A Genuine Mistake

by Ted Tayler

“Not one I can justify with irrefutable facts, guv,” said Neil.

  “Back to the drawing board,” said Lydia.

  “How are you getting on with your file updates, Blessing?”

  “Over halfway, guv. Belinda had plenty to say.”

  “I don’t think we can give you guys anything to bite on until the morning. Why don’t you have an extra hour at home? Blessing and I will finish up here, and we’ll see you in the morning. We’ll be hanging around until lunchtime, anyway.”

  Alex and the others didn’t need asking twice. They packed up and left.

  Gus and Blessing continued updating their digital files.

  “I’ve finished, guv,” said Blessing. “Do you mind if I get off home to Worton?”

  “No, you can run along, Blessing,” said Gus. “I’ll be five more minutes.”

  “How’s your jigsaw going, guv?” she asked as she passed his desk.

  “I’ve completed the outside pieces, Blessing,” said Gus. “Tomorrow, I hope your pal Divya will deliver the missing pieces to help fill in the gaps in the middle.”

  Friday, 17th August 2018

  Gus headed into town, ready for a new day at the office. He and Suzie had enjoyed their planned quiet night at home. They talked and listened to music. Gus considered the case.

  After parking the car, Gus took the lift to the first floor. He was the first to arrive.

  Gus stood by the whiteboards and went through the details one more time. Where hadn’t they looked? What was it about the picture showing Gerry Hogan lying on the driveway that bugged him? Lydia had asked why the stranger was there in the first place. Luke thought the motive for the killing relied entirely on the news they would get from the Hub later.

  How was that going to help? The lift returned to the ground floor.

  Alex and Lydia emerged from the lift a minute later.

  “Does it make any more sense this morning, guv,” asked Alex. “Looking at it with a clear head?”

  “Picture the crime scene photo with Gerry Hogan wearing white gloves,” said Gus. “Does it alter anything that Kirkpatrick and Bennison assumed in the first few hours of their investigation?”

  “I can’t see why, guv,” said Lydia. “If the killer were there to do a job, nothing Hogan said or wore made any difference, did it? The killer might think it odd, but we don’t know how long they stood outside, talking or arguing before he shot him.”

  “You spoke about motive last night,” said Gus. “What have we eliminated so far?”

  “I did not relate to the business,” said Alex.

  “We can’t find anyone with an axe to grind, guv,” said Lydia.

  The lift descended to the ground floor once more.

  Luke and Blessing were next to arrive. They stopped by the whiteboards to see what Gus and the others were studying. The lift moved as soon as the doors closed. Neil was in the building.

  “Not the business, no personal grievances with people we know about,” said Gus. “Did the killer shoot Gerry as soon as he stepped outside the front door?”

  “No, guv,” said Luke. “Rachel removed her headphones before answering the door. She needed time to put them on again and start exercising to her music before the shot, or she would have heard it.”

  Neil Davis strolled into the office.

  “Did I miss anything?” he asked.

  “Can you remember the police surgeon’s comments in his post-mortem report, Neil?” asked Gus.

  “He reminded anyone who read his findings that the primary cause of death at the scene is usually blood loss. If a bullet damages key blood vessels, and there isn’t enough time to stop the bleeding, the victim will bleed to death.”

  “How can you recall that word-for-word, Neil?” asked Blessing.

  “Peter Morgan was the police surgeon,” said Neil. “Pedantic was his middle name. He added that rider to every report he wrote when there was a head wound that resulted in death.”

  “What does it mean in our case?” asked Gus. “Anyone?”

  “The mortality rate from untreated gunshot wounds to the head is ninety percent and rapid,” said Neil. “If Gerry Hogan was dead when Rachel Cummins found him at six forty-five, then the gunshot had to have occurred soon after Rachel returned to the gym.”

  “To give him time to bleed out,” said Alex. “How does that help us?”

  “It tells us that the killer could identify himself,” said Lydia.

  “And explain why Gerry had to die, guv,” said Blessing.

  “Why did he have to say a word?” asked Neil. “Why not fire as soon as he saw Gerry?”

  “You missed something, Neil,” said Gus. “Rachel didn’t hear the shot. The man had asked for Gerry Hogan by name. He knew of Gerry, even if he didn’t know him. Perhaps he gave Gerry the reason for wanting him dead. How long was that gap between Rachel leaving the front door and resuming her exercises, Luke?”

  Luke considered the layout of the Trowle Common house. He gauged the distance from the front door, past the kitchen, and to the gym. He imagined Rachel stepping inside, throwing down her towel and putting on the headphones.

  “Forty-five seconds at least, guv,”

  “The average person speaks at one hundred and twenty words per minute,” said Gus. “They had a conversation of at least ninety words. Gerry asked what the guy wanted. Is it possible for the gunman to explain why Gerry had to die in less than a hundred words?”

  “If the reason was simple, guv,” said Alex.

  “And Gerry didn’t keep asking questions,” said Lydia.

  “How does that help, guv?” asked Neil.

  “We’ll know more when we’ve got the data from the Hub,” said Gus. “But it helps build a better picture of our gunman.”

  “What has it changed then, guv?” asked Alex.

  “We started with a tall, white, casually dressed man of indeterminate age,” said Gus. “That was the description DI Kirkpatrick had to work with. After speaking to Rachel Cummins, Luke and I expanded that to a tall, white, scruffy man dressed in casual clothing in his mid-twenties. Someone from a working-class background. Now we have a few more things to add. He might have a criminal record. How would an innocent man know where to get hold of an unlicenced gun? We know he wasn’t a seasoned killer because he didn’t make basic preparations. He loaded just one bullet into the gun. If he had murder in mind, what would he do if he had a misfire? He removed Gerry’s white gloves to help clean the gun.”

  “How would Gerry Hogan have come into contact with a criminal, guv?” asked Lydia.

  “When we discover that, Lydia,” said Gus. “We’ll be well on the way to solving this mystery.”

  Everyone moved from the whiteboards to their desks. Gus and Blessing had updated their digital files, so Neil, Luke, Alex, and Lydia had plenty of catching up to do. Gus enjoyed the silence as they concentrated on every word that had passed between Gus and Blessing and the victim’s sister and eldest son.

  Who else could they speak to while waiting for the Hub to pull their finger out?

  Gus flicked through the sheets of paper on his desk. What had he done with that contact number Geoff Mercer sent through for Vicky Bennison? He found it and decided to give her a call.

  Gus waited as the young woman gave the charity's name for which she now worked and introduced herself.

  “Good morning, Vicky,” said Gus. “My name’s Gus Freeman. I believe you know a colleague of mine, DS Neil Davis. He sends his best wishes. Can you spare us a quarter of an hour this morning?”

  “I remember Neil. Does he still have a terrible sense of humour?”

  “Some things never change, Vicky,” said Gus. “We were both sorry to hear why you left the force.”

  “Then you’ll understand why I’d prefer not to talk to you.”

  “Neil works with me as part of a cold case review team. Our current case was one you worked on with John Kirkpatrick. Do you remember the Gerry Hogan killing?”

  “That must have been
five or six years ago. Before I transferred to Thames Valley.”

  “Six years, yes,” said Gus. “Are you still working in Oxford?”

  “I’m based in Abingdon. You will not take no for an answer, will you?”

  “Fifteen minutes of your time,” said Gus. “We’ve made progress, but we still have one or two missing pieces. Something you noticed at the time might help bring Gerry’s killer to justice.”

  Gus sat, waiting, as Vicky considered her next move.

  “I take a break at noon. Meet me in the Abbey Gardens. I don’t want a police car anywhere near our premises. The people we deal with are as wary of the cops as they are of the villains.”

  “A sign of the times, Vicky,” said Gus. “Don’t worry. We’ll be discreet. I’ll make sure Neil’s on his best behaviour.”

  Gus ended the call.

  “Are we off, guv?” asked Neil.

  “Vicky Bennison has agreed to give us fifteen minutes in Abingdon. How long will it take to get there?”

  “If I’m driving, about ninety minutes, guv,” said Neil.

  “We’ll need to leave by ten,” said Gus. “That’s not ideal, with the Hub business, but needs must. Alex, you can do the honours. As soon as Divya sends her results through, get the rest of the team working on them. You know what we’re looking for.”

  “Got it, guv,” said Alex. “Will you let us know what you get from your meeting before you drive back? It might save us chasing a dead-end if Vicky Bennison provides you with a hot lead.”

  “Good point, Alex,” said Gus. “You never know your luck,”

  “We haven’t had a lot of good luck on this case, guv,” said Lydia.

  Gus and Neil left the office a few minutes after ten. Neil drove them out to join the M4 on the other side of Chippenham, and then they left the motorway at Junction 13.

  “Ever been here before, guv?” asked Neil as he searched for a car park close to the ruins of the ancient Abbey.

  “I can’t say I have had the pleasure, Neil,” said Gus. “I had a quick look online before we left. The ruins result from the collapse of a later addition. Something that the Victorians termed a folly rather than centuries of decay. Since 2012 the town added ‘on Thames’ to its name. Perhaps they thought it added a certain cachet to the place, but it smacks of desperation, don’t you think?”

  “Abingdon’s sixty miles from London, guv,” said Neil. “I don’t suppose they would have been in a rush to claim the moniker if the Thames was as filthy as it used to be twenty years ago.”

  “The water is certainly cleaner than in the old days, Neil,” said Gus, “but they still get a dead body dragged from the river every week of the year. There’s still work to do.”

  Neil found a car park, and by ten minutes to twelve, the two detectives had located a quiet corner in the Abbey Gardens.

  “You’ll recognise Vicky Bennison, I presume?”

  “She won’t have changed that much in ten years, guv,” said Neil. “Despite everything she’s been through.”

  Gus heard a church clock chime in the near distance. He looked across the grass towards the ruined folly. Was this a waste of time?

  “Hello, Neil. You must be Gus Freeman. Good morning.”

  “Blimey, you crept up on us, Vicky,” said Neil. “How are you?”

  “You two remain seated. I’ll stay here under the shade of the tree. Your fifteen minutes have started, Mr Freeman.”

  Gus knew there was no point in arguing.

  “What were your first impressions when you arrived at the house on Trowle Common?”

  “It seemed clear enough. Someone had shot Gerry Hogan in the head. His partner and his sons recounted what had happened that evening. A stranger arrived on the doorstep asking to speak to Gerry Hogan. He shot Hogan and left.”

  “Nothing struck you as odd?” asked Gus.

  “Not at all. We returned to the house the following morning to carry out a door-to-door, looking for witnesses. Nobody saw a thing, but one elderly neighbour remembered hearing something. He couldn’t give us an accurate timing. It might have been irrelevant. I drove to Bradford-on-Avon to talk with the victim’s sister after that.”

  “The news of her brother’s death came as a shock,” said Gus.

  “Nobody had contacted her the previous night,” said Vicky. “I asked John if that was odd. He said that the young partner, and the sister were bound to be at loggerheads. When the will came to light, that explained everything. No matter where we looked for motive or opportunity, we couldn’t tie anyone to the killing. A month later, John and I switched to another case.”

  “How far did you extend the search?” asked Gus.

  “We knew about the victim’s early life, but there was nothing there. Why wait thirty years to settle a grievance? I suggested the partner could have had a motive. John asked me to dig into her past.”

  “Rachel Cummins came from Haslemere, in Surrey,” said Gus. “Her mother and father split up eighteen months after she was born.”

  “That all seemed genuine, Gus. There was only one red flag that I spotted. I showed John, and he dismissed the bloke as being too much of a stretch.”

  “Go on,” said Gus.

  “Well, Rachel left home after her mother shacked up with an old boyfriend.”

  “Lawrence Wallace,” said Gus. “He gave Rachel the creeps.”

  “Wallace didn’t have a record, and there were no cautions or instances where a woman had made a complaint against him. I never met the man, so I can’t comment. Maybe Rachel was right to be cautious. It was Wallace’s son that had a criminal record. Carl Wallace was twenty-eight years old. He had committed a range of offences ever since he was fifteen years old. John looked at the list. I had to agree that Carl never got accused of a violent offence. John thought that if we widened the net far enough, we’d always find a killer related to someone remotely connected to a name on our list of witnesses.”

  “The six degrees of separation theory,” said Neil.

  “Something like that, Neil,” said Vicky. “Are you married now?”

  “To Melody, yes,” said Neil. “We’re expecting our first child. What about you?”

  “I was living with someone when I got injured. I was in a dark place after the physical wounds healed, so, I can’t blame my boyfriend for moving out.”

  Gus was eager to get the conversation back on track.

  “So, you didn’t chase up this Carl Wallace character to check he wasn’t on Trowle Common that night?” asked Gus.

  “John wanted to test other theories closer to home. He thought it was more likely that Gerry Hogan had frittered away someone’s life savings in a dodgy investment scheme. That’s all the time I can spare, Gus. I have no more to add, and I need to get back to the office.”

  Vicky stepped out from under the tree and started to walk away.

  Gus walked beside her, with Neil following two yards behind them.

  “Look, Vicky, we know what happened to you back in 2015,” said Gus. “You joined the police to protect and to serve the public. You felt that both the public, and the police had abandoned you to the mob after you suffered those injuries during the protest march.”

  “The situation was grave three years ago, Gus. It’s a darn sight worse now. There’s no chance of any protest being peaceful. Where are they held? Ninety percent of them are in cities, which makes them nigh on impossible to police. There are so many inter-connecting streets for people to join the marchers. The original organisation that arranged the march with the police might attract tens of thousands of peaceful souls on the day. Then all sorts of pond life crawl out from under rocks and get onto their What’s App group to publicise their battle plan. They know how we police protests, Gus. Everything we do is choreographed. Extremists, anarchists, racists, you name it, they know every tactic, every weakness, and once they’ve infiltrated the crowd, they change the nature of the protest. It’s not random. They plan every step. Before the hour is out, you’ve got a rio
t on your hands.”

  “You were a great loss to the force, Vicky,” said Gus. “The work you’re doing here with this independent charity is commendable, but I wish there were a way that we could have found a role for you within the police, away from the front line..”

  The trio reached the main street, and Vicky prepared to cross the road.

  “This is where we go our separate ways, Gus,” she said. “Nice to bump into you again, Neil.”

  “Don’t give up on us just yet, Vicky,” said Gus.

  With that, Vicky Bennison gave them a brief smile and dashed across the road.

  “A troubled young woman, guv,” said Neil. “I don’t think you’ll persuade her to come back to the fold.”

  “Maybe not, Neil,” said Gus. “I’ll talk to Suzie later. Perhaps she can get through to her.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Gus and Neil returned to the car park and headed out of Abingdon towards the motorway.

  “Do you think DI Kirkpatrick was too hasty in dismissing this Carl Wallace, guv?”

  “I don’t like coincidences, Neil,” said Gus. “The first thing to do is to find out where he is now. He could be inside. Who knows? We can have a chat, check his whereabouts in May 2012, and move on if there’s nothing there. I’ll call Alex. He can start the ball rolling.”

  “What could be his motive anyway, guv?” said Neil. “If Carl still lived in Surrey, why travel a hundred miles to speak to Gerry Hogan? How would he know Hogan in the first place? Six degrees of separation is about right.”

  “It made more sense if he’d asked for Rachel,” said Gus. “Lawrence Wallace lived with Rachel’s mother. Or at least he did when Rachel left home. That situation could have changed by 2012. I should have asked her about that when we spoke the other morning.”

  “It wasn’t something that appeared relevant, guv,” said Neil. “We didn’t know this Carl fellow existed until ten minutes ago. Although Rachel thought Lawrence was a creep, he wasn’t still with Carl’s mother by the sound of it. Carl could have left home already by then. His parents would have thrown him out if he was as much trouble as Vicky reckoned.”