by Ted Tayler
“You met Vicky last Monday morning,” said Gus. “You told me how nervous she was about someone seeing her arrive or leave London Road. A damaged soul, you said.”
“The partner must have been watching,” said Suzie. “As Vicky got home from work in Andover on Thursday evening, he attacked her as soon as she put her key in the front door. He must have shoved her into the hallway and punched and kicked her until she was unconscious. When Vicky didn’t arrive for a group meeting later that evening, a colleague drove round to check on her. The paramedics said it was touch-and-go whether Vicky would make it. She suffered broken ribs, a damaged spleen, and multiple cuts and bruises to her face and stomach. Her fractured skull was a major concern, as there was associated bleeding. Vicky’s still in intensive care.”
“Did they catch her attacker?” asked Gus.
“He did not know where his wife and children were,” said Suzie. “Her colleagues believe Vicky refused to tell him, and that’s why the assault was so severe. He phoned his in-laws and threatened them with violence because they told him the charity didn’t tell them his family’s whereabouts to protect them. The woman’s father called the police as soon as the call ended. The police arrested the partner twenty minutes later when he drove up to the house, leapt out of the car with a baseball bat, and started hammering on the door. It took four uniformed officers to muscle him to the ground.”
“Let’s sit in the beer garden for a while before I go inside to get us a drink,” said Gus. “This has been a nasty shock.”
“It’s my fault, Gus,” said Suzie. “If I hadn’t contacted Vicky to see if there was a way we could work together.”
“You can’t blame yourself, Suzie. Neil and I met Vicky when we worked on the Gerry Hogan case. I thought she was ready to trust us again, and I knew that if anyone could get her to return to the fold, it was you.”
“But I gave the interview to the press,” said Suzie. “I stood by the PCC when he gave his spiel. Vicky wasn’t there, but it feels like I put a huge target on her back.”
“You can’t know that, Suzie,” said Gus. “Vicky has worked with families in the Andover district for three years. Although she was our connection to the victim support charity because of her background, any work you did together would have benefited both sides.”
“I was due to meet her on Wednesday week,” said Suzie. “I need to call her colleague in the morning to check on Vicky’s progress. I want to visit the hospital if I can. Her friend posted that letter on Saturday. What a mess.”
“The partner will face his day in court,” said Gus. “As for the wife and kids, they need time to heal. Vicky’s colleagues can ensure that happens, and then they’ll get re-housed somewhere in the country where the abuser won’t find them.”
“What about me, Gus?” asked Suzie. “Will he come after me if he can’t find them? That man associates me with Vicky Bennison. He blamed Vicky for persuading his wife to leave him and getting her into the refuge. Will I be in danger when he gets out of prison?”
“What do the sentencing guidelines tell us?” asked Gus.
“He could serve as little as three years if the court believes there were mitigating circumstances. I don’t believe there were in this instance. The maximum term is sixteen years, but the average sentence is way below that.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, sweetheart,” said Gus. “We can speak to Geoff Mercer when the time is right. If there’s any hint this guy will attack again, the courts can issue a restraining order.”
“He’s already shown that won’t stop him, Gus.”
Gus didn’t have the answers Suzie wanted to hear. The system wasn’t perfect. Vicky Bennison was the victim of a violent and unprovoked assault. The court’s verdict should be cut-and-dried, and it wouldn’t surprise him if the partner received the maximum term. How much of that sixteen years would he serve? Ten or twelve, perhaps. If it was ten years, Gus would be seventy-two by then, sat at home in his carpet slippers. What protection could he give? Very little, apart from his security cameras that had gathered cobwebs since he last needed them.
Gus wanted to tell Suzie this guy would be a changed man after ten years in prison. He wanted to say it would be impossible to sustain the level of anger and bitterness shown last week until the day of his release. He wanted to, but he couldn’t.
Gus watched Suzie wringing the life out of her handkerchief. She didn’t need stress in her condition. Of course, Gus was no expert, but it was reasonable to assume stress could affect the baby’s physical and emotional development.
He was about to suggest they gave up on the idea of a night in the pub and went home when he heard a bicycle bell ring. Brett Penman and Clemency Bentham had arrived. They parked their bikes against the beer garden wall and came down the path to join them.
“You’re here already,” said Clemency, who still wore her battered bonnet but had changed into a floaty summer dress. Brett strolled along behind her in shorts and a t-shirt, looking as if he’d spent two weeks in the Mediterranean.
“Where did you get that suntan, Brett?” asked Gus.
“I can assure you I haven’t been lying in the sun,” he said. “I’ve spent several early mornings and afternoons checking on a string of horses out at Beckhampton over the past ten days. If you spent a few hours out of doors, you’d catch the sun too.”
“Is everything alright,” asked Clemency. She sat next to Suzie straight away.
Gus nodded to Brett that they should leave them to it while they went inside to fetch drinks.
As they stood by the counter waiting for their order, Brett asked what had happened.
“Suzie was hoping to work closely with a woman from a victim support charity on matters associated with domestic abuse. They met recently to sketch out a programme in which Wiltshire Police could help. The partner of one wife the charity was helping attacked Vicky, and now she’s in hospital. It’s given Suzie a nasty shock.”
“They should lock the guy up and throw away the key,” said Brett.
“You’ll get no argument from me,” said Gus.
When they returned outside with their drinks, Suzie and the Reverend were still talking.
“You had better sit, Brett,” said Clemency.
Brett did as he was told, and Gus followed suit. He was unsure what was coming next.
“We can’t have champagne,” said Clemency, “but we can still celebrate the news. Suzie is expecting. Isn’t that wonderful news? I get so few christenings to perform. Gus, I do hope you’ll do me the honour.”
Brett and Clemency raised their glasses and offered a toast.
“You’re very kind. We haven’t thought that far ahead, Reverend,” said Gus. “You know where I stand on religious matters. We planned to tell everyone the news next week.”
“Sorry, Gus,” said Suzie. “Clemency thought there was something odd about me suddenly switching to non-alcoholic drinks. Her mind took her in every direction when she saw me in tears when they arrived. It was better to tell her there was nothing seriously wrong with me and that I was eleven weeks pregnant. My emotions are all over the place anyway, and the attack on Vicky tipped me over the edge.”
“I put Brett in the picture while we were inside,” said Gus.
“I told Suzie not to blame herself, Gus,” said Clemency. “The blame lies squarely on the shoulders of the monster who abused his wife and children and then attacked the one person who gave the poor woman the courage to leave him. I’ll pray for them tonight. I know I should pray for him too, but I have to draw the line somewhere.”
“Was the pregnancy planned?” asked Brett.
“No way,” said Suzie. “It was a happy accident.”
“I echo that sentiment,” said Gus. “I admit it came as a surprise. But we sat down and discussed matters like sensible adults, and thirty seconds later, we agreed we wanted this baby more than anything.”
Gus saw the look Clemency gave Brett Penman. He was undecided what
the look meant. The Reverend could have been wondering whether they would ever be in a similar position or checking if she should ask if he and Suzie would get married before the baby arrived.
“Have you two eaten?” asked Brett.
“We thought we’d eat here,” said Gus, looking for Suzie’s reaction.
“I want nothing more than a lighter bite,” said Suzie.
“I’ll join you,” said Clemency.
When the landlord called last orders, Brett and Clemency disappeared into the gloom at the top of the beer garden to make their way home. Gus went inside to settle the bill but found the veterinary surgeon had beaten him to it.
“Special occasion, was it?” asked the landlord.
“The first Monday in September,” said Gus. “a Canadian custom, I expect.”
Gus and Suzie left the pub through the front door and walked up the lane to the bungalow.
“I asked Clemency to keep the news under her bonnet until next week,” said Suzie.
“If you can’t trust her with a secret, we’re in trouble,” said Gus.
Tuesday, 4th September 2018
Gus had showered and made his way to the kitchen to start breakfast before Suzie made a move. He knew she was still coming to terms with what happened to Vicky Bennison. Between them, Brett and Clemency had persuaded Suzie she shouldn’t blame herself, but until they convinced Suzie that Vicky was out of danger, she would remain anxious.
“I’ll call the charity as soon as I get to work this morning,” she said when she joined him. “I want to check on Vicky’s condition with the person who wrote that letter. Then, if I can arrange a visit to see Vicky in the hospital this evening, I’ll get a message to you.”
“Fair enough,” said Gus. “We hope to start interviews today. Most of those will be in Swindon. Just text me when you know the details. We’ll eat at home tonight, anyway, so leave dinner to me.”
“Thank you, darling,” said Suzie.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, but Gus was happy Suzie finished her bowl of cereals and yoghurt.
“Are we ready for the off?” he asked as the kitchen clock ticked around to eight-fifteen.
“I suppose so,” said Suzie. “It’s cooler this morning, thank goodness.”
“I don’t need to risk opening my windows on the Focus today then,” said Gus. “I’ll have to think of another minor problem to present to a garage owner in Swindon.”
“Are you thinking of buying a new car?” asked Suzie.
“Heavens, no,” said Gus. “Our altered circumstances might encourage me to hunt for a second-hand family saloon next year, but a new car would be extravagant in the extreme.”
As they stood beside the Golf and the Focus, two minutes later, Gus could tell from how she looked at his motor, Suzie had other ideas on the car situation. The argument was far from resolved. He hoped the Focus couldn’t read minds. They had a series of trips to Swindon and back to negotiate together over the coming days.
“See you somewhen this evening,” said Suzie.
Gus hardly had time to get comfortable in his driver’s seat before the Golf had left the driveway. He followed at a more conservative pace along the lane until traffic on the Lydeway allowed him to close the gap. As he passed the London Road entrance, Suzie waved to him as she reached the steps leading to the main building’s front door.
Thirty minutes later, Gus parked beneath the Crime Review Team office and prepared to travel up in the lift. Lydia’s Mini was to his left, and Neil’s car on his right. He heard a car arriving as he pressed the lift button.
“Morning, guv,”
It was Blessing Umeh, looking full of the joys of early September and a new love interest.
“Ready to get stuck into our new case, Blessing?” asked Gus.
“Can’t wait, guv,” said Blessing. “After dinner last night, I considered what I read yesterday in the murder file. There are so many unanswered questions. The detectives had too many unidentified vehicles and persons of interest. If we were discussing one of your famous jigsaws, they were missing the straight-edged outside pieces.”
Gus laughed.
“That’s not a bad analogy, Blessing.”
Luke Sherman was last to arrive. As he parked on the end of the rank next to Blessing’s Nissan Micra, she and Gus held the lift and waited.
“When I was a girl,” Blessing continued, “my mother used to collect the straight-edged pieces for the larger puzzles and kept them separate in a small bag in the box. One of those bags the banks used to use for coins. My father accused her of cheating, but I thought it was clever.”
“It would help if we could use a similar ploy when tackling complicated cases, Blessing,” said Gus.
“Morning, guv,” said Luke. “How are you today, Blessing? Did Jamie BT call you as promised?”
“He did,” said Blessing as they rode to the first floor. “Jamie’s taking me to dinner tomorrow evening. I’ve warned my mother she will need to call me no later than six o’clock, or she’ll miss me.”
“That’s good to hear,” said Luke. “You should strike out on your own, Blessing. At twenty-two, I’d cut the apron strings, and my parents knew better than to try to learn what I was doing twenty-four seven.”
Gus kept quiet. His experience of the generation gap with his parents had been troublesome at times. However, listening to Lydia and the others over the past six months had made him realise the issues he’d gone through were nothing as traumatic as younger people had to grapple with today.
The prospect of what challenges his son, or daughter, might pose was something he hoped he and Suzie could handle. So far, their age difference hadn’t caused friction. But, if he was still around when his child was twenty-two, the same age as Blessing, would he avoid alienating Suzie and their child with his antiquated opinions of right and wrong?
As Gus followed Luke and Blessing into the office, he decided to park that potential thorny issue until Saturday afternoon at the allotment sat outside his shed.
Neil stood, waiting for Gus to reach his desk.
“I gave Jake Latimer a call last night, guv,”
“Right, let me check what everyone needs to do today,” said Gus. “Then you can give me the low-down on how Sengupta and Spencer handled this case. Luke, what’s the plan for this morning?”
“Matt Merchant can see us at eleven o’clock, guv,” said Luke. “They’ve got a busy day. But the apprentice isn’t at college, so Harry Simpkins can check what she’s doing while the boss gets interviewed. Merchant will relieve Harry once we’ve finished, and that should be it for the garage personnel, won’t it?”
“I don’t see any reason to speak to Ms Buckland,” said Gus. “Did you tell Matt Merchant who was coming or tell him what to look for?”
“I couldn’t give him details, guv,” said Luke. “You hadn’t indicated who was going.”
“The Chief Constable is eager we don’t go anywhere alone in the future,” said Gus.
“That’s my fault,” sighed Blessing. “Sorry, guv.”
“Not altogether, Blessing,” said Gus. “The Chief Constable told me to take Alex or Neil with me for interviews when I started back to work. My consultant role means I can’t make an arrest. So, no more flying solo for any of us. Alex and Lydia can visit the garage at eleven. I’ll meet you there; you’ll understand why later. Did you arrange appointments for this afternoon, Luke?”
“Not specifically, guv. Eve Chaloner will be at home on Shrivenham Road throughout the day. I just need to call her to say when someone’s arriving.”
“Neil and Blessing can handle that meeting and can leave as soon as you’ve made the call. What about the detectives?”
“Raj Sengupta is in his office every day this week, guv. Tom Spencer won’t be easy to get reach; he’s working north of Lyneham. They’ve had another rash of thefts of agricultural machinery deep in the countryside. Tom’s travelling between farms in Christian Malford and Dauntsey Lock.”
“W
hen Alex and Lydia arrive at the garage, I’ll drive out to Gablecross,” said Gus. “The Chief Constable can’t complain if I meet a fellow DI without someone holding my hand. So keep trying to locate Tom Spencer, and if he ever finds his way back to civilisation, perhaps we can meet with him.”
“Okay, guv,” said Luke. “Before I leave the office, I’ll confirm arrangements with the people on Ponting Street. Tom Spencer got statements from; Catherine Fryer, Stan Jones, and Ralph Robinson.”
“Who the heck is Ralph Robinson?” asked Gus.
“He was the witness who saw the white-van man arguing with Richard Chaloner, guv,” said Luke.
“Did his name appear in the murder file?” said Neil. “I didn’t spot it.”
“It was in one appendix, hidden away,” said Luke. “He wasn’t supposed to be on Ponting Street that morning.”
“How old is he?” asked Gus.
“He was sixty-eight at the time of the murder, guv,” said Luke. “His wife thought he’d driven out to South Marston to tend to his parent’s grave.”
“Did he get lost?” asked Neil. “Robinson was sixty-eight. It happens.”
“Careful, Neil,” said Gus. “You’re entering dangerous territory.”
“Sorry, guv,” said Neil. “Did he admit to Tom Spencer what attracted him to Ponting Street?”
“It’s only a short walk from Manchester Road, guv,” suggested Alex.
“I’ll call Eve Chaloner now, Neil,” said Luke.
“Thanks, Luke. It will stop me digging a bigger hole.”
Even though he worked in Salisbury, Gus was well aware the streets around Manchester Road became known as an area where sex workers worked in reasonably large numbers in years gone by. Residents had worked hard, with much success, to rid their neighbourhood of that reputation. Two years ago, and only weeks before the murder they were now investigating took place, the coverage of a trial of a double murderer led to its resurfacing. That killer had a history of soliciting for prostitution around Manchester Road, and it was there that he came to know one of his victims. According to comments in the media, prostitution was rife in the town, an accusation many local people believed unfair.