Night Train

by Ted Tayler

  Alex stared at the screen. A man was talking to a policewoman. He had his back to the camera, and the young officer was looking up at him. The mystery man had to be over six feet tall, and despite the baseball cap and scarf, he had red hair.

  “It can’t be a coincidence,” said Alex. “Kelly Dexter and Hayden Vincent being on the same street during a large-scale security exercise. Could we identify that policewoman? What rank is that? I reckon she’s a DS from Avon and Somerset wearing a dress uniform for the Royal occasion. Check for any video covering other venues the Queen visited. That officer might have appeared at several of them if she co-ordinated security. She’s using the Airwave unit on her left shoulder as she walks away from our mystery man. We’d better get in touch with Portishead.”

  “Maybe someone from Portishead can tell us who these people work for,” said Rick.

  “Whoever the red-haired guy was, that officer looked star-struck. They have to be special forces. It changes things, doesn’t it? I’ll call Gus again.”

  “Hang on. A neighbour in Shrivenham told me that nobody knew where Vincent and Dexter went. One day his people carrier and her Porsche 911 vanished. They did a moonlight flit. Another couple rented the property within days. The new occupants ran a removals business.”

  Alex laughed.

  “Of course they did. I bet they were part of the same organisation. No matter. Where do we look for Vincent and Dexter now then?”

  “I’ve started search routines with my new friend on the other side of the office. If Hayden Vincent or Kelly Dexter has appeared on CCTV anywhere in the past five and a half years, we could be lucky and be able to retrieve it.”

  Alex was going to call Gus when he realised how late it was.

  “Gus will be on his way home now,” he said. “We’ll come back to this first thing in the morning.”

  “You didn’t mention how the mobile phone search went,” said Rick.

  “I called those four numbers from my mobile and the Hub landline without luck. Every call went straight to voicemail. As for the GPS traces, the report I got back was confusing. All four phones pinged from the same tower. Either the girls live in the same house or the same street. I’ve asked another techie on this floor to check whether the kit malfunctioned. That’s something else we can pick up again tomorrow.”

  Alex and Rick left the Hub office and returned to the car park.

  “See you here at the usual time then, Rick,” said Alex standing by his car.

  “Let’s hope we can solve a couple of these riddles, mate,” said Rick. “Have a good night. There’s a Chinese meal in that takeaway near the town centre with my name on it.”

  “Do you ever cook for yourself?” laughed Alex as his colleague started to walk into town.

  Rick stopped by the Wiltshire HQ entrance and called back:

  “Don’t be daft. How many dishes can you cook? Five or six at most, I bet. My mother was the same. I can eat something from a different cuisine every night of the week and never get bored.”

  With that, Rick strode along London Road.

  Alex passed him as he drove home. It takes all sorts.

  As Alex Hardy drove towards Chippenham to spend the evening with Lydia Logan Barre, Gus Freeman was pulling up outside the bungalow in Urchfont. He’d called Suzie before leaving the Old Police Station office. Suzie expected to reach home by six, so Gus had told her he’d booked a table at the Lamb for eight. She’d find him at the allotment if she wanted a chat.

  Gus opened the front door and walked inside. A quick shower and change out of his work clothes, and he could tend to his long list of outstanding jobs within twenty minutes.

  Gus reflected on the day so far as he showered.

  Blessing Umeh had started the search for Sally and Alexa Kendall.

  Luke Sherman had contacted Ieuan Arlett, the steward at Pontyclun Rugby Football club. The interview would take place tomorrow at two o’clock.

  Tommy Griffiths wasn’t hard to find either. He’d agreed to meet with Neil and Lydia at eleven tomorrow morning.

  Gus had been on the phone too, chasing the name of Clive Trainer’s superior, the officer who ran the Westbury end of the initial investigation. Gus found him in Shaftesbury and had arranged to chat to DCI Eddie Sinclair at ten in the morning. Luke and Gus would leave straight after that call and visit the Cardiff Central HQ in King Edward VII Avenue before heading for Pontyclun. A DI Dai Williams would fill in the gaps concerning work by South Wales Police in those critical eighteen hours after Ivan Kendall’s disappearance.

  Gus towelled himself dry and found his gardening clothes. They were in the same place as he’d left them, which pleased him. As he strolled along the lane towards the church, he thought about the one phone call he’d received today.

  The news from the Hub was disconcerting. Gus had agonised over Tanya Norris’s welfare ever since that meeting with Jack Sanders. Still, Alex persuaded him that Tanya had survived her ordeal and had a half-decent chance of making a good life for herself. Then everything went pear-shaped. Gus hadn’t heard the questions the lads had asked, nor did he know whether they pushed too hard. That was something he needed to find out tomorrow.

  Whatever triggered Tanya’s reaction, it didn’t help matters. The two experienced officers would spot if Tanya deliberately misled them. There was another unseen hand in this business. Gus had felt it from that first morning under Jack Sanders’s apple trees.

  Gus could tell as soon as he passed the church and turned into the gateway to the allotment that he had company. Bert Penman toiled away on his patch. This evening he had a willing helper. His grandson, Brett, was wielding a fork and working up a sweat. Bert continued hoeing at a steady pace and looked up as Gus reached his garden shed.

  “Evening, Mr Freeman,” he said.

  “Good evening, Bert,” replied Gus. “How’s your apprentice coming along?”

  “He must learn to pace himself,” said Bert, “The plants don’t take kindly to getting assaulted. They respond best to a gentle touch, like a woman, if my memory serves me well.”

  “No sign of the Reverend tonight?” asked Gus.

  He noticed that Brett straightened his back, leant on his fork, and took a breather.

  “No doubt she’ll be along directly,” said Bert, “It’s been a warm day, and I saw her cycling around her parish this afternoon. I reckon she’ll have spent an hour in the shade with Irene while we’ve been working on the land. Irene’s experimenting with a new lime cordial. I don’t believe the Reverend knows yet that it has gin and honey in the recipe.”

  “She will once she’s had a glass or two,” said Gus.

  “How’s your week going so far, Gus?” asked Brett.

  “We have a new case that might prove tricky, and an old one that refuses to give up its secrets. Nothing out of the ordinary, in other words. Are you well-prepared for your interview?”

  “My CV speaks for itself, Gus,” said Brett. “Just because I’ve treated as many moose as I have poodles then I hope they don’t hold it against me. I heard a rumour in the Lamb on Saturday evening. Was that fake news?”

  “Not a bit,” said Gus. “We never attempted to keep it secret. Suzie will be home from Swindon soon. She told me last night, that job’s over and done with now. She returns to duties at London Road tomorrow. I’ve booked us a table for eight o’clock in the Lamb to celebrate.”

  “You two are living over the brush now then, Mr Freeman,” said Bert, leaning on his hoe.

  “We haven’t held hands and jumped over a broom made of twigs, Bert,” said Gus.

  “I’ve no idea what you two are on about,” said Brett.

  “It’s a custom that dates back centuries, Brett, when couples couldn’t get married in a church. They showed their commitment to one another by jumping over a broom. An ancient form of marriage.”

  “Do you think marriage will follow in time?” asked Brett.

  “I haven’t given the matter any thought,” said Gus. “It’s
only a couple of days since Suzie cut the apron strings with her family home.”

  “There’s another old saying for you, Brett,” laughed Bert. “Times have changed, Mr Freeman. There was no question of Cora and me living together before we married, but that was in the early Fifties. This church next door to us would have been packed every Sunday back then. Those trees behind you bend with the wind, and old beggars like me have learned to bend with the times too. I can see how happy you two make one another, so you’ll get no lectures from me. I can’t say how the Reverend views such matters though.”

  “Thank you, Bert. Are you two staying for a while?” asked Gus.

  “We’ve finished for the day,” said Brett. “We’ll drop by the pub for a pint on our way home.”

  “I’ll let you get on then,” said Gus. “I have my list to tackle. I need to dash back by half-past seven to get myself ready.”

  Bert and Brett packed up and left ten minutes later, and Gus switched his attention to his allotment. When he locked his shed and made his way to the bungalow at half-past seven, there was still no sign of Clemency Bentham. Perhaps she was already in the Lamb, making eyes at Brett Penman.

  “The wanderer returns,” said Suzie as Gus strolled into the hallway.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” said Gus.

  “Off you go,” said Suzie, “get out of those gardening clothes. I’ve left a shirt hanging on the wardrobe door.”

  “Will I like it?” asked Gus.

  “You’d better,” said Suzie.

  Fifteen minutes later they walked along the lane arm-in-arm and arrived at the Lamb at five to eight. The landlord informed Gus that Bert and Brett Penman had left twenty minutes earlier. Gus spotted Clemency Bentham and Irene North, sitting in the beer garden. While Suzie ordered the drinks and studied the menu, Gus went across to them.

  “We missed you at the allotment this evening,” he said.

  “The Reverend’s feeling light-headed,” said Irene.

  “My diet’s still going well,” said Clemency, “another two pounds lost this week. But I’m wondering if I’m overdoing it.”

  Irene North winked at Gus.

  “Bert was telling me you’ve come up with a new recipe, Irene. Is that right?”

  “I have, Mr Freeman. Honey and lime cordial. We tried the first batch this afternoon.”

  “I see you’re both on elderflower cordials this evening,” said Gus. “Perhaps you should ask Irene for the full details of that other drink, Reverend. It might carry a stronger kick than you thought, especially as I saw your trusty steed outside. I’d hate to see you arrested for being drunk in charge of a bicycle.”

  “Irene North,” said Clemency, “you swore to me that drink was non-alcoholic. No wonder I’m all over the place. It was so delicious we polished off the entire bottle this afternoon.”

  “I’ll reduce the amount of gin I use in my next batch, Reverend, I promise,” said Irene.

  “I’ll leave you two to enjoy those cordials,” said Gus. “Take care on your way home, Clemency. Suzie and I are having a meal inside, so, bye for now.”

  “That’s what you need, Reverend,” said Irene. “Get yourself fixed up the same as Mr Freeman and Miss Ferris.”

  “Oh, that wouldn’t do at all, Irene,” said Clemency, “no matter how appealing it might be. Why is life so difficult?”

  Gus left the two ladies to put the world to rights and rejoined Suzie inside.

  “What are we having?” he asked.

  “It’s the duck for me,” said Suzie. “I don’t want to spoil our first meal as co-habitants. You can choose whatever you want.”

  Gus scanned the menu. Co-habitants indeed. Could he risk ordering the surf and turf?

  “What do you have lined up for tomorrow?” asked Gus.

  “I’m meeting Geoff Mercer as soon as I arrive in the office,” said Suzie. “Geoff wants a debrief of my time at Gablecross, and then he says he’s got a new case for me. He’s given me no details yet. How about you?”

  “We’ve arranged a series of meetings with people involved in our latest case. Luke and I are driving to Cardiff at eleven. We should get back before five. Neil’s got a day trip to Weymouth with Lydia. Small steps, but I can’t see us making significant inroads until we trace the wife and daughter of the victim. I might know more by the weekend. Perhaps we could discuss our various problems on the allotment one evening, or Saturday afternoon?”

  “I’ll still go riding on Saturday morning,” said Suzie, “and I know I must work on you for a while before you agree to join me. That means the weekly shop will be your job on Saturday mornings if you want to keep the afternoon free.”

  “That’s a plan I can work with,” said Gus. “There was one worrying item that cropped up earlier. Alex Hardy has been working at the Hub, trying to solve the mystery behind Grant Burnside’s murder. Rick Chalmers joined him this week, and they’ve made progress. As usual with that case, it’s three steps forwards, and two steps back, and they interviewed a grooming gang victim this morning.”

  “I remember hearing of that gang operating in Swindon six years ago,” said Suzie. “Although, I was still a Detective Constable and had nothing to do with the case. How is the poor girl?”

  “Tanya is twenty-six now and living in Wantage. When Alex and Rick spoke with her, they learned what happened when she left Swindon hospital. The NHS had treated her physical wounds, and Tanya needed time to recuperate. Someone whisked her away to a clinic, or a private house, in Devizes, where she was looked after by a nurse. When she was well enough to travel, again, someone transferred Tanya to a unit where doctors tackled her drug dependency and the psychological damage her ordeal had caused.”

  “Who arranged this?” asked Suzie, “and where? It’s not a place I recognise.”

  “Beats me,” said Gus as their food arrived.

  Gus picked up the tale after they had eaten and were enjoying a last glass of wine.

  “I hoped Rick and Alex could learn more from Tanya and several of the girls rescued at the same time. Whoever arranged Tanya’s recovery did the same for at least four other girls. According to Alex, once she was well enough to get discharged from this facility, Tanya was offered accommodation and a job. She’s worked for a veteran's charity for the past six years. I assume the others received a similar offer.”

  “Who was behind it then, another charity? One helping victims of crime. I can’t think of anyone with that much financial backing, not locally at least.”

  “I can’t either,” said Gus. “If you thought that was odd, when they left Tanya’s house Rick called one of the mobile numbers she’d provided for girls who’d also got exploited in Swindon. He got no reply, so Alex suggested they stop and try every number. They got the same result. Alex turned the car around and drove back into Wantage and guess what they found?”

  “Had Tanya deliberately given them duff information?” asked Suzie.

  “Alex couldn’t check, because Tanya had disappeared, and there was an estate agent’s ‘To Let’ sign in the front garden.”

  “You’re kidding,” said Suzie, “in that short a time? Who on earth could manage that, and why? What’s going on, Gus?”

  “I’ll talk to the lads in the morning. I asked them to find Tanya on social media, look at her friend list and try to name these four girls. Fingers crossed it was only Tanya that did a runner. And we can find out more about the organisation behind this deception. I don’t question the merit of the job they did getting Tanya and the others back on track, but the way they’re covering their tracks suggests they have something to hide. That concerns me. I won’t rest until I’ve got to the bottom of it.”

  “It’s very James Bond, isn’t it?” said Suzie. “It’s exciting and yet troubling. Life’s never dull with you, is it?”

  “Don’t build your hopes up too much,” said Gus. “It’s only been three days. The routine nature of it will kick in before you know it.”

  “Finish that drink and
let’s go home,” said Suzie.

  “Now that’s a routine I don’t mind sticking to,” said Gus.

  Wednesday, 11th July 2018

  “If I’m staying at London Road for the foreseeable future, then you could drop me off at work in the mornings,” said Suzie.

  “If we both could guarantee to keep regular hours, I could collect you at half-past five every evening too,” said Gus.

  “Maybe we’ll be able to do that once or twice a week,” said Suzie. “It would save money.”

  “Did you have something in mind to use the extra cash?” asked Gus, dreading the answer.

  “Riding lessons for you,” she replied.

  “We both need to drive today,” said Gus, “We’d better move.”

  Suzie slid out of bed and headed for the shower. Gus started on breakfast. It was another routine he could get to enjoy.

  At half-past eight, Gus sat patiently in the Focus while Suzie manoeuvred her VW Golf in the driveway and drove through the gateway. Gus followed as closely as he could, but the extra grunt her car possessed meant the only time he caught up was at road junctions and traffic lights.

  Suzie gave Gus a wave as she turned right into the London Road car park. He continued through Devizes and made for the Old Police Station office seven miles away. He was last to arrive this morning, and when he exited the lift, he saw four eager faces.

  “We waited until you got here before shooting off to Weymouth, guv,” said Neil.

  “Any last instructions?” asked Lydia.

  “Do we believe Tommy Griffiths killed Ivan Kendall?”

  “No, guv,” said Neil.

  “Do we think Tommy paid someone to murder Ivan?”

  “I wouldn’t rule it out until I’ve met the bloke, guv,” said Neil.

  “He was in love with Sally Kendall, guv”, said Lydia. “Love can make you do daft things.”

  “You can work that angle for a while, Neil,” said Gus. “One thing that might help us is learning whether Tommy knew something about Ivan that even his wife didn’t know. There had to be a reason for taking that train trip. Don’t overdo the homophobic attack angle. Ease it into the conversation. See what reaction you get.”