by Ted Tayler
Gus wolfed down two slices of toast for breakfast. Too early for a fry-up. Too early and too warm. Without his faithful car, he had no choice but to walk to the allotment for a better view of the hillside. From this distance, everything looked quiet. There could have been a dozen vehicles in the lane behind the houses, and he wouldn’t have seen them.
Gus opened his shed and fetched his father’s field glasses. He spotted movement on the hillside; it was precisely six o’clock, and the operation had begun. The sound of several sharp cracks carried across the valley. Then silence. The team had met resistance, but it was mercifully brief. He prayed there were no casualties.
Gus didn’t expect to bump into anyone before he headed into work. It was far too early. Geoff Mercer and OCTF would struggle throughout the day with whatever had been hidden from view up there. He wondered how involved Monty Jennings had been.
Gus hoped it was only a rental agreement. Something which wouldn’t cause the guy too much aggravation if he held his hands up and said he wished he’d carried out due diligence. In truth, he wasn’t as concerned about Monty as with how it affected his relationship with Vera.
Gus focused his glasses on the hillside for the next thirty minutes.
There was no point wishing he could be up there, running around with the youngsters. His body was telling him he was too old for new adventures. John Ferris had been riding since he stopped wearing nappies. Gus had wished he’d had several pairs available yesterday to soften the blows.
He eased himself up and returned his chair and field glasses to the shed.
As he strolled back to the bungalow to make himself a cup of coffee, he wondered what time Neil Davis got out of bed. He needed a lift, and Neil lived closest.
Melody answered on the fifth ring.
“Sorry, I didn’t wake you, did I? Is Neil there?”
“He’s in the shower,” she replied, “that’s Mr Freeman, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Don’t disturb Neil. Just ask him to pick me up on his way into work, please. I’ll be ready and waiting.”
Neil arrived at half-past eight. Gus got into the passenger seat.
“Morning, guv, are you okay?”
“Better than at the same time yesterday, when some bugger tried to put two extra holes in my head. We’ll pass the spot in a minute. My Ford Focus is in the garage. I told them it only needs a new headrest and a front windscreen. You know what they’re like, plenty of rubbing of chins and shaking of heads. It’s only ten years old. Years of life in it yet.”
“The threat you received wasn’t an empty one then. What happened to the bloke who got shot?”
“He died on the way to the hospital.”
“What a shame.”
“Did you notice any increased traffic on the roads when you came to collect me?”
“Not this side of the village, guv. Has the balloon gone up?”
“On the hillside. It might be over bar the shouting by now. I hope it was a total success.”
“If so, we can expect you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Monday morning, guv.”
“I sincerely hope so, Neil. What progress have you made so far?”
Neil told Gus the basics and confirmed that the Freeman files were bang up to date.
“Terrific. I can familiarise myself with everything before we meet Amy Pollock. I’ll give Alex a rest and take Lydia with me. She’s got a knack with the younger women. They talk to her more readily.”
“Maybe she knows the right questions to ask, guv?”
“You may be right. The attack occurred here, Neil. Dushka overtook me on this wide stretch, and in seconds it was over.”
“There’s no evidence of anything happening there, guv. No skid marks, blood, broken glass - nothing.”
“That prat DI Francis did his job well in the end. All someone has to do now is collect the ‘Police Accident’ notices.”
It was ten to nine when they reached the first floor of the Old Police Station. Alex and Lydia arrived only two minutes behind them.
“Welcome back, guv,” said Alex, “you had us worried for a while yesterday.”
“Glad to be back. I’ll interview Amy Pollock with Lydia in an hour. I need to read through everything you’ve added since I was last here, which feels like a lifetime ago.”
“Fair enough, guv. Neil and I will continue vetting the last few sex offenders from the list the Hub provided.”
Gus was sure the killer wouldn’t be among that list. He hadn’t altered his theory since he had visited Kingfisher Drive and the murder site.
At ten minutes to ten, Gus told Lydia he was ready, and they headed for the lift.
“You’re driving. My car is in the garage,” said Gus, “remember I’m almost a senior citizen. So take it steady.”
Lydia got them to Amy Pollock’s house on the Greenwood Estate at just after ten o’clock. Gus had been gripping the seat so hard he wasn’t sure his hand would ever open again.
Amy Pollock, formerly Hodges, was tall with long blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes.
“Hello, you must be the police people I was expecting.”
“My name’s Freeman. I’m a consultant with the Crime Review Team. We are checking details from a murder case fifteen years ago. My colleague here is Ms Logan Barre. Can we come in?”
“Of course, what was I thinking? Come through to the lounge. Coffee?”
“I’ll get it,” said Lydia, “you sit and chat with Mr Freeman.”
“Did you know Trudi Villiers?” asked Gus.
“Not at all. I worked for the taxi firm as a dispatcher; I suppose you’d call it. I had an eight-month-old baby. The job was something to fill in while I tried to get into full-time employment. Childcare is so expensive. We had trips to and from her place, but I never met her.”
“How did you get on with Saeed Gill?”
Amy paused before answering.
“You don’t think he had anything to do with the murder, do you?
“I don’t think anything, Amy.”
“Saeed could be a bit of a creep. Most of the lads they had driving for them were decent enough, though. Saeed wouldn’t have hurt anyone. He was all talk.”
Lydia returned from the kitchen with three coffees.
“What time did you start work that night?” asked Gus.
“Eight o’clock. I did six hours on a Friday, six on Saturday, four on Sunday. I needed to keep the hours low to protect my benefits. Although my main aim was to get off benefits and get back to what I did before I got pregnant.”
“What was that?” asked Lydia.
“Training to be a primary school teacher.”
“Did you make it?” asked Lydia.
“No, but I’ve been a Teaching Assistant for fourteen years. I took a maternity break when I had my youngest. She’s eight now, and her big brother is nearly sixteen. I married a maths teacher.”
“I appreciate it was a long time ago,” said Gus, “but can you recall anything of the Saturday night in question? Can you recall the events leading up to midnight and beyond?”
“I remember Saeed calling me. He was having a heated discussion with a passenger.”
“What time was that?”
“At midnight. Saeed had gone to collect the other girl who we ferried to and from the pub. Krystal had her boyfriend with her. He accused Saeed of deliberately hanging around on the taxi rank in Market Square. This boyfriend reckoned he rang at twenty to twelve and there was no way it should have taken twenty minutes to drive two hundred yards. Saeed asked me to check my log. I had it logged at eight minutes to twelve. I called for any driver free to pick up from the Ring O’Bells. Saeed said he would do it, but he had only just got back from the Westbourne Estate. He needed to clean out the fast-food cartons and drink cans the previous lot had discarded.”
“When did Saeed contact you next?”
“I expected him to call sooner to say he was available to do another fare. It was always manic around that time of nig
ht. The bloke kept arguing over the fare. It took fifteen minutes, at least, before he called back again.”
“Was he ready to accept another fare by this time?”
“No, Saeed said the couple was still on the pavement, arguing and fighting. I told him to forget it, come on back to town. He could make up his money with tips from the other jobs I had in the queue.”
“What did he say to that?”
“I heard him shouting at the bloke to get in the cab if he still wanted to be taken home. If not, pay him the fare, and he’d leave. Next thing I know, I hear the door slam and Saeed tells me he’s heading for the Westbourne.”
“What time did he drop the boyfriend home?”
“He called back a minute after they left Kingfisher Close.”
“Excuse me?”
That made Gus sit up and take note.
“Saeed called to say he was ready for another job; I asked what happened to the last one. Saeed said the boyfriend was searching in his jeans and his jacket. He realised he didn’t have enough cash on him. The boyfriend was pissed and ranting and raving about his girlfriend, saying what slags Krystal and her mate were. Saeed stopped the taxi and told him if he couldn’t pay, then he had to walk home. The bloke gave Saeed a mouthful of abuse and told him he would visit a cashpoint and get a ride home with another firm.”
“Did Saeed see the bloke again that night, do you know?”
“I don’t, I’m afraid. Saeed never mentioned it. I quit a year later. The firm closed a few years after that. I reckon it’s ten years since he stopped driving. He lives in Swindon now, but he had a stroke a few months ago. He won’t be much use to you now.”
“We’ll try not to trouble him,” said Gus, “what you have told us has been very useful. For some strange reason, nobody came to talk to you earlier. It could have saved an awful lot of bother.”
“Glad I could help,” said Amy, walking with them to the door.
Gus and Lydia said their goodbyes and headed for the Mini.
“Wow, that was amazing,” said Lydia, “the case has been blown wide open. James Bosworth lied. He said he took a taxi home. Now we know different. He could have been in town when Trudi left the pub.”
“Odd that Steve Li didn’t mention him, don’t you think?” said Gus.
“Have I jumped in too soon again, guv?”
“Possibly. We won’t be able to verify whether Bosworth used an ATM that night. Banks need to keep records for seven years, but certainly not fifteen. We need a witness who saw Bosworth between leaving the taxi on the Greenwood Estate and arriving home on the Westbourne. We don’t know what time he reached there. Let’s say between half-past twelve and half-past one.”
“Did Neil say what Bosworth was doing this weekend?” asked Lydia.
“I need to apply for overtime if you’re thinking of grabbing him tomorrow.”
“I can do it if you need me,”
“It’s important enough to bring the interview forward. I don’t know whether Geoff Mercer will be available. Blow it. We’ll work tomorrow morning, regardless.”
“You have put your life on the line for them this week, guv. They should be grateful you still want to do it.”
Gus laughed.
“I’ll tell you what. When we get back to the office, try to bring the other appointments forward. You and Alex can visit Steve Li and his wife. Trudi’s parents too, if they can spare an hour this afternoon. We’ll scrap Saeed Gill. Amy told us far more than he could have done, even before he had his stroke. Tony and Tristram can have as many late nights as they wish in Benidorm; we won’t need their statements.”
“What will you be doing this afternoon?” asked Lydia as she parked the car.
“I intend to grovel to the security camera firm to get someone out to help site my cameras. Then, I’m off to my allotment. I deserve a spot of ‘me’ time.”
CHAPTER 11
Gus updated his computer file with the new evidence Amy Pollock had provided. Lydia passed the details on to Alex and Neil. The office was buzzing. There was a light at the end of what had appeared to be a very dark tunnel.
Neil arranged for Alex and Lydia to interview Steve and Mary Li at two o’clock.
Ray Villiers worked until half-past four. Kath had just finished a shift at the supermarket when Neil called. He suggested to Alex that he and Lydia arrive at four to talk with Trudi’s mother first. Even though their daughter had been dead for fifteen years, Kath might still have a few secrets about her only daughter she had withheld from Ray.
“We can’t be blasé with these final interviews,” he said. “We must ask the same searching questions we wanted to before you learned what you did this morning.”
“Well done, Neil,” said Gus, “that’s correct. We mustn’t assume these couples will merely cement the opinions we may have formed so far on who was responsible. Amy Pollock asked me this morning if Saeed Gill was involved. That reaction was because she thought he was a creep. I had asked how she got on with him. A simple enough question, but people respond in various ways depending on their relationship with the person involved.”
“Are there any specific things you want us to ask, guv?” asked Alex.
“Timings will still be important, as far as the Li’s are concerned. Also, we need to check whether Steve Li saw James Bosworth that night. How many ATM’s did the town have available back then? Check that, Neil. We won’t learn until tomorrow which one Bosworth used to withdraw cash. If indeed he did. Another thing to check is which taxi firms had cabs on the rank in Market Square that night? A long shot, but would one of their drivers recall taking Bosworth up to the Westbourne at a quarter to one, or later?”
“Do we need to ask Trudi’s parents more on her teenage years, guv?” asked Alex.
“I’d just let Kath Villiers chat to begin with,” said Gus, “then use your common sense. If a potential line of enquiry presents itself, jump in with follow-up questions. Think on your feet. You’ll know when to quit and let her witter on again with stories of their little girl.”
Gus carried on tidying his desk and thinking about how he might pass the afternoon. He knew much of what he had asked his team to do was pointless, but they were still raw recruits at this game. It was good practice. These tactics would stand them in good stead for cases that lay ahead.
“When Ray Villiers arrives home, make sure he knows Kath has been very helpful,” he said, as an idea struck him. “It may prompt an admission from him tension existed between him and Trudi. Mum and Dad may have been ravers in their day, and Trudi followed in their footsteps? Or was it something between father and daughter that caused her to go off the rails? Is Ray religious, or a strict disciplinarian? That could have been a trigger. I consider myself to be broad-minded, but a daughter like Trudi would have tested my patience. The way she behaved would have horrified me.”
“I’ve made a note of those things, guv,” said Alex.
“Go with the flow. Sometimes witnesses give answers to questions you haven’t dreamed of asking.”
Alex wasn’t sure whether or not that made sense, but he nodded in agreement. The boss knew best.
“Right, I’m off,” said Gus, “get Neil to tell you where my place is, Lydia. You can pick me up after ten. We’ll camp outside his place on the Westbourne until James Bosworth is available to chat. No excuses. If he gets stroppy, I’ll ask the custody suite up the road to send an officer to arrest him.”
Gus left the team with enough interviews and information-gathering to fill the afternoon. He took a taxi home and prepared lunch. The security camera representative arrived at three o’clock. As soon as he had got rid of him, Gus planned to spend until seven this evening on his beloved allotment. The thermometer had read twenty-six degrees centigrade at one o’clock when he parked in the driveway. Gus couldn’t remember an April day as warm as this. Time to enjoy it.
Steve and Mary Li had done well out of the restaurant and take away business. Their detached house on the town’s outs
kirts looked in pristine condition, both inside and out. The double garage probably housed Steve’s more modern Jaguar. Alex wondered whether they had extended the garage when Jason still lived at home.
Alex and Lydia parked outside on the main road. Lydia retrieved Alex’s chair from the back seat of her Mini. He manoeuvred himself from the passenger seat and sat in his chair.
“Not long now, Lydia,” he said, “I’ll be on crutches by the end of the month.”
“You’ve done brilliantly to come as far as you have, Alex,” she replied. “Mary Li is watching us from her lounge window, by the way.”
The front door opened, and a tiny Chinese lady skipped onto the gravel path. She pointed to the pathway at the side of the house.
“This way, please,” she said.
Mary showed them into the sunroom at the rear of the house. Steve sat reading a book and stood when Lydia reversed Alex’s chair and lifted it over the door sill.
“Welcome,” said Steve Li.
He stood five foot, six inches tall, and Mary only came up to his shoulder. She hovered as the two police personnel made themselves comfortable.
“You want tea?” she asked when they had settled.
“No, thank you, Mrs Li,” said Alex.
Mary Li was already halfway through the door into the house. Alex nodded to Lydia. She followed Mary inside to ask a few questions to confirm what her husband told the detectives back in 2003.
“You are aware why we asked to speak with you, Mr Li,” said Alex.
“Call me Steve, please, everyone does,”
“Okay, Steve, well, I work with a cold case review team. My name is DS Alex Hardy. We’re looking into the death of Trudi Villiers, fifteen years ago.”
“They make a mistake back then. I remember.”
“Yes, they did. We’re hoping to get the right person this time. Remind me what you saw that night, Steve.”
“We were busy. My son dealt with the takeaways until half-past ten. Jason joined us in the restaurant after that. Our last customers left after midnight. Ten past, not later.”
