Dead Reckoning: The Freeman Files Series: Book 14

by Ted Tayler

  The following day, brunch was very welcome and set them up nicely for a busy afternoon on the neglected allotment. Bert Penman’s patch next door looked a picture by comparison. The Reverend had almost harvested her entire crop of salad plants, but Clemency Bentham wasn’t present, of course. She was probably resting after Holy Communion and Matins this morning and girding up her loins in anticipation of Evensong later.

  “I wonder why the Church doesn’t combine their services into one,” said Suzie, leaning on her hoe. “They might get more people to attend if you could get everything out of the way in one go.”

  “Like a one-stop-shop, you mean?” said Gus. “For obvious reasons, you must realise I’ve never given the matter any thought.”

  “I know you’re a non-believer, Gus,” said Suzie. “I thought as Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest in the old days, parishioners had to be up early for the first service and couldn’t go too far in the afternoon because they needed to get back for Evensong. My grandparents knew entire families who attended all three services. On top of that, the kids got packed off to bible classes in the afternoon.”

  “No rest for the wicked,” said Gus.

  “I wonder whether Irene will persuade Bert to go back to church,” said Suzie as she resumed ridding the earth around Gus’s second crop of potatoes of weeds.

  “Hang on,” said Gus. “What’s this fascination with the church today? Brett’s lived in the area for months now. I don’t recall the Reverend badgering him about sitting in the front row of the pews. It hasn’t stopped Clemency getting up close and personal with him.”

  Suzie didn’t reply, so Gus set his mind to wondering what he’d missed. They had discussed marriage and agreed it wasn’t on the agenda in the foreseeable future. Gus eased his aching body into an upright position and stared at the church. What else was there? The penny dropped.

  An hour later, Gus sensed Suzie was growing tired. The weather was hot and sticky. The clouds above the hillside opposite suggested a looming thunderstorm. It was ever thus in this country. Three or four consecutive days with high temperatures and the only way it could break was with violence. There was never a gradual reduction in temperature to revert to a more moderate spell of summer weather.

  “Let’s call it a day, Suzie,” he said. “Sit yourself down while I return our tools to the shed. Then, we’ll walk home and freshen up.”

  They wandered up the lane as the church clock wound itself up to strike six o’clock.

  “I’ve never seen many small kids near the allotment when I’ve worked on a Sunday afternoon,” he said. “That means if they’re christening a little one, they must do it in the morning.”

  “You’re incorrigible, Gus Freeman,” said Suzie, punching him hard on the arm.

  “I prefer people to think of me as a lovable rogue,” Gus replied.

  When they reached the bungalow, Suzie suggested they prepared a salad instead of going for another cooked meal in the Lamb. Much later, they sat under the stars on the rear garden patio with a cup of coffee and discussed the pros and cons of christenings.

  “All done, guv,” said Luke. “Everything’s set for your trip to London Road.”

  Gus looked up from his blank computer screen and wondered how long he’d been daydreaming.

  “Coffees are in order,” he said, jumping up from his chair.

  Too much inactivity and his team would catch him nodding off in the afternoons. That would never do. Only older people did that.

  When Blessing saw Gus heading for the restroom, she seized her chance.

  “I’ll help with the coffees, guv,” she said and hurried across the room before any of the others got in ahead of her.

  Blessing closed the restroom door behind her and joined Gus by the Gaggia.

  “Anything exciting happen this weekend, Blessing?” he asked.

  “No, guv, something dreadful.”

  She told Gus about Ekene Kanu and getting summoned to appear in Englishcombe parish church next Sunday morning.

  “What’s the young man like?” asked Gus. “What does he do for a living?”

  “I do not know, guv,” said Blessing.

  “So, your father has spoken with Ekene’s father and agreed that a union between the two of you is acceptable to both families. I wonder what Ekene thinks. Perhaps he’s as keen to marry for love as you are. Could your mother give you his phone number on Wednesday evening? Why not grasp the nettle, and make the first contact, Blessing? If Ekene’s of a similar mind to your father, a confident, modern young woman might scare him away. If not, you might be able to plot a way for both of you to escape.”

  “I knew you would think of something, Mr Freeman,” said Blessing. “Did Mrs Ferris ring Suzie over the weekend?”

  “Not as far as I’m aware, Blessing,” said Gus. “Why?”

  “Mr Ferris thought their daughter could stimulate your brain cells.”

  “Ah, I get your drift. John told Jackie to ask Suzie to work on me over the coming week. Why they think that would work is beyond me.”

  “So, you thought of this plan by yourself,” said Blessing.

  “It has one major flaw,” said Gus.

  He cursed himself for mentioning it when he saw her reaction. Blessings’ shoulders slumped, and her bottom lip quivered.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “You might have looked at Ekene next Sunday morning and fallen head over heels. If my ruse is successful, you could go your separate ways without realising you’ve missed your soul mate.”

  “If my mother has his number, I’ll know as soon as I speak with him,” said Blessing. “I’m a detective, after all, and I’ll have a prepared list of questions.”

  “Make sure you compile that list on your own time, DC Umeh,” said Gus with a grin. “Then let me have a quick look before you call.”

  “The others will wonder what we’re up to,” said Blessing. “We should get these cups of coffee back to them. I feel happier now, Mr Freeman. You are a wonderful boss.”

  Blessing and Gus carried three cups each into the main office and handed them around.

  “I needed this,” said Neil. “I’ve got a dry neck.”

  “Sorry for the delay. We had an extra cleaning job to do first, Neil,” said Gus. “When was the last time you changed the filters on the Gaggia?”

  By the time Gus gathered his files together and made for the lift, the office was tidy. But, as he travelled to the ground floor, Gus wondered when Suzie’s charm offensive would begin. It might be fun if he resisted for a while.

  Upstairs in the office, Lydia Logan Barre thought it high time they told everyone about their weekend in Edinburgh. Gus wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours, and they had nothing much to do, anyway.

  Before she began, Lydia suspected Blessing had a secret.

  “Tell me to mind my own business, Blessing,” she said. “Were you and Gus talking about your father wanting to arrange a marriage for you in the restroom?”

  “My father has found someone he thinks is suitable,” said Blessing. “But Mr Freeman has given me an idea of how I might thwart my father’s plans without having to cut my ties with my family.”

  “That’s great, Blessing,” said Luke. “We know how important your family is to you. If Gus has come up with a winning idea, it might only be a temporary fix, however. The best way out is for you to find a steady boyfriend. Someone you fancy.”

  “I have been looking,” said Blessing.

  “Nobody you’ve seen matches PC Dave Smith, I suppose,” said Alex Hardy.

  Blessing sighed.

  “Dave was tall and handsome and a great kisser. But he wasn’t ready to settle down.”

  “Rick Chalmers is still available as far as I know,” said Neil. “I have offered to fix you up before.”

  “Don’t be gross, Neil,” said Lydia. “Rick’s a decent detective, but he’s a typical middle-aged copper after a failed marriage. He drinks too much and survives on fast food.”
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  “Charming,” said Neil. “Rick’s in his late twenties, the same as Luke and me.”

  “You can’t argue he looks older than us,” said Luke. “Several years of heavy drinking and an unhealthy diet are taking their toll.”

  “Come on, guys,” said Alex. “Lydia is champing at the bit to tell you about our trip. We can put our heads together and think where Blessing might find Mr Right another time.”

  Gus eased his Ford Focus into a vacant space outside the Wiltshire Police HQ main building, picked up his files, and trotted up the stairs to the front door.

  The young lad on reception was new. Gus recognised the type; young, keen, over-zealous.

  He tried to recall whether he’d ever been that keen to impress. The lad made Gus search through his pockets for the library card that announced him as a consultant attached to Wiltshire Police. Then he studied the photograph and compared it to the man standing in front of him.

  “Are you sure you’re Gus Freeman, sir?” he said.

  “Positive,” said Gus.

  “I’d better check, sir. If you wouldn’t mind waiting.”

  The youngster left reception and dashed upstairs to the first floor.

  Gus looked at his watch. He was in luck. The traffic on the roads this morning had been lighter than usual, so he’d arrived with several minutes to spare—minutes which were ticking away at an alarming rate.

  The sound of suppressed laughter came from the mezzanine. Gus realised someone was pulling his leg. He went upstairs to find the lad chatting with Vera and Kassie.

  “Hilarious,” said Gus.

  “It’s the haircut,” the young lad said. “Vera says it’s totally changed your appearance. I had to be sure. I didn’t want to let a ringer into the building on my first day.”

  “Some people find their first day is also their last,” said Gus, snatching his identity card from the wet-behind-the-ears PC.

  “As for you two,” he said, staring at Vera and Kassie. “You might have made me late for my meeting with the boss.”

  “Don’t be daft, Mr Freeman,” said Kassie Trotter, “you can make it across this floor in plenty of time.”

  “Ah, but this young man has to get me to sign in now he’s verified my credentials. He just said it’s his first day, and he must do everything by the book. What example would I be setting if I didn’t follow the rules?”

  “If you sign in and out when you have finished your meeting, I’m sure the books will be straight enough,” said Vera. “Now stop winding everyone up and get to Kenneth’s office.”

  “Will we see you later, Mr Freeman?” asked Kassie. “Or shall I throw your cream horn in the bin?”

  “I wouldn’t be too hasty, Kassie,” said Gus. “After the trouble you went to baking in that heat over the weekend.”

  “I had to be careful, Mr Freeman,” said Kassie. “I kept the curtains closed as I didn’t have a stitch on when I prepared this week’s batches of buns, horns, and muffins. It was hot work.”

  Gus spotted the lad from reception still lurking at the top of the stairs. The youngster swallowed hard, took one lingering look at Kassie, and bolted downstairs where he belonged.

  “Kassie has an admirer,” said Vera.

  “Not before time,” said Gus as he crossed the room to Kenneth Truelove’s office.

  “I need a man, not a boy,” said Kassie.

  Gus thought Kassie should ask Vera for Rick Chalmers’s number but thought better of it.

  “You made it at last then, Freeman?” said the Chief Constable. “Mercer has been here for two minutes. Time marches on.”

  “Sorry, sir. A case of mistaken identity,” said Gus.

  Kenneth Truelove wasn’t listening. Instead, he had stood up and walked to the window. That was a hangover from the days in his old room when he was still ACC. The view he had now was far less inspiring. Which meant there was trouble brewing.

  Gus placed the files on Kenneth’s desk without comment.

  “Well done, Gus,” said Geoff Mercer. “I know I’ve said it already, but the Police and Crime Commissioner had a smile a mile wide when he learned about Operation Oakleaf earlier this morning. You put a tick in the box by uncovering Marion Reeves’s killer at long last. The icing on the cake was us launching an investigation into historical offences that could provide the county force with positive headlines for years.”

  “There was something else behind that smile,” said Kenneth. “At first, I worried it was relief at not finding his face among the guests at those parties. When I thought about it, he was too young, but his predecessor wasn’t. The chap had a racy reputation, and I reckon the PCC was happy not to find the man’s face among the partygoers. It wouldn’t have put the role in a good light.”

  The Chief Constable moved away from the window and returned to his chair.

  “Where are those ladies with our food?” he tutted. “No doubt they were chatting when you came up the stairs, Freeman?”

  “I couldn’t possibly comment, sir,” said Gus.

  A sharp knock on the door announced the arrival of the lunchtime tucker.

  Vera and Kassie entered with their trolleys, transferred the contents to a side table, and left the room.

  “Have you upset them, Gus?” asked Geoff. “I can’t remember them not having something to say while they’re here.”

  “Ms Packenham’s regime must work, Geoff,” said Gus. “You should be pleased.”

  “Right, let’s have lunch,” said Kenneth, “and then I’ll run through your next case. It occurred three months before the Mark Malone murder out near Beckhampton.”

  “What part of the county?” asked Gus. “I was spending time on my allotment back in 2015. It may have escaped my notice.”

  “In the middle of Salisbury Plain,” said Kenneth Truelove. “Are these two bacon buns yours, Mercer?”

  “I wasn’t taking any chances this week, sir,” said Geoff. “Did the girls check what you wanted, Gus?”

  “They were preoccupied,” said Gus. “Looking at what’s left on the tray, they’ve decided I need to choose the healthier option. My wraps look positively vegan.”

  Gus took one for the team, and when everyone was ready, the Chief Constable produced a new murder file from his desk drawer.

  “A wealthy landowner named Kendal Guthrie arrived home late at night back in February 2015. I’m not sure whether it’s relevant, but the date was Friday, the thirteenth. No sooner had Guthrie let himself in via a side door when someone whacked him over the head with a blunt instrument. The police surgeon’s best guess was it was an iron bar. The victim’s son, Wesley, discovered the body early the following afternoon. The detectives had a multitude of potential suspects, but nothing to link any of them to the attack.”

  “Who was in charge of the investigation?” asked Gus.

  “DI Keith Porter,” replied the Chief Constable.

  “He was still a DS when I knew him,” said Gus. “Keith had an eye for the ladies and a tendency to lose focus. Did he have a decent second-in-command?”

  “DS Maxine Coleman.”

  “I remember her,” said Gus. “Maxine was still a DC during my last six months at Bourne Hill. She showed promise. It’s a pity they felt it right to pair her with Keith Porter. Chalk and cheese come to mind. You said they had a multitude of suspects. How come?”

  “Kendal Guthrie made a lot of enemies,” said Geoff Mercer.

  “I’m assuming they couldn’t see the wood for the trees,” said Gus, eager to get his hands on the file.

  “Porter and Coleman spoke to hundreds of people who did business with Guthrie. Nobody had a kind word to say about the fellow. The son, Wesley, looked a likely candidate for a while when they discovered he’d lied about his exact whereabouts on Friday night. A girlfriend came forward to provide an alibi. After the funeral, Wesley Guthrie’s wife walked out of the marriage with their two sons. It’s rather complicated, Freeman. I can’t explain it in the time I have available. You need to tear
this murder file apart to learn which witnesses or possible suspects are alive today or even still living in the UK.”

  “It doesn’t sound a typical case, sir,” said Gus.

  “The original investigation was typical,” said the Chief Constable. “Porter and Coleman spent six weeks toiling away with no luck and then went their separate ways. DI Porter has progressed no further up the ladder, supporting your view t he doesn’t have the necessary attributes. Maxine Coleman is on maternity leave. If she returns, it will be as a Detective Inspector.”

  “I won’t take up any more of your time, sir,” said Gus. “From what you’ve told me, we’ve got our work cut out.”

  Gus collected the murder file from Kenneth’s desk and left the room.

  “I thoroughly enjoyed my lunch, ladies,” he said as he breezed past Vera and Kassie.

  “Don’t forget your cream horn, Mr Freeman,” called Kassie.

  “I’ll undo the good work you did, Kassie,” said Gus.

  He stopped and turned back. Kassie Trotter approached him, holding a white paper bag in front of her. Geraldine Packenham and Rhys Evans arrived at the top of the stairs, returning from their thirty-minute lunch break. The look she gave Gus and Kassie could have curdled cream.

  “I can’t stop to chat, DI Packenham,” said Gus. “I’ve got a murderer to catch. But at least you’ve caught the sun while you’ve been outside this lunchtime. It’s a start.”

  Gus disappeared down the stairs before Geraldine could reply. He signed in and out at reception to keep the new boy’s records straight and left the building.

  No matter how tough this case would prove, he would tackle it with a spring in his step.

  CHAPTER 7

  Gus tossed the murder file and the bag containing his cream horn onto the passenger seat.

  Then he separated them, just in case.

  The drive back to the Old Police Station office contained a series of stops and starts. On other occasions, it would have annoyed him. Today, Gus valued the time it allowed him to consider how to handle this new case.

  When the Chief Constable said this case was recent, Gus imagined family members, witnesses, and potential suspects would be at hand. Ready, if not willing, to pick up the threads from 2015.