternoon had been the first step to a kind of normal.

  Gus drove back to Bert’s just after three o’clock, and while he chatted to Bert, Suzie put the kettle on.

  “Tea for me, Miss,” he said, “two sugars, but don’t tell the Reverend, She’s been pestering me to join her on a diet.”

  “The Reverend cycles everywhere of late,” said Gus, “I can’t see her persuading you to join her, Bert. I reckon your allotment keeps you fit enough without additional exercise.”

  “Her heart’s in the right place,” said Bert as Suzie returned with two coffees and a sweet tea. “She’s been a blessing these past few days.”

  “We visited the Lamb last night,” said Gus, “the place wasn’t what it was. The landlord wondered how long he could survive without his best customer.”

  “Get away with you, Mr Freeman,” said Bert, “I’ll be back in there for a pint of cider tomorrow. I’ve spent too long feeling sorry for myself. We didn’t sort out every problem along there today, and nature has its way of healing. I’ve tinkered in my garden here, but it’s not the same.”

  “We admired your front garden as we came up the path,” said Suzie, “do you have much land at the back of the house?”

  “I’ve got apple trees at the bottom of the garden,” said Bert, “and my greenhouses either side of my lawn. There’s no room for much else.”

  “Do you ever run out of things to do?” asked Suzie.

  “When I do, that will be the day I turn up my toes,” said Bert. “So, I need to keep busy. I’m not done yet.”

  Gus and Suzie thought it was time to make a move. Bert Penman would ride out this particular storm in his life.

  “I’ll drop round to see you later in the week, Bert,” said Gus, “who knows, I might wrap up this latest case and have an hour on the allotment one evening. Perhaps we can pop into the Lamb after we finish and have a drink together?”

  “Of course, Mr Freeman,” said Bert, “anything to keep the place running for the community
. We should do our bit.”

  They left Bert in his high-backed chair and walked back to the car.

  “Mission complete,” said Suzie.

  “Well, the first stage anyway,” said Gus, “so, where do you want to eat?”

  “Let’s drive out to the Waggon & Horses at Harrington End.”

  Gus’s recalled his first kiss with Vera.

  “Been there, done that,” he said, “I’ve driven past the Fox & Hounds several times and never stopped for a meal. Why not try somewhere different?”

  “It’s got an excellent reputation,” said Suzie, “finger’s crossed the place isn’t busy.”

  They didn’t have long to wait for a table, and sitting outside with a cold beer on a warm evening was no hardship. Two hours later, Gus swung the Focus into the driveway of the bungalow and parked beside Suzie’s GTI.

  “We’ve had a grand weekend, haven’t we,” she said.

  “Rounded off with a fine meal too,” said Gus, “another name to add to our list of restaurants we enjoy. It’s almost eight. I guess you’ll be on your way?”

  “I need to use your bathroom first, if I may?” said Suzie, dancing on the doorstep.

  Gus opened the door, and Suzie disappeared. He wandered into the lounge.

  When Suzie returned, she’d collected several items of clothing from the bedroom, including his pink shirt, and looked ready to go.

  “I’ll get the washing on when I get back to the farm,” she explained. “What did you do with my Greg Allman?”

  Gus pointed to the stack of favourites, and Suzie nodded in appreciation. It appeared the album was staying.

  Gus saw Suzie to the door, and they kissed goodnight.

  “I hope your first day back goes well,” said Gus.

  “Good luck with your case,” said Suzie, “I hope our joint effort yesterday helps you make progress. Say hello to Neil for me, too. I’ll call you tomorrow night, bye.”

  Suzie made her customary noisy exit from the driveway and Gus closed the front door. Crikey, it was quiet here without her.