Silent Terror

by Ted Tayler

  Two hours later, the Fosse Way didn’t seem such a good idea. The straightness of the Roman roads was legendary. What people never mentioned was the number of hills and vales that stood between Warwickshire and Wiltshire. Blessing felt as if she’d been on a switchback ride at the fair. Up and down the little car went, and the further she drove, the longer the inclines took. Blessing concentrated on the road ahead and every word the satnav lady said. She didn’t think the sound she could hear from her trusty Micra was entirely right.

  As she bypassed Malmesbury, Blessing negotiated a roundabout and slowed to take the indicated exit. She spotted a familiar sight on her left-hand side. It was a police station. Perhaps she should stop to allow her car to take a breather? When the Nissan Micra shuddered to a halt, there was something final in its tone. Blessing turned off the engine and got out.

  “That doesn’t look too healthy, Miss.”

  Blessing looked over her shoulder. A uniformed policeman had just parked behind her. He was tall, blond, and with cornflower blue eyes. Gosh, were all Wiltshire policemen as gorgeous as this? Blessing stared up at him.

  “I think it’s just tired after a long journey,” she said.

  The officer looked over her shoulder.

  “I think it’s more serious than that, Miss,” he said.

  Blessing had heard a hissing noise but dismissed it as having nothing to do with her. When she turned around, she saw steam rising from the bonnet of her little car.

  “Oh no,” cried Blessing, “what am going to do?”

  “There’s a local garage that I can call. The owner is my brother-in-law. He doesn’t charge the earth for recovery. I can put in a kind word for you if you wish.”

  “I’ve got to get to Worton,” said Blessing. “If I haven’t got my car, how will I get to work at London Road every day?”

  “London Road, Devizes?” asked the officer, “are you a police officer?”

  “Detective Constable Blessing Umeh, formerly of Warwickshire Police based in Royal Leamington Spa. I’m to join the Crime Review Team under Mr Freeman tomorrow morning.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Blessing. What a beautiful name. I’m plain old PC Dave Smith, I’m afraid. If you’re working for Gus Freeman, you must be a hotshot. They only take the best from what I’ve heard.”

  “Thank you, Dave Smith. You’re too kind,” said Blessing. And far from being plain, she thought.

  PC Smith made a call. His brother-in-law arrived with a tow-truck and Blessing removed her belongings and watched her little Micra disappear towards Malmesbury. Based on the chin-rubbing and deep sighs, it was going to be a lengthy and expensive business before she got her four wheels back again.

  “Right, why don’t I get you a tea, or a coffee, and then you can call a taxi. It’s probably the quickest way to get you to the other side of Devizes from here, especially on a Sunday.”

  “Thanks, Dave,” said Blessing, “it would be a struggle to carry my case and other bags. My parents are moving to Bath on Tuesday, and they’ll have the rest of my stuff in the removals van. I’ll get things I can’t do without next weekend.”

  “I’m not working next weekend,” said Dave, looking over the top of his mug of coffee.

  “It’s out of your way, surely?” said Blessing, trying not to stare into those blue eyes.

  “Not that much, I live in Chippenham. Look, here’s a list of local taxi firms. The top one’s the best. Roger’s a decent bloke.”

  “Another relative?” asked Blessing.

  “Not this time,” grinned Dave.

  Did he realise how cute those dimples were, thought Blessing?

  “I can give you my mobile number,” she said, “but I don’t know the exact address of the farm where I’m staying. It belongs to John and Jackie Ferris of Worton.”

  “I know that you’re the detective, but I think I can find it,” grinned Dave.

  “Sorry, of course, you will. I’ve just remembered. My parents are driving across at the weekend. They could bring me everything I need. I don’t have to drive to Bath, thank goodness.”

  “That’s a shame,” said Dave. “Can I have that number anyway, just in case you need help with something?”

  “Do you know your way around, Dave?” asked Blessing.

  “You Midland girls are forward, aren’t you? I’ve had no complaints.”

  Blessing realised her mistake.

  “No, oh, I’m sorry. That wasn’t what I meant. I easily get lost when I’m somewhere unfamiliar. I’m not sure I could find Englishcombe village from Worton. Not in an afternoon at least.”

  “I can show you around the county, Blessing, and across the border into Somerset. The offer’s there. Here’s your ride. I’ll help you with your bags and give you a ring in the week, to see how you’re settling in.”

  “I’ve got to sort out how to get into work in the morning yet,” sighed Blessing. “Thanks for your help, Dave.”

  Forty-five minutes later the taxi was driving into Devizes.

  “Whereabouts is London Road?” asked Blessing.

  “You turn left by the brewery,” said the driver, “but we’re driving straight on.”

  “Can you take me to the Wiltshire Police HQ, please? I’ll pay the extra fare. I need to speak to someone there about tomorrow.”

  “Please yourself,” said the driver, “it’s no skin off my nose.”

  The car park looked ominously empty. Blessing trotted up the steps to the front door and went to Reception. She explained her predicament to the desk sergeant.

  “You’re staying with DI Suzie Ferris’s parents then, Miss, is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Yes, I have the paperwork here,” said Blessing, hoping she could locate it in the depths of her handbag.

  “There’s nobody from the Crime Review Team here in this building, Miss. They work out of the Old Police Station seven miles from here.”

  “I remember that now,” said Blessing. “I had the directions to get there from the farm ready to enter into my satnav. But now my car is in Dave’s brother-in-law’s garage in Malmesbury. I could hire a car, but I’d be sure to get lost.”

  “This is Wiltshire, Miss, and although we might appear a little backward compared to other counties, we do have proper roads with signs, you know.”

  “You do not understand how bad my sense of direction is,” sighed Blessing.

  “A Detective Constable, you said, Miss, and you’re working with Gus Freeman?”

  The desk sergeant wondered whether there had been an error of judgement.

  “I met Lydia Logan Barre when we worked on a case together,” said Blessing, “I helped find Suzie Ferris’s car.”

  “Why didn’t you say. Pay off your taxi, Miss. I’ll give John Ferris a call. He’ll drive across in the Land Rover and collect you. If you offer to help on the farm when you’ve got free time, he’ll probably run you into work tomorrow morning. Gus Freeman can fix you up with transport after that.”

  Blessing ran outside to grab her gear and settle the bill with the snoozing taxi driver.

  When she returned to Reception, the desk sergeant gave her the thumbs-up.

  “John will be here in ten minutes, Miss. Take a seat. I hope you enjoy working with Mr Freeman. He’s a character and no mistake.”

  Blessing thought everyone she’d met so far in Wiltshire was a character. Whatever lay ahead, it didn’t seem as if it would be boring.

  CHAPTER 5

  Monday, 2nd July 2018

  Gus Freeman was lying awake, waiting for the alarm. Today was a big day in the life of the Crime Review Team. They would welcome one fresh face and the return of a prodigal son. The team had no idea what a devil of a cold case the ACC had handed them on this occasion.

  Suzie Ferris had driven home to Worton yesterday evening after a meal at the Fox and Hounds. She called Gus as soon as she arrived to tell him the latest about Blessing Umeh.

  So, Blessing turned up on the doorstep at London Road like a waif an
d stray with her car twenty miles away? Gus wondered whether Geoff Mercer would let him borrow a spare pool car. Best not push it. Geoff had spent a fair bit on the extra furniture in the office already. The best choice was for Neil and Luke to split the taxi duties between them until Blessing’s car got repaired. He’d break the news to them later.

  Gus sympathised. He knew what it meant to drive something that threatened to expire every time it travelled at over fifty miles per hour. He prayed that his beloved Focus held together for a while longer.

  Gus made a mental note to call John Ferris to thank him for rescuing Blessing yesterday afternoon and delivering her to the Old Police Station this morning. There was nothing for it. He might as well smack the alarm ahead of time and get out of bed.

  Thirty minutes later, he had showered, dressed and eaten. The warm July weather persuaded Gus to forego the usual fried breakfast. Suzie had unearthed a long-lost waffle maker at the back of a cupboard on Saturday. Tess must have bought it years ago and decided Gus wasn’t ready for such excitement, because he couldn’t recall it ever getting used.

  The discovery prompted Suzie to berate Gus about waffles being second on the list of the ten worst things you could choose for a breakfast meal. Then she checked that they had enough eggs and other ingredients to create at least three alternative recipes.

  After testing Suzie’s three versions, Gus agreed the waffle maker could stay on the worktop for the odd occasion he craved variety in his diet.

  “If you’re going to die early,” Suzie said, “at least you won’t die of boredom.”

  It had been that sort of weekend.

  They’d wasted the best part of Thursday recovering from the night before with Bert, then on Friday, Suzie was working. Gus joined Bert on the allotment mid-morning, and after a full day’s work, his old friend agreed Gus was now less than a week behind schedule.

  As Gus leaned on his fork, feeling every one of his sixty-two years, he thought he could live with getting that close. When Suzie arrived at seven o’clock, she found him asleep in the chair. With the weekend ahead to do as they pleased, she poured a glass of red wine, sat next to him, and waited until he stirred.

  “Pizza?” she asked when he opened an eye.

  “Chinese,” he replied. Suzie made the call. Gus shook himself awake, refilled her glass and poured one for himself. They were in bed by ten.

  Gus had read through the Ursula Wakeley murder file while Suzie went back home for her morning ride on Saturday morning. He pencilled in a visit to Mere for early next week. He’d driven past it frequently but never visited Shaftesbury Road. Gus wanted to get a sense of the murder site.

  He and Suzie spent the afternoon at the bungalow. Gus tidied the garden and Suzie re-organised his kitchen cupboards. Both of them made surprising discoveries. Suzie found the waffle maker. Gus found Tess’s roses thriving on the bungalow wall and decided they needed more trellis to spread their wings even further.

  A meal at the Waggon & Horses rounded off a good Saturday. When they surfaced on Sunday, the conversation returned to what faced them over the next few weeks.

  “I don’t suppose I’ll have a separate room at Gablecross,” said Suzie.

  “The detective squad office is deep in the building's heart,” said Gus. “I imagine you’ll get partnered with Gareth Francis. Don’t worry, I trust you.”

  “If you can’t trust your intended, then there’s no future for a relationship.”

  “Very true,” said Gus. “Of course, re-organising a chap’s cupboards could be seen as presumptuous unless it was confirmation of commitment.”

  “I must give that thought while I’m playing kneesies with Gareth.”

  That was yesterday. Now at half-past eight on a sunny Monday morning, Gus closed the front door behind him, gave an admiring glance around his garden and fired up the Focus. There wasn’t the same throaty roar that Gene Hunt achieved with his Quattro, but Gus reckoned today was that kind of day.

  When he arrived at the rear of the Old Police Station building to find all four of the team’s reserved parking spaces filled, the Eighties euphoria faded fast. Gus knew he’d forgotten to mention it to Geoff Mercer. The Crime Review Team needed two extra permanent parking spaces. Locals would protest, of course, but who offered them the land in the first place?

  The spot in the middle of town was a prime piece of real estate. Wiltshire Police had occupied the building for over a century before leasing the ground floor to two charity shops. The High Street the Council was so keen to protect needed shoppers driving into town. Could two spaces jeopardise the town’s future? Gus reversed the Focus into one of the remaining empty spots and got out.

  He spotted a familiar Land Rover on the other side of the car park. John Ferris wasn’t searching for a place to park; he was dropping off his lodger. Gus waved a hand, but John was in a hurry to get back to the farm. Blessing Umeh took hesitant steps towards the lift doors.

  “Welcome to the Old Police Station, Blessing,” said Gus. “That’s it, call the lift, and we can travel up together to meet your new colleagues. We’re both cutting it fine today. Everyone else arrived well before nine.”

  “I didn’t want to be late on my first day, Mr Freeman,” said Blessing. “Mrs Ferris insisted I eat a hearty breakfast, and her husband was five minutes later back from the barn than he’d promised her. I’m so sorry.”

  Gus laughed.

  “That’s not unusual, Blessing; you’ll soon adjust to country life. It operates on a different time clock to everyone else. Suzie explained your exploits yesterday. Don’t worry; I’ll get one of the lads to collect you and drop you back at the farm until your car’s fixed.”

  “The way my little Micra sounded yesterday, I’m afraid it might be terminal,” said Blessing as they travelled up to the first floor.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” said Gus, “forget it for now. Let’s get you introduced to the rest of the team.”

  After the introductions, Blessing Umeh took her seat at the spare desk and took in the Crime Review Team office’s features. It was better equipped than the detective squad room she’d left behind in Royal Leamington Spa. Maybe that was due to the time the two offices had been operating.

  This office hadn’t gained many bumps and scrapes to its furniture and fittings in the few months they’d been here. The Newbold Terrace station had been running for eight years. Blessing realised she needed to be careful not to spill coffee over her keyboard once a week as she had back there.

  “This wasn’t how I saw my retirement years,” said Gus, “but here we are at the start of a new week, with a new member of staff, and a new case. Alex is back with us again, and the first thing I have to tell him is to jump in your car, mate, and head for London Road. The Acting Chief Constable wants you to join the Hub. There’s just the one item on your list. Match the red-headed sniper on the rooftop of the Cheney Manor Industrial Estate building back in 2013 to a person in the database. Give me a name for Grant Burnside’s killer. If he doesn’t fit with anyone ever arrested, then be creative. Perhaps you need to look for a military connection. Skill with a rifle from a distance takes practice. Check local gun clubs, farmers with a valid firearms licence who might have held a grudge. Anything that opens up a list of possible names.”

  “Do we know for certain the guy was English?” asked Luke.

  “Fair comment,” said Gus. “You must liaise with Geoff Mercer, Alex. Get him to contact the right people to get access to former military personnel here in the UK before 2013. They might have been a hired gun, or it could go deeper. Grant Burnside operated in mainland Europe way back before the gang majored on drugs in their home town. The hitman could have picked up the contract abroad.”

  “What about that Curran bloke you crossed swords with, guv,” said Neil. “Would it be worth calling him?”

  “Download the necessary data from the Freeman Files, Alex. You’ll find everything you need in there. Once you’ve exhausted every option
I outlined, then, and only then, will we go cap in hand to Brendan bleeding Curran and the Organised Crime Task Force. Give me a shout when you’re ready to leave. I’ll come with you. I can park my car in its rightful spot.”

  “We’re short in that department,” said Luke.

  “I’ll sort it with DS Mercer,” said Gus. “Alex will be absent for a while. Now’s as good a time as any to ask you and Neil to arrange a schedule with Blessing. Her car died on the trip south yesterday. It’s stuck in a garage in Malmesbury until they decide whether it’s worth operating. You both know your way to the Ferris’s farm in Worton.”

  “Yes, guv,” replied Neil and Luke.

  “I’ll take Blessing home tonight,” said Luke.

  “I’ll collect her in the morning, guv,” said Neil. “Any chance you can creep out early tomorrow morning and pinch a few fresh eggs, Blessing?”

  “Have they got chickens?” asked Blessing, “I haven’t heard them squawking.”

  “Neil’s pulling your leg,” said Gus, “it’s one of his bad habits. Are you ready, Alex? Good, let’s get this parking reshuffle sorted, and I can run through the new case with the others.”

  When they were in the lift, Gus apologised for the brief notice.

  “The Hub business cropped up last week when I’d sent the others home for a few days’ rest.”

  “That’s okay, guv. I’m working on a cold case, and that’s why I joined this team. Lydia described the things that kept crawling out from under stones as you tried to get a lead on who killed this Burnside character. You couldn’t ignore them, and you got several excellent results for your endeavours. It just so happened that the one you started with wasn’t among them. It doesn’t matter when we solve them, as long as we do.”

  “I’ve trained you well, Alex,” said Gus. “It’s great to see you fit and well. You left the stick at home today, is that goodbye to it now?”

  “I get the odd twinge now and again, guv,” said Alex.