by Ted Tayler
Lydia decided it was out of the question to sneak another thirty minutes in bed. Gus had been through the mill in the past forty-eight hours. The least she could do was fetch his breakfast.
She reached the Old Police Station by half-past eight, collected a copy of the pertinent items and headed for Devizes. A quick stop to buy her boss a healthy snack at the Community Shop in his village, and she stood on the doorstep of his bungalow before nine.
Gus opened the door and came straight out, carrying a large thermos flask.
“Are those still warm?” he asked, pointing to the paper bag she carried.
“Yes,” she replied, “I bought them in the shop, along the lane.”
“I never realised they stocked them,” said Gus, grabbing the bag, “cheers, let’s get going.”
Twenty-five minutes later they threaded their way through parked cars and vans on the Westbourne Estate. Gus had devoured his pastries. The notes Lydia had given him now bore buttery finger marks.
“Should we talk with Jason Li, guv?” asked Lydia.
“You can ask him to recommend a good wine to go with your Kung Pao Chicken,”
“Oh, he can’t add new information to the investigation then?”
“One step at a time, Lydia. Ask me again after we’ve spoken with James Bosworth.”
“This is where he lives. The van that has his name on the side gives it away. At least, it suggests he’s home.”
Gus and Lydia approached the van on the drive. Three boisterous young boys played on the pavement; they stopped and stared.
“Those must be the Bosworth boys,” said Lydia.
The front door opened. Gus and Lydia knew Sammie Bosworth was twenty-eight and a mobile hairdresser; they didn’t expect her to be plump, plain and short.
“We ain’t interested in buying whatever you’re selling,” she said, still holding the door.
“We’re not selling a thing,” said Gus, whipping out his identity card. “It’s James we came to interview.”
“Who’s that?” A disembodied voice came from inside the house.
“Coppers,” shouted Sammie.
James Bosworth appeared in the doorway, easing his wife to one side. Lydia thought he matched the WPC’s description perfectly. Even at forty-five, Bosworth was tall, dark and had that edgy vibe that appealed to so many women. Bosworth knew what effect he could have and graced Lydia with one of his smouldering looks.
“When you’ve finished undressing my colleague with your eyes, perhaps we could get on? My name’s Freeman, a consultant with the Crime Review Team reviewing the murder of Trudi Villiers back in 2003. You were interviewed at the time; we have further questions.”
“Take them indoors,” snapped Sammie, “we don’t want the neighbours to know the law’s here.”
Bosworth ignored her, turned on his heel and walked into the house. Gus and Lydia followed him indoors where they found Bosworth leaning against a unit in the large kitchen. He had positioned himself, so the island in the middle of the room lay between them.
“You lied to the police, Mr Bosworth,” said Gus.
“Don’t know what you mean.”
“If you mess me around, we can carry on this conversation at the nick, do you understand? We know what happened after you and Krystal argued and fought. So, where did you go after you left Saeed Gill’s taxi?”
Bosworth was shocked; they knew so much.
“I told the slimy git to drop me off so I could use a shortcut. I knew the streets on the Greenwood Estate, so I headed for the garage near the river bridge. My building society had an ATM there. It meant having to pay two per cent on cash withdrawals, but I was broke. I had no choice. I wanted to draw out twenty quid. Just my luck, the bloody thing was out of order. Then it began to rain when I walked home. I lived a couple of streets further into the estate in those days. I got soaked by the time I got indoors.”
“What time might that have been?”
“A little after one, I guess,”
“You can’t be certain?”
“I wasn’t interested. I didn’t expect someone to ask me fifteen years later. If I’d known, I would have looked at a clock.”
“You walked across to Riverside Walk?”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll be generous,” said Gus, “it might take fifteen minutes at a slow pace to walk from the point you mentioned to the garage. The taxi firm stated you left Saeed Gill’s taxi at twenty-five past twelve at the latest. That puts you on the forecourt of the garage at twenty minutes to one.”
“If you say so,” shrugged Bosworth.
“Talk me through the argument you had with Krystal Warner.”
Sammie hovered by the doorway, listening in to their conversation.
Bosworth gave her a different look from the one he had given Lydia earlier. Sammie closed the door.
“I told the truth about that. We hadn’t been going together very long. Krystal wasn’t the love of my life; let’s say that. The sex was good. I wanted to spend the night. She was scared of what Trudi would say if she found me there in the morning. It was pathetic.”
“When did you first meet Trudi?”
“At school, why?”
“Oh, I thought you might have mentioned you were her first love when she was twelve years old.”
James Bosworth pushed himself away from the unit.
“That’s enough,” he said, “this isn’t happening anymore. I want a solicitor next time we talk.”
“That’s fine, Mr Bosworth. Why don’t you meet us at the new unit on Crook Way this afternoon? Shall we say one o’clock?”
Gus didn’t wait for an answer. They found Sammie stood outside with her three sons.
“Is he in trouble?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” said Gus, “but the sooner he tells us the truth, the quicker he can attend to more serious matters,”
Sammie and the boys trooped indoors.
Lydia drove back towards the town centre.
“I’m more confused than ever, guv,” she said, “you had him on the ropes back there. Why didn’t you finish him?”
“One step at a time, Lydia. We haven’t done talking to him yet. It will be over soon.”
CHAPTER 12
Gus suggested they could benefit from using the spare time they had thrown up working in the office.
“Get everything we heard from Bosworth into the Freeman file,” he said, “and I’ll check with London Road to find out who’s available. I realise this eats into your weekend, but there’s no point ferrying me back to my place. I’d only need a lift back here in an hour.”
“That’s fine, guv. I can clean my place another time. Will you need an Inspector present this afternoon, guv?”
“I’ll ask when I reach someone at HQ, Lydia. As Bosworth will have his brief with him, they might insist. However, the ACC knows I’ve carried out a thousand interviews, and I’m not likely to be tripped up by a silver-tongued solicitor.”
Gus got through to Reception. The officer he spoke with was reticent about who was on-site and what they were doing.
“Look,” said Gus, “I’m aware of the operation that took place yesterday. If the ACC, DS Mercer, and the others are attending a debrief, preparing a statement, or interviewing prisoners, that’s fine. I don’t need the details. All I want to know is can a senior officer attend the custody suite here in town if I need to arrest someone this afternoon?”
Lydia’s ears pricked up at that. Terrific, they had got their man. Why hadn’t Gus said? He was so frustrating.
Gus remained on hold. Then came a reply.
“Oh, okay. See you at one o’clock. Bye.”
“All set, guv?”
“We have the pleasure of the company of Gareth Francis this afternoon.”
“Is he a DI, guv? That’s a new name to me.”
“Francis is a D-I-C-K, Lydia. If he steps out of line, I permit you to kick him.”
“What else do we need to prepar
e for this afternoon, guv?”
“Call Krystal Warner. Invite her to attend the custody suite at two o’clock. If she refuses, tell her we will arrest her for obstruction. We’ll send uniformed officers to march her out in front of her Saturday afternoon regulars.”
“Should Krystal call her solicitor, guv?”
“Absolutely. The more, the merrier.”
Lydia made the call. Krystal didn’t seem worried or surprised.
“That’s sorted, guv. Have we got time for lunch before we drive over to Crook Way?”
“We’re running out of places we can go for a bite to eat,” said Gus, “ideally I want a place with a TV. There’s due to be an announcement on the local news.”
“We can watch it here, guv. I’ll pop out for a pizza from that place just past Market Square, or fish and chips from the retail park.”
“No contest,” said Gus, “I’d love a piece of battered cod.”
Lydia made her way to the lift, and Gus turned on the TV. They had a while to wait before the regional news broadcast. He wondered how Geoff Mercer had got on yesterday.
Gus checked the murder file and had a chuckle at Lydia’s comments. He wondered if she had ever come up with a plausible answer to his question about the items removed from the murder scene.
Lydia returned in next to no time.
“I hope you stayed within the speed limit, young lady,” he asked.
“Yes, I flashed my ID card and jumped the queue telling them this was urgent police business,”
“Very funny,” he said.
“The young lad serving me thought so. He gave us extra chips.”
They tucked into their lunch. Time was of the essence. Gus turned the sound up as he saw a reporter standing one hundred yards away from Monty Jennings’s shed. Uniformed officers kept the public and the media behind the crime scene tape.
“A sophisticated cannabis farm has been uncovered by Wiltshire Police inside a large shed that stands in this isolated field above the village of Urchfont, near Devizes. When officers forced open the door, they discovered a secondary interior wall. The exterior and interior walls had been insulated to keep the heat in and the stench from leaking out. Behind the interior walls, they found fifteen hundred cannabis plants. Twelve hundred were mature plants and the rest seedlings. The plants would have produced over a million pounds worth of the Class B drug.”
The reporter stood to one side for the camera to pan down the lane towards the roadway.
“As officers approached the large shed behind me at dawn yesterday morning, they could hear the humming sound of the ventilation system. When they stood outside, waiting for the big red key to force open the door, the smell of the cannabis was minimal. It wouldn’t have troubled residents of these nearby houses on Cambrai Terrace. Of course, the truth of what was going on inside became obvious once the door was forced open. Shots came from within the building. The speed of the surprise attack and the number of armed officers present resulted in a swift conclusion to the action. Officers took five men and two women into custody.”
The reporter handed back to the studio.
“Let’s join the senior officers involved in this case on the steps outside Wilshire Police Headquarter, in Devizes. They are making a statement: -
Gus smiled when he saw the row of faces at the front of the array of police personnel.
A familiar figure stepped forward, and his name appeared on the bottom of the screen. Detective Superintendent Geoff Mercer, of Wiltshire Police -
“These men and women will be charged with a variety of drug-related offences and money laundering charges. We will push for sentences which reflect the serious nature of the offences carried out by a sophisticated organised criminal gang. They made huge amounts of money from their operation, which stretched from the capital to the Bristol Channel coast. They used false identities. Many had counterfeit documents which raise questions over border security. How did they get through so easily? In the time since they joined their fellow countrymen, who had lived here for ten years already, they rented properties. The sole purpose of these properties was to grow cannabis. The appearance of a husband, wife, and child replying to advertisements fooled landlords. These people were not related. The child was returned to his family once the man and woman had installed a sophisticated hydroponics system—a system which involves growing plants using sand or gravel and liquid with added nutrients. There was no necessity for soil. If the people in the houses needed help, so-called relatives arrived to tend the crops. The leaders of the gang were brothers, Florian, and Valmir Rexha. They came to the UK from Albania at the turn of the century, claiming to be Kosovan refugees. Their ages have yet to be proven because the documentation they carried was counterfeit. Each man had half a dozen passports in their possession when arrested today in London. They are between thirty-five and forty-five years old. Wiltshire Police carried out this raid with the Organised Crime Task Force. Early this morning OCTF raided properties leased by gang members across the South. We seized cannabis worth six million pounds in total, plus three-quarters of a million in cash.”
An attractive blonde officer did her future promotion prospects no harm by giving the next statement. The camera loved her.
Gus watched Detective Inspector Suzie Ferris with pride as she said: -
“Several of the defendants we picked up this morning were trafficked. They assert that these criminals forced them to work for them. We will check their IDs and documentation, but we believe that defence will be a pack of lies. It’s a tactic the gang have used to avoid detection in many areas of their operation. They leased the building in question from a local businessman. A series of unauthorised alterations had been made to the building to prevent local people from recognising what was going on. These alterations did not have the owner’s permission.”
Gus continued to have a broad grin on his face as the next face appeared.
Kenneth Truelove, Assistant Chief Constable, told reporters: -
“Wiltshire Police will continue to target the production of cannabis within our county boundaries. It has lasting physical and mental effects on users and a negative effect on our communities. Drugs fuel other crimes, and we have to combat that. We need the public to work with us to help tackle drug crime. Please inform us of any suspicious activity. As my officers have stated, this was a sophisticated operation. At its heart was a shed that underwent a conversion without the owner’s knowledge and for no known purpose. Strangers drove in the lanes nearby. The clues were there. Be alert to things that feel odd and give us a ring.”
The Police and Crime Commissioner added his bit: -
“We need to send a clear message to those involved in drug crime. We have the tools and the determination to bring down gangs such as this. We must thank our colleagues in OCTF for their guidance and cooperation in a successful operation.”
ACC Truelove closed by saying, “This gang ran a huge criminal operation across this county and up to six counties beyond our boundaries. We need to leave no stone unturned in the fight against organised crime. I wish to pay tribute to the dedication and effort that has helped bring these gang members to book.”
“Brilliant,” said Gus, “Geoff Mercer, you are a genius,”
“Wiltshire Police took most of the credit for that job, didn’t they guv?”
“Well, OCTF deserved a kick in the teeth. A man died because of their inaction. I was nearly another victim. Geoff used to make a habit of hogging the limelight when he’d only done ten per cent of the work on a case. I suggested he do something similar this time. I’m not surprised he could convince the top brass to join him. Their status in the county has just rocketed. This regional broadcast will be picked up by the nationals. It will knock spots off any statement issued by OCTF. They think they’re too special to court publicity. They give the impression they’re the secret police. Their faces are always blurred on the screen to protect their identity.”
“What happens now, guv?”
“You love that phrase, don’t you?”
“When you’ve been in this game for as long as I have, you learn to understand acceptance, Lydia. Some things you can change, other things you can’t. You take a view on whether what you’ve done has reached a level where you can live with it. Often it won’t matter if you don’t like what you see, because unchangeable can be just that. If I allow myself to think I can’t live with only getting an apology for Frank’s death, then I could go to my grave a bitter and frustrated man.”
Lydia believed Gus would get that apology. She wouldn’t want to be the man who said no to him — time to move on.
“Could you pass me your fish and chip wrappings, please, guv? We should drop these in a bin.”
“Let’s hit the road, young lady. James Bosworth and his brief await.”
DI Gareth Francis was waiting in the custody suite when they arrived. His mood hadn’t altered since Thursday morning. He drew himself up to his fullest height and stared at Lydia’s chest. Not a great start.
“My, what big eyes you’ve got, Grandma,” said Lydia.
Gareth Francis’s face turned as red as a beetroot.
“Is our guest here yet?” asked Gus.
DI Francis nodded. He’d decided not opening his mouth meant less chance of putting his foot in it.
Gus entered the interview room, and DI Francis joined him. Lydia seated herself in the viewing room next door. She sat behind a one-way mirror. In the interview room, she could see Little and Large, or Gareth and Gus, with Bosworth and a sharp-suited gentleman.
Gus introduced himself and Gareth Francis for the tape. He added that also present were James Bosworth and Neville Purchase, solicitor.
