The Freeman Files Series Box Set

by Ted Tayler

  “James,” said Gus, “we’re here this afternoon at your insistence. When I asked if you had been Trudi Villiers’s first love you decided you wanted to have your lawyer present before answering.”

  “Has my client been cautioned, Inspector?” asked Neville Purchase.

  “No,” replied Gareth Francis.

  “Why on earth would we caution or charge your client?” said Gus. “Will you answer the question, please, James?”

  “No comment,” replied Bosworth.

  “Fair enough. I’ll tell you what I believe happened. Feel free to jump in when I miss something out.”

  Neither Bosworth nor his brief had anything to say.

  “Ray Villiers told you in no uncertain terms he didn’t want you to see his daughter. Trudi fell for you in a big way. You, on the other hand, were ambivalent.”

  “I resent that. I’ve always been straight…”

  Gus raised a hand.

  “Your brief can explain later. I don’t think you’ve ever fallen heavily for anyone in your life. You’ve had a succession of girlfriends. Maggie Smith, the landlady from the Ring O’Bells, told us that, A lot of them were attractive enough, but you were keen to settle down and have a family. Krystal Warner fitted your type. I met your wife, Sammie; a woman made from the same mould. You didn’t want a trophy wife; someone who looked great on your arm but who you worried about every day you spent working away. She had to be servile, the little wifey at your beck and call twenty-four-seven. If she provided you with a few bairns running around at home, even better. You told us Krystal wasn’t the love of your life. If she wouldn’t spend the night with you, it was time to look elsewhere.”

  “Is this leading somewhere, Mr Freeman,” asked Purchase.

  “Of course, I’m merely showing the true character of your client. He’s not a pleasant man. When he left Krystal Warner that night, he didn’t travel home by taxi as he told the police at the time. Your client couldn’t pay the fare. He walked across the Greenwood Estate, joined Riverside Walk and headed for the nearby garage. He intended to use the cash machine there. Would you prefer to continue the story, James?”

  Bosworth shook his head.

  “The machine was out of order. It rained. James says he walked home. That’s not true. The rain didn’t start to fall until after two o’clock. The murder file showed the police surgeon confirmed this with Lyneham airbase. The Met Office has a weather station there. They tend to be more accurate than the memories of your average electrician. Let’s retrace your steps. You left the pub with Krystal with high hopes of a night of sex. Things got started on that front in the taxi according to Saeed Gill. You had been drinking from eight o’clock. You were drunk, angry and sexually frustrated. Who did you blame for this state of affairs? According to Gill, again - Trudi and Krystal were slags. Trudi was the cause of your early night. You knew she walked home via Riverside Walk. The whole point of the extra hour at the Ring O’Bells was to scrounge another tenner out of Gary Smith for the holiday fund. Trudi would never waste that money on a taxi. She might have had to pay full fare if Saeed Gill collected her. What did you do for the next fifteen minutes? We can guess. You left the pub at midnight after drinking several pints. I bet you were bursting by the time you reached the garage. So, either you stopped along Riverside Walk before you got there to empty your bladder, or you wandered back after your trip to the cash machine had been unsuccessful. Time flies when you’re having fun. At a few minutes after one o’clock, you stood by the entrance to Riverside Walk. You met Trudi. Here’s a good point to jump in. Did she ask why you and Krystal weren’t in bed at their place? Did she offer to help you out, or did she find it funny?”

  “Trudi asked me why I didn’t still find her attractive.”

  “She had fallen for you at twelve years old, hadn’t she? You weren’t as smitten. Ray told you to leave her alone, and you didn’t give a toss. You looked elsewhere. You told Trudi you found her attractive that night, didn’t you? It was a lie but guaranteed to get you laid. The sexual frustration the argument with Krystal had built up would end. You took her onto Riverside Walk, and we know what followed. How long did it last? An hour of sex with a woman who liked it rough. Trudi enjoyed being with you. She was a willing partner. It was fourteen years later than she had hoped, but at last, she’d got what she’d always wanted. I believe your blood type is ‘O’ positive. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” whispered Bosworth, his head bowed.

  “What happened afterwards?”

  “Trudi pulled her skirt down, put her knickers in her bag. Then she carried her shoes as she walked from the bushes where we laid. Trudi said her shoes were new and made her feet hurt. I went to kiss her goodnight, but she turned away. I could tell it had meant nothing to her. It was just another screw. She carried on up Riverside Walk past the bridge. I walked home, and I got indoors at half-past two. It pissed with rain by then as you said. I didn’t kill her. I swear on my life.”

  “We know you didn’t,” said Gus.

  Lydia heard Gareth Francis’s sharp intake of breath, even from behind the glass. He was as surprised as she had been.

  “What happens now?” asked James Bosworth.

  “We won’t be able to stop this from coming out once the murder case gets to court, I’m afraid. Sammie and the children will learn of the part you played. You should have come forward immediately to say you and Trudi had been together early on Sunday. The miscarriage of justice would never have occurred. They might have found the real killer far sooner. Whether that carries any legal consequences isn’t my problem. Do you mind hanging on for a few minutes, both of you? I’ll consult with my colleague next door, and then we’ll let you get on with your day.”

  Lydia jumped out of her seat. What was Gus up to now? Why did he need her when he had the Detective Inspector with him?

  “It’s okay, Lydia,” Gus said when he met her in the corridor, “I’m killing time. Can you bring Krystal through as soon as she arrives, please? I want to keep Bosworth hanging around. It will be interesting to note their reaction when they see one another.”

  “Do you believe Bosworth, guv? Are you sure he didn’t do it?”

  Gus smiled.

  “You’ve still got lots to learn, haven’t you? What time do you make it?”

  “Five to two,” she replied.

  “Go to the front desk and see if she’s early. I’ll finish things in the interview room.”

  Gus returned to the doorway of the room and found Bosworth and his solicitor preparing to leave.

  “Everything’s in order, Mr Freeman,” said DI Francis, “Mr Bosworth has written and signed a statement.”

  “Thank you both for coming in,” said Gus, “a little late for the truth to come out, but better late than never.”

  The two men shuffled past him.

  “If Bosworth admitted to having sex with Trudi Villiers he had to be in the frame for her murder,” said Gareth Francis, after they were gone. “How could you expect the detectives back then to believe he left her at two then someone appeared out of nowhere to kill her? I don’t get it.”

  “Bosworth explained the missing items to my satisfaction. I hope the officers involved would have had the common sense to see the truth. The first question to ask was what he’d done with her skirt, underwear, purse, and phone. He wouldn’t have had a clue. They didn’t find them in the river or anywhere near the murder scene. That should have suggested to them they were looking for a second person.”

  DI Francis shook his head.

  “I still don’t know how Bosworth dealt with hearing Trudi was dead. Who did he think did it?”

  “Patience, we’re nearly there,” said Gus.

  As Bosworth and Purchase reached the end of the corridor, the door opened. Krystal Warner entered, followed by Lydia Logan Barre.

  “This way, Ms Warner,” called Gus, “so glad you agreed to join us.”

  Lydia went to sit in the viewing room. Gus shook his head and ushered
her and Krystal into the interview room ahead of him.

  “You’ve met Lydia Logan Barre,” said Gus, “my name is Freeman. My colleague is DI Francis. We will tape our conversation as this is a formal interview. You decided to attend without a solicitor?”

  Krystal Warner seemed calm on the surface.

  “I didn’t think it necessary.”

  “We’ve concluded a long session with James Bosworth, as you just witnessed. We have the pertinent facts now in Trudi’s murder. Is there anything you wish to tell us?”

  Krystal shook her head.

  “For the benefit of the tape, could you answer yes or no, please?” said Gareth Francis.

  “No, nothing.”

  “I had several discussions with my colleague, Lydia about aspects of this case,” said Gus. “She’s new to police work. I posed a question. Why were items Trudi had been wearing or carrying removed from the murder scene? What made them significant? What confused me, to begin with, was how often the events of Saturday night and early Sunday morning altered. It was difficult to get to the truth. The two main culprits were you and James. We know why he lied on at least two occasions. He had something to hide, but you knew that, didn’t you?”

  Krystal shifted in her chair. The calm demeanour was slipping.

  “When the taxi disappeared, taking James home to the Westbourne Estate, you went indoors. You were angry and upset after arguing and fighting with him. Yet you wanted us to believe you went to bed as soon as you entered your flat and slept through until ten o’clock. That would have been very unusual behaviour. The natural response might be to shed a tear, call his mobile, beg him to come back. Maybe call your best friend to cry on her shoulder. You might drown your sorrows and wait for her to get home. Trudi would have been with you by twenty-past one. Only an hour to wait. What time did you call her mobile?

  “Who says I did?” said Krystal.

  “Several things told me that was what happened,” said Gus. “I believe you called her at half-past one, maybe later. You knew how long it took to walk home via Riverside Walk. The two of you had done it often enough to save the taxi fares for your holidays. You hadn’t gone to bed as you said; you remained fully dressed. After you left Kingfisher Close and entered Riverside Walk by the second bridge, you expected to meet Trudi somewhere along the pathway. You asked yourself, what could have kept her? Did she leave the pub later than planned? Where were you when you heard them talking, Krystal? James told us he left Trudi and didn’t look back. He said he had just been another screw to her, a convenient male to satisfy her insatiable hunger for meaningless sex. When Trudi passed that first bridge and carried on up the pathway, you were lying in wait.”

  “I knew what they’d done,” whispered Krystal, “I could smell the sex on her, the filthy bitch. Strolling, along with her bloody shoes in her hand. We were supposed to be best friends.”

  “You struggled with Trudi and overpowered her. Did she keep telling you how good it had been with James? Saying what a fool you were for not letting him spend the night? You had to shut her up, didn’t you? How ironic that Trudi had been carrying her stilettos. You grabbed one and hit her time after time in the throat to silence her. When she lay there, quiet, barely alive, you stood up and stamped on her chest twice with one of your high heels. What words did you use?”

  “Fuck you,” said Krystal.

  “One of those two blows was the fatal one,” said Gus, “what happened next explained the missing items. It was the only logical conclusion to draw. You dragged her body from the pathway to the bushes. You removed her skirt to confuse the police and make them believe it was a rape homicide. Her underwear was already in her bag. You removed her shoes from the scene because of the bloodied heel used in the initial assault. Trudi’s mobile phone contained the missed call you made. How long did you hang on to those items before getting rid of them, Krystal?”

  “Sunday morning.”

  “And what did you do with your shoes?”

  Krystal stood. She was wearing black stilettos with a four-inch heel.

  “I had to have a new heel on the right one because it snapped. I don’t wear this pair every day. I keep them for special occasions. They remind me never to trust a man ever again.”

  “I’ll leave you to do the honours, Gareth,” said Gus, “nice working with you this time.”

  EPILOGUE

  Gus left the interview room and walked along the corridor, followed by Lydia. As they passed the front desk, the officer on duty watched a TV news bulletin on a screen high on the wall. It featured the same reporter from the earlier news conference.

  “Orges Ahmeti, an Albanian with an outstanding European arrest warrant for GBH, was arrested after he shot at officers when they raided the cannabis farm. He is currently helping us with our enquiries into the murder of Frank North, seventy-one, a pensioner who lived in the village, Mr North went missing last Saturday night. His body was found on Sunday evening. It’s believed Mr North, became suspicious of improvements to the building. Bernard Jennings’s lawyer told us the local entrepreneur rented the field and outbuildings to the Rexha brothers. He hadn’t visited the site since the agreement was signed fifteen months ago. He was unaware of the reported alterations. Mr North had noticed smoke coming from a new chimney and wondered whether people were living in the shed. The smoke came from a wood-burner installed to keep the growers warm. Without the ‘Beast from the East’ we experienced in February this clue to what lay behind the building’s walls may never have surfaced.”

  “Did Ahmeti shoot Frank North, guv?” asked Lydia.

  “Dushka was the assassin in that gang, in my opinion. He wasn’t in the shed twenty-four-seven. Ahmeti was just muscle to keep the others in line.”

  “That poor old man thought he was helping you by checking what was going on.”

  “Seek not the Devil’s work, for it will surely find thee,” said Gus.

  “Is that Kierkegaard again, guv?”

  “No, I made it up to teach me never to listen to gossip.”

  When they were outside in the car park, Lydia turned to Gus. She had a frown on her face.

  “I’m still in shock, though. How did you know the murder took place that late? Everyone said it was just after one.”

  “The police surgeon listed the time of death as ‘after one o’clock’ because he knew that was when Trudi left the pub. Nobody queried whether it might have been two-thirty or even three o’clock. We know the original investigation was flawed, and they chose a time that fitted their rationale. After that, it was hard to get people to consider an alternative. As soon as I put the timings and the missing items together, it was simple. Two people being involved sounded crazy, but I was right.”

  “That DI Francis asked an intelligent question,” said Lydia, “what was Bosworth thinking when he learned Trudi died minutes after he’d left her? Did he suspect Krystal?”

  “Bosworth’s such a rotten character; he might not have given a toss. He knew he didn’t do it. Did he think Krystal did it? Maybe. When the police investigation switched to Lewington that changed everything. He could hardly come forward to say he’d been with Trudi and he thought his ex-girlfriend did it. He moved on, found Sammie, got married and settled down. Krystal was in a dead-end job in a pub he no longer visited. Why bother raking up the past?”

  “I can see how Krystal tried to implicate James by removing the skirt and underwear; and that she hid her involvement by removing the phone. When the investigation veered towards Lewington, a total stranger, how could she carry on as if nothing had happened? She continued working in the same pub and even took over the licence. How could anyone do that?”

  “Krystal had told the police she went to bed as soon as the taxi left. How could she know where Bosworth was at two that morning? Unless Krystal admitted that she was on the pathway by the river. How would she explain why James didn’t even know what was missing, Lydia? She told the police she didn’t get up until ten. Someone might have seen her ditc
h the incriminating evidence if questioned while things were still fresh in their minds. No, she had to keep quiet, just like James. In the end, the whole case hinged on those missing items.”

  “I still can’t get over how creepy that was being in the room when she stood up to parade those shoes in front of us.”

  “They were killer heels, alright. It’s clear, Krystal is a very troubled woman. Troubled, yet calculating. That could have been her first move in convincing people she’s unhinged and unfit to stand trial. The CPS will need to be very careful with the next steps they take. Either way, we know we have found the person responsible for Trudi’s murder. That’s what the ACC asked the CRT to do. The rest is down to the system.”

  Lydia started the car and prepared to drive her boss home.

  “Neil and Alex won’t believe it. We’ve cracked another case, guv.”

  “It’s been a hectic week,” Gus agreed.

  Another quote from Kierkegaard slipped into his head: -

  Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.

  Gus Freeman wondered what experiences lay ahead on their next cold case.

  Pressure Point

  (The third case from ‘The Freeman Files’ series)

  By

  Ted Tayler

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  About The Author

  CHAPTER 1

  Sunday, 12th June 2011