A Normal November: The Freeman Files Series: Book 15

by Ted Tayler

  “I don’t think he and Kirsty lasted long,” said Eve. “Other than that, I don’t have any contact with my old Westbury work colleagues. I visit my parents in Westbury from time to time, but they never mention John, and I don’t ask for news.”

  “Did you ever visit Richard at the garage?” asked Blessing.

  “When we first started seeing one another, I admit I drove past the garage to take a look. I was still working at Nationwide and popped around during my lunch break. I admired the fact Richard ran his own business, even though it was a small affair.”

  “Did you meet Matt Merchant and Harry Simpkins?” asked Blessing.

  “Matt, Jess and the children came to our wedding. Harry and Thelma were there too. I had met none of them before that day. Over the next six months, we spoke on the phone if I rang the garage to speak to Richard, and he was with a customer. Richard didn’t mix with them socially. Does that sound snobbish?”

  “Not at all,” said Neil. “We understand you heard the news of Richard’s death while on holiday in Northern Greece,” said Neil. “Was that with colleagues from Nationwide?”

  “One of my best friends was getting married at the end of the month. We had flown from Bristol International on Sunday. The hotel manager took me into his office late on Tuesday afternoon to break the terrible news. It was devastating. I flew home the next morning and went home to my parents. I cried for days. Richard didn’t have an enemy in the world. If someone pointed a gun at him and asked for money, he would have handed over everything he had. They didn’t need to shoot him.”

  “Did you buy Richard the gold chain?” asked Blessing.

  “It was a wedding present,” said Eve.

  “I bet it looked good on him. Do you have any photos?”

  “On my phone,” said Eve. She found the photo in seconds. Blessing imagined Eve often looked at that photo and thought of what might have been.

  “It was a Miami Cuban Link chain,” said Eve. “Twenty inches long, four millimetres wide, in twenty-two-carat gold with a box lock clasp.”

  “Could I have a copy of that photo, please?” asked Blessing. “The chain never surfaced during the original investigation. It might be a long shot, but at least we have a better description of what we’re searching for.”

  Eve agreed to send the image to Blessing’s phone. Neil tried to think of questions they should ask, but the answers they had got so far didn’t prompt many plausible follow-up questions.

  “I hope you make more progress with the case this time around,” sighed Eve. “Despite the hours the detectives from Gablecross put in, especially Tom Spencer, they didn’t find a clue where to look for Richard’s killer.”

  “Our boss asks us to pose different questions of the people who got interviewed the first time around,” said Blessing. “That way, we get different answers.”

  “We still need to know the right questions to ask,” said Neil. He stood up to leave.

  “Thank you for your time this morning, Mrs Chaloner. We’ll get in touch if there’s anything else we need to ask.”

  “Did you return to work at Nationwide after Richard’s murder?” asked Blessing.

  “No, dear,” said Eve. “We sold our individual properties when we married, bought this house with the proceeds, and still had a little to put by for our pension pot. The plan was for me to take a year out and then find a part-time job. When Richard died, I learned he had taken out an insurance policy when he opened the business, which meant I could stay a woman of leisure as long as I wished. I’m itching for something to occupy my days now, so maybe I’ll hunt for that part-time job in a month or two. There’s no rush.”

  “Was there any particular reason for the gap year?” asked Neil.

  “We were trying for a baby,” replied Eve.

  “I’m sorry,” said Neil.

  “It was foolish, but although doctors consider me ancient, we both thought it was a gamble that might pay off. No need to apologise; you have a job to do.”

  Blessing followed Neil to the front door. As she walked past the Welsh dresser, she glanced at another wedding photo.

  “Who was the mate with Richard that first night you met in the pub?”

  “Jeff Hughes,” said Eve. “He was Richard’s best man at the wedding. They went to school together, joined several of those clubs and societies together, too. Jeff’s got a window-cleaning business. You don’t see him up a ladder at a residential property like mine. Jeff and his crew are usually dangling off the side of an enormous building in a cradle. You wouldn’t catch me anywhere near one of those.”

  “We’ll let you get on with your day,” said Blessing. “Bye for now.”

  Once they were back in Neil’s car, he pulled away from the kerb and started the journey back to the Old Police Station office.

  “You got an excellent description of the necklace,” said Neil. “What was behind the random question as we were leaving?”

  “Gus enjoys a Lieutenant Columbo moment,” said Blessing. “I wondered why Eve was home in the daytime. Of course, the insurance money could give her motive to kill her husband, but I believe her when she says she only learned of the policy after the murder.”

  “I agree,” said Neil. “We hadn’t heard of this Jeff Hughes, Chaloner’s best man before, had we?”

  “Hughes was a man Chaloner knew well,” said Blessing. “They were the same age, and he was someone with his own business. Who do we know thirty-five to forty-five years old, driving a white van? Might a window cleaner wear white overalls?”

  “It’s a thought, but if Hughes were best man at Richard’s wedding, Merchant and Simpkins would have met him. Unless they lied to Tom Spencer, then he couldn’t be the white van man arguing with Richard Chaloner.”

  “You’re right, of course, Neil,” said Blessing. “Silly me. I jumped in too quickly again.”

  “Not necessarily; think what it said about Chaloner in the murder file. Something which Eve Chaloner confirmed just now. Chaloner was gregarious, popular, had a wide circle of friends, it’s possible the man on the forecourt knew Chaloner through the Folk Club, the CAMRA crowd, or Round Table.”

  “What is Round Table, Neil?” asked Blessing. “Do they do re-enactments of Arthurian legend?

  “It’s a non-political and non-religious organisation for young men aged between eighteen and forty-five,” said Neil. “Members believe in achieving change and excellence in themselves and their local communities. There are branches around the world, and their motto is to adopt, adapt, and improve. Round Table attracts professionals, such as Chaloner and Hughes. Some think it helps them get on in life.”

  “Did you ever get asked to join, Neil?” asked Blessing.

  “No, and I wouldn’t join the Freemasons, either. I want to get as far as I can on merit, not by being part of a secret society.”

  “We should double-check the murder file,” said Blessing. “Did DS Spencer interview people from these organisations where Chaloner was an active member?”

  “That will be our first job after we get back, Blessing,” said Neil. “You might have found the right place to look for the white-van man. Well done.”

  CHAPTER 6

  In Ponting Street, Matt Merchant closed the door of his office and sat opposite the two detectives.

  “Perhaps we can start again, Mr Merchant,” said Alex. “I’m DS Hardy, and my colleague is Ms Logan Barre. We work with the Crime Review Team from Wiltshire Police, and we’re taking a fresh look into Richard Chaloner’s murder.”

  “I’ll help in any way I can,” said Matt.

  “You said when we were outside that you started here straight from school,” said Alex.

  “My father suggested I should ask Richard for a job. He’d met him at a Round Table branch meeting. Richard had Harry here working with him, and the business was growing. They needed an extra pair of hands. I liked cars. Harry’s a decent sort, and Richard made the garage an enjoyable place to come to work every day. Richard aimed to off
er a quality service with a smile. He reckoned you were more likely to get customers to stay with you, year in year out, that way. Richard pointed out several other lock-up outfits similar to ours that charged over the odds for shoddy work and treated their customers like dirt that went to the wall. We’re still standing.”

  “The detectives in the original investigation asked whether anything unusual occurred in the days leading up to the murder,” said Alex. “Has an incident come to mind that you might have forgotten at the time?”

  “That chap Spencer asked what we did that Monday,” said Matt. “Then they checked we were where we said later that evening. Other than that, they didn’t dig deeper into the months or weeks before Richard died.”

  “Are you telling us you had instances in the previous months where you, or Harry, suspected something?” asked Alex. “Did strangers arrive at the garage looking for Richard, or talk to him outside, so you couldn’t hear what they said?”

  “No, nothing like that. Most of our business came from existing customers. Richard didn’t encourage cold-callers, but we had the occasional visit from a rep, trying to sell us the latest gadget for identifying faults, especially in the newer models.”

  “Did his new wife pop in for a chat or any of his friends?” asked Lydia.

  “Eve didn’t visit the garage,” said Matt. “She rang him from time to time before they got married and after. They made a fine couple. Richard’s death was a tragedy.”

  “Richard was single for so many years while you worked here,” said Lydia. “Did it surprise you when he announced he was marrying Eve?”

  “He always did something in the evenings and at weekends,” said Matt. “Richard wasn’t short of friends. I always thought he’d settle down eventually. The way he behaved with people here, day-in and day-out, was how he was in his social life. There was only one side to Richard, the sunny side.”

  “Let’s switch our attention to the seventh of November,” said Alex. “When was the last time you saw Richard Chaloner alive?”

  “Ten to six that Monday night,” said Matt. “I walked outside through the side door and ran to my car. It was still raining. As I passed Richard’s bicycle, I spotted he had a flat tyre. I went back to the door and shouted for him. He was sitting here, in this chair, catching up with paperwork. He came outside and realised someone had deliberately slashed the tyre.”

  “Neither of you had seen or heard anyone outside during the day?” asked Alex.

  “It must have happened in the afternoon,” said Matt. “We had the front doors open until the wind got up and the rainstorm began. One of us would have spotted someone walking up the side of the garage.”

  “Who might want to slash Richard’s tyres; any ideas?”

  “Not a clue,” said Matt. “It could have been kids. However, most of them were at school. This street is home to mostly elderly people anyway, and we don’t suffer too much teenage vandalism on Ponting Street.”

  “You offered Richard a lift home to Shrivenham Road, didn’t you?” asked Lydia. “That was out of your way.”

  “Yeah, I drove to Wootton Bassett to play football on Monday nights. I made the offer, but I knew he would do it his way. Richard had his wet-weather gear hung up behind me, a repair kit in the drawer of the filing cabinet—everything he needed to keep that old bike of his on the road. A drop of rain wouldn’t stop Richard from cycling to and from work. So, I left him to it and drove to meet with my mates.”

  “Did you see anyone near the garage as you left?” asked Alex.

  “The rain kept people indoors until later that night. I think the storm had passed by eight or half-past. Everything was quieter when I drove home after football.”

  “You were first to arrive in the morning. Was that normal?” asked Alex.

  “I didn’t think I was the first,” said Matt, “because Richard’s bike was there.”

  “Didn’t you spot he hadn’t repaired the tyre?” asked Lydia.

  “No, I was probably looking at the sports pages. I had picked up a paper from the newsagents at the bottom of the road where I live. I tried the door, found it locked, and so I opened the door and walked in.”

  “We know both you and Harry had keys. Didn’t it strike you as odd to find the door locked, even though you thought Richard was inside?”

  “Check for yourself. It’s a Yale lock, and unless we prop it open during the day when we have the front doors shut, it closes automatically.”

  “You only got as far as the doorway, is that right?” asked Alex.

  “I heard Harry whistling as he walked up the pathway. I stepped inside and looked across to this office, but nobody was here, although the lights were on. Harry joined me inside, switched on the workshop lights, and we saw Richard straightaway. Harry made a move towards him, but I stopped him. There was nothing anyone could do. I could see the chest wound from where I stood. I went outside and called the police on my mobile, and Harry joined me outside to wait for them. We didn’t touch a thing, apart from Harry turning on the lights.”

  “Who told you there had been a robbery?” asked Alex.

  “Harry had spotted Richard’s wallet on the floor near the office door as we were leaving to call the police. He pointed it out to one of the uniformed officers when they got here. The officer placed a marker beside it but didn’t touch it. Detective Sergeant Spencer arrived a few minutes later and started getting things organised. It was a shambles before that. Ten minutes later, another van arrived with the CSI crew. It was Piccadilly Circus in here for several hours. Finally, they asked Harry and me to step outside while they collected evidence.”

  “Did you have any idea how much cash Richard carried with him?” asked Lydia.

  “Richard wouldn’t have discussed that with Harry or me.”

  “Did Richard wear any jewellery?” asked Alex.

  “Not before he got married. After that, he wore a wedding ring and that flashy gold chain. It wasn’t as chunky as the ones the rappers wear. It was more elegant than that. Richard liked it. That was the key thing.”

  “Did Eve give Richard the chain?” asked Lydia.

  “A wedding present, I believe,” said Matt.

  “You didn’t approve,” said Alex.

  “When you’re working with machinery, you don’t want things swinging loosely around your neck,” said Matt. “Richard pulled the zip up to the top of his overalls, which reduced the risk of an accident.”

  “I notice your navy blue overalls have a collar,” said Alex. “Are you still using the same brand?”

  “The same brand and colour,” said Matt, “we just changed the logo.”

  “So with the collar and the zip pulled up to the neck, it might not have been obvious Richard was wearing a necklace?”

  “It wouldn’t be easy to see, no.”

  “Unless it was someone who knew him and knew he had worn the chain every day for the past six months.”

  “I suppose so,” said Matt. “But if it was a robbery, the killer might have hunted for items to steal.”

  “This office was largely undisturbed,” said Alex. “They didn’t drag drawers out of the desk or the filing cabinets. Richard’s wet-weather gear and jacket were still hanging on pegs on the wall behind you. They were selective, weren’t they? After all, the only item they lifted from this office was the bank card.”

  “If Richard was doing paperwork when they got here, he would have had the bank card on the desk. I told the police that.”

  “You did, so did Harry. Both of you told the police the PIN was on a scrap of paper pinned to the noticeboard. Not a great idea, was it?”

  “I told Richard it was asking for trouble,” said Matt. “He said he trusted Harry and me. He asked when the last time was that someone was in this office without one of us. I couldn’t even remember it happening. So there you are then, he said, it’s not a problem.”

  “When did DS Spencer return to ask about the three men seen outside the garage on Monday?” asked Alex.<
br />
  “Later in the week,” said Matt. “The garage was off-limits until the CSI crew had finished their work. I called the bank to stop the card. That’s when they told me the card got used the night before, and the killer had taken another four hundred quid. There wasn’t enough left in the account to pay our wages that week. Eve flew home on Wednesday from her hen week. I wanted to ask her what she wanted us to do with the business, but I knew she must be grieving. I called the car owners we had booked in and told them we needed to re-schedule. We closed the place until the following Monday, the fourteenth. DS Spencer visited me at home in Elmina Road and asked about somebody Richard’s age trying to get his van fixed mid-morning. I’d been working on a BMW that morning and took little notice. I couldn’t help him.”

  “Did you see the man with the van?” asked Lydia. “How did you know he was Richard’s age?”

  “Spencer said an eyewitness told them the man was between thirty-five and forty-five years old,” said Matt. “I could only offer a general description of the man and his van. I had the engine running while I was tuning the BMW, plus the radio was playing on the workbench at the side. So I only heard the odd word of their conversation.”

  “Had you seen him before?” asked Lydia.

  “He wasn’t one of our regulars,” said Matt.

  “Did you think he and Richard knew one another? Could they have been friends?”

  Matt Merchant thought for a moment.

  “When DS Spencer asked me at the time, I said I didn’t know. Harry saw and heard more than I did. I thought anything I said only tallied with what Harry told him, so I didn’t bother. Spencer didn’t need to hear the same thing twice.”

  “Two years on, you think there was something you should have commented on, is that it?” asked Alex.

  “I don’t know that it would have made much difference to the investigation, but when I thought about it weeks later, I reckon Richard did know the guy. Where from, I don’t know. He wasn’t at the wedding, so he wasn’t a close friend. He thought he could use the connection they had to persuade Richard to fit him in, regardless of how busy we were. Harry told me Richard stuck to his guns, told the bloke his regular customers came first, and he drove off with a flea in his ear,”