Dead Reckoning: The Freeman Files Series: Book 14

by Ted Tayler

  “Keith Porter’s in court today, guv,” said Blessing.

  “They caught up with him at last,” said Gus.

  “Not yet, he’s giving evidence, guv,” said Blessing. “I’ll try Maxine Devereux.”

  Gus switched on the engine and drove toward the car park entrance. He passed the receptionist, holding a shoe with a broken heel. His window was closed, but he could tell whoever she was speaking to on the phone was getting an education in Anglo-Saxon swearwords.

  “Maxine Devereux will see you now, guv,” said Blessing.

  Back in the Old Police Station office, the rest of the team were floundering.

  “Jim Thornton,” said Luke. “He lived four miles from the pub. He drove there on both Friday and Saturday night using the B390. When did he arrive, do we know?”

  “Based on the interviews in the murder file, he was a regular,” said Neil.

  “When Wade Pinnock heard the people at the bar discussing the incident at Glenhead Farm, Jim Thornton was there, waiting to get served,” said Alex. “That had to be somewhen between eight-fifteen and eight-thirty.”

  “Jim Thornton was already there when Dave Vickers arrived on Friday night,” said Lydia. “He passed him cycling through Tilshead.”

  “Dave Vickers lived in Shrewton and cycled four miles to the pub along the A360,” said Luke. “There’s no mention of him being there on Saturday that I can see.”

  “Oscar Wallington lived eight miles from the pub,” said Neil. “He drove there on the B390, the same as Jim. Dave Vickers said they were discussing the MoD presence on the Plain when Wallington arrived. So, that must have been closer to nine o’clock.”

  “Kendal Guthrie drove the eleven and a half miles from Glenhead Farm in his flash Bentley arriving at half-past nine,” said Neil.

  “How do we know?” asked Lydia.

  “I remember somewhere Wes Guthrie saying it was common for his father to carry loads of cash because he incorporated a spot of business with a night out,” said Alex.

  “Have we missed something?” asked Luke. “Could Kendal have met someone earlier that evening? Did forensics prove where the car had been that night? What about the mobile phone? Did any neighbours see him leave home at around nine to drive directly to the Traveller’s Rest?”

  “Let’s get the locations, journeys, and distances Gus is so keen on onto the maps,” said Neil. “We’ll note any questions that arise and he can deal with them when he returns.”

  “Wes Guthrie drove eight miles from his farm in Winterbourne Stoke to Glenhead Farm on Saturday afternoon,” said Alex.

  “When did he leave home?” asked Lydia.

  “Early afternoon,” said Luke. “That’s easy to check by asking Millie.”

  “That’s a fifteen-minute drive,” said Neil. “The paramedics and the uniformed police will confirm when the emergency call came in and what time they arrived at the scene. So it will be simple to check what time Porter and Coleman arrived.”

  “Why bother?” asked Neil. “We know Wes was too drunk to drive there on Friday night. Anyway, he had other things on his mind.”

  “Maybe Wes met someone after he left his wife,” said Lydia.

  “The person who killed Kendal,” said Luke.

  “We need to get a tighter definition of these timings,” said Alex. “At the moment, there’s enough time for Wes to meet someone, get to the farm, double-check every clue had been removed, and then make the emergency call.”

  “Wes told the police he searched the whole house and found the body in the mudroom,” said Lydia. “The last room on the ground floor. Wes had a spare set of keys. With a storm raging outside, it was more likely his father would use the side door to get in, surely? So why didn’t Wes go there first?”

  “He was hungover,” said Alex, “concerned for his father but expecting him to answer the doorbell when he arrived. He didn’t think he’d find a body.”

  “We do the same again,” said Neil. “Get the detail onto the maps and add it to the list of queries for Gus. If we run out of pins and string before they get back, we’ll start checking those timings. They could be key.”

  “Maxine Devereux and her husband chose a pretty spot to live, guv,” said Blessing. “What a charming village. Since I moved south from the Midlands, that’s one thing I’ve noticed about Wiltshire. There’s no shortage of beautiful places on the outskirts of the towns.”

  “I never visited Winterslow on police business, Blessing,” said Gus. “It’s right on the border with Hampshire and home to two thousand people, give or take. I hope they realise how lucky they are.”

  Gus revised his opinion on the population, as they found a modern housing estate around the corner. At least the developer attempted to blend in with properties that had stood in the village for centuries.

  “That’s it, guv,” said Blessing, “number seventeen.”

  Gus parked the Focus on the road, and they prepared to walk up the short pathway to the front door.

  “This road is quite narrow, isn’t it, guv,” said Blessing. “Several cars are parked half-on, half-off the pavement.”

  “It’s a sign of the times, Blessing,” said Gus. “Each house has a garage at the side. Many couples can’t exist without two cars. The front garden is so tiny there’s not enough room for a second vehicle.”

  “It could be tricky for an ambulance or a fire engine to negotiate the narrow road, guv,” said Blessing.

  “I appreciate that,” said Gus, “but the pavement isn’t the place to park. How does a person on a mobility scooter get past? What about a young mother like Maxine Devereux, who has a buggy for her infant child to manoeuvre? I feel sorry for anyone who has twins on this estate.”

  Blessing wondered why her boss suddenly seemed concerned with the welfare of children. She stretched out an arm and rang the doorbell at number seventeen.

  An attractive dark-haired woman opened the bright blue door.

  “Good morning,” said Maxine. “You must be DC Umeh and the gentleman with you I’ve met already. How are you, Mr Freeman? I’d ask you how retirement was going, but it appears you’re back in harness.”

  “Hello, Maxine,” said Gus. “I didn’t think you would remember me. Yes, I’m back as a consultant for the time being. The temptation was too hard to resist.”

  “He was a legend, DC Umeh,” said Maxine. “Come through to the kitchen. I’ll get the kettle on. Oliver was asleep in the conservatory, but he stirred just before you pulled up outside. He’ll be ready for a feed in a few minutes.”

  “How old is Oliver?” asked Blessing.

  “Four and a half months,” said Maxine. “He’s a little poppet. We have his bedroom upstairs, of course, but on these hot summer mornings, the conservatory is the coolest room in the house.”

  “The Chief Constable mentioned you were on leave for another few weeks,” said Gus. “Will you return to take up the Detective Inspector position you’ve earned?”

  “Gary and I are still undecided,” said Maxine. “My husband is a professional rugby player in the English Premiership. At present, his salary is more than enough to allow us to live comfortably. In five years from now, Gary’s career will be over, and he’ll be coaching or managing. It’s a tough sport, so there’s always the risk of serious injury bringing things to a halt earlier. I would like to wait until Olly goes to school before getting back to work. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my job, but sometimes the people at the top made things less enjoyable. I don’t need to tell you that, Mr Freeman.”

  “Please call me, Gus,” said Gus. “Blessing, and I have come to talk about Kendal Guthrie.”

  The kettle had boiled, and Maxine soon brought three cups of coffee to the kitchen table. In the conservatory, Blessing heard a sneeze and a snuffle.

  “Is the baby awake?” she asked.

  “He can hang on for a few more minutes,” said Maxine. “You learn to decipher which sounds are urgent. Otherwise, you would never have a minute to yourself.”
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  “I’ll bear it in mind,” said Blessing.

  “Have you spoken to Keith Porter yet?” asked Maxine.

  “He’s giving evidence in a court case this morning,” said Gus. “The only person we’ve spoken with during this review is Wade Pinnock. The upright citizen who responded to your appeal to the public.”

  “I wish there were more like him,” said Maxine. “Did you get anything new?”

  “You know how it goes, Maxine,” said Gus. “Three years on, and either he has embellished the story after telling his mates how he helped on a murder case, or he’s genuinely remembered something important.”

  “Try me,” said Maxine. “I remember most of that interview. It was a case we didn’t solve. Keith didn’t fret over it long, but it always annoyed me. I vowed whoever was responsible wouldn’t get away with it on my watch.”

  Gus took Maxine through the conversation they had with Wade Pinnock earlier.

  “There are two things that differ from the statement he gave us, Gus,” said Maxine. “Wade didn’t suggest Alf Collett was in a rush to serve him. I felt it was a case of being so involved in discussions over the previous night’s events he hadn’t spotted Wade was waiting to get served.”

  “Alf Collett retired to the Algarve after his wife died,” said Gus. “I’ll ask what it was he didn’t want Wade to overhear, provided I can get clearance from my immediate superior to fly over. What was the second thing?”

  “Wade did mention another man coming into the pub later that evening. He did not know who he was, and we assumed it was Vickers or Wallington. There was no mention of the three men at the bar staring at Rosie Ritchens, although Wade said they appeared to be talking about him at one point. What do you think it could mean?”

  “Perhaps we still haven’t heard the entire story of what happened in the pub on Friday night,” said Gus. “You and Keith might not have learned where Guthrie was if it hadn’t been for Wade Pinnock coming forward. None of the people there that night contacted the police of their own volition. Does that mean they had something to hide?”

  “Guthrie had a go at each of them,” said Blessing. “Jim Thornton said it was typical of the man. He’d say something to provoke an argument. It didn’t have to be the truth, just plausible enough to get a reaction from his target.”

  “Something Kendal Guthrie said hit home,” said Maxine. “His killer was in the bar that night.”

  “We’ve started looking at where everybody was at the time Alf Collett closed the pub,” said Gus.

  “We could never get around the fact Alf threw Guthrie out, and Guthrie left the pub before any of the others,” said Maxine. “Jim Thornton was on his way to the door when Guthrie picked on him, hinting Jim and his wife could be on the streets if Bob Ellison sold up. Jim stayed behind to wait for Oscar Wallington. Dave Vickers would have to cycle faster than Chris Hoy to get to Glenhead Farm in time to commit the murder. Rosie was last to leave after she and Alf washed glasses and tidied the bar. We wondered whether Alf used his car that night, but it wasn’t possible with his sick wife in a bedroom overlooking the garage.”

  “What did you make of the second change to Wade’s version of events?” asked Gus.

  “You would be guessing, Gus,” cautioned Maxine. “Wade suggested Alf was keen to get him away from the bar. But, if Alf was thinking of the murder and forgot he was supposed to be serving pints, everything else falls apart. When you take the other option and say they had something to hide, Wade’s fresh memory comes into play. As you said, perhaps he embellished his story in the past three years, and that incident with Rosie didn’t happen that way. There could be a dozen reasons for her to appear distracted, and the three men could have been looking towards several people in the bar. Wade said the pub was quite busy. Who knows, they could have seen someone they knew walk through the door?”

  “It wasn’t Vickers,” said Gus. “He didn’t cycle to the Traveller’s Rest on Saturday nights.”

  “The pieces we have for our jigsaw don’t fit, guv,” said Blessing.

  “We haven’t found the missing pieces yet, Blessing,” said Gus.

  “We lost count of the number of people we interviewed,” said Maxine. “Many of them danced on Kendal Guthrie’s grave, but none were anywhere near Glenhead Farm between ten-thirty and eleven o’clock on the thirteenth of February.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “What have we got left to cover?” asked Lydia.

  “We’ve labelled every farm controlled by the Guthrie family on the second map,” said Neil. “Luke added any farm that belonged to a person interviewed during the first investigation.”

  “Doug Lawless and Harry Meaden’s farms made sense,” said Alex. “I’m not so sure whether we needed those on the northern and western edges of the Plain. Porter and Coleman confirmed their owner’s alibi three years ago. How does any of this help us?”

  “The farm near Larkhill sticks out from the rest,” said Luke. “We must remember to add that query to our growing list. Only time will tell, Alex.”

  “We might not see Gus and Blessing again today,” said Neil. “Is there someone we could interview from that schedule of yours, Luke?”

  “OK, why not try Millie Guthrie, or whatever her name is these days,” said Luke. “She can confirm the time her ex-husband left home.”

  “Let’s think what else we can ask,” said Alex. “If that’s all Millie can offer, then a phone call will suffice.”

  “If Gus has a question for Wes’s ex-wife resulting from this morning’s interviews, he’ll need to make a follow-up call,” said Luke. “I can think of several names on my list who might get irritated by that.”

  “Tough,” said Neil. “This is a murder enquiry. Can anyone think of what else Millie could help with?”

  Alex and Lydia shook their heads.

  Luke called the farm in Winterbourne Stoke, and after putting a finger to his lips, he switched to speakerphone. A female voice answered.

  “Millie Newsom speaking. How can I help you today?”

  “Ms Newsom,” said Luke. “I’m Detective Sergeant Luke Sherman from Wiltshire Police. We’re taking a fresh look into the death of your father-in-law Kendal Guthrie.”

  “Why now, after three years? You didn’t find whoever did it then. What makes you think you’ll do it now?”

  “We can but try, Ms Newsom. It’s what the public expects. We’re interested in the afternoon of Saturday, the fourteenth of February in 2015. Wes Guthrie had spent the morning at home…”

  “Drunk as a lord,” said Millie, “after crawling back here from that woman’s bed. I’m not likely to forget, am I?”

  “I understand the memory must be painful, Ms Newsom,” said Luke. “Can you confirm what time Wes left you to drive over to Glenhead Farm to check on his father?”

  “It was gone noon,” said Millie. “I can’t be certain, but it must have been before one o’clock because the boys came back in time for lunch for a change. Wes had left before they went to wash their hands. I reckon it was between half-past twelve and a quarter to one.”

  “When was the last time you visited the farm, Ms Newsom?” asked Luke.

  “Not in the last three years, that’s for sure. Before that, I guess Wes and I went there the summer before Kendal died. Why?”

  “What was the lane like between the Netheravon Road and the farmhouse?”

  “The same as it had been for a year,” said Millie. “Full of potholes and deep ruts where the tractors churn up the ground in the winter. The surface was bone dry and similar to driving over a cattle grid for two hundred yards that day. Mud and muck made it impossible to do over five to ten miles an hour in the winter. Kendal had money to burn, but he wouldn’t spend a penny on repairing what had turned into a dirt track. Poppy would have had a fit.”

  “One last question, and we’ll let you get on with your day, Ms Newsom,” said Luke. “We may get back to you if our ongoing enquiries raise further questions. Who did you think killed your fat
her-in-law?”

  “That’s easy,” said Millie. “I thought Wes did it for a long time. The police swallowed the alibi that woman gave him, but I couldn’t explain how he got to the farm in time. His mates said they left him at eleven o’clock, and I thought they lied as well. When I was in the pub in the village celebrating the divorce, I asked the landlord if he remembered that night. He said he was on the verge of asking Wes and the others to leave because they were noisy and getting drunk. He called last orders at ten to eleven. Wes told Chris Barton he didn’t want another drink, and all three left a minute before he called time at eleven. Wes didn’t do it, so I tried to think about who hated Kendal enough to kill him. Money had to be involved somewhere. It was always money with Kendal. He fleeced someone or used his wealth to ruin somebody’s life. I could never settle on a name. There were loads of people who he’d screwed one way or another.”

  “That’s very interesting,” said Luke. “Thanks again for your cooperation. Good afternoon.”

  “Will that timing be accurate enough for what we need?” asked Alex.

  “I doubt it,” said Neil. “Nice touch querying the lane surface Blessing was interested in. You’ll need to recalculate your sums, Luke.”

  “The fact that anyone following Guthrie up the lane might only travel at five to ten miles per hour makes it even less likely they arrived after him,” said Lydia.

  “We’ve got further confirmation Wes Guthrie didn’t travel to Glenhead Farm on Friday night,” said Alex. “However, when Mille Newsom made a new list of potential killers, she focused on money as the prime cause.”

  “At no point did Porter and Coleman discover a business transaction between Kendal Guthrie and either of the people in the Traveller’s Rest,” said Neil. “Surely, that would have come to light during the first investigation?”

  “Dave Vickers said Guthrie’s attack centred on the ease with which people borrowed money and the pathetic return savers got on their hard-earned cash,” said Lydia.

  “What are you thinking, Lydia?” asked Luke.