Dead Reckoning: The Freeman Files Series: Book 14

by Ted Tayler

  Often, when Kenneth Truelove tasked the Crime Review Team with solving a murder, the case had already had several reviews and reconstructions. Gus got the impression they were the first people to look at the murder of Kendal Guthrie since the original team disbanded.

  That caused Gus to ask the inevitable question. Was it because the case was the stuff of nightmares?

  With the time approaching half-past one, Gus rode to the first floor to rejoin his team. The conversation was in full flow when he exited the lift but ceased at once.

  “I come bearing gifts,” said Gus.

  “Is that what I think it is in the bag, guv?” asked Neil.

  “It depends on what you think it is, Neil,” said Gus.

  “A sticky bun from Kassie Trotter?”

  “Unlucky, Neil,” said Gus. “My cream horn. Better luck next time.”

  Gus stowed the pastry delicacy in his desk drawer and opened the murder file.

  He read from a detailed summary the Chief Constable had précised earlier. Kenneth Truelove was too busy these days to get mired in detail.

  “Our murder occurred on Friday the thirteenth of February, three years ago. The victim was Kendal Guthrie, a wealthy farmer cum landowner. Guthrie was sixty-seven, a widower. His wife, Poppy, died from a heart attack two years earlier. They had two children. Wesley, thirty-eight, ran one of his father’s five farms and lived in Winterbourne Stoke...”

  “Do you want me to make a note of the place names, guv?” asked Luke.

  “Good idea, Luke,” said Gus. “When we have our map of the Plain on the wall, we can see how everything relates. It could be beneficial in finding our killer.”

  Gus referred to the murder file again.

  “Kendal had a daughter, Helen, thirty-six, married to Guy Stilwell. The couple lived in Melbourne, Australia. Don’t build up your hopes, but make a note of the city, Luke. You’ll see why later. Kendal lived alone at Glenhead Farm, Durrington, the family’s original home, where they moved from Angus, Scotland, many moons ago. The weather on the night of his murder was dreadful. It was the worst storm of the winter, with trees uprooted by gale-force winds and swollen rivers bursting their banks. That worked both ways for our case. Only a fool had gone out on such a night, and the opportunity to find witnesses for people who did was limited.”

  “What is it you say, Neil?” said Alex. “Nobody said it was going to be easy.”

  “Is Glenhead Farm remote, guv?” asked Blessing.

  “Not especially,” said Gus. “There is a string of three farms on the right-hand side of Netheravon Road, Durrington. Glenhead Farm sits between farms owned by Doug Lawless and Harry Meaden. Both of their farms have been in their family for generations.”

  “Were there any issues between Kendal Guthrie and Lawless and Meaden?” asked Alex.

  “They didn’t always see eye to eye,” said Gus. “Before you go too deep into that, let me tell you that Guthrie returned home between ten thirty-five and eleven.”

  “He was one idiot to venture out on a terrible night then, guv,” said Neil.

  “Farmers are used to inclement weather, Neil. Anyway, I told you he was wealthy. Kendal drove a Bentley Continental GT and wasn’t shy about letting people know how successful he was.”

  “He sounds an unpleasant man, guv,” said Lydia.

  “The detectives in the original investigation arrived at the farm several minutes after two uniformed officers and an ambulance crew responded to a 999 call. Wes Guthrie had received a phone call from Helen, his sister, earlier in the day. She wanted to speak to their father because Kendal and Poppy would have celebrated their fortieth anniversary on the fourteenth. Helen wanted her father to know she was thinking of him ten thousand miles away. Kendal hadn’t answered the phone, and this seemed strange.”

  “Do we know where Guthrie went on Friday night, guv?” asked Neil.

  “Yes, Neil,” said Gus, “he drove from Durrington to a pub called the Traveller’s Rest, just beyond the village of Tilshead on the A360. A distance of eleven and a half miles.”

  “I’m surprised the pub was worth a visit on such an awful night,” said Luke.

  “A public appeal was the only reason Porter and Coleman learned where Guthrie went for a late drink that night,” said Gus. “They were three weeks into the investigation and had got nowhere.”

  “Why didn’t the landlord, or landlady, come forward earlier?” asked Lydia.

  “The landlord claimed he was busy. He blamed a shortage of staff; his wife was ill, and he assumed the police would find out some other way.”

  “With a supercar like the Bentley, I’m surprised it didn’t call in and volunteer the information itself,” said Neil.

  “Guthrie wasn’t switched on to the technical advantages of owning such a car, Neil,” said Gus.

  Neil turned to grin at Luke. Gus was the ultimate technophobe.

  “Anyway, the young man who called the police told Porter and Coleman in an interview he’d visited the Traveller’s Rest on Saturday night after the storm abated. He heard Alf Collett, the landlord, say he closed early on Friday night to allow his barmaid to get home safely to Salisbury. Wade Pinnock, the witness, said he learned there were only four customers in the pub, apart from the two people behind the bar. A man who lived near Chitterne, Jim Thornton. A building society manager from Shrewton, Dave Vickers. An estate manager for a manor house on the Warminster side of Chitterne, Oscar Wallington, and Kendal Guthrie.”

  “Can you tell me the distances involved, guv?” asked Luke.

  “Jim Thornton lived four miles away from the pub. Dave Vickers lived the same distance away on the A360 and cycled there. Jim and Oscar would have arrived via the B390 with Oscar having twice the distance to cover.”

  “Okay, I’ve got that, guv,” said Luke.

  “Pinnock got drawn into the conversation on Saturday because Alf Collett mentioned an incident at Glenhead Farm earlier in the day. He’d heard a rumour the police were there. Pinnock told him his father saw a body moved from the farmhouse at around six that evening. He said the farm was crawling with police and forensic people. That was when Pinnock learned Guthrie arrived at the pub at around half-past nine the night before. Guthrie bragged about his car, flashed his money around, and verbally abused each of the three customers and two staff. A few minutes after ten, Alf Collett had had enough and told Guthrie he was barred, asking everyone to leave and closing the pub. Guthrie had plenty to say about it, but the bar was empty by ten past ten, a quarter past at the latest. Rosie Ritchens, the barmaid, was last to leave. She stayed with Alf to tidy up, and then he watched her run across the car park in the pouring rain, get into her car, and drive home.”

  “So, Kendal Guthrie drove back to the farm in around twenty to twenty-five minutes, guv,” said Alex. “If he left the pub car park straight after leaving the bar.”

  “If the landlord watched the barmaid leave, I reckon he would have spotted a Bentley,” said Blessing. “If Guthrie didn’t reach the farm until eleven, something delayed him. A fallen tree or a flooded road meant a detour.”

  “An excellent point, Blessing,” said Gus. “I have the advantage over many of you. If I drove a Bentley, I would stick to the main roads. A car of that size wouldn’t suit the twists and turns, the hidden bends, and the potential obstructions of the minor roads covering the Plain.”

  “In that case, Kendal arrived closer to the earlier time, guv,” said Alex. “Ten thirty-five to ten forty. That’s a narrow window of opportunity.”

  “Kendal parked the Bentley outside a double garage at the head of the lane from Netheravon Road,” said Gus. “He crossed the short distance to the farmhouse and entered through a side door.”

  “Did that take him straight into the kitchen, guv?” asked Lydia.

  “No, a mudroom that served as a handy spot to stow muddy boots and clothing. Poppy Guthrie was house-proud and trained Kendal, and others, to keep the house’s interior as clean as possible.”

 
“Was his attacker already in the house, guv?” asked Neil.

  Gus shook his head.

  “Glenhead Farm didn’t have CCTV cameras for security, but they had proximity security lighting. So, when Kendal stopped his car by the garage, the surrounding space was soon floodlit. He could cross the yard, unlock the door, and get inside before the timer switched off the lights.”

  “Wes Guthrie didn’t find the body until the following afternoon, guv,” said Neil. “If his sister was that worried, why didn’t Wes drive over from Winterbourne Stoke earlier?”

  “Eight miles, before you ask, Luke, door-to-door,” said Gus. “Well, Neil, Wesley met with John Goodwin and Chris Barton, two school friends, on Friday night, and they visited pubs in the village. It was a regular get-together with significant quantities of alcohol involved.”

  “He was too hungover to drive,” said Neil.

  “When Wes Guthrie reached Glenhead Farm, he rang the doorbell at the front of the house. His father’s car was outside, so he assumed he must be home. There was no reply, so Wes rang his father’s mobile, thinking he could be occupied somewhere else on the farm. Instead, he heard his father’s ringtone coming from inside the house. Wes let himself in with a spare set of keys, checked upstairs first, calling out his father’s name. Then, Wes worked his way through the property, room by room, and found his father’s body in the mudroom. Kendal Guthrie was face down on the floor in a pool of blood. Wes checked for a pulse, but he realised his father had been dead for hours. So he called the emergency services.”

  “So, it didn’t matter that Wes hadn’t reached the farmhouse earlier,” said Lydia. “At least Wes didn’t have that thought on his conscience.”

  “Why should he?” asked Neil. “The bloke’s entitled to have a night out with his mates once in a while, surely? You can’t go through life thinking you should sit by the phone in case one of the family has an accident, or worse.”

  “If only it were that easy, Neil,” said Gus. “The paramedics confirmed Kendal was dead. He’d suffered a series of blows to the head with a heavy object. The uniformed officers who attended the scene searched for a weapon in the mudroom without success. A more detailed search by other officers and forensics confirmed this was no burglary. Nothing had been disturbed within the house, garage, or any of the outbuildings. While Wes Guthrie was still at the scene talking to DI Porter and DS Coleman, several facts came to light. First, a considerable sum of money was missing from Kendal’s wallet. Wes told them it was normal for his father to carry a thousand pounds in cash. That had gone, but the killer hadn’t touched the victim’s bank cards or mobile phone. Second, they had removed a well-loved Rolex Submariner watch from his wrist, yet they had six gold rings valued at fifteen thousand pounds on his fingers.”

  “Alex said there was only a small window of opportunity, guv,” said Luke. “Perhaps the killer was pushed for time. They could hang onto the cash and the watch until the dust settled, but the cards would get stopped quickly, and removing six rings from his fingers could prove tricky. Money doesn’t feel the reason behind this attack.”

  “I agree, guv,” said Alex. “The killer took the cash and wristwatch on the spur of the moment to disguise the attack as a robbery.”

  “Well done,” said Gus. “That was the conclusion drawn by Porter and Coleman. One of the uniformed officers spotted something that could be important. I told you security lighting lit Kendal’s way across the yard. Once inside the door, it might have been second nature to switch on the mudroom light. The light was off. Wes Guthrie confirmed the outside door was already open when he went to unlock it to allow the paramedics access.”

  “Guthrie unlocked the door, stepped inside, and someone hit him over the head,” said Blessing. “Perhaps. he didn’t have time to switch on the light, and it was so quick Kendal had no time to lock the door behind him. Why would the killer bother to lock the door on their way out?”

  “The security lighting wouldn’t have stayed on long,” said Lydia. “After the killer struck the three blows, the mudroom could have been in darkness. Wes found his father’s body face down. Head wounds are notorious for the quantity of blood they cause. Which of us would fancy searching for a wallet or a watch in the dark, knowing you would get covered in blood?”

  “You’re suggesting Kendal unlocked the door, stepped inside, flicked the light switch, and was going to lock the door when the attacker burst in and struck him,” said Blessing. “He would have seen his attacker.”

  “The autopsy suggested otherwise, Blessing,” said Gus. “Two of the blows were to the top and back of the head. One was to the side, landing just above the victim’s right ear. It proved impossible to determine the order in which the blows occurred. One theory was the first blow caused Kendal to fall to his knees, hitting his chest on the edge of a freezer on the way down. Bruising to the torso supported that theory. The blow to the side of the head could have occurred as he attempted to regain his feet, and he was turning to face his attacker when they lashed out again. Kendal’s body had bruising to the left-hand side, which was thought to have come when he fell towards a metal workbench on the opposite side of the mudroom to the freezer. After the third blow, whenever it occurred, the damage was fatal.”

  “Did they ever identify the type of weapon used, guv?” asked Neil.

  “The best guess was an iron bar, Neil,” said Gus.

  “I’m lost, guv,” said Blessing. “There are so many names, distances, and clues that might not be clues. So how do we even start?”

  “If you think it’s complicated now, wait until you hear the rest, Blessing,” said Gus. “I reckon we need several maps of Salisbury Plain. They should cover Warminster in the west to Andover in the east, and Upavon in the north, to a few miles south of Downton. Ask the Hub to blow them up to give us plenty of room to attach labels, stick pins, and make calculations. Whatever they do, they mustn’t forget to tell us the new scale. We’ve got plenty of wall space.”

  “Are you going to tell us the additional complications, guv?” asked Lydia. “Or should we divide up the murder file and pick it up as we go along?”

  “Where do I start?” said Gus, puffing out his cheeks. “Let’s start with Wes Guthrie. Yes, he met John Goodwin and Chris Barton for drinks on Friday night. However, although his wife, Millie, told the police Wes stumbled upstairs at two o’clock, Wes had left his mates at eleven. For three months, Wes had been seeing Tamsin Meredith, thirty-one and single. He arrived at her house by a quarter past eleven and left to walk home in the rain after half-past one.”

  “Didn’t that alibi seem dodgy to the detectives, guv?” asked Alex.

  “There wasn’t a way to disprove it, Alex,” said Gus. “Porter and Coleman thought they were onto something when one of the drinking mates said they left Wes earlier than he’d told them in his first interview. But he was still in Winterbourne Stoke at eleven o’clock and eight miles from the farmhouse.”

  “And he was drunk,” said Luke, “or well on his way.”

  “There couldn’t have been any confusion about the timing of the attack, guv?” asked Neil.

  “No,” said Gus, “Death occurred no later than eleven, based on the paramedic’s assessment. The pathologist confirmed the time of death after the autopsy.”

  “I have a feeling there’s more to come,” said Blessing.

  “Millie Guthrie suspected her husband was having an affair,” said Gus. “She told the detectives if Tamsin Meredith turned up at Kendal Guthrie’s funeral, she would walk away from the marriage, taking their two boys with her.”

  “I can't blame her,” said Lydia. “I’m guessing Tamsin attended the funeral?”

  “That’s in the past now,” said Gus. “Wes and Millie divorced, and he married Tamsin Meredith a year after the funeral. So if we wish to speak to Millie, we only need to go to the Guthrie farm in Winterbourne Stoke. Kendal’s considerable estate went in equal shares to Wesley and Helen. So Wes could afford to hand the keys of the farmhouse
to his ex-wife.”

  “Of course,” said Luke, “Wes returned home to Glenhead Farm. That’s useful because we need to visit the crime scene.”

  “There won’t be a problem with visiting the crime scene, Luke,” said Gus. “I’m sure that Helen Guthrie will cooperate with our enquiries. She flew home for her father’s funeral, spent a couple of days discussing her late father’s business affairs with Wes and the family solicitors, then flew home. She found her husband of twenty years, Guy Stilwell, in bed with an architect.”

  “Guy had been living a lie,” said Luke.

  “Exactly, Luke,” said Gus. “The architect, Gavin Johnson, had been Guy’s lover for a decade. The Guthrie family solicitors were busy in 2015 and 2016 sorting out Kendal’s estate and two divorces for his children. Helen returned to the UK to live in the house where she was born. She employed a manager to help run the farms. The business’s portfolio grew to seven during 2015 because Kendal’s bids for two farms the MoD were putting back on the market got accepted.”

  “It’s an empire, not a business,” said Lydia. “What happened to Wes, guv? Is he working on one of the other farms?”

  “Wes is sheep farming,” said Gus, “with Tamsin beside him. They live on North Island, New Zealand, at Taupaki, thirty minutes from Auckland. He copped flak in the village for cheating on his wife, and many locals feared he’d turn out to be as unpleasant and vindictive as his father. Wes decided enough was enough, and when Helen returned home, he talked her into employing Tom Dix, his second-in-command, as farm manager. Then he looked for a fresh challenge.”

  “You were right when you said it was complicated, guv,” said Luke.

  “Let me finish, Luke,” said Gus. “We’ve only covered the Guthrie family so far. Hold on; I forgot one thing. Wes didn’t go to Glenhead Farm on the fourteenth of February until he thought he was safe to drive, but Keith Porter suspected he was still borderline. So, when Wes left to return to Winterbourne Stoke to inform family and friends of the murder, Keith alerted traffic cops.”