by Ted Tayler
“You believe Martyn needs a responsible adult in attendance?” asked Lydia.
“Look, I’m not his favourite person after showing him the door,” said Theo Reeves. “Arthur Jackson knows Martyn as well as anyone does. He’ll help you get Martyn to answer any questions you have.”
“Many thanks for your time, Mr Reeves,” said Gus. “We’ll let you get on with your day while we take a trip towards town and then onto the industrial estate.”
Lydia and Gus walked to the front door. Theo Reeves followed them and stood by the door until they were inside Lydia’s Mini and had pulled away from the kerb.
“What did you make of that then, Lydia?” asked Gus.
“I don’t think Theo was hiding anything, guv,” said Lydia. “I thought you gave him a hard time, but his story didn’t waver from what he told DI Wightman.”
“There was one thing Theo didn’t comment on that suggests to me that we’re on the right track.”
“Really, guv,” said Lydia. “What did I miss?”
“I said our colleagues missed something during their initial investigation,” said Gus, “and we needed to uncover what lay behind Marion’s clandestine meeting on Monday morning.”
“Do you think there was an earlier meeting on Sunday afternoon, guv?”
“At the café? I’ll reserve judgement on that. I reckon Marion met a friend or colleague who happened to be visiting the garden centre for the same reason.”
“Where will this person Marion arranged to meet have come from, guv?” asked Lydia. “An old friend or colleague, a person Theo knew too. Could it be someone from Stephanie’s school, a teacher or another parent?”
“I’m conscious we know little about Marion’s life before 1990 when Theo bumped into her in the Haunch of Venison. Doesn’t it seem odd to you Marion never talked about her life with Graham Street?”
“I can understand why Marion might not want to tell Theo the gory details of their marriage,” said Lydia. “Put yourself in Theo’s shoes. Isn’t it better not to know what a girlfriend got up to before you met? You can kid yourself everything’s new for both of you if the past is a closed book.”
“Theo suspected Marion had a chequered past,” said Gus. “So, he went along with the idea of only looking to the future to avoid having his nose rubbed in it.”
“There will be dozens of couples out there who have done the same thing, guv,” said Lydia.
“We’re almost at the Churchfields Industrial Estate already,” said Gus. “Find a place to park as soon as we get inside. We’ll walk and talk for a while. What did you see between Oakley Road and here? Did you spot a place where Marion might have stopped?”
“Sorry, guv,” said Lydia. “I was listening to you.”
“I can’t fault you for that, Lydia,” said Gus. “Despite the rumours, we men can multi-task when required.”
He referred to his notebook and translated his unique shorthand notes.
“We left Oakley Road and proceeded along The Avenue, slightly above the speed limit,” he said. “On either side of the road, there were small housing estates, a training centre, and various business premises where Marion might have stopped. Once we turned onto the A36, we soon reached the Wilton House Garden Centre on our right. I’m surprised you didn’t drop in for coffee since we didn’t get offered one by Theo Reeves.”
“I saw the sign, guv,” said Lydia, “but once you’ve seen one Garden Centre, you’ve seen them all.”
“You should have listened to Blessing when she was telling us the dimensions of the Wilton House estate,” said Gus. “Moving on, there were several shops on our left on the A36 before a signposted junction to Netherhampton Road, with access to Quidhampton.”
“Netherhampton Road was the eastern boundary of the estate, guv,” said Lydia.
“You were listening, well remembered, Lydia,” said Gus. “We also passed the Cricket Field Hotel on our right before you turned off the A36 down Cherry Orchard Lane and then negotiated the mini-roundabout that brought us onto Brunel Road, where we are now parked. Any of those places could have been where Marion picked up a passenger or spoke to someone on her mobile phone, confirming where and when they were to meet. Let’s take a walk.”
CHAPTER 6
“We’ve been parked on Brunel Road for three minutes, guv,” said Lydia. “I have seen no security staff patrolling the estate. Nobody has approached us to ask what we’re doing here.”
“That’s unlikely to happen, Lydia,” said Gus. “I guarantee any security this site has is confined to hours of darkness. Look at the number of premises surrounding us and the variety on offer. Major car dealerships operate alongside artisan craft outlets. Parking bays dotted here and there, larger lay-bys for trucks. There’s even a snack van with a permanent pitch a hundred yards ahead. They don’t need security during the day with hundreds of employees milling about the place, plus the constant stream of traffic.”
“Maybe that’s why Marion’s car escaped notice, guv,” said Lydia. “Her Lexus was just one vehicle among hundreds. Why would anyone stop to look inside?”
“Did you notice the large board near the entrance showing the site layout and a list of names of the businesses?” asked Gus.
“You can’t miss it, guv,” said Lydia. “I expect you’ll say I was travelling too fast to read what it said.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to catch every name, Lydia,” said Gus. “I was trying to see a light engineering firm next door to a fitness centre. I might have missed it, of course.”
“Theo Reeves told us this site was still a hive of activity, but the businesses might have altered over the years. Brunel Road is the major thoroughfare; we need to move to the edges of the estate to find the spot where Marion Reeves parked her car, Was the name of the street given in the murder file?”
“It didn’t register, Lydia,” said Gus. “My mistake. I should have made a note. Call Luke Sherman and get him to dig it out, please? While you’re on the phone, ask him to follow up on Marion’s mobile phone. Is that still in evidence? Why didn’t we see a call history from that phone? I can’t imagine Billie Wightman and Matt Price didn’t get details of every call to and from that mobile from Marion’s service provider.”
Lydia stepped away from Gus to call the office. Gus tried to work out whether it was quicker to return to the car and start again or head towards the Salisbury side of the estate and hope for the best. He elected to wait.
“Stephenson Road, guv,” called Lydia. “It’s on the edge of the estate on the Salisbury side.”
Five minutes later, they stood on Stephenson Road, and Gus pointed to the name of a small engineering firm on a board near the pavement.
“No job too small,” said Gus. “I reckon this must be the place. Marion parked between this firm and the next unit along which was the gym back then.”
“Today, it’s a funeral home, guv,” said Lydia.
“It’s quieter this side,” said Gus. “I wonder whether that’s why they chose it?”
“Hardly the dead centre of the estate, guv.”
“Look around us, Lydia; what do you see?”
Lydia checked her watch. It was early afternoon already. Time flew by when you were working on a case with Gus Freeman. Lydia wished Gus hadn’t mentioned the snack van. A drink and a bite to eat would be most welcome right now.
“It’s almost one o’clock,” said Lydia. “I can hear the bustle of activity inside many of the premises close by. But there’s not much traffic on this side street. There are twenty vehicles parked on either side of the road, I can see from this spot. Foot traffic is non-existent. Apart from us two, of course.”
“A second vehicle parked next to Marion’s car wouldn’t cause major concerns, would it? If the volume of traffic was similar seven years ago on this side street.”
“What about when you consider what was happening inside Marion’s car, guv?” asked Lydia.
“As you pointed out, stood in the open air, we can hear ac
tivity from inside the buildings on either side of the road. The sound of machinery, fork-lift trucks, and the odd yell of a name or laughter. Would any of those people hear an argument from inside the car? Some of them will wear ear-defenders for protection. Would they even hear screams?”
“I can hear music, guv,” said Lydia. “That car repair and MOT garage across the road has a tannoy system tuned to Heart Radio. Perhaps we’ve got it wrong. This side street was an ideal spot to commit murder.”
“In plain sight, with enough background noise to mask the sounds of the attack,” said Gus.
“Luke said he needed to contact DCI Wightman about that mobile phone, guv,” said Lydia. “Although it was in Marion’s handbag that morning, it doesn’t appear to get mentioned again in the murder file. That’s odd, isn’t it?”
“I’ll talk to DI Matt Price at Portishead when we get back to the office. He’s too good a copper to miss something that significant in an investigation. It’s more than odd, Lydia. This case is taking strange turns, so we need to keep our wits about us. I wonder whether anyone is working at the funeral home. It’s tranquil. Perhaps they just store corpses here, then collect them on the way to the church or crematorium.”
“Don’t joke, guv,” said Lydia. “That’s creepy. No, they have their offices here too.”
“Right, let’s find out when they moved in. In seven years, there might have been more than one change of use.”
Gus and Lydia followed the footpath to the side of the building and found a glass-partitioned door giving full details of the company. Lydia rang the bell. A tall, thin, bespectacled man in a dark suit opened the door. Gus sensed he would launch into his usual sombre greeting for grieving relatives and got in quick with his own spiel.
“Good afternoon,” said Gus. “We’re from Wiltshire Police. Can you provide us with information, please? You are?”
“Maurice Duffield, funeral director.”
“When did your firm take over these premises?” asked Lydia.
“We’ve been here for five years. It was a gym before we took over. We needed to make alterations and repairs, of course. The place had suffered during the time it was unoccupied.”
“Had the gym been trading for long?” asked Gus.
“Oh yes,” said Maurice Duffield. “This industrial estate has existed over fifty years and has had many corporate occupiers: BT, Wessex Water, and the Audi dealership for a start. The gym opened in the late eighties and was a thriving concern for over a decade, but the original owner retired. After that, several inexperienced people tried to revive the place without success. They kept a hardcore clientele that enjoyed lifting weights, but the modern trend was a more varied form of exercise. The owners didn’t have the capital to invest, so their equipment became worn out. The central heating and air-conditioning fell into disrepair. This building was in a sorry state when we moved here.”
“How long did it remain unoccupied?” asked Gus.
“Two years,” said Maurice Duffield, “and it was closed more than it was open during the previous eighteen months.”
“Thanks for the information, Mr Duffield,” said Gus. “We’ll let you get on with your day.”
“Would you like one of our brochures as you’re here?”
“Not today, thank you,” said Gus, making a sharp exit.
“Did that information on the gym help, guv?” asked Lydia when they reached the pavement again.
“It might explain why nobody took any notice of Marion’s car from this stretch of road. The place was on its last legs, and there were probably no sweaty clients coming and going.”
Gus set off towards the end of Stephenson Road, where it joined Churchfields Road. He was heading for the car. Lydia eased the Mini into the steady stream of afternoon traffic on the A36 twenty minutes later.
“Home, Lydia,” said Gus.
“I’m still enjoying that greasy burger, guv,” said Lydia.
“Mmm, that will repeat on me all afternoon. It wasn’t the best coffee I’ve ever tasted either. Jeff’s Diner will wait a long time before they get return business from me.”
“I was hungry,” said Lydia. “I couldn’t wait until we got back to the office, even for the Gaggia.”
“We must get everything we gathered into the Freeman Files,” said Gus. “Meanwhile, Luke needs to arrange meetings with Graham Street and Stephanie Reeves. I reckon they will be the best people to speak to after what we learned today.”
“Setting up a meeting with Arthur Jackson and Martyn Street might be awkward, guv. Do you think we’d get permission to interview them at their place of work?”
“You think the titled folk who employ them might take issue with the local plods invading their space? Tough. We’ll talk to Martyn when it’s convenient to us, not to him or his employer. We can take Martyn Street to the custody suite in town if necessary.”
Lydia noticed Gus was resting his eyes on the way back to the office. She wouldn’t dare accuse him of nodding off, but while she was alone with her thoughts, she tried to make a list of genuine suspects for Marion Reeve’s killer. As she drew up alongside Blessing Umeh’s car in the Old Police Station car park forty minutes after leaving Brunel Road, she had to admit defeat.
Gus opened his eyes as Lydia switched off the engine.
“Is it safe to look now?” asked Gus.
“Cheeky,” said Lydia. “I was very careful driving back, honest.”
“Upstairs then,” said Gus. “Let’s hear what Luke uncovered.”
They travelled up in the lift, and the first words they heard were from Neil Davis.
“Heaven knows where that leaves us,” he said.
“Problem, Neil?” asked Gus.
“Graham Street, guv,” said Neil, “He suffered a heart attack during the night. The hospital isn’t sure he’s going to make it.”
“Where did they take him?” asked Gus.
“The main Salisbury hospital, out at Odstock, guv,” said Neil.
“How old is he?” asked Lydia.
“Early seventies,” said Neil. “Street had no underlying health problems before last night. He didn’t even know the name of his GP. A lady friend called the ambulance at around one o’clock.”
“Was he doing something strenuous?” asked Alex.
“The poor man,” said Blessing.
“If Street doesn’t survive, it will make solving the Marion Reeves' case that much harder, won’t it, guv?” said Luke.
“Just when I thought it was as tough as it could get,” said Gus. “Get hold of Stephanie Reeves, Luke. Can you arrange for me to speak to her tomorrow, please?”
“She works as a teaching assistant at a local primary in Downton, Luke,” said Lydia. “We learned that from Theo Reeves this morning.”
“Stephanie can take time off work,” said Gus. “I don’t do evenings.”
The team could tell Gus wasn’t in the best of moods. It was time to keep their heads down and wait until the storm blew over.
Gus grabbed the phone and called the Avon and Somerset Police HQ at Portishead.
Reception kept Gus on hold for several minutes, which didn’t improve matters, but eventually, they connected him to DI Matt Price.
“Matt, it’s Gus Freeman here. Congratulations on your promotion. Well-deserved, I’m sure. Yes, I expect it is a surprise to hear from me. I came out of retirement several months ago to work with a Crime Review Team. They’re rough around the edges, but I’m doing my best with them. Look, I’m sure you recall the Marion Reeves case out at Wilton? Yes, a messy business. We’ve got the murder file in our office, and I spoke to Theo Reeves, the victim’s husband, this morning. The murder file lists a mobile phone as being among the contents of Marion’s handbag. What work got carried out on that phone? We can’t find any details of her call history.”
Everyone in the room listened in on the conversation. The pause while Gus listened to Matt Price’s explanation seemed to last forever.
“Who handled the i
tems from inside the Lexus, Matt?” asked Gus. “Hold on, do you mind if I put you on speakerphone?”
“No problem, Gus,” said Matt Price. “We were at Bourne Hill nick when we got the call to attend an incident at Churchfields. Billie Wightman drove us to the end of Churchfields Road, where it joins Stephenson Road. We reached the outer cordon at twenty past twelve. Uniformed officers were already on scene and following standard protocols as far as possible. For the young uniforms on-site that day, it was the first major incident they had attended. Sergeant Phil Youngman ran the show. He’d arrived with a female PC a few minutes before noon and soon realised they needed extra pairs of hands to secure the crime scene. Phil’s reinforcements cordoned off access to Stephenson Road and evacuated as many personnel as possible from the nearby units. You can imagine how many people that was; it was chaotic. Forensics and the police surgeon had beaten Billie and me to Churchfields by a matter of minutes. We were at least one hundred yards from the white tent Crime Scene Investigators erected over the victim’s car. Even from that poor vantage point, Billie muttered that she thought there were far too many bodies milling around. She yelled at a PC wandering around with a roll of crime scene tape to get us booked in and escorted to the business end of operations.”
“How good a job had Phil Youngman, as First Officer Attending, done in securing the crime scene and preserving evidence?” asked Gus.
“Phil Youngman must have been at Bourne Hill when you worked there, Gus,” said Matt Price. “He was a safe pair of hands and had been in the job for years. Phil would never fly higher than a Sergeant, but you could always rely on him to put in a solid performance.”
“Mister Dependable, yes,” said Gus. “If anyone dropped the ball on this, it was unlikely to be Phil. Did an experienced forensics team attend the murder scene?”
“The Scene of Crime Examiner that day was Warren Baker. Thirty years’ experience.”
“I don’t think I ever met him. Had he been at Bourne Hill long?”
