Silent Terror

by Ted Tayler

  “What would an old librarian have done to get someone that angry, guv?” asked Luke.

  “Hard to imagine a fine for the late return of a book or a telling off for chatting in the library being the catalyst, guv,” said Neil.

  “Thank you, Neil,” said Gus. “Jefferson and Kite interviewed the neighbours, Ursula’s family, her library colleagues and her church friends. Nobody remembered arguments or anything unusual in the weeks leading up to the murder.”

  “Did those people have corroborated alibis?” asked Luke.

  Gus nodded.

  “We’re positive it wasn’t a sex crime?” asked Lydia.

  “There was no semen, but that didn’t mean they didn’t try,” said Neil.

  “The body showed zero sexual activity, Neil. Ursula was virgo intacta.”

  “Right, understood, guv. What about people that might have visited Shaftesbury Road to carry out surveillance during daylight hours? They seem to have done it without raising suspicion. We know about her handyman, but did she have a van delivery in the recent past, a tradesperson calling by, or other foot traffic that people might notice?”

  “Ursula’s postman would be a regular sight, meaning that he didn’t stand out,” said Blessing. “I suppose he got checked, did he?”

  “He did,” said Gus.

  “It had to be someone nobody thought unusual,” said Lydia. “Who might that be? Someone who looked perfectly normal and had every right to be there.”

  “A boy scout on Bob-A Job-Week?” asked Neil.

  “I thought that was before your time, Neil,” said Luke.

  “I haven’t told you the downside of getting a cold case where the victim and the witnesses were ancient,” sighed Gus.

  “Most of our interviews will need to be held through a medium, guv,”

  “Exactly, Neil.”

  “Do I compile a list of those who are still alive, guv?” asked Luke. “As we think there was a personal element, surely the family and her handyman can’t offer anything useful.”

  “I’m wary of jumping to conclusions on this one, Luke. We’ll follow our usual pattern but try to tease a forgotten memory or impression from each person we interview. They might point us in a different direction. I’ve had a thought for tomorrow. We’ll meet at my place at nine o’clock. Lydia, you can drive. Neil, collect Blessing from the Ferris’s farm as arranged. Luke, you hold the fort while we’re away and get interview dates and times sorted. Contact the victim’s brother and Don Hillier now. I want to meet Arthur tomorrow at ten o’clock and the handyman at eleven. When we get back in the early afternoon, we’ll get our impressions into the Freeman Files, reassess our approach to the case and allocate interviews.”

  “Do you want me to contact ex-DCI Jefferson and ex-DI Kite, guv?” asked Luke.

  “Concentrate on Mel Jefferson out of the two of them, Luke. Let’s get his thoughts on how Fabian Kite handled himself as part of that conversation. Also, don’t forget to ask what pressures he had on him. I was running a major robbery case. Resources would have been stretched across the department. Perhaps the Assistant Chief Constable applied top-down pressure for Mel to move on quicker than he preferred. I can’t recall what else we had on our caseload back then. There was always something.”

  “Will we do much walking, guv?” asked Lydia.

  “Sensible shoes tomorrow, Lydia,” said Gus. “You know me, distances between different points relating to the potential suspects and the murder site are important, and seeing the places where the victim lived, worked and worshipped often starts a niggle.”

  Blessing looked at Lydia’s four-inch heels and her flat lace-up shoes. She wished she had the confidence to dress like Lydia, but with her luck, she’d twist an ankle or fall flat on her face if she ever tried wearing heels that high.

  What her strict father would say didn’t bear thinking about.

  The Crime Review Team worked on in silence. The crime scene photos loomed over them from the whiteboard, and the lifeless eyes of Ursula Wakeley sat in judgement, urging each of them to find her killer.

  Lydia Logan Barre wouldn’t forget the picture of the victim seated on her bed, with her back against the headboard. Gus reckoned it was too early to say they were hunting a serial killer. Lydia thought the killer posed the body deliberately. As if they knew the forensic team would take that particular photo and the effect it made on everyone who saw it.

  Whoever carried out this murder, Lydia hoped she never met them.

  Tuesday, 3rd July 2018

  Glenda Wakeley had given up trying to explain to her sister-in-law, Ursula, that there was a good reason for her daughter, Sam’s single life. The only blessing was that the God-fearing Gideon hadn’t lived long enough to learn that the infant he read Bible stories to had lived with the same woman since she reached eighteen. Her father-in-law would have imploded.

  As for her mother-in-law, well, Elspeth worried more over her health and keeping her daughter close at hand. So, the issue never needed an explanation. After the phone call, she’d received yesterday afternoon from Detective Sergeant Luke Sherman; they had to relive the nightmare of Ursula’s death yet again. Arthur wasn’t in the best of health. Who was at eighty-five?

  Glenda hoped it would be a brief meeting. Nothing had changed in five years. She was still miserable but resigned to her fate. The only consolation of seeing out her days with Arthur was that they didn’t lack money. If they ran short, they always had the bungalow. Arthur refused to go inside again after the day he discovered Ursula’s body.

  Arthur used a local firm to make sure the fabric of the building remained secure. He refused to rent it out or sell it. Nobody would ever live in it while Arthur lived. It could stay boarded up forever as far as he was concerned.

  The front doorbell rang, and Glenda checked her watch. Ten o’clock, at least, they arrived on time.

  “Good morning, Mrs Wakeley,” said Gus Freeman. “My colleague and I were admiring your garden.”

  “You’d better come in,” said Glenda, ignoring the comment, “Arthur’s in the lounge. You must speak up. Arthur’s hearing’s not good.”

  Gus and Lydia followed Glenda into the living room. The three-bedroomed detached home sat in a quiet cul-de-sac of sixteen houses. Gus checked the latest valuations yesterday. You wouldn’t get much change out of six hundred thousand pounds. The retired banker had taken advantage of the reduced mortgage interest rates that the High Street banks offered their employees.

  Arthur Wakeley remained seated. He looked up from his morning paper but didn’t understand why someone was calling on him.

  “Who’s this, Glenda?” he asked.

  “The police, Arthur. I reminded you at breakfast that they were coming. They want to talk about Ursula.”

  “My sister’s dead,” said Arthur.

  “My name is Freeman, Mr Wakeley,” said Gus, “and my colleague is Ms Barre. Wiltshire Police didn’t find your sister’s killer five years ago, but no case is ever closed. It’s time to try again.”

  “I don’t want to go back,” said Arthur.

  “We’ll only ask a few questions,” said Lydia. “Why don’t your wife and I pop into the kitchen and make us a cup of tea or coffee? You can chat with Mr Freeman.”

  Lydia steered Glenda Wakeley towards the doorway into the hall. Gus heard the kettle getting filled and cupboard doors opening. Good girl. Now he could have a go at getting sense out of Ursula’s brother.

  “I’ve never talked about what I saw in front of Glenda,” said Arthur. “It was horrific.”

  “Let’s talk of more pleasant memories, Arthur. What was life like for you and Ursula growing up?”

  “We had to do as we were told,” said Arthur, “our father was strict. Spare the rod and spoil the child. He believed that alright. I stopped going to church as soon as he died. I didn’t dare miss a church service while he was alive.”

  “How did he discipline you? Did he treat Ursula the same way?”

  “He m
ade us cut the wood from the hazel trees in the field behind the bungalow. That was part of the punishment. We made the blessed switches ourselves.”

  “You both went to school in the town, I believe?”

  “We had no choice but to follow in our parent’s footsteps and go to the Methodist school. Things got better after we went to the school in Gillingham when we reached eleven.”

  “A bus journey every day?” said Gus.

  “It meant we stayed away from home for longer,” said Arthur. “Less time to make him mad enough to lash out again. In the long summer school holidays, he worked in the fields for twelve hours, so it wasn’t as bad.”

  “You both left school at the same time. Why was that?”

  “I was eighteen and had passed my A-levels. I’d travelled up to London on the train at the start of the summer term for an interview to join Lloyd’s Bank. The interview was successful, and I started work in the Mere branch. Ursula had sat her O-levels and father decided she’d had enough schooling. What point was there filling her mind with unhealthy ideas when she would soon get married and have children? He said you didn’t need schooling for that.”

  “Ursula worked at the library, didn’t she?” said Gus.

  Glenda and Lydia returned from the kitchen with two teas and two coffees. There were no biscuits.

  “She ruled the roost there for years,” said Glenda. “They were glad to see the back of her.”

  “That’s not fair, Glenda,” said Arthur, “she did her best to get people to behave correctly for a library. It’s not a meeting room. They used to hang ‘Silence’ signs everywhere in the old days. Now it’s a free-for-all.”

  “How do you know, you silly old fool? When was the last time you stepped inside the library?”

  Gus and Lydia sat sipping their coffees and let the storm abate. It’s incredible what you could learn over a cup of coffee.

  “If schooling was unhealthy, Arthur,” said Gus, “I’m surprised Gideon allowed his daughter to work in a library. She would have access to far more liberal ideas than at secondary school.”

  “My father read nothing other than the Bible,” said Arthur. “He didn’t believe a person needed more to lead a good life.”

  “Whenever we visited them with our children, Matthew, and Samantha, Gideon read them Bible stories,” said Glenda. “You won’t find another book or magazine in that bungalow.”

  “Glenda was telling me in the kitchen that they still own the bungalow, guv,” said Lydia quietly. “We can have the key to look around it if we wish.”

  “That will be a big help,” said Gus. “Arthur, was there nobody that came calling on Ursula? Were there no boys she met at school that showed an interest? What about the youth club, or someone from another family in your congregation?”

  “Father’s reputation discouraged anyone I knew in town from coming around,” said Arthur. “We got told to come straight home after school. There was no loitering in the road chatting to other children. I met Glenda at school, and there was never anyone else for either of us. Father was content with my choice. He was over-protective with Ursula, though. She went to church gatherings, but one or both of our parents was always there, monitoring her. She told me once that boys came to watch her when she worked at the library. Ursula was an attractive girl in many ways. Whether anyone plucked up the courage to ask her out I don’t know, she never said. I was married, and my job took us away from the town for a while. Not long after we returned, father dropped dead, and mother told me she couldn’t cope on her own without him. So, I asked Ursula to stay at home until my mother regained her strength.”

  “My mother-in-law had no intention of letting Ursula get married,” said Glenda. “She wanted her to stay at home forever. Ursula was my best friend at school, Mr Freeman. She was old-fashioned in her ways and opinions, but her upbringing shaped her. If Ursula had stayed at school, she was clever enough to go to university. She was brighter than Arthur. Ursula’s life got stifled by her parents’ religious zeal. She could have had a career, a husband, and a family if Arthur hadn’t insisted she quit her job at thirty-one to become Elspeth’s carer.”

  “I did what I thought best,” said Arthur, “it was what my father wanted.”

  “Rubbish,” said Glenda, “you were jealous of her intellect, and we’d returned to Mere because the bank realised you were incompetent. You did it out of spite.”

  “Perhaps you could look out that key for the bungalow?” asked Gus. He’d heard enough to form a broader opinion on the life Ursula Wakeley led. And far too much of the life Arthur and Glenda enjoyed.

  Glenda walked through to the hallway. A bunch of keys hung on the end peg of a coat rack on the wall beside the front door.

  “There you are, Mr Freeman,” she said, “Front door, back door, and shed key.”

  “We’ll return them when we’ve finished, Mrs Wakeley,” said Gus.

  “No rush,” she replied, “We won’t be going anywhere near that place. You’ll find it’s boarded up, and the electric’s off now. Arthur has a local firm go round there regularly to maintain the bungalow and dissuade squatters. He gave strict instructions to remove perishable items but to leave everything else alone.”

  Gus was halfway out of the front door when he turned back.

  “What was your husband’s reaction to Ursula returning to the library after a thirty-year gap?” asked Lydia.

  “He couldn’t believe they wanted her,” said Glenda. “Perhaps those who worked with her before had retired. Ursula would have been hard-working and diligent. I can guarantee that. I expect Monica Butterworth put up with Ursula’s foibles because the younger ones she has now are a lazy bunch, only interested in the computers they have.”

  Gus thought Neil and Blessing would have a tale to tell when they got back to the Old Police Station. This trip could prove more productive than he’d first thought.

  “How did your sister-in-law spend her evenings and weekends?” asked Gus.

  “Ursula read a lot and watched television. Only certain programmes, of course. Mind you; I can only tell you what she told me. We didn’t visit one another’s home. We met in town at a café; or restaurant for special occasions such as a birthday, or Christmas.”

  “Why didn’t you come with Arthur that day?” asked Lydia. “There was only a suspicion that Ursula had come to harm. If it had been a fall, she might have preferred another woman to help her. Especially her best friend at school.”

  “Arthur wouldn’t let me,” said Glenda, “Charles Marshall called him, told him what Don Hillier had seen, and he left the house in a rage.”

  “What made him angry?” asked Gus.

  “He was getting ready to go out. Arthur dreaded Ursula turning into their mother. He kept worrying that we might end up caring for her.”

  “When you learned the truth, was there anyone you suspected might have killed Ursula?” asked Gus.

  “The police asked us that five years ago. I told that Mr Kite fellow Ursula was still my friend, even though she could be objectionable. I could never harm her, and nor could Arthur. There were plenty in town that she’d upset with comments she made at church, in the library or passing. No matter how wounding those remarks might be, they wouldn’t be enough for someone to kill her. How could they?”

  Lydia went to the lounge to collect the cups and saucers while Gus chatted to Glenda.

  Arthur was reading the newspaper.

  “Did you ever drive past your old home, Mr Wakeley? Even if you weren’t dropping in to see your sister?”

  “I hadn’t forgotten where it was, young lady,” said Arthur. “I’d have to go out of my way to drive along Shaftesbury Road. It never appealed to me.”

  “I just wondered if you had ever seen anyone hanging around, looking as if they were up to no good.”

  “Don Hillier would have told me if he thought there was something I should know. He was there often enough, and he never mentioned it.”

  “To find your sister’s bo
dy the way you did was a dreadful shock,” said Lydia, “but did it come as a surprise that someone killed her?”

  “What sort of question is that?” shouted Arthur.

  “Was Ursula adept at hurting people with words,” said Lydia.

  “She wasn’t always so vicious,” he replied.

  “Did Ursula pick on anyone in particular?”

  “No, after mother died, I noticed she was more bitter and less forgiving than when she was younger. Those years of caring for her mother took their toll. My sister could be nasty to anyone.”

  Lydia left Arthur to his paper, placed the cups and saucers on the kitchen worktop, and rejoined Gus and Glenda in the hallway.

  “All done, ready to go?” Gus asked.

  “Yes, guv, just saying goodbye to Mr Wakeley.”

  Glenda watched them walk down the driveway to a red Mini and then closed the door. With luck, that would be the last they’d see of them. They could drop the keys through the letterbox for all she cared.

  “What did we learn from that then, Lydia?” asked Gus as he sat beside her.

  “Three things off the top of my head. You were right that religion played a role in the case, guv,” said Lydia. “Glenda would have left Arthur twenty years ago if he hadn’t got a good pension. Also, our quiet librarian had a knack for insulting people everywhere she went.”

  “We’re no closer to isolating a suspect, or where any suspects might originate.”

  “Where to next, guv?”

  “Need you ask?”

  “We told Don Hillier we wanted to see him at eleven, guv. I know you, once we get into that bungalow, we’ll be there all day.”

  “In that case, let’s pick him up and take him with us. We’ll have our chat as he runs through his part in the morning’s proceedings.”

  “Do you think he’ll go for that, guv? I know the bedroom’s clean, but it might be traumatic for him.”

  “I’ll swear blind that I never said this if anyone asks,” said Gus, “but it might get Hillier to say something he wouldn’t do if he were in his comfy armchair.”