by Ted Tayler
“It was when we were in Dubai back in 2003,” said Lenny. “It was my swansong. I was coming out within twelve months, and I had followed this trainer and his horses for months. I just knew they were holding back that horse for a killing. You see it all the time. They run in nothing races and tell the jockey to hold his horse in check, don’t give the stewards any hint that you’re not trying. Then when the season’s almost over you bring the horse out for one last run. She was nowhere in her last six races. Fifty-to-one she was that evening. I told Alan to pile on with everything he had. We both did.”
“What happened?”
“Finished fifth in a field of six. I could have wept.”
“How much were you in for?” asked Gus.
“The best part of ten grand each,” said Lambert.
“When did Alan come up with the plan?” asked Gus.
“We met up for a drink in Glasgow between Christmas and Hogmanay,” said Lambert.
“Alan proposed that he approached the Russians with information about this country’s nuclear submarines,” said Gus. “I assume he asked for twenty thousand?”
Lenny Lambert gave a wry smile.
“Here’s me spilling my guts because I thought you knew everything already,” he said. “You’ve got it all wrong.”
“What happened then?” asked Gus.
“Alan would never have sold us out, and I wouldn’t have let him. But Alan was a superb draughtsman. He produced drawings that passed muster when we handed them over to a contact he made on the Dark Web via the Tor browser. Alan exchanged the drawings for cash in Moscow the following May. We got the bookies off our backs, I retired, and came here after winding up Freddie’s affairs.”
“When did you learn about Alan’s murder?” asked Gus.
“When your bloke called to arrange this meeting. I was serving a customer when I heard my phone on Sunday at lunchtime. I recognised the 01249 code from the mainland as being familiar. Alan and I swore never to get in touch again. We couldn’t risk it. I wondered who it was calling and why, but they didn’t try again, so I forgot about it.”
“Bob Duncan still had a contact number for Freddie Watts in his diary,” said Gus. “I guess he called, got no reply, and didn’t want to leave a message. Did Alan know Freddie was dying?”
“No. Freddie didn’t want the others fussing around him, pitying him. They were out on patrol when Freddie died. Keeping that quiet from Alan too was all part of the plan.”
“Surely the Russians soon twigged you had conned them?” asked Alex.
“If it took them four years before they sent someone to find Alan, it doesn’t say a lot for their Intelligence people. Alan thought unless they boarded one of our vessels, they couldn’t be certain his drawings were anything but genuine. The longer I lived here without a problem, the more I thought we’d got away with it.”
“Yuri Kovalev was the contact in Moscow, wasn’t he?” asked Gus.
“I never met him,” said Lenny. “Alan travelled to Moscow alone.”
Alex showed Lenny Lambert the photograph of the Russian.
“Alan’s killer,” said Alex. “Kovalev knew what Alan looked like. Do you need to worry?”
“I can’t see why,” said Lenny. “That was the only time Alan met with him.”
“We have colleagues on the mainland hunting for Kovalev,” said Gus. “We heard last night that he might be back in the country.”
“Do you think he’s after me?” asked Lambert. “Why would he wait ten years after he killed Alan? He can’t possibly know who to look for.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Gus.
“What happens now?” asked Lambert.
“Beats me,” said Gus. “You got money under false pretences and assumed the identity of a dead man. We’ll file a report when we finish dealing with this case. What the authorities will decide to do with it, I don’t have a clue. Come on, Alex. We’ve got a ferry to catch. At least we can get a drink there.”
The journey home to Urchfont was a nightmare. There were hold-ups on the M6 and the M5. A contraflow was in operation on the M4, and they found a broken-down car transporter stuck at the traffic lights at Kingston St Michael.
Gus nodded off to sleep before they reached Avonmouth, so he missed most of the fun.
Alex dropped Gus at the bungalow and drove home to Chippenham.
Gus had reminded him not to worry about getting to work until lunchtime.
Wednesday, 8th August 2018
Gus woke at six o’clock for the third morning in succession. He hoped his body clock would kick back into its regular routine very soon. Then he remembered that in eight months it would alter forever.
As he drifted off to sleep in the car next to Alex yesterday evening, there was something niggling at him. He’d come indoors to find Suzie asleep in front of the TV. They talked about everything except the case, and whatever was on his mind slipped out of his grasp. What was it that disturbed his sleep last night? It had to be important.
Suzie was in the bathroom by seven, Gus went to the kitchen to get breakfast for one. He wanted to get to the office. He had meant to call Luke last night to hear if any news had come from Bradford, but the trip from Liverpool had taken far too long.
Gus offered Suzie a cup of coffee when she surfaced. She took it and grimaced.
“It won’t be for long,” she said. “Mum had this with all three of us.”
“I’m going in early,” said Gus. “I gave Alex the morning off. He did the lion’s share of the driving. If things get quiet after lunch, I might come home and have a nap. I’ll see you later.”
Gus left Suzie nursing her cup of coffee sat at the kitchen table. His Ford Focus seemed happy to see him back when he walked outside. It started first time and trundled into Devizes without a complaint. Twenty minutes later, Gus was in the lift and heading for the office.
He glanced at the clock an hour later. Almost nine o’clock, The others should arrive soon. He’d updated his files. The Duncan murder case was as good as closed. The icing on the cake would be the arrest of Yuri Kovalev. Gus prayed that Lydia was right, and the killer was back in the country. They might have half a chance.
Gus clicked his fingers.
“That was it,” he shouted, just as Lydia and the others exited the lift.
“Talking to yourself, guv?” said Neil. “That’s the first sign of madness.”
Gus was already on the phone. He hoped he wasn’t too late.
Five minutes later, Gus sat back in his chair. He’d done all he could. Time to switch back to the schedule for the day.
“What did I miss while we were away?” he asked.
“DCI Banks called yesterday afternoon, guv,” said Luke.
“After exhaustive searches with various agencies he said they had come to an inevitable conclusion,” said Neil.
“Phil Banks started a search on scrubland near Digley Reservoir,” said Luke. “That’s about seven miles from the village of Marsden and twenty-five miles from the last sighting of Kyle Ellison.”
“What, they’re searching for a body?” said Gus. “Who the heck has been posing as Kyle Ellison online all these years then?”
“We wanted to see you before we left for Bradford, guv,” said Neil. “We’ll sit in on the interviews as you suggested. Phil Banks is happy for us to tag along.”
“My guess would be the brother, guv,” said Blessing, “Darren Forsyth. The language, the EDL affiliation, and his comments about the football read more like a man’s words.”
“Well, I suppose it’s all going to come out in the next couple of days,” said Gus. “If they find Ellison’s remains.”
“I didn’t see that coming, did you, guv?” asked Neil.
“We knew Maddy Telfer was hiding something, Neil. I won’t profess to have had that scenario in my head.”
“We’ll be on our way, guv,” said Luke. “We’ll call as soon as we have news.”
“Thanks, Luke,” said Gus. “Have a safe
trip.”
“Alex told me what happened on your trip, guv,” said Lydia when the two detectives had left. “Where do we go from here?”
“Call the Hub, Lydia. Push them for sightings of Kovalev. We need to stop him from killing again.”
“Sorry, guv,” said Blessing. “Who’s his target this time?”
“Lenny Lambert. Oddjob. The man posing as Freddie Watts at The Mariner pub near Douglas on the Isle of Man. I’ve alerted the local police.”
“Did we miss something, guv?” asked Lydia.
“No,” said Gus. “I did. I should have kept digging into why that photograph was missing.”
“The one from Happy Valley, guv?” asked Blessing.
“That’s the one, Blessing. Long story short for now. You can read the full version in the Freeman Files later. Alan Duncan and Lenny Lambert appeared together in only one photo. Lenny was on several trips, but he knew he was overweight and chose to take the photos rather than appear in them. A few extra drinks and a Hawaiian shirt resulted in Lenny making his solitary appearance. Why did Alan remove that photo from home? He recognised Kovalev at the Crown, and near the duck pond. Alan knew the Russian had worked out that he’d conned him. He and Lambert had devised a plan to exchange valuable information about our nuclear submarines for money in order to settle their gambling debts. Kovalev only met Alan Duncan. He didn’t know Lambert at all. Alan took that photo with him when he went running on the night he died and tried to trade his life for Lambert’s. No doubt he offered the eight and a half thousand pounds cash first, but Kovalev was under orders. Duncan had to die.”
“If Kovalev had the photo, why didn’t he go after this Lambert right away,” said Blessing.
“Lambert switched identities with Freddie Watts, who died of cancer in 2004. Lofty Watts was four inches taller, but believe me, after Lambert lost four stones he looked nothing like the fat guy in that photo. Alan Duncan didn’t know about the weight loss, nor the switched identity.”
“So what tipped off Kovalev now, if we think he’s looking for vengeance?” asked Lydia.
“We did,” said Gus. “The Russians are always watching our boats at Faslane from the Irish Sea. We visited the base and then took the ferry to Douglas. If Kovalev is here in the UK, it makes sense he was watching too. Did you find that hire car yet, Lydia? When you do, hunt down CCTV evidence of it boarding a ferry.”
“Blimey,” said Lydia. She set to work.
Gus’s phone rang.
“Freeman speaking. Good morning, Phil.”
Lydia and Blessing paused what they were doing while Gus listened to DCI Banks.
“Thank you, Phil. My lads will be with you in around three hours. Good hunting.”
Gus ended the call and puffed out his cheeks,
“Well I never,” he said.
“Did they find a body, guv?” asked Blessing.
“They found remains that appear to have been in the ground for around fifteen years. Phil Banks has to wait for the autopsy to confirm that he’s found Kyle Ellison at last.”
“What prompted them to start searching there, guv?” asked Lydia.
“One of DCI Banks’s officers called Mr and Mrs Forsyth to set up a meeting. Mary Forsyth asked why the police wanted to speak to her and her husband. The officer took a gamble and said that it concerned the disappearance of Kyle Ellison. Mary seemed relieved that it was over. She told the officer where to look.”
“What was her role in it, guv?” asked Blessing.
“They don’t know at this stage, Blessing. Luke and Neil will learn the tragic tale over the next day or two. I thought that you or Lydia should accompany the detectives that arrested Maddy Telfer, but Phil Banks has already contacted London Road. DS Mercer is arranging for her to be taken into custody.”
There wasn’t much more to be said.
EPILOGUE
On Wednesday morning, Lydia continued the hunt for signs that Kovalev had hired a car somewhere in the country.
Divya rang from the Hub late at a quarter to twelve with news.
“They’ve spotted him, guv,” cried Lydia. “Kovalev boarded a ferry in Liverpool as a foot passenger this morning. He should land in Douglas at noon. That’s fifteen minutes from now, guv.”
“I’ll call the local police on the Isle of Man,” said Gus. “They can have people waiting for Kovalev to come ashore. They already have armed officers guarding the pub. Lenny Lambert can rest easy tonight at least.”
Gus made the call. They were in luck. Yuri Kovalev walked from the ferry straight into the arms of the island police. The ramifications of the arrest would last far longer than the phone call.
Gus Freeman didn’t concern himself with such matters. The Crime Review Team had identified Alan Duncan’s killer. They had to rely on more senior officers at London Road together with the Crown Prosecution Service to ensure justice was served. If Kovalev’s paymasters in Moscow wanted him back, there were diplomatic ways and means. All Gus could do was live in hope.
“What shall we do for the rest of the day, guv?” asked Lydia.
“Make sure you update your parts of the Freeman Files,” said Gus. “Clear the decks ready for the next case. Whatever Phil Banks uncovers will get dealt with by West Yorkshire. Geoff Mercer can decide what to do about Bunny Campbell-Drake withholding evidence ten years ago. I reckon we deserve to take it easy and put our feet up after what we’ve achieved this week.”
“And it’s only Wednesday, guv,” said Lydia.
“It’s always Wednesday for Alan Duncan, Lydia,” said Gus. “Never forget that.”
Monday, 13th August 2018
Luke and Neil were back in the Old Police Station office for the start of the new week.
“A quick catch-up then lads,” said Gus. “Then I’m off to London Road to collect the next cold case.”
“We drove straight to Trafalgar House in Bradford, guv,” said Neil. “They had transported the remains to the mortuary while we were on the motorway. We met DCI Banks and his team, and they put me and Luke into the viewing room. Phil Banks and DI Clemence carried out the interviews.”
“Darren Forsyth served three months of his six-month sentence for assault,” said Luke. “When he came out, Dave Forsyth was still adamant that they needed to get Kyle Ellison out of Jennifer’s life for good. He persuaded his daughter to contact Ellison and convince him she wanted to go back to him. Jennifer went to a bus stop late at night and sat on a bench. Ellison arrived on foot and as they started talking, Darren crept from behind the bus shelter and brained Ellison with a tyre lever. Dave Forsyth then drove up and Jennifer and Darren helped to get Ellison’s body into the boot. Darren and his father buried the body half a mile from Digley Reservoir.”
“Jennifer moved away from Marsden the following week, guv,” said Neil. “Darren got himself a flat in Leeds. The stuff Blessing found on social media was all Darren’s doing. He set up fake accounts to convince the locals Kyle had moved away to find work.”
“Jennifer changed her name to Maddy Mills as soon as she reached Chippenham,” said Luke. “Maddy told the truth when she said she kept her whereabouts from her family. They had no idea where she was living. Mary Forsyth took no part in the murder. She co-operated with Phil Banks throughout. Mary was only too happy to give evidence against her husband. Dave had made her life hell for years.”
“What a mess, guv,” said Blessing.
“A tragic mess, Blessing,” said Gus. “Suzie accompanied Geoff Mercer to Redwing Avenue in Chippenham last Thursday evening to arrest Madeleine Telfer. Suzie told me the confusion on the faces of young Oliver and Emily as their mother left the house in handcuffs will live with her for ever. Chris Telfer looked a broken man. He had no idea what secrets his wife had kept buried for so long.”
“Can you ask the ACC for something less gruelling later, guv,” said Lydia.
“The Duncan case was a puzzle wrapped in an enigma,” said Gus. “Churchill said that about Russia, didn’t he? Perhaps it’
s no surprise that the man who led us to uncover Alan and Maddy’s deepest secrets was a Russian.”
You have just finished reading ‘Buried Secrets’,
the eleventh book in the series featuring ‘The Freeman Files’.
The twelfth book in the series ‘A Genuine Mistake’ will follow.
Feel free to Tweet about any of my books and please tell your friends about them. Every writer likes to receive a review; it’s our lifeblood. If you can, then please do.
About The Author
Ted Tayler is the international best-selling author of The Phoenix series:
“The core message in my Phoenix novels is that justice is failing today. The Phoenix believes criminals should pay for their crimes; the current system fails to deliver the correct punishment. His fellow Olympus agents help redress the balance.”
December 2019 saw the launch of his latest venture, The Freeman Files:
“With Gus Freeman and his cold case investigations there will be bursts of frantic action, of course, but they will intersperse with romance, humour and country life. Life is all about balance. Good and evil, love and loss, laughter and tears.”
“I think of myself as a storyteller; with each successive book, I hope I get better at it. I’ve heard that the reader feels as if we’re across the table from one another, and I’m chatting with them. There are more stories left to tell.”
Ted Tayler lives in West Wiltshire, England where many of his stories are based. Born in 1945, Ted’s been married to Lynne since 1971. They have three children and four grandchildren.
Acknowledgements
The love and support of my family; without them, this would have been impossible.
The Phoenix Club
Sign up to be on my mailing list for details of new adventures and the opportunities for receiving free books. You will receive a free short story for merely subscribing.