Buried Secrets

by Ted Tayler

Easy for you to say, thought Blessing. She could feel the tension building already. Tomorrow morning she was driving to an unfamiliar place and meeting new people. Blessing would be as nervous as her father.

  Blessing accomplished the one thing she knew she was good at doing. The file was soon on its way to the Hub for Divya to analyse.

  “Ready for me, guv,” asked Lydia.

  “Anna Phillips? Am I going to learn something new?”

  “We did as you suggested, guv,” said Lydia. “We arrived a few minutes before Wayne was due to return from the dentist. Anna wasn’t keen on starting the interview without him. I suggested we go into the kitchen, leaving Alex to keep an eye out for her husband. Once I’d closed the door, I clarified that we would stay there until I was happy that she’d given satisfactory answers to my questions. I stressed that anything she said to me wouldn’t get shared with Wayne. Alex told Wayne the same thing when they talked. Anna wasn’t thrilled, but to leave the kitchen, she had to get through me.”

  “I don’t know where you two girls have picked up these strongarm tactics,” said Gus. “Blessing threatened Bob Duncan, a senior citizen, with something similar this morning.”

  Lydia gave him one of her one-thousand-watt smiles and continued.

  “Anna told me that her boss at the call centre had received a phone call in the autumn of ’93 from a young girl desperate for a job. Anna was twenty at the time and hadn’t met Wayne. The firm hadn’t been open long, and there was barely enough work for the staff they had on the books.”

  “Was she already calling herself Maddy Mills?” asked Gus.

  “Yes, guv,” said Lydia. “I didn’t tell Anna we knew her friend’s actual name. I asked why they offered Maddy a job if things were that tight. She said her boss took pity on Maddy, and she didn’t want to see her end up homeless, so she gambled that the firm’s client list would improve.”

  “It must have done,” said Gus, “both girls stayed there for years.”

  “Anna said she and Maddy got on well. They egged one another on to sign up more new clients. Their boss was pleased because they regularly performed up to twenty percent better than the other girls.”

  “If they got on well at work, did they socialise together as well?” asked Gus.

  “Anna said Maddy was shy. Maddy drank and laughed with the crowd that Anna hung around with, but she didn’t get off with any of the lads. Several tried, but Maddy knocked them back. A couple of times, Anna said she got annoyed when someone she fancied got away because of Maddy’s reluctance to chat with his mate. That changed six months later when Wayne arrived on the scene.”

  “Didn’t Wayne always live in Chippenham?” asked Gus.

  “He moved there from Calne with his job, guv,” said Lydia.

  “Did that drive a wedge between Anna and Maddy?” asked Gus.

  “They were still as thick as thieves at work, guv,” said Lydia, “and they still socialised.”

  “When Wayne played five-a-side football, when he went cycling, and possibly while he played football on a Saturday afternoon,” said Gus.

  “There’s no fooling you, guv,” said Lydia. “Wayne cycled twice as much in the summers, but in the winter months he played eleven-a-side football.”

  “Could Anna remember how Wayne met Alan Duncan?” asked Gus.

  “Anna said the same as Bob Duncan, guv,” said Lydia. “Wayne was in Halford’s one Saturday morning checking out yet another gadget for his racing bike, and they bumped into one another. Neither was keen on joining a local cycling club, but they agreed to cycle together at weekends after comparing their different level of ability. Anna stressed it was a fun way to exercise as far as both men were concerned, and having a companion was preferable to slogging it out on the roads on their own.”

  “Did they socialise on other occasions?” asked Gus.

  “I don’t think Alan was interested in football, guv,” said Lydia. “No, the Saturday cycle ride was their only point of contact.”

  “So, they didn’t meet as a foursome regularly?”

  “That wasn’t something either couple tried to pursue as far as I can tell, guv,” said Lydia. “When Anna had the baby, it allowed Maddy to see her friend more often again. Alan and Maddy were her first choice as godparents. Wayne wasn’t worried whether or not they had Joshua christened. He doesn’t follow any religion. Maddy was happy to get asked. Because it wasn’t likely to get arranged in a hurry nobody appears to have asked Alan how he felt.”

  “I know I’m labouring the point, Lydia,” said Gus, “but although these four connected through work, rest, and play, there was a distinct dividing line. Alan knew Maddy and Wayne, Maddy knew Anna and Alan.”

  “What does that mean, though, guv?” asked Lydia.

  “It adds weight to the argument that Alan and Maddy didn’t include many fresh faces in their life.”

  “The fewer contacts they had, the lower the risk their secrets came out,” said Lydia. “It’s something to consider.”

  “Did you run through the events leading up to the murder with Anna?” asked Gus.

  “Anna told me Maddy visited her while Wayne and Alan went cycling the Saturday before Alan died. They chatted about Joseph, and how things were going at the call centre; nothing relating to Alan. Oh, Maddy mentioned Alan tripping up the stairs after he got home from his Wednesday night run. She thought it was funny. After Wayne got home from the cycle ride on Saturday evening, he mentioned the incident at the pond in Biddestone. Anna told me she tuned his comments out because she didn’t know the village well enough to know what Wayne was talking about.”

  “If I’m right, then Anna and Alan weren’t bosom buddies, so she wasn’t interested.”

  “Right, guv,” said Lydia. “The next Wednesday evening went as per the murder file. Maddy called at half-past nine. She wanted to ask Wayne if Alan had mentioned which route he was taking. Wayne offered to help in the search. The couple went to bed, hearing nothing further. The police called on the couple on Thursday evening. Anna told me they were both shocked to hear of Alan’s death. She still considers Maddy as her best friend to this day. Wayne lost a good cycling partner, and that hurt him.”

  “Maddy hadn’t called Anna before then?” asked Gus.

  “Anna said a DI Banks and a DS Tallentire called on them to make a statement. When she spoke to Maddy later that evening to send her condolences, she learned that the same detectives had been with Maddy and Alan’s parents throughout the day.”

  “Final thoughts, Lydia?” asked Gus.

  “Anna Phillips knows nothing of Maddy’s past, guv. She had nothing to do with the murder, and neither did her husband. I can’t see any point returning to Woodpecker Mews anytime soon.”

  “I agree,” said Gus. “I could have saved you the cost of a new pair of shoes.”

  “Don’t remind me. Do you want Alex to update you on Wayne Phillips now, guv?”

  “Might as well get it out of the way.”

  Lydia returned to her desk, tapping Alex on the head as she passed.

  “Lucky you,” she grinned. “I reckon you’ll get away with just the headlines.”

  Alex joined Gus and ran through his conversation with Wayne Phillips.

  Gus listened intently but didn’t hear a single word that felt out of place or improved his opinion on who murdered Alan Duncan.

  “Can we cross those two off our list now, guv?” asked Alex.

  “Someone needs to go back to Woodpecker Mews first,” said Gus.

  “The latest photographs,” said Alex, “of course. Wayne might recognise one submariner as the mystery man by the pond in Biddestone.”

  “We need to take the same set of photographs to the Crown at Giddeahall,” said Gus. “Maddy told Anna that Alan tripped as he was running upstairs when he got home on Wednesday before he died. Perhaps that was the first occasion when the mystery man showed his face. Maybe something spooked him. It’s a stretch, but we’ve got to try anything at this stage,”


  “Lydia and I could make those visits this evening if it helps, guv,” said Alex.

  “Good idea. Leave early,” said Gus. “Visit the pub first, and then you’ll reach Chippenham in time to catch Wayne before he goes to five-a-side football. That is if he’s still fit enough to run around. Did you ask whether he found a new cycling companion?”

  “Wayne’s a member of the local cycling club these days, guv,” said Alex.

  Gus glanced at the clock. There was no rush for him to get home tonight. Suzie was visiting her parents in Worton. Behind him, he heard the lift descend to the ground floor. Luke and Neil must be back.

  It had already been a long day. Gus decided everyone deserved an early night.

  “Welcome back, lads,” said Gus. “How long to update your files?”

  “We won’t get it done before five, guv,” said Neil. “Not that we think we’ve brought back anything earth-shattering.”

  “Alex and Lydia are off to Chippenham in fifteen minutes. Blessing, you can gather the things that you need for the morning in the Hub. We’ll call it a day when Alex and Lydia leave. Tomorrow we’ll start hunting those submariners and let’s hope one of them can put a name to the only unnamed man in that batch of photographs.”

  There were no complaints from the team. By a few minutes after half-past four, the office was empty.

  CHAPTER 8

  “I don’t think I’ve ever used this road before, Alex,” said Lydia.

  “It takes us to Corsham,” said Alex. “I came this way with Gus when we did the tour of the village of Biddestone. I thought we could use the same roads and lanes that Alan Duncan used to reach the Crown.”

  Lydia sat back and enjoyed the ride as Alex took them cross-country, via Chapel Knapp and Gastard, until they reached Corsham. He threaded his way through town traffic towards Cross Keys and then crossed the A4 London Road.

  “I bet that road was busier before they built the M4 motorway,” said Lydia.

  “It was a major coaching route,” said Alex. “Bath to London in two days. All that stopped in the middle of the nineteenth century when the railways took over. That was when Swindon stopped being a quiet market town. If Brunel had chosen a different route, we might not have heard of it.”

  They were soon in the village of Biddestone, and Alex slowed as they passed the duck pond before turning onto Cuttle Lane.

  “Maddy and Alan lived in that semi-detached house there,” said Alex.

  “How far is it to the Crown pub?” asked Lydia.

  “A mile and a half,” said Alex. “We’ll stop in the car park behind the pub and have a nosey around before we go inside.”

  The car park only contained half a dozen vehicles. Five o’clock on a Wednesday evening marked a lull in trade for the pub that had stood beside the Chippenham to Bristol road for six hundred and fifty years.

  Alex and Lydia strolled out onto Cuttle Lane to get their bearings.

  “Duncan ran here from home,” said Alex, “then he turned around and ran back past his house into the village. A quick circuit of the housing estate topped up his mileage to six miles.”

  “Are you lost?”

  Lydia turned towards the voice that had come from behind them. A tiny white-haired lady stood in the lane with a Jack Russell terrier straining at the leash.

  “No, we’re not lost,” said Lydia. “Thank you for asking. Do you live close by?”

  “My cottage is behind the hedge, dear. It’s early for me to be walking Nipper, but my sister’s calling round later.”

  “Have you lived in the village long?” Lydia asked.

  “All my life, dear,”

  Alex had kept his distance as Nipper seemed keen to live up to his name. He came closer when he heard the dog walker’s reply.

  “We’re with Wiltshire Police,” he said. “I’m DS Hardy.”

  “I’m Tilly Spiers,” the lady replied. “It’s ages since we saw police officers along this lane.”

  “Ten years ago, perhaps?” asked Lydia.

  “I expect it would be, dear,” said Tilly. “Time flies, doesn’t it?”

  “Did you know Alan Duncan, Mrs Spiers?” asked Alex. “He lived in a house further along the lane towards the village; just past the chapel.”

  “Oh, yes, dear, everyone remembers Mr Duncan. Officers in uniform, detectives, and Crime Scene Investigation vans everywhere; it was an exciting time. My sister remembers when they used Castle Combe for a feature film. You couldn’t move for theatrical types and tourists for months. Of course, this was different because it was a murder.”

  “Did you speak to the police at the time?” asked Alex.

  “A young man, dressed like yourself, not in uniform, called on me one afternoon.”

  “Was that a DS Tallentire?” asked Alex.

  “Oh, I can’t remember what he said his name was, dear. He was too young to be a detective, I thought. I usually walk my dog between half-past six and seven in the summer. I told the detective about the stranger.”

  “You had seen a stranger in the village, Mrs Spiers? When was this?” asked Alex.

  “I left my cottage and walked the dog to the end of the road by the Crown. As I came back, I saw him sat in the beer garden. The sun had been high in a cloudless sky since dawn. It was a scorcher, yet he didn’t wear a hat, nor did he use the umbrellas they have sheltering the tables. He sat on a seat close to the wall and kept glancing along the lane as if he expected someone. I tried to place his face, but I couldn’t. He wasn’t a local.”

  “If I showed you several photographs,” said Alex. “Do you think you could pick him out? What can you remember?”

  Mrs Spiers looked across the lane into the field and thought for a while.

  “He was seated, partly hidden by the wall,” said Tilly. “I could only describe his head and shoulders to you with any confidence.”

  “That would be good enough,” said Alex.

  “His hair was cut short. I would guess he was around thirty-five years of age. He wore a white short-sleeved shirt, and I could see a tattoo high on his right arm, but I wasn’t close enough to tell you what it said.”

  “The tattoo featured a word or words rather than pictures or symbols. Is that what you mean?” asked Lydia.

  “Yes, dear,” said Tilly. “It wasn’t one of those complicated things they go for these days.”

  Alex took the profile photos that Blessing had produced and placed them in random order.

  “Take your time, Mrs Spiers,” he said. “Have a good long look at each photo and tell me if you recognise anyone.”

  Tilly Spiers studied the first submariner that Alex showed her. The old lady shook her head.

  “Too old, dear,” she said. Alex knew what to expect with the second photo.

  “Not him,” she said. “That stranger’s hair was definitely not ginger.”

  Alex kept turning over photographs.

  “That’s Mr Duncan,” cried Tilly Spiers. “That wasn’t nice, DS Hardy. Alan was well-liked in the village, he always smiled when he ran by, or if he cycled past with his friend.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs Spiers. Just one more to look at.”

  “That’s him,” said Tilly. “As sure as I’m standing here. He’s a few years younger in that picture, but that’s the man sat in the beer garden that evening.”

  Alex showed Lydia the photo, but she already knew it was the only one they hadn’t identified.

  “Did you see Alan Duncan later that evening?” asked Alex.

  “He passed me as I reached the gateway into the cricket ground,” said Tilly. “I used to let my previous dog have a good run there. She wasn’t as boisterous as Nipper. When I left the field to cross the road several minutes later, I saw Mr Duncan along the lane, opposite his front door. He was running into the village as usual. I almost forgot to look right and left. A car drove past, and I had to step back into the gateway, dragging my dog with me.”

  “Did you see the driver?” asked Lydia.

  �
��He passed me before I could catch my breath,” said Tilly. “I saw the car earlier though in the pub car park. Close to where you parked when you arrived.”

  “Any idea of the make or model, Mrs Spiers?” asked Alex.

  “I don’t drive, dear,” said Tilly. “My sister’s got a Vauxhall. The stranger’s car was a similar shape, that’s all I can say.”

  Alex asked Tilly for a phone number in case they needed to get in touch again.

  “You’ve been a big help, Mrs Spiers,” he said. “I think it’s time Nipper had his run.”

  “Whatever you say, dear. Where are you off to now?”

  “We’ll try the landlord of the Crown next,” said Alex.

  Tilly Spiers wrinkled her nose.

  “He hasn’t been there long, dear. A different company runs it these days. It changes hands often. They don’t get the passing trade they used to in the old days. Its most popular period was forty years ago. They encouraged a certain type of person back then. The place had a rather unsavoury name. Of course, in this modern world that we live in, we live and let live, don’t we?”

  Alex made a mental note to ask Neil Davis what the heck Mrs Spier meant. His colleague knew the local dirt about a wide area of the county.

  “Didn’t you want to speak to Mrs Huggins, DS Hardy?” asked Tilly. Nipper knew where she was taking him next and was pulling her arm out of its socket.

  “Mrs Huggins?”

  “The caretaker for the Wesleyan Chapel. She lives next door. Val saw that car. I remember Val telling me she spoke to the older detective about it ten years ago.”

  “We’ll pay her a visit on our way back into the village,” said Alex.

  Alex and Lydia headed back up the lane to the Crown.

  “I didn’t think we were ever going to get away,” said Lydia.

  “We learned something useful,” said Alex. “Alan Duncan knew that man. Our return trip to Woodpecker Mews should be the clincher.”

  They spent less than ten minutes in the Crown. As Tilly Spiers had suggested, the landlord didn’t have a clue. Alex asked whether any regulars were in who could have been in the Crown that Wednesday evening. The Portuguese landlord shrugged and said his clientele preferred fine wine and gourmet food rather than pints of cider and a burger and chips. The first thing he’d done when he took the pub over was to encourage the locals to drink elsewhere.