by Ted Tayler
“The next few days must have been tough,” said Lydia, “are you saying James didn’t come over to comfort you?”
“This place closed lunchtime out of respect. Maggie called to tell me to take the night off. Maggie and Gary held the fort, but I don’t think they had many customers. The police came on Monday morning to talk to me. They went to see James at lunchtime, and he called me in the afternoon. I came to work in the evening. That was weird. Nobody knew what to say.”
“Did you and James see one another that week?” asked Alex.
“He came in most nights after work. Things were never the same after Trudi died. Well, I suppose it changed after we argued before she died.”
“I think that’s it for now, Ms Warner. Thanks for your time. If we think of anything else, we’ll pop back.”
“I’m always here,” said Krystal, “if I’m not working, I’m usually upstairs in my flat.”
The landlady made her way to the side door. Lydia and Alex followed her. When they stood outside, Krystal shut the door without a word.
As they waited for a gap in traffic to cross the road, they listened to the click-clack of her high heels on the parquet floor fading into the distance.
CHAPTER 10
Once they returned to the CRT office, Alex and Lydia made themselves a coffee.
“We didn’t get offered a cuppa in the pub, did we? Nor anything stronger,” said Alex.
“No, she wasn’t a happy bunny, was she? Sorry, Alex. I can’t imagine what Trudi was like, but Krystal is a nasty piece of work. It just slipped out.”
“You need to be careful what you say, Lydia. We can’t be judgemental. In many situations, the circumstances we meet in people’s lives are alien to a normal person. We have to see through the baggage they carry and keep seeking the truth.”
“You sounded like the guvnor then. Are we any further forward, do you reckon?”
“Gus asked me to concentrate on timings. There weren’t many to make a note of, and Krystal’s timings matched what we already knew. They match her earlier statement as far as I can tell. Perhaps we have to compare them with others later. Gus thinks something will materialise. He doesn’t ask for something without good reason.”
“I hope he’s okay. What do you think happened to him? It must have had something to do with that break-in he had on Monday.”
Lydia was glad she’d boobed when they were in the pub. Alex was right to give her a dressing-down, but it had reminded her to watch what she said. At least she hadn’t blurted out that Gus had a theory on who had killed Trudi. She wondered whether any of those disgruntled ex-lovers in the bar that night matched a name thrown up by these timings Gus enjoyed mentioning.
“Gus said he might not be back until Monday. We should keep on top of things here this morning, then interview Maggie Smith after lunch.”
“Coffee break over then?” said Neil as they emerged from the restroom. “It’s okay; I had one earlier.”
Neil soon put them to work trawling through the sex offenders listing. There had been around four hundred names of offenders within the county borders between 1998 and 2008. The Hub had highlighted those in prison or on remand. There were many instances where police discovered indecent images on home computers, and nothing suggested these men were interested in someone as old as twenty-six.
“I feel grubby,” said Neil. “The only good thing to come out of what I’ve done so far is the list of possible offenders is getting smaller and smaller. If you can stomach two hours analysing the rest of these characters with me, we can break the back of this job today.”
The team grafted for two hours then broke for lunch. Their thoughts never strayed far from their boss. They had received no word since his phone call.
“No news is good news,” said Neil.
“Usually,” said Alex.
“Stay positive, guys,” said Lydia, “we can keep busy this afternoon to take our minds off fretting. After we finish at five, I vote we call him.”
“That’s crazy,” said Neil, “if it goes to voicemail, or just rings out, we’ll worry all weekend.”
“Lydia’s got the right idea,” said Alex, “if we can’t get hold of him we’ll call his DI friend, Suzie Ferris. Did anyone get that older lady’s number from last Friday night? Vera Jennings? Anyway, we can ring London Road before we leave here. Catch one of them before they leave work.”
“That sounds sensible. Hey, don’t forget to be on time seeing Maggie Smith.”
“If we leave now, my Mini will get us to her house before two o’clock,” said Lydia.
“Do you keep your eyes closed when she’s driving, Alex?” asked Neil.
“Enjoy the rest of the afternoon, Neil, we’ll be back in a couple of hours,” said Alex, as he hurried across the carpet to the lift. Lydia joined him, and they descended to the car park. Alex knew better than to question Lydia’s driving skills.
The former landlady of the Ring O’Bells lived in a quiet cul-de-sac of council maisonettes. Maggie had lung cancer and was virtually housebound. It made no sense for the council to house her on the first floor; but there you are, a typical example of joined-up thinking that had failed. Lydia rang the bell.
“The door is open,”
True enough, they could push the door open and enter. Alex found the hallway a tight squeeze to negotiate in his chair. These 60s maisonettes hadn’t included wheelchairs in their design. They probably hadn’t expected to cope with a sixty-six-year-old cancer patient who needed oxygen to get through the day either.
Maggie Smith did not look well.
“Are you the police who called,” she panted.
“That’s right, Mrs Smith. I’m DS Alex Hardy, and my colleague is Lydia Logan Barre. We’re from the Crime Review Team in town. We’re taking a fresh look at the murder of Trudi Villiers fifteen years ago. You and your late husband Gary ran the Ring O’Bells back then, do you remember?”
“Nothing wrong with my memory. Just my lungs.”
“We’ll keep this as brief as possible, Mrs Smith. Trudi started work at six o’clock that Saturday. Is that right?”
“Both her and Krystal, yes,”
“Trudi and Gary worked late that night I believe?”
“The cleaners got stroppy. Trudi thought it would help if they cleaned up before going home.”
“What time did you go upstairs to bed?”
“At midnight. The band had finished. Krystal had called last orders. I was tired.”
“Did you go to bed straight away?”
“I had a drink, smoked a fag, while I watched TV. I got in bed before half-past midnight. Gary was downstairs. I never heard a thing after that.”
“Did anything odd strike you that evening? Any strangers in the bar? Any arguments? Did Trudi behave herself with the customers?”
“Nothing different that night to any other we had. Except what happened later.”
Maggie Smith stopped to catch her breath. This conversation was painful for Alex and Lydia too. They didn’t enjoy watching the poor woman suffer. She hadn’t given them enough to warrant putting her through this.
“Gary was never the same after that night,” Maggie said.
“How do you mean?”
“The smoking ban was the beginning of the end. Opening all day made it harder to make a living. Things were even worse with supermarkets flogging cheap alcohol. Trudi and Krystal had become our best draw. As soon as she died, lots of our regulars stopped coming. Krystal wasn’t as popular, and she was miserable after she split with lover boy. Gary just gave up trying.”
“You mean, James Bosworth? We understood they drifted apart after Trudi’s death.”
“Pretty much straight after that weekend. It surprised me James went for Krystal in the first place. You see plenty when you’re in a pub all day, every day. I watched him chatting up plenty of the single women that came in before he got together with Krystal. If you had asked me, I would have bet good money he would have caught Trudi’s eye fi
rst.”
“Thanks, Maggie. We’re sorry to have put you through that. You’ve done well. My colleague and I will leave you in peace.”
Alex and Lydia made their way into the hallway. As they stood by the door, Maggie waved a bony hand.
“James never came to the pub much after that weekend. If he did, he ignored Krystal. Gary told me he asked on the quiet one evening if he’d make sure one of us served his drinks.”
“Interesting,” said Lydia, when they sat outside in her Mini. “Krystal gave me the impression there was something between them. At least until after the funeral. That would have been a few weeks, surely? Maybe Gus didn’t want us to note just times from the night in question. We should ask Bosworth next week when the relationship ended.”
“I’m struggling to understand why it matters,” said Alex, as Lydia set off towards the town centre. “Krystal was angry and upset. She lashed out at Bosworth, leaving bruises and scratches on his cheek and forearms. Bosworth was frustrated at what he saw as her lack of commitment. Think of the holiday in San Antonio Trudi had booked; that was six months away. Krystal did whatever Trudi told her. Bosworth realised he faced months where he battled with the thoughts of what they got up to on holiday. I don’t blame him for walking away from a relationship of that nature. Everything points to him wanting them to go steady, be faithful to one another. He’s settled down with a wife and three sons now, a family man. Krystal has no one, as far as we can tell. If Trudi hadn’t died, where do you reckon she would be today? I bet both names would be over the door at the Ring O’Bells. Nothing would have changed, except the fewer number of blokes interested in them.”
“We need to dig deeper with Bosworth,” said Lydia, “there’s something I read in the original murder file. I can’t remember the wording. I’ll check when we get back to the office.”
Neil looked unhappy in his work.
“Please tell me you’ve broken this case,” he pleaded, “these guys didn’t follow a life of crime; more life of grime.”
“Maggie Smith was sicker than I imagined,” said Lydia, “it wasn’t fun trying to tease out of her what she remembered.”
“We did finally get something to chew on,” said Alex, “she was adamant Krystal and James broke up after that Saturday night. They may have talked after Trudi’s body was found and he attended the funeral, but it had ended.”
“Get everything added to the Freeman file from your interviews today, plus what you contributed to this gruesome task of mine. Then we’ll have a go at finding out what happened to the boss.”
“Got it,” said Lydia, “and what you said, Neil. Here we are, the WPC who helped interview Bosworth commented that ‘his dark-brown eyes and designer stubble gave him a good look, even if it held a hint of danger’. He might not be the clean-living, faithful family man you imagine, Alex. Maggie Smith said he’d played the field with attractive women before he homed in on Krystal.”
“Let’s just park that for now,” said Alex, “and wait until next Monday when we interview him. We must approach that meeting with an open mind. Maybe it will be best if Gus is back with us. We can let him read our Freeman file notes and plan his line of questioning.”
“I haven’t done any of the interviews for obvious reasons,” said Neil, “but it isn’t straightforward. Are we any closer to finding a suspect yet?”
“Blowed if I know,” said Alex, “we’re running out of witnesses. If we don’t find a name from this list of yours, we might have to put surnames to a few of the ex-lovers Krystal remembered. We will be clutching at straws then.”
While Alex and Lydia updated the Freeman file, Neil called the London Road HQ and asked to speak with DI Suzie Ferris.
“Good afternoon, Ma’am. DS Neil Davis from CRT here. Have you seen Gus Freeman today?”
“Gus rang you this morning, I believe?”
“He did, Ma’am, and informed us he needed to lie low for a while. We were concerned about his safety and how his absence affected us here in the office.”
“He’s in a place of safety. My understanding is he could be in the clear by noon tomorrow. You three must feel like a ship without a rudder at present. I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything other than suggest you keep working on the case you’re investigating.”
“Thank you, Ma’am,” said Neil. Suzie Ferris had ended the call.
“The boss is okay, then?” asked Alex.
“It sounds like it, doesn’t it? We’ve got to keep busy tomorrow. Gus may turn up if the threat is over. Something big is happening. DI Ferris didn’t give much away. It’s one of those need to know situations where we don’t need to know.”
The three of them were just relieved at the more positive news. The team finished work at five o’clock and drove home. Tomorrow was another day.
Vera Jennings had spoken to Suzie Ferris before she left London Road. Gus Freeman owed both of them a few favours after tonight. Vera drove home and spent over an hour getting ready for her supposed night out. She left to drive to Newton Bridge and the Ferret and kept an eye on the cars behind her, in case she was followed. She spotted no one.
The small bar was sparsely populated when she entered. That had been what she anticipated when she suggested it to Gus as a suitable venue for their second date. She knew Bob, the landlord, and he came around the bar to reward her with a welcome hug.
“Welcome back, Vera. It’s been too long. Is this an early celebration of getting rid of that waste of space, Monty?” he asked, showing her to a corner table.
“Another two weeks yet, Bob. No, just a quiet meal with a close friend. I hoped to see him here by now.”
“Let me get you a drink while you’re waiting. I’ll bring the menus over in a tick. Plenty of time if he’s late. We’re not busy on Thursday evenings.”
Vera ordered a soft drink and relaxed as she watched Bob and his two young waitresses flit to and from the bar and the kitchen. She resigned herself to people-watching. Bob kept looking across, and Vera smiled sweetly. After an hour, she got up and placed her empty glass on the bar.
“If a chap called Gus Freeman comes in here later looking for me, tell him not to bother. I get dressed up, and he can’t even bother to call to say he’s changed his mind.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s missing, Vera,” said Bob.
Vera stomped out of the bar. She was pleased that every one of the Ferret’s dozen customers watched her make her dramatic exit. As she stood by her Alfa Romeo in the car park, she called Suzie Ferris. Part two of the plan needed to swing into action.
“Suzie? Can you help me? I’m worried about Gus Freeman. Meet me at his bungalow. You know where he lives.”
Vera drove to Urchfont and found a police car with its lights flashing in the driveway of Gus’s place. The two women walked to the front door and rang the bell. Suzie went to peer through the lounge window.
A dark saloon car slowed as it passed by the gateway and carried on along the lane.
Suzie Ferris was soon communicating with a colleague parked a short distance from the bungalow.
“Dark saloon, carrying a 17 plate. Lone male driver, heading your way. Follow but do not intercept.”
Suzie made a second call. This time for a Crime Scenes Investigation van.
Vera and Suzie waited in the driveway, looking suitably concerned.
“I hope this acting masterclass is necessary,” said Vera, “I’m freezing stood out here in this skimpy dress.”
“You certainly dressed to impress. Gus will try not to get shot at in future, I’m sure.”
A white van pulled into the driveway several minutes later. Suzie checked the lane in both directions, but there was no sign of the dark saloon. When she reached the house, the forensic team had already moved indoors.
“Can I get anyone coffee while you continue to appear to be working,” asked Gus, removing the white overalls that covered his clothing.
“We’ll be alerted if that car comes back,” said Suzie, “the team
can look busy for another thirty to forty-five minutes. You’re home now; you can sleep in your bed. At dawn tomorrow, the planned strikes go ahead across the whole of the gang’s operations. Geoff agreed Vera’s concern over your non-arrival for a date justified us, ensuring you hadn’t suffered an accident or taken ill. Geoff sent the CSI van to collect you from the farm. It added to the picture that nobody knew you had been missing since early this morning. Fingers crossed, the gang members in the shed won’t panic when they don’t hear from Dushka and abandon the building above Cambrai Terrace.”
“How is Dushka?” asked Gus.
“He died on the way to the hospital,” said Suzie.
“I must give Luke Sherman a call,” said Gus, “it was his first rodeo. He did the right thing. Dushka didn’t leave him any choice.”
Half an hour later, as darkness fell, the real CSI members left the bungalow and drove away. Vera and Suzie watched them go. Time for them to leave.
“Thank your mother and father for the hospitality,” said Gus.
“They said they enjoyed your company,” said Suzie.
“Sleep well tonight,” said Vera, kissing him on the cheek.
“I’ll be fine,” said Gus, “as long as I sleep on my stomach.”
Suzie looked at Vera. They burst out laughing.
“Hilarious,” said Gus, “now, you two had better get your serious faces on before you leave here. All this hard work will be for nothing if someone spots you with big grins on your faces.”
“In other circumstances, it wouldn’t do your reputation any harm,” said Vera.
Vera and Suzie left, slamming the door locked behind them. Gus was alone in his kitchen in the dark. What a day.
Friday, 20th April 2018
OCTF couldn’t have picked a better day for it. Five in the morning and Gus had been awake for fifteen minutes. He wasn’t involved in the operation, but he couldn’t stay in bed with everything kicking off.
Gus showered and dressed for work. Smart casual today. He’d had enough of wearing a suit during this hot spell. He wondered where Luke Sherman was today. No doubt, providing cover for those officers drafted onto the operation above Cambrai Terrace. If everything went to plan, he’d seen the last of Luke and his mate, Rick Chalmers.
