by Ted Tayler
“So, the police knew about the cash-in-hand transactions,” said Gus. “But what about Ivan coming here now and then rather than every week as his wife believed?”
“I omitted to tell them that, Mr Freeman. I didn’t know what Ivan was doing, so I decided Sally had enough to handle. What if Ivan had a lady friend he’d met on his rounds and she wanted him to do more than see to her windows? Sally had an affair with that Cardiff chap, didn’t she? Nobody would blame Ivan if he’d found comfort with another woman. You would have to ask the police why they didn’t arrive until Wednesday morning to confirm the details they had from Sally’s statement. They asked whether he used to come here for a drink on Saturday afternoons. I said yes, but didn’t elaborate.”
“That’s a pity, Mr Arlett,” said Luke, “That might have been another line of enquiry for the police to follow; a jealous husband, perhaps.”
“Ivan cleaned windows in the village,” said Ieuan. “His round didn’t include any houses in Westbury.”
“There’s no need to be facetious,” said Gus. “Ivan Kendall died in a savage attack. Whatever he got involved in that ended his habit of coming here for a few pints got him murdered. The killers have got a four-year head start because you withheld information, Mr Arlett. You were mistaken in your belief that it couldn’t do any harm.”
“Maybe,” said Ieuan Arlett. “But you don’t catch that many, no matter how much information you’ve got, do you?”
“One last thing before we leave, Mr Arlett,” said Gus. “You referred to Kendall’s daughter as Lexie. Is that what most people called her?”
“Everyone bar her parents,” said Ieuan. “Sexy Lexie, that was her.”
“Did you know her well, Mr Arlett?” asked Luke.
“She did like them older,” said Ieuan, “but my cauliflower ears and broken nose helped keep her at bay. I think she had more luck at the football club. There’s more space up there to exercise the dogs.”
“I can’t recall any mention of Ivan and Sally keeping pets,” said Gus.
“Maybe they belonged to a boyfriend,” said Ieuan. “Ivan wouldn’t have brought them here.”
“Do you have any idea where Sally took Lexie when they left Pontyclun?”
“I remember reading in the local paper that Sally’s mother died later that year. At first, I thought Sally moved to Llanharry to live in her mother’s place, but it was on the market in the New Year. Life goes on. We were having a decent season, and it was the summer before I noticed Sally had left. No matter who you asked, she had told no one where they planned to go. Before I knew it, the next season got underway. As long as the new firm we hired to clean our windows kept turning up and doing a good job, there was never any reason to reminisce about Ivan Kendall.”
Time to go, thought Gus. He’d give Dai Williams a call in the morning. His people could have handled things better in the first few hours after Kendall’s disappearance. It was sloppy police work not to have asked more probing questions of someone supposed to have been in Kendall’s company less than eight hours before his death.
It was water under the bridge—time to deal with the here and now.
CHAPTER 6
“That’s another mental note, guv,” said Luke as they left the rugby club car park. “Blessing needs to search for a Sexy Lexie online.”
“That Kendall girl’s twenty now, Luke,” said Gus. “Heaven knows what site she’s on these days. Blessing will have palpitations. That Arlett character was an idiot, too. Why didn’t he mention Ivan Kendall wasn’t using the rugby club as much as his wife believed? What was the big secret?”
“I agree with your hypothesis, guv,” said Luke. “It had to connect to the murder. His behaviour altered in the summer of 2013, and the new attraction occupied him every weekend. Then, in the autumn and winter months, Kendall returned to the rugby club.”
“Arlett said there was a progressive increase in the frequency with which Kendall stayed away from the club during the rugby season. So much so, he couldn’t say whether Kendall was there on the last Saturday he was alive. What activity does that suggest?”
“Whatever it was, Ivan Kendall didn’t share it with his wife,” said Luke.
“I dismissed Dai Williams’s idea of there being a woman involved in Westbury as ridiculous. Arlett didn’t discount the idea, though, did he? He didn’t want to drop Kendall in it after his death, so he kept his mouth shut about something that could have blown this case wide open.”
“There’s nothing that points to another woman, guv. Not in my book. We’re looking for a summer activity that needs support during what could be the off-season. Oh, it’s so frustrating.”
“Where’s our sporting superstar when we need him?” said Gus.
“Neil will be back in the office by now, guv. I bet he’ll come up with something as soon as we give him the parameters. Sports and pastimes just aren’t my thing.”
“Home, Luke,” said Gus, settling in his seat for a nap, “and don’t spare the horses.”
Alex Hardy and Rick Chalmers had had a busy day in the Hub.
After his two phone conversations with Gus Freeman, Alex had sent the images from Prince’s Street, Bristol to the Old Police Station. Gus would view the six-year-old photos after he returned from Wales.
Alex continued to monitor the five mobile phones throughout the morning, but their location never changed. He wondered what that meant. If they searched for a building, or group of buildings in that remote location tomorrow morning, what would they find? The bodies of five young women, or five mobile phones discarded in a waste bin? He couldn’t believe that whoever was pulling strings in this pantomime collected those girls from their homes and killed them because he and Rick had paid one of them a visit.
Just before lunch, Rick Chalmers reappeared. He slumped into a chair beside him.
“That doesn’t feel promising,” said Alex.
“I’ve identified the young policewoman in that CCTV image,” said Rick.
“Great,” said Alex, “who is she, and where is she stationed now?”
“The first bit was easy,” said Rick. “I didn’t find her face anywhere on current Avon and Somerset staff at Portishead, so I widened my search. Do you remember the floods on the Somerset Levels in 2012?”
“I remember the news reports, but we didn’t suffer too badly in North Wiltshire. They reckoned those in Somerset were the worst in living memory.”
“Our young Detective Sergeant, Zara Wheeler, earned herself a Queen’s Gallantry Medal for her part in rescuing a baby from a car trapped upside down in a swollen river. The mother died after her car got swept into the River Sheppey when a bridge collapsed.”
Rick showed Alex a photograph from the local paper.
“The Chief Constable, DS Wheeler, and the grateful grandparents with the toddler,” said Rick.
“Why do I sense there’s bad news coming?” said Alex.
“DS Wheeler left Avon and Somerset Police within months and went into charity work.”
“What sort of charity work?” asked Alex.
“Unspecified,” said Rick. “I called Portishead as soon as I’d learned the woman’s name. They told me she had moved to Portishead from Manvers Street, Bath, and was one of their most promising officers. They were sad to see her leave.”
“So she won this medal at the back end of the summer, and then in November, she was in Bristol for the Queen’s visit. Who did our mystery man work for? Was it the security services or the Royal Protection Squad?”
“Portishead had no idea whatsoever,” said Rick. “He wasn’t with the RPS, and the security services didn’t show their face until the day after the explosion on Pero’s Bridge. If any branch of the security services had intelligence concerning an attack from IS jihadis they didn’t make themselves known to Avon and Somerset Police on the day. The red-headed man is still a mystery, I’m afraid.”
“As are Vincent and Dexter, I presume?” asked Alex.
“I asked the
ACC at Portishead if he could tell me about those two. He’s new in the position but wasn’t aware of any undercover people on the streets that day, and they aren’t known to the police for criminal activity.”
“That new ACC must be the guy who replaced Dominic Culverhouse,” said Alex. “I missed out on some of that case.”
“I heard about your troubles from Luke, mate. Don’t worry. It’s behind you now. Onwards and upwards.”
“Thanks,” said Alex. “Where does that leave us, though?”
“If we believe Vincent, Dexter, and Red work for the same team, then we’re nowhere,” said Rick. “They never appeared together, so maybe they’re unrelated. Did Red ever appear in Swindon during the grooming gang affair?”
“We’ve only got those few images, plus what Tanya told us,” said Alex. “We can’t say for sure.”
“Any movement on the phones?” asked Rick.
Alex checked once more.
“Nothing,” he replied. “Any luck with the CCTV search for Vincent and Dexter?”
“Nothing so far,” said Rick. “My tame techie worked wonders on the social media hunt though. She identified Vicki, Tasha, Billie, and Freya among Tanya’s friends on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.”
“I take it we now have those false surnames?”
“Black, Black, Brown, and Green, in that order,” said Rick. “Although, I’m not sure it helps that much.”
“The fact you traced the names suggests their accounts haven’t closed,” said Alex.
“No, but there hasn’t been a posting on either account since we left Tanya’s house. My new friend has downloaded profile photos and details of friends the five girls had in common. They might be other girls from Swindon who recovered at a faster or slower rate than the Famous Five. Or they could be unconnected.”
“Gus might want us to get one of these extra contacts to spill the beans about the charity,” said Alex. “I tell you what, ask your techie to monitor those accounts for the next day or two. If they remain active, it suggests they’re unrelated. If they hibernate, then we should analyse everything they’ve posted to date to work out where they’re living and then visit a couple. We might catch a break and find them home when we knock on the door.”
“Do you fancy a spot of lunch?” asked Rick. “We could walk to Gregg’s and back inside thirty minutes.”
“Eating something unhealthy as we’re walking back, do you mean?” said Alex.
“When we get back, we’ll search for that Wheeler woman,” said Rick. “If she worked in Bath for a couple of years before moving to Portishead, perhaps she lived there? Maybe, she still does? There are plenty of charity shops in the city.”
Alex laughed.
“Come on,” he said. “I need the exercise. Sitting here for hours doesn’t help my leg. As for the charity shops, I doubt that a bright young thing sorely missed by the brass at Portishead is sifting through donations from the public. We’ll be looking for an executive in a Head Office at least.”
Rick and Alex started the search for addresses connected to Zara Wheeler by half-past twelve.
“Here we go,” said Rick, “In the 2011 Census records, she was living with a Mary Trueman, a widow. I guess the older lady needed the company and Ms Wheeler rented a room.”
“How would we tell whether she moved closer to Portishead when she transferred?” asked Alex.
“She’d be on the Electoral Roll,” said Rick, continuing to hunt for clues. “Ms Wheeler was registered to vote and living at the same address, but she was alone by June 2013. Mrs Trueman must have died. I wonder whether she got left the house in the will. No sign of her at that address one year later. Okay, so is it worth hunting for addresses in Portishead? No, because we know she left her job there in July that year.”
“Oh, what a tangled web,” said Alex. “Let’s assume Zara Wheeler stayed in Bath throughout. Is she not showing anywhere in the city? She must pay Council Tax, mustn’t she? Hang on. Did she get married? Let’s check for that.”
Rick and Alex kept turning over pages of data hunting for Zara Wheeler. They asked Rick’s technical whiz to look for the young woman’s name on social media. Three hours later it was getting near the end of play for the day. All three had drawn a blank on every front. Zara Wheeler’s name didn’t feature in Births. Marriages or Deaths. Her digital footprint was non-existent.
“Now what?” asked Rick.
“The only way she could live in the Bath area is if she changed her name,” said Alex.
“I added Black, Green, Brown, and White to the social media search routine,” said Divya, the techie. “I knew you’d remember to ask, eventually.”
“You’ll go far,” said Rick.
“Shall I try Gus?” asked Alex. “To see if they’re back yet?”
“We’ve still got thirty minutes. I’ll keep looking. You give Gus a bell.”
Neil Davis and Lydia Logan Barre arrived back at the Old Police Station office just before three. When they emerged from the lift, Blessing Umeh was nowhere in sight.
“Blessing?” called Neil.
Lydia heard a muffled sound.
“She’s in the restroom,”
“You go,” said Neil, “I’ll start entering the details of our interview into the Freeman Files. A white coffee, one sugar would be great, if Blessing can remember how to use the Gaggia.”
“Stop teasing her, Neil. She’s sensitive.”
Lydia disappeared behind the restroom door and returned several minutes later with Neil’s coffee. Blessing carried hers and Lydia’s on a tray.
“Alright, Blessing?” asked Neil.
“I’m fine,” said Blessing, “just equipment failure.”
“Don’t tell me the Gaggia blew up? How did you make this cuppa?”
“There’s nothing wrong with the machine, Neil,” said Lydia.
“We might as well tell him,” said Blessing. “I got locked in the loo. I broke a nail, trying to get out. Lydia fixed it so you won’t suffer the same fate.”
“How long were you in there?” asked Neil, trying to keep a straight face.
“An hour, more or less,” said Blessing. “Well? How did you two get on?”
“We enjoyed a smashing fish and chip lunch on the seafront,” said Neil.
“The interview went well, Blessing,” said Lydia. “Trust Neil not to get his priorities right.”
“Before you were otherwise ‘engaged’, did you hear from Gus?” asked Neil.
“Not a word,” said Blessing. “He said to expect him back before we leave.”
Neil and Lydia updated their digital files, and Blessing wondered how she’d live it down. If only Luke had been here, he would have rescued her, and forgotten it already.
At a quarter to four, Gus and Luke came up in the lift. Neil and Lydia waited to give Gus their news, such as it was.
“First things first,” said Gus.
“Coffee, guv?” asked Neil.
Gus nodded. Blessing followed Neil into the restroom.
“We had a pleasant trip to Weymouth,” said Lydia, “although we didn’t learn a lot from Tommy Griffiths.”
“We had several passing showers on the other side of the Severn Bridge,” said Luke, “but we discovered a potential lead.”
Neil and Blessing returned with Gus and Luke’s coffee. Blessing hoped the noisy performance of the Gaggia had masked the few strong words she’d shared with Neil.
“Neil, if I asked you to name a sport or pastime carried out in the summer months which attracts several spectators on odd occasions in autumn and winter, what would you say?”
“Dogging, guv,” said Neil.
“I was being serious, Neil,” said Gus.
“So was I, guv. Look, if it’s an outdoor sport, then it’s rare that it carries on outdoors in the winter. An indoor sport, such as snooker, can carry on throughout the year, I can’t think of one off-hand, guv. Football works the other way around. The regular season is autumn and winter, and if the
re’s a cup competition, it can run in the summer months.”
“Keep thinking, Neil,” said Gus, “I’ll tell you why later. Right, what did Tommy Griffiths have to say?”
“He explained how he and Sally got together six to eight weeks after she started working for him in Cardiff, guv,” said Lydia.
“When Sally returned home, it knocked Tommy sideways, guv,” said Neil. “He thought they loved one another, but Sally told him she had never stopped loving Ivan.”
“Every step Tommy took us through only embellished the story you gave us, guv,” said Lydia. “He told us about the move to Pontyclun, and how he tried to convince Sally the pub was a goldmine if only she went with him. Tommy took us through his arrest and what a joke the murder charge had been. We asked whether he’d spoken to Ivan, but he hadn’t.”
“We asked whether he spoke to the daughter,” said Neil, “but, although he saw her, she never spoke. Tommy said Alexa didn’t leave him in any doubt about how she felt about him trying to take her mother away. He said Alexa was with a different bloke every night and apart from that the only time he saw her was when she was out with the dogs. Tommy said they nearly pulled her arms out of their sockets.”
“Well, I never,” said Gus. “That’s interesting. Ieuan Arlett mentioned dogs when we spoke to him earlier. Don’t you find it odd that there’s nothing in either murder file that suggests Ivan and Sally Kendall had pets?”
“Ieuan Arlett qualified his statement by saying they may have belonged to one of Lexie’s boyfriends, guv,” said Luke.
“Fair comment,” said Gus, “but I hate coincidences. If only we could find Sally Kendall. Ah, that reminds me. Blessing, narrow the parameters of your search for Sally. Mr Arlett, the club steward, thought Sally would stay close to her roots. Secondly, your guess about the name was correct. Alexa’s friends had a nickname for her. Everyone knew her as Lexie.”
