Silent Terror

by Ted Tayler

  “Got it, guv. Sorry.”

  “Does anyone else have a problem with the schedule we’re following?” asked Gus.

  Neil looked across to the desk where Blessing Umeh sat.

  “We had a conversation before you got back, guv. Blessing wondered whether we were looking for a pair of thrill-seekers.”

  Gus looked at the crime scene photos.

  “I won’t discount the robbery element until I’ve heard everything from the detectives and the jewellery shop owners. Maybe I’m ultra-cautious but better safe than sorry. I can’t discount the revenge motive either until I have every hurtful comment Ursula passed and who suffered as a result. You mentioned a computer room, Neil?

  “A telecentre, guv,” said Neil, “it’s a community resource within the library.”

  “Ursula never possessed a mobile phone, tablet, or laptop. I get by with what I’ve picked up over the past twenty years. I’ve had no formal training. Check whether Ursula received any. If not, then what was she able to do in that room? As for Blessing’s idea, the thrill-seeker is one of the four classifications of the serial killer, isn’t it? I thought we established that nothing remotely similar to Ursula Wakeley’s killing took place in the region before or since 2013. Therefore, unless we find more bodies, we’re not dealing with a serial killer.”

  Gus spent the rest of the afternoon studying those gory images and wondering whether he was right.

  At five o’clock, everyone bar Luke cleared their desks and headed for the lift.

  “Good luck, Luke,” said Gus. “Say hello to Mel for me. I hope he remembers something vital. At least we’re not paying for the call.”

  Neil and Lydia were soon in their cars and heading out of the car park. Blessing sat in the passenger seat of the Focus.

  “My father used to have a car like this,” she said.

  “I keep telling everyone. It’s a classic,” said Gus.

  “He got rid of his after a month. The passenger-side window kept dropping without warning. It frightened my mother.”

  Gus decided to drive and forget a conversation for a while.

  They were halfway to the farm when Blessing spoke.

  “I thought you wanted to reprimand me,” she said. “I wondered what I did wrong.”

  “Reprimand you? Why on earth made you think that? I offered to run you home because that’s what we do. We’re a team. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you standing outside the Old Police Station wondering where you could catch a bus or get a taxi. The others will always help too. Have you heard from the garage yet?”

  “No news is good news,” said Blessing.

  “Not always, but I’d stick with that for now. How are you settling in with John and Jackie?”

  “I have no complaints. My bedroom is a touch masculine in décor, but it was Suzie’s brother’s room. The sounds in the farmyard wake me up earlier than I’m used to, but at least I’ll never be late for work. I have seen little of Suzie, but her mother and father have made me most welcome.”

  “They’ve made me welcome too,” said Gus, “which I thought might have been difficult, given the fact that John and I are much the same age.”

  “Will you get married?” asked Blessing.

  “That’s a rather direct question,” said Gus.

  “I’m sorry,” said Blessing, “I have to get ready to explain your relationship to my parents. They are coming to visit at the weekend. If Suzie’s name cropped up in conversation, well, I want to avoid my father thinking you are living in sin, do you understand?”

  “The subject of marriage has never come up in any conversation I’ve had with Suzie or her parents,” said Gus. “We are not living together, although that situation could change. Does that offend you?”

  “Not me, guv,” said Blessing, “live and let live, I say. If the situation changes, I will need to watch what I say in front of my father. The same as when I speak about Luke and Nicky.”

  Blessing sat, wringing her hands in her lap.

  “It will get complicated. I know it,” said Blessing.

  “That’s religion for you, Blessing,” said Gus. “I don’t suffer these moral dilemmas. Did you get these issues back in Royal Leamington Spa? Surely someone on Andy Carlton’s squad was less than perfect?”

  “Only me,” said Blessing.

  Gus wanted to laugh but held it in. They had reached the gateway to the farm.

  When he pulled up outside the farmhouse door, John Ferris strode across the yard from the nearby barn.

  “Things are looking up, Blessing,” he said, “the boss bringing you home on your second day. Hello, Gus, long time no see.”

  “Hello, John,” said Gus. “Blame Suzie. She can’t stop driving over to my place. It’s weeks since we came over for a meal.”

  “Get off with you. Jackie needed to keep busy that night while we waited for you to bring her home from Leek Wotton. Cooking was Jackie’s way of taking her mind off what might have happened.”

  “Regardless of when it was, and why, It’s high time I showed my face here. Perhaps we could drop by on Sunday afternoon?”

  “That’s when my parents are coming,” said Blessing.

  “Perfect timing then,” said Gus, “you’ll have less to worry about.”

  John shrugged his shoulders. Whatever that meant didn’t bother him.

  “Jackie will kill me if I let you disappear without coming in and having a word.”

  “I insist on coming in,” said Gus. “I have to check that the food is up to the standard that Blessing’s father expects. A taste test might be necessary.”

  “If you can hang on twenty minutes, Suzie will be back from Swindon, and we can test it together.”

  Blessing slipped away to her room above the kitchen. She wanted to shower and change before dinner. She needed to think about how she explained things to her mother when she called. My boss ran me home from work, Mummy, he stayed to dinner, and he’s still here, talking with his lover’s parents.

  What could she possibly object to in that?

  CHAPTER 9

  Wednesday, 4th July 2018

  Gus was still thinking about the thrill-seekers when he got out of bed in the morning. Could Blessing be right? If only they had the tiniest clue about who broke into the bungalow that night. Perhaps something would come from today’s meetings.

  When Suzie had arrived back from Gablecross last evening, she was tired and stressed. Working with Gareth Francis would tax the mildest mannered person. It surprised Suzie to find Gus sitting in her parent’s kitchen, drinking a coffee, and chatting amicably to her mother. Gus couldn’t understand why. Bert Penman had told everyone within earshot that Suzie was his intended. The rumour mill in villages such as Urchfont and Worton was a well-oiled machine. Jackie Ferris would have heard within the hour. Whether she passed that message on to husband John was another matter.

  Blessing Umeh had arrived downstairs looking refreshed minutes after Suzie came indoors and the penny dropped. Gus had driven the new DC home because one of the boys got delayed at work. Whatever the reason for his unexpected presence, Suzie seemed content. The wine helped, but Gus was driving and limited himself to one glass of beer.

  What Blessing made of the conversation Suzie and her parents carried on over the meal the five of them shared, Gus couldn’t imagine. Several farming terms were foreign even to his ears, but John Ferris was still smiling at the end. It couldn’t have been too financially damaging.

  When Blessing’s mobile rang at eight o’clock, she announced it was her mother calling and went upstairs. Suzie and Gus took a walk around the farmyard, and she tended to her horse in the stable. When Gus drove home at nine, he’d felt guilty at leaving her behind.

  The drive through Devizes this morning was uneventful, for a change, and with Alex Hardy giving him a wave as he headed towards London Road, Gus was confident parking wouldn’t be a problem when he reached the Old Police Station. He still hadn’t spoken to Geoff Mercer about fixing that issu
e. How many mental notes was that now?

  Upstairs in the office, Neil and Blessing were already at work. Lydia was in the restroom. As Gus fired up his computer, he heard the lift return to the ground floor. Luke was on his way.

  The lift doors opened and in breezed Luke.

  “Good morning, everyone,” he cried. “What a beautiful morning.”

  “Too much, Luke, but nice try,” said Gus. “Just tell me how awful the phone call was last night. You got nothing from Mel Jefferson, did you?”

  “It surprised Jefferson to hear that you came out of retirement, guv,” said Luke. “He thought you had more sense. I reminded him how successful you had been since setting up this team. Jefferson thought it was just as well you had early success because this case would be your downfall. Ursula never spoke with more than a dozen people in the last twenty years of her life. Her mother dominated every waking minute of her life between her father’s death, and when her mother died in ‘96. After that, it was Arthur, Glenda, Don Hillier, Monica Butterworth, a handful of people at the new Methodist Church building and the staff at the café and supermarket. Ursula talked about a hundred people and complained about a hundred more in the library, but a conversation was not on the list of her priorities. Ursula was a recluse for most of the week after she retired from the library in 2010. Mel said that he and Fabian Kite spoke to every person to whom Ursula ever spoke more than a few harsh words. Not one of them was her killer. Everyone had a rock-solid alibi. None of those people had a motive. In Mel’s opinion, although two grand doesn’t seem a lot of money, if they were young, desperate for a fix, and high before they reached Shaftesbury Road, then the violence was understandable. Jefferson blamed the lack of a result on Ormrod. He had the girl in his jewellery shop for longer than Dillon. It wasn’t the first deal where Ormrod might have got offered stolen goods for quick cash. Ormrod should have been more watchful. Jefferson reckoned he knew the girl and had previously agreed to fence the stuff for her. Jefferson valued the jewellery at six grand, and he said if we ever find Kite, he will support that figure.”

  “What do we think, team?” asked Gus.

  “There was someone Ursula spoke to that Jefferson never found, guv? Is that what you’re thinking?”

  “Who could it be, Neil, and where?” said Gus. “If it were the library, surely Monica Butterworth would have mentioned them. The minister will know his congregation so that that number won’t be wildly adrift. Don Hillier confirmed that Ursula wasn’t that friendly with Charles Marshall or Beryl Giddings, her nearest neighbours. Who was it Blessing suggested yesterday? Oh, the postman. They checked him, and his alibi was sound.”

  “Hang on, guv,” said Lydia, “Ursula shouted at someone in the field, didn’t she? Perhaps that Hurley character that tried to close the footpath.”

  “Good thinking. Fewer people would know about that, and he lives outside Mere. He’s probably only there for short periods if he has a place in London. Hurley is someone Jefferson could have missed.”

  “You had a go at me about a lack of walking, guv,” said Neil. “Ursula walked into town a minimum of three times a week even after she retired, and that’s a fair old distance. How many houses did Ursula pass? There could be dozens of people she met. How did Jefferson arrive at his number of twelve; did they make a public appeal? Did they ask the public to come forward if they argued with Ursula, or even passed the time of day when they saw her walking into town? I have little faith in that number, guv.”

  “There’s plenty to keep us busy,” said Gus. “Today, we stay on track with the interviews we’ve got planned. Lydia, I want you to remain in the office. Contact the Hub and get as much data on the good people of Mere between 2010 and 2013 as possible. Highlight the small number of those with a criminal record. Double your efforts on the hunt for Fabian Kite and then, using the map on the wallboard, plot the route Ursula took when walking into town. We’ll carry out a door-to-door if necessary. We must trace more people Ursula could have antagonised. Luke, when you and Neil head through Mere on the way to Ringwood, do me a favour. Drop these keys back to Arthur Wakeley. Also, chat with his son, Matthew, during his lunch break. He could have played a part in this, even if his alibi held up five years ago. Leave no stone unturned is the order of the day. Right, Blessing, let’s go.”

  Gus found the forty-five-minute journey passed quicker this morning. Blessing was becoming more at ease in his company. He was still the boss, but as with the other team members, they came to realise that Gus was in favour of his colleagues working with him rather than for him.

  “What a beautiful morning,” said Blessing as they crossed Salisbury Plain. “The cathedral spire is a wonderful sight in the distance, isn’t it?”

  “It’s the same as everything else, Blessing,” said Gus. “When you work in its shadow for the best part of forty years you forget it’s there.”

  “I hope I don’t grow to think of it like that,” said Blessing.

  That’s me told, thought Gus. I’ve become cynical in my old age.

  Gus parked the Focus on Castle Street, and he and Blessing walked to the Church in North Street.

  Horace Plant met them at the entrance to the mid-Victorian building.

  “Welcome,” he said, “Your colleague Luke Sherman said you needed my help.”

  “My name is Freeman, a consultant with Wiltshire Police. My colleague is Detective Constable Umeh. We’re taking a fresh look into the death of one of your congregation. I’m sure you remember Ursula Wakeley. She worshipped at your church throughout her life.”

  “I wasn’t alive for much of it. Let’s go inside. We have a quiet room where we can talk about Ursula in private.”

  Horace Plant led them to a small room off the entrance hall. There were four hard-backed chairs placed around a small square table. Blessing noticed the lack of decoration throughout the room.

  “Ursula could be a difficult person at times,” said the minister. “We understood her; many others in town didn't share her beliefs. It was a terrible shock to hear that she was dead. How anyone could take the life of another human being is a mystery. We did everything in our power to help the police. What is it you think they missed?

  “Well, they never found her killer,” said Gus. “So, either someone lied to the police and one or more alibis was false, or those who gave statements omitted the name of a possible suspect for the police to investigate. Mere is a tiny town. The killer likely lived among you. Therefore, someone hid relevant facts from the detectives.”

  “I refuse to believe any of our members could be responsible for such a heinous act. What Gideon and his parents would have made of it, I dread to think. Ursula’s father died before I came to this town, but the family reputation for godliness survives.”

  “Can you give me background on the church Gideon Wakeley’s parents and grandparents attended?” asked Gus.

  “The Primitive Methodists saw themselves as practising a purer form of Christianity, closer to the earliest Methodists,” said Horace Plant. “Their chapels were of simple design and drew their congregation from the poorer members of society. It was among the agricultural labourers that they found those who appreciated the themes of damnation, salvation, saints, and sinners. Their direct, spontaneous and passionate style attracted a strong following in these parts.”

  “They promoted a revival in religious fervour hand-in-hand with social reform,” said Gus, “if I remember my schooling correctly.”

  “Wiltshire was a fertile breeding ground, Mr Freeman. There was unrest in the countryside in the middle of the nineteenth century. The Tolpuddle Martyrs lived just thirty miles away. The Primitive Methodist preachers held large open-air meetings. They presented God as one whose powers could be called upon by preachers. Anecdotal evidence exists of a disabled person getting healed through her conversion to Primitive Methodism.”

  “I take that with a pinch of salt,” said Gus. “Anyway the original church had long gone when Gideon was born.”

&nb
sp; “Brother Gideon was born in 1910, Mr Freeman, and baptised in our church. Gideon got married there, worshipped there, and lays at rest in the churchyard. Times have changed. Since the Seventies, many of those different denominations have disappeared under the umbrella of the United Reform Church. Hence the building we now occupy. Attitudes on damnation and salvation have softened. We spread a more modern message now.”

  “Despite most parishioners following the guidance of their church elders, several continued to hold more extreme beliefs. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “It’s fair to say that Gideon Wakeley and his family opposed the relaxation of our approach to certain human frailties.”

  “You referred to him as Brother Gideon,” said Gus.

  “The Primitives used to call one another Brother and Sister. We don’t do that these days, but Gideon’s belief was so entrenched in the past I’m afraid he acquired that nickname. Nobody ever dared say it to his face.”

  “Did Arthur follow in his father’s footsteps?”

  “Arthur does not worship here now. I believe he stopped attending soon after his father died. Ursula and her mother, Elspeth, never faltered in their faith. Ursula was here at both morning and evening services on Sunday before she died, as she was every week.”

  “We’ve spoken to people at the library and various shops in town,” said Gus. “Ursula was fond of the occasional biblical phrase. She aimed them at people she thought were less diligent in following the Ten Commandments than was proper.”

  “Her parents were strict, Mr Freeman, and I won’t say her view was misguided. The modern world is a wicked place. Ursula never married, but she had strong views on the behaviour of those that married and then sinned.”

  “God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous,” said Blessing.

  “Your colleague is well-versed in the scriptures, Mr Freeman,” said Horace Plant.