A Genuine Mistake

by Ted Tayler

  “We did,” said Sean. “Rachel enjoyed all sorts of shows. Comedies, dramas, quizzes. We didn’t watch sport twenty-four seven.”

  “What happened then?” asked Gus.

  “I kept an eye on the screen while Byron was racking the balls for a new frame. I saw Ronnie O’Sullivan leaving his dressing-room. The camera tracked him to the top of the stairs, where the MC does the big build-up to bring the players into the arena. Ali Carter was just leaving his dressing room. I knew Dad wanted to see the whole session, so I gave him a call.”

  “What could you see in the hallway?”

  “Nothing, except the front door was partly closed. I went back to the games room to watch the build-up.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “The next thing I heard was this dreadful scream. Byron and I ran into the hallway. The front door was wide open, and Rachel was on her knees, cradling Dad’s head in her lap. There was blood everywhere. We couldn’t move. I remember grabbing Byron’s hand and clinging to him for dear life. Not again, I thought. We’d lost Mum, and now Dad was dead.”

  “Did you hear the gunshot?” asked Gus.

  “We didn’t hear a thing,” said Sean. “Byron had turned up the volume on the TV, and when the door was closed, it was difficult to hear anything outside. That’s why Dad put in the lighting system. The sunroom, games room, and Mum’s studio had sound-proofing. Dad wanted everyone to have quiet when they were working or relaxing.”

  “You were certain that your Dad was dead?” asked Blessing.

  “The wound to his head,” said Sean. “It was awful.”

  “What did Rachel say to you?”

  “She told me to call 999.”

  “Why did you ask for an ambulance as well as the police if you were sure he was dead?”

  “Rachel told me to call them.”

  “How long was it before they arrived at the house?”

  “The paramedics were there first, ten minutes later. Then the police car drove through the gateway. Another six or seven minutes, perhaps.”

  “Did you and Byron stand in the doorway all that time? Except for when you used the landline to call the emergency services.”

  “No. A uniformed officer took us inside. She sat with us in the lounge.”

  “I’m sorry we made you go through that ordeal again,” said Gus. “I know it was the millionth time you’ve done it. Was there anything different on this occasion?”

  Sean shook his head.

  “An unusual evening,” said Gus. “Not the same routine that you followed on other Sundays. Yet surely, several things stayed the same? The three of you were in the games room. Byron was playing you off the table, and Dad was refereeing. I’ve seen the crime scene photographs. Where were the white gloves?”

  “Was he wearing them when he left the games room?” asked Blessing.

  “Yes,” said Sean, “now you mention it. Yes, he was. It was second nature by that time. He must have forgotten he was wearing them.”

  “We’ll check with Rachel,” said Gus. “Maybe your Dad took them off.”

  “If he’d stuffed them in his pocket, guv,” said Blessing. “The police would have found them later. They would have listed the gloves among his belongings.”

  “True. Rachel might have found them near the porch,” said Gus. “Perhaps, Gerry discarded them somewhere while he spoke to the visitor, intending to pick them up on his way indoors.”

  “Byron might remember something that I don’t,” said Sean. “With the shock of seeing Dad that way, I might not have noticed the gloves were missing before I made the phone call. Until you asked just now, I hadn’t given them a thought.”

  “Thank you for your time, Mr Hogan,” said Gus. “We’ll let you get on with your day. You’ve been most helpful. The white gloves could be the first fresh lead we’ve found since we started.”

  “I’m not sure how the gloves could lead you to Dad’s killer, Mr Freeman,” said Sean.

  “Nor do I,” said Gus, “but for some reason, I feel more positive than I did before we spoke with you.”

  “When is Byron due back in this country?” asked Blessing.

  “If he keeps winning matches, he’ll play in the final on Sunday and fly back to Bristol on Monday. I can give him a ring and say that you want to talk to him at the house on Monday evening. Is that okay?”

  “We’ll put the date in our diary,” said Blessing. “What if he loses before then?”

  Sean grinned.

  “He’ll fly back at the weekend, but he won’t want to chat. He’s not used to losing.”

  “If our other enquiries push us in a different direction, we may need to reschedule anyway,” said Gus. “Will Byron fly out for another tournament later next week?”

  “I think they’re off to China at the weekend.”

  Gus and Blessing left the office and met the ever-smiling Emma in the reception area.

  “Thank you for visiting Hogan Finance. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  Gus wasn’t interested in financial affairs. He was interested in a pair of white gloves.

  CHAPTER 11

  “That was a surprise, guv,” said Blessing.

  “Back to the car, Blessing,” said Gus. “The game’s afoot. Those gloves are the first thing that has differed from the first investigation. Kirkpatrick didn’t find them. We’ll check with Rachel Cummins.”

  “If Rachel didn’t rescue them from the porch, then where could they have gone?” asked Blessing. She had to hurry to keep up with her boss. He was on a mission.

  “Rachel wouldn’t have removed them from Gerry’s hands, surely, guv?”

  “If she was traumatised by what she found outside the door? Who knows what either of us would do in those circumstances?”

  “I reckon the killer took them,” said Blessing. “He needed to ditch the gun. He used the gloves to wipe the weapon clean of fingerprints.”

  “That’s a possibility,” said Gus. “Rachel would spot their visitor was already wearing gloves. It was a pleasantly warm evening in early May.”

  They reached the station car park. Gus sat inside the Focus and waited for Blessing to get comfortable.

  He drove out of Bradford-on-Avon and headed for the office.

  “A helmet, gloves, and leathers are de rigueur for a moped let alone a proper motorcycle,” said Gus. “Our witness said it sounded like an angry wasp. It always seemed that any bike the neighbour heard was something a kid rode, not an adult male. I’m more convinced than ever that it’s irrelevant.”

  “The man was casually dressed, guv, not in motorcycle gear,” said Blessing. “If he intended to confront Gerry Hogan and shoot him, he would want to be in and out of that driveway in seconds. He must have arrived at the house by another means.”

  “How far was it to walk to the house from the nearest bus stop?” asked Gus, “Buses do run out to Trowle Common. Could he have walked to the house, shot Gerry, and then taken the gloves with him?”

  “It would have been simple enough to pull the gloves from Gerry’s hands,” said Blessing. “Then run away, clean the gun, drop it into a drain, and make his way back to Trowbridge or on to Bradford-on-Avon. He could have dropped the white gloves in the first waste bin he saw.”

  “It’s a theory, Blessing,” said Gus. “We’ll test it when we’ve got the answers we want from Rachel and Byron.”

  “Although…” said Blessing.

  “Go on,” said Gus, “What doesn’t fit?”

  “Why take both gloves? The killer only needed one to remove his fingerprints. Why waste the extra few seconds it took to remove the second glove? In fact, why not leave the gloves where they were and just use them to wipe the gun clean?”

  Gus pondered the scene for a few seconds.

  “No, that won’t work. The killer needed something to help disguise the gun as he made his escape. How would he carry it without leaving evidence or risk it getting spotted? There’s something else that’s troubling me.”

&nb
sp; “What’s that, guv?” asked Blessing.

  “If this were a hired assassin, he would make the necessary preparations beforehand. He wouldn’t stand on the doorstep working out what to do next.”

  “It was always possible it was someone with a grievance,” said Blessing. “Someone that Gerry had pushed to the brink. If it were the first time that they’d fired a gun, they could have panicked.”

  “That’s more than likely,” said Gus. “It opens up another possibility, Blessing. The gun was there to threaten Gerry Hogan, but murder was never part of the plan. Our surprised killer had a dead body at his feet and a smoking gun. The gloves provided a temporary cover, plus a way of wiping the weapon clean. The rest of the picture we painted still holds good. He ran off, cleaned the gun and dropped it down a drain.”

  Gus rapped the steering wheel.

  “I knew there was something funny about that gun.”

  “Why, guv,” asked Blessing.

  “There was only one shot fired. That was what the neighbour heard. Forget the motorcycle backfiring. That’s rubbish. When the council operative discovered the gun five months later, it was empty. It only ever had one bullet in it.”

  “That begs another question, guv,” said Blessing. “If murder wasn’t on that man’s mind, why bother with ammunition at all?”

  They arrived in the Old Police Station car park, and Gus parked the car.

  “Have I made things worse, guv?” asked Blessing as they entered the lift.

  “Our first job is to ask Rachel Cummins about the gloves,” said Gus.

  The rest of the team were spinning their wheels, waiting for information from the Hub.

  “We’ve heard nothing yet, guv,” said Luke. “They promised something by close of play today.”

  “Did you two make any progress?” asked Alex.

  “White gloves,” said Blessing. “Sean Hogan told us his Dad wore white gloves when refereeing frames between him and Byron. We’re checking whether Gerry Hogan wore them when he stepped outside the house.”

  “He wasn’t wearing gloves when he died,” said Lydia, looking at the crime scene photos on the wallboard.

  “Ah,” said Blessing. “He might have been. The killer could have removed them.”

  Neil Davis gave a low whistle.

  “Either he was a cool customer, or something went wrong,”

  Blessing nodded. Gus was still talking on the phone.

  “We can’t ask Byron whether he remembers the gloves until he gets home from his latest snooker tournament,” she said.

  “Who’s he playing this week, Blessing,” asked Neil. “Is it the Russian billiards player, In- off the Red?”

  “I don’t know the names of any professionals,” said Blessing.

  “Some fall on stony ground, Neil,” said Alex.

  Gus ended the call and leaned back in his chair.

  “Right, I don’t know how much Blessing has told you of what we learned from Belinda and Sean Hogan, but this case could have just turned on its head.”

  “If it’s a positive turn, I’m in favour, guv,” said Luke.

  “Rachel Cummins has just told me she didn’t pick up any white gloves on the porch,” said Gus. “She was adamant that Gerry wasn’t wearing gloves.”

  “Is she suggesting Sean was mistaken, guv?” asked Neil.

  “Not at all. Sean told us Gerry wasn’t the only one to wear the gloves. They took it in turns when they refereed a frame to replicate what Byron would experience in his career as closely as possible. It was one of many examples of coaching him on the road to becoming world champion.”

  “What next, guv?” asked Luke.

  “Sean knows we wish to speak to Byron. I’m hoping he hasn’t rung him already and mentioned those gloves. I want to get to him before he’s aware of what Sean told us.”

  “We have a contact number for a World Snooker representative, guv,” said Luke. “Shall I try to get through to Byron this afternoon?”

  “You can try, Luke. Sean mentioned China next weekend. They’re playing in Europe somewhere this week. At least we shouldn’t need to get Byron out of bed.”

  “Unless he’s a chip off the old block,” said Lydia.

  Luke made the call.

  “We’ll update our files,” said Gus. “The rest of you will need to wait until tomorrow morning to have time to read through what the two of us learned. When did you last give the Hub a nudge, Lydia?”

  “It’s only half-past three, guv. Divya said we’d get the information by five.”

  “I’m not hanging around until five to find they’re sat on their backsides thinking they can afford to wait until the morning before getting in touch. Get on the phone. Tell them we need it pronto.”

  “Yes, guv,” said Lydia.

  “Any luck, Luke?” asked Gus.

  “Byron’s match in the round of the last sixteen was this afternoon, guv. He won four frames to one. He won’t play his quarter-final until tomorrow evening. You should receive a phone call from him at his hotel in Antalya in fifteen minutes.”

  “Excellent,” said Gus. “We might get one thing cleared up before we go home.”

  Gus started keying in his notes from the interviews with Belinda and Sean Hogan.

  “Divya apologises for the delay, guv, but one server has been down this morning,” said Lydia. “We should hear about Gerry’s girls by lunchtime tomorrow. However, the forensic accounting routines carried on without interruption. Hogan Finance has been as clean as a whistle since the day Gerry Hogan started the business.”

  “Thank you, Lydia,” said Gus. “Well, that puts another loose end to bed. If his killer had a grievance, it had nothing to do with the way Gerry handled his money.”

  Blessing wondered what Gus would do if Divya came up empty-handed.

  Gus’s phone rang fifteen minutes later.

  “Turkish delight, I wonder?” he said before picking up.

  “Good afternoon, Byron. Gus Freeman here, from Wiltshire Police. I don’t know if you’ve heard from Sean.”

  “No, sir,” replied Byron.

  “Well, my colleague DS Sherman contacted you earlier in the week to explain what we’re doing. As I told Sean this afternoon, no case is ever closed. Six years ago, we didn’t find your father’s killer, but we could be closer to the truth now. I don’t need to trawl through the same ground I went over with your brother. I wish you to tell me one thing, and one thing only. Think back to when your Dad heard Rachel call him on that Sunday night. Remind me, where were you?”

  “In the games room. We were playing a few frames before the evening session started.”

  “You were playing Sean, is that right, and Dad was the referee?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You heard Rachel call out. Then what happened?”

  “Dad went to see who it was at the front door.”

  “Did he do anything before he left?”

  “He told me off for swearing. The amber light flashing put me off. I got into perfect position on the final black, but the red wobbled.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “No. Why?”

  “So Dad still wore his white referee gloves?”

  “He must have. Dad didn’t remove them. I’m positive. I can see him now, wagging a finger at me because I swore.”

  “That’s fine, Byron,” said Gus. “That was what we needed to know. I hear you won this afternoon, is the tournament going well?”

  “I played poorly and won today,” said Byron. “I’ll have to up my game tomorrow night if I want to be around at the weekend.”

  “Good luck,” said Gus. “We might pop over to Trowle Common for a chat next week before you fly out again.”

  Gus ended the call.

  “Listen up,” he said. “Let’s run through our revised scenario. Gerry is outside with a stranger just after six-thirty. Gerry is casually dressed and wearing a pair of white gloves. The stranger has a weapon containing a single bullet. There’s an argume
nt, and the gun gets fired. Gerry falls to the ground, fatally wounded. Rachel hears Sean calling for his father and leaves the gym at six forty-five. When she opens the front door, the stranger has gone. Gerry is dead and no longer wearing the gloves. What happened?”

  “The gunman took them,” said Alex, “but why?”

  “Over to you, Blessing,” said Gus.

  “If there was a motorcycle in the area that evening, it had nothing to do with the murder,” said Blessing. “If someone who wanted Gerry dead hired a killer, they would have expected them to prepare for every eventuality. To use a silencer to mask the sound and deliver two shots to the head, which is standard. Loading a single bullet is the action of an amateur. The gunman panicked at the sight of blood. Probably, they never meant to kill Gerry Hogan, just to frighten him. The gunman hadn’t prepared for something like that to happen, so they had to think fast. They took the gloves from the body, used them to wipe their fingerprints from the weapon. Then they wrapped the small handgun in the gloves and escaped.”

  “On foot?” asked Neil.

  “There are three bus services and four stops on the Common, Neil,” said Blessing. “Our killer could have arrived at the Hogan house at six-thirty. I’ve checked the times. When he ran away, sometime between six-thirty and six forty-five, he wouldn’t have wanted to jump on a bus straight away. The driver, or a passenger, might remember him. He got rid of the gun in the drain and then ditched the gloves in a bin he passed.”

  “Can you see any flaws in that scenario?” asked Gus.

  “We still don’t have a motive, guv,” said Lydia. “It sounds a plausible sequence of events, but why was the stranger there in the first place?”

  “The only source for that information is at the Hub,” said Luke.

  “That was a long shot, at best,” said Alex.

  “Where do we go if Divya doesn’t find a suitable candidate?” asked Luke.

  “The answers to these questions and more in tomorrow’s episode,” said Neil.

  “I admire your confidence, Neil,” said Gus. “You heard Blessing’s theory of how things went based on the facts we have. Is there an alternative scenario?”