by Ted Tayler
CHAPTER 12
At the end of another busy day, Gus drove home to the bungalow. He knew he was returning to an empty house. Suzie was halfway to the Great Western Hospital to visit Vicky Bennison. He had nobody with whom to share his news.
As he stepped inside the bungalow, Gus heard the tinkle of a bicycle bell. Odd, how comforting that sound could be. It brought back memories of childhood when life was simpler and carefree. But, for Stan Jones, the sight of bicycles racing past his front door held darker, violent memories.
“Good afternoon, Gus,” said Clemency. “I was on my way back to the Rectory when I spotted your car. Is Suzie not home yet?”
“Suzie’s visiting her colleague in the hospital again,” said Gus. “She’ll be home by seven-thirty. Did you want to speak to her?”
“Nothing that can’t wait until the weekend,” said Clemency. She was already turning her bicycle around, preparing to cycle out of the driveway. “I wanted to tell her one of my parishioners was getting things together for a jumble sale. I spotted several books of knitting patterns and asked if I could grab them. They were a mixture of different clothing, so Mrs Chipley won’t suspect I had an ulterior motive. When the nights draw in, I can keep warm knitting bootees and cardigans for the little one.”
And so it begins, thought Gus. Roll on Tuesday when they could let everyone in on the secret. He could understand why he and Suzie were excited, and Jackie Ferris was pleased she would have a grandchild to hold at last. Why the world and his wife took such an interest was beyond him.
Gus gave the Reverend a cheery wave and returned indoors. He’d forgotten something. What was it he was supposed to do today? He grabbed the phone in the lounge and rang the Fox and Hounds. He was lucky; they could offer him a table at eight o’clock. Now he could relax and run through the day's events and plan what should follow in the morning.
Suzie breezed through the gateway at twenty past seven. Vicky had shown a slight improvement since her previous visit. Although there wasn’t time for a complete account, as she needed to shower and change, Gus heard the details as he drove them to the pub.
“I would have driven,” said Suzie when they were waiting for their meal. “You could have had a drink.”
“You drove to Swindon and back after a long day, sweetheart,” said Gus. “I can have a drink at the weekend.”
“How did your interviews go?” asked Suzie.
“The case turned on its head during the second interview,” said Gus. “Luke and Blessing excelled themselves. I’m confident we know our killer, but catching up with him could be tricky. Also, the Hub could add to our list of victims. Once that happens, the equivalent of the FBI will arrive in town, and we locals will stand aside while they take the glory.”
Their main courses arrived, and conversation ceased. As Suzie scanned the desserts board for something she could sensibly order, Gus gave her the updated highlights of the Chaloner case.
“Thursday evening, and you’re wrapping up another case, Gus Freeman,” said Suzie, shaking her head. “Does nothing ever turn sour for you?”
“I rescued a chicken wrap from Kenneth’s office on Monday,” he said. “A slice of Kassie’s summer berry cake was fine when I enjoyed it with a coffee on Tuesday afternoon, but the wrap was history. I can’t win every time.”
“I know,” said Suzie. “It’s galling when you start a case, and it becomes much larger than you ever imagined. Nobody could have foreseen that. Geoff will have no choice but to call in a major investigation team capable of handling the cases of multiple victims across the country.”
“I shudder to think of the number of trips Jones made into mainland Europe,” said Gus. “There’s only one saving grace.”
“What’s that?” asked Suzie.
“If I’m right, we will confine the murders to November,”
“I don’t think I fancy a sweet,” said Suzie. “Can we order coffee and then go home?”
“Your wish is my command,” said Gus.
Friday. 7th September 2018
Gus and Suzie went through their routine in the morning. As Suzie turned into the London Road HQ, Gus flashed his lights and continued towards the office. Neil, Blessing, and Luke had arrived before him. Alex and Lydia arrived in the car park just as Gus was locking his car door.
“Another glorious morning, guv,” said Lydia.
“It’s certainly bright, Lydia,” said Gus.
“My suit’s still at the dry cleaner’s, guv,” she grinned.
“What are we expecting this morning, guv?” asked Alex.
“We can’t expect too much from Divya and the Hub,” said Gus as they entered the lift. “They will need time to interrogate such an extended period. As for the international search, that will take time even to organise, let alone produce results.”
“We’re not out of Europe yet, guv,” said Alex. “I hope their co-operation on finding a serial killer wouldn’t get mired in petty squabbles. If that’s what we’re facing.”
The others were chatting when they exited the lift.
“I’ll call Eve Chaloner and ask about the bike, guv,” said Blessing.
“Neil just raised a valid point, guv,” said Luke. “Is it possible young Stan had another way of monitoring what was going on at the garage?”
“In what way, Neil?” asked Gus.
“The first-floor layout of those terraced houses on Ponting Street is common, guv. The larger bedroom is at the rear, so a parent could sleep during the day if he worked shifts. That means young Stan’s bedroom overlooked the street.”
“A camera? Would today’s technology allow Stan to view Ponting Street at the times he was interested in while he worked in the UK?”
“Without a doubt, guv,” said Neil. “Luke and I wanted to take a trip to Swindon. What do you think?”
“No need to warn Stan Jones senior you’re on your way,” said Gus. “He’ll be home.”
Luke and Neil got ready to leave.
“Take Stan upstairs with you and ask him if he minds you having a look around.”
“What are we looking for, guv?” asked Luke. “Apart from a hidden camera.”
“The power source. Get Stan to switch it off if it’s still operating. Then check the drawers or under the bed for anything that shouldn’t be there.”
“Like a Miami Cuban Link chain,” said Blessing. “Twenty inches long, four millimetres wide, in twenty-two-carat gold with a box lock clasp.”
“Trophies,” said Lydia.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” said Gus.
Luke and Neil were on their way to the ground floor.
“What are the odds, guv?” asked Alex.
“I don’t think they’ll find any trophies in Stan’s bedroom, Alex,” said Gus. “It’s far more likely he’d keep them by him to look at from time to time. So instead, they’ll be in the cab of his truck. Will the camera be operational if there was one? Probably not, but I bet they find evidence of one having been there. It answers several questions.”
“When was the last time you investigated a case like this, guv?” asked Alex.
“A possible serial killer, Alex?” said Gus. “This is my first. Murder is rare in Wiltshire. Moreover, a serial killer is as common as snow in July.”
“It hurts not to get the chance to see the case through to the end, guv,” said Lydia.
“If either of you wants that opportunity, you need to spread your wings and fly from this nest,” said Gus.
Blessing ended a phone call, and Gus saw her give one of her trademark punches in the air. A left-right combination, if he wasn’t mistaken.
“Eve Chaloner had an old bicycle in her garage, I presume?”
“Yes, guv. Eve couldn’t bring herself to throw it out. It’s ready for collection when the next murder squad takes over the case. I remembered another loose end we hadn’t dealt with.”
“The safe?” asked Gus. Blessing nodded. He hadn’t forgotten.
“Eve was aware Richard
had a safe at home, guv,” said Blessing. “He had it moved from his house in Pinehurst when they moved in after the wedding.”
“I suppose we should inform the correct authorities,” said Gus.
“I believed Eve when she told us they were trying for a baby, guv. When I asked whether the safe’s contents helped her decide to stay home rather than look for a job after Richard died, Eve admitted the truth. She was shocked when she opened it and found over twenty thousand pounds inside.”
“Leave that to me, DC Umeh,” said Gus. “I’ll mull it over, and decide what would be for the best.”
“Got it, guv,” said Blessing.
“Let’s update the Freeman Files,” said Gus, “and wait for news.”
Lydia fetched coffees at ten. Alex’s phone rang at five minutes past.
He listened to the voice at the other end, took notes, and ended the call.
“Emma Fox, twenty-three, guv,” he said. “They found her body on November the sixteenth in 2007 on an embankment beside the motorway. Police believed she died after leaving a truck stop on the M6 where she may have attempted to hitchhike south. Emma left home at eighteen, and the police could not identify her or contact her family for ten months. They eventually identified Emma through fingerprints. Death by strangulation. No forensic evidence recovered at the scene.”
“Anything else, Alex?” asked Gus.
“The cashier from the nearest service station thought she remembered Emma wearing a distinctive silver necklace and pendant, with the head of a fox and its brush studded with red stones. I haven’t received the photo of the victim yet, guv, but Divya said the resemblance was uncanny.”
“Thank you, Alex,” said Gus.
It was going to be a long day.
Monday, 10th September 2018
“The start of another new week, guv,” said Neil Davis.
It surprised Gus to find anyone in the office. He’d left the bungalow thirty minutes earlier than usual. Suzie was only just making her way to the shower.
“I thought when we left here on Friday afternoon, I’d put everything to bed, Neil,” said Gus. “While I worked on the allotment yesterday afternoon, I thought it best to run through our files one last time just in case we missed something. What brought you here so early?”
” Melody didn’t have the best of nights,” said Neil.
“Everything, okay with the baby?” asked Gus/
“I hope so, guv,” said Neil. “The high temperatures earlier in the month didn’t do Melody any favours. I was wide awake at six o’clock, so I thought, blow it, I will not get back to sleep before the alarm. If I drove here while the roads were quiet, I could start clearing the decks ready for our next case.”
“Good idea,” said Gus.
“By the way, I bumped into Rick Chalmers on Friday night, guv,” said Neil.
“Did you take Melody for a meal?” asked Gus.
“No, guv. I met up with a couple of mates for a few cold beers. We were in the Silk Mercer in Devizes when Rick wandered in, alone.”
Gus wondered whether Rick and Vera ever saw one another these days.
“How was he?”
“Rick had plenty to say, as usual, guv, but Friday night wasn’t the right time or place for work. He’s spent the past six weeks undercover.”
“It seems to be the role that suits him best,” said Gus. “Unsocial hours, with plenty of scope for fast food and casual relationships.”
“Harsh, guv,” said Neil. “Rick wouldn’t go into detail in front of my mates, but he spoke to DS Mercer after he returned to London Road from this office in mid-July. The boss sent him to join a task force from Avon & Somerset Police. Rick’s involvement in the undercover assignment ended on Thursday evening, and he delivered his report in person to DS Mercer on Friday afternoon.”
“I’m intrigued, Neil,” said Gus. “Any idea where Geoff Mercer might send Rick next?”
“Rick’s on holiday for a week, guv,” said Neil. “The boss told him to recharge his batteries and prepare to return to the seaside.”
“Chasing illegal immigrants again,” said Gus. “I don’t envy him that job. But at least the weather’s fine. Did he give a hint to where Avon & Somerset had him working undercover?”
“Rick said he thought it might interest you, guv,” said Neil.
Gus heard the lift return to the ground floor. The rest of the team was on the way.
“Any idea where Rick’s spending his week of relaxation?” he asked.
“He’s got a flat somewhere in Devizes, guv,” said Neil.
Alex Hardy and Lydia Logan Barre exited the lift and crossed the room to their desks.
“Morning, guv,” said Lydia.
“Did we miss something?” asked Alex.
“No, Alex,” said Gus, “Nothing further yet. Neil and I couldn’t sleep. We were just chatting about Rick Chalmers.”
“I saw him on Friday night,” said Neil. “Alex, you know where his flat is, don’t you?”
“I picked him up on the way to the Hub when we worked on the Grant Burnside case,” said Alex. “A tad ambitious to call it a flat, it was more of a tip.”
Luke Sherman and Blessing Umeh were next to arrive together. They were deep in conversation, and Lydia could tell Blessing had plenty to tell Luke. Jamie Barnes-Trewick was the chief topic, no doubt.
“Now everyone’s here,” said Gus. “Neil has offered to get the office ready for the next case. Can the rest of you double-check everything we added to our files last week, please? I would prefer to spend two hours ensuring we haven’t dropped the ball rather than having our reputation shredded by the Chief Constable. When he passes the case on, he can be confident we did everything by the book.”
“Got it, guv,” said Alex.
Gus checked his mobile phone. Yes, he had Rick’s number. Something told him Rick would enjoy a chat.
“Did I wake you?” he asked when Rick finally answered.
Neil grinned as he passed Gus’s desk with the street maps of Swindon.
Thirty seconds later, Gus ended the call.
“Give me the address of that tip, Alex. I’m collecting Rick in half an hour. He suggested I bought him breakfast.”
“That means he hasn’t got a clean mug to get you a coffee, guv,” said Lydia. “I don’t know how people can live that way.”
“He’s a good copper,” said Gus. “That score’s highly in my book. Neil thinks Rick has something I’d like to hear. Alex, can you do me a favour? There’s no sense in me returning to the office.”
“I understand, guv,” said Alex. “After we’ve cross-checked everything on the Chaloner case, I’ll deliver the files to London Road. Vera Butler can hand them over when you arrive for your meeting with the Chief Constable. If Divya calls with news, I’ll phone it through.”
“You read my mind, Alex,” said Gus as he headed for the lift.
It promised to be another warm, sunny day. Gus threw his jacket onto the passenger seat of the Focus. He wouldn’t need it until his lunchtime session with Kenneth Truelove. If only he could risk opening his windows again.
Thirty minutes later, he parked in a side street near the Leisure Centre in Devizes. Gus thought it ironic that Rick lived so close, considering his love of unhealthy grub and alcohol. However, Gus didn’t have to get out of the car; because soon Rick appeared on the doorstep, slammed the door behind him, and strolled around to the passenger side.
“Mind my jacket,” said Gus, grabbing it before Rick slumped into the seat beside him.
“Sorry, guv,” said Rick. “Do you know Times Square?”
“A big place in New York, yes, I’ve heard of it. Why?”
“Not that one. It’s in the Market Place, guv,” said Rick. “They do a substantial breakfast.”
“I take it you’ve continued to enjoy your break since Friday night when you bumped into Neil?”
“I’ve been home every night, guv, honest,” said Rick. “I hoped to spend Saturday night elsewhere, but
that fell through.”
“A friend with benefits?” asked Gus.
“A reputation, guv. I ought to have known better,” said Rick. “I spotted her on the other side of the room in the Cavalier, on Eastleigh Road. I think you know it?”
Gus nodded. He’d spent an hour there with Terry Davis on the day Neil’s father died. It wasn’t the sort of pub where Vera Butler spent a night out.
“Neil warned me off, but you know how it is,” said Rick.
“I’m not sure I do, Rick,” said Gus. “If Neil warned you off, it can’t have been anyone I might have had in mind. We’re talking about a young WPC, I suppose?”
“Amelia Cranston,” said Rick. “She was with a group of girls her age. I didn’t see any blokes with them. So, I bought Amelia a drink and started chatting. Her friends left us in the Cavalier and went into town. After closing time, we went back to her place. I had been drinking since lunchtime. That was my excuse, but it carried little weight with Ms Cranston.”
“It happens to the best of us, Rick,” said Gus.
“I walked back to my flat on Bridewell Street and was in bed before midnight. When it gets around the locker rooms at London Road, I’ll be a laughing stock.”
“It takes two to tango, Rick,” said Gus. “Anyway, I didn’t drive here this morning to discuss your love life or lack of it. Neil thought you had something of interest to tell me.”
“Sorry, guv,” said Rick. “I need a coffee first.”
Gus parked by the Wharf Theatre, and they took a four-minute walk to Times Square.
Rick ordered the largest breakfast on offer and two coffees. The waitress came straight back with the coffees and then went about her business.
“Does the date Sunday the twenty-fifth of May ring a bell, guv?” he asked, leaning forward and keeping his voice low.
“Four years ago?” asked Gus. Rick nodded.
“That was the day Grant Burnside got shot out at Cheney Manor Industrial Estate,” said Rick. “His son, Gary, was with him as well as his muscle men, Drewett and Hodge. They tortured and killed a guy called Howard Todd. Todd worked for the gang but skimmed a percentage off the top on drug deals he made on their behalf.”