by Ted Tayler
“Do you think you’ll have something for me by two o’clock?” asked Gus.
“We can but try,” said Dai.
Gus found a café within a fifteen-minute walk of the South Wales Police HQ.
As he scanned the menu for something that wouldn’t repeat on him all afternoon, Gus remembered that slice of bara brith Kassie gave him. He’d slipped it into his desk drawer after getting back to the office–and forgotten it.
Gus stuck to something nobody could screw up. He ordered a ham and cheese toastie, and a black coffee. As he made his way back to the police station, rain fell from a cloudless sky.
Gus got through Reception in no time and was outside Dai Williams office by a quarter to two. A peep through the window showed that Dai was still in the interview room.
Five minutes later, DS Annie Morgan came along the corridor.
“No joy, I’m afraid,” she said. “At first, Ivor couldn’t remember the Corbett brothers, but we reminded him that the RSPCA was only a phone call away. If he wanted to avoid a surprise inspection, he should start remembering. Lewis claimed it was a genuine transaction. The brothers named a price. He agreed and paid them in cash. When Dai asked about the dogs, he said they had a couple of fights each, performed well, and he sold them at a profit after a year.”
“That’s promising,” said Gus. “Did he give you a name for the buyer?”
“Buyers,” said Annie. “we’ve got zero chance of tracing them. Ivor Lewis said he advertised on the Dark Web, secured the animals in cages to transport them by rail, then as soon as the money appeared in his bank account he took the cages to Cardiff Central station. The arrangement was for the buyers to collect the dogs from the destination station. One dog went to Manchester, the other to Gravesend.”
DI Dai Williams joined them in the corridor.
“I think that’s as far as I can go,” said Gus.
“It was always going to be a tough ask,” said Dai Williams. “If those dogs survived this long, the training they’ve received from Lewis, and whoever’s had them since, will mean that the dogs Alexa Kendall knew are long gone.”
“My sister works out at West Point,” said Annie, “at the Dogs Home. Why not drive over there? It will take you fifteen minutes. I’ll tell Billie to expect you. By the sound of it, the Kendall girl was a good owner. They have plenty of animals longing for TLC.”
“I’m getting sentimental in my old age,” said Gus. “Perhaps I should just get in the car and drive home.”
“You’ll never forgive yourself,” said Annie. “Do you have kids? Even when they’re out of their teens, they still get a buzz from receiving a special gift from their parents. Alexa Kendall won’t be any different. She doesn’t have a father figure in her life, and it’s only a few days since your guys got her and her mother back together. What you’ve got in mind could seal the deal in my book.”
“You’re wise beyond your years DS Morgan,” said Gus. “My late wife and I never wanted children, so I’ve never witnessed a child’s reaction to a surprise present. I bow to your superior knowledge. Point me in the right direction to find your sister, and I’ll let you two get on with nailing the lid on the Corbett brothers.”
Gus left the South Wales Police HQ and soon found the industrial estate where the rescued dogs lived.
Billie Morgan was a carbon copy of her sister, Annie. She was two inches shorter, which might have denied her a career in the police. Billie let her mane of blonde hair fall where it pleased, while Annie’s hair was short and neat.
“What breed of a dog were you interested in, Mr Freeman?” asked Billie.
“Not a clue,” said Gus. “Nothing vicious, that’s for sure.”
“Where do you live? Town or country?”
“It wouldn’t be for me,” said Gus, “the couple I’m hoping to help live in Crickhowell.”
“I’ve got a two-year-old Black Labrador that could do the trick. Come and see him.”
Billie Morgan took Gus outside the main building, and Gus realised just how many animals they had on the premises.
“The retriever is one of the nation’s favourite breeds,” said Billie, “they’re active, friendly and loyal. I can run through the adoption process if you wish. We can arrange a home visit to vet the couple involved. I don’t think it will be an issue based on what Annie said. Here he is. Meet Rex.”
The black Labrador on the other side of the bars bounded from side to side. Gus couldn’t remember the last time anyone was so pleased to see him.
“What happened to him?” he asked.
“Rex’s owner died,” said Billie, “She was in her eighties, lived alone, and had always had dogs in the family. Annie told me they believed that the old lady died in her sleep. A neighbour realised she hadn’t seen her outside with Rex for two days and called the police. It’s sad. Rex was lying at the foot of the stairs when they broke in. We nursed him back to health within seventy-two hours, and if you don’t grab him, he won’t be here for long. He’s a lovely little fellow.”
Gus couldn’t tell one way or another. Rex was excitable and noisy. Gus accepted that millions of people found that endearing. He told Billie Morgan he would cover the adoption fee, and if Sally and Lexie Kendall didn’t want to offer Rex a home, someone else would get a helping hand.
“Take a snap of Rex on your mobile phone,” said Billie, “I presume you’ll tell the family what you’ve done? See how the land lies, and then either come back to see me on the way back from Crickhowell or give us a ring.”
Rex stood still long enough for Gus to capture several decent photos. Gus snapped Rex, leaping up at the bars and rolling around on the floor to add to the retriever’s portfolio.
Billie and Gus walked back to the office. He paid the fee. It seemed ridiculously cheap compared to the sums that Bubble and Squeak commanded at around the same age. Billie handed him a card.
“Are you alright to find your way to Crickhowell?” she asked.
“I’ve got satnav if I need it,” said Gus.
“Have you got recovery, though?” asked Billie as she studied Gus’s Ford Focus.
“There’s nothing wrong with my car,” he said, “apart from windows that stick.”
“Good to meet you, Mr Freeman,” said Billie, “I hope things work out. It’s a good thing that you’re doing.”
“I’ll call you as soon as the Kendall’s have decided,” said Gus.
An hour later, Gus parked the Focus outside the house where Sally Kendall lived under her new name of Sammy Prosser. He hoped Lexie was still with her mother.
Gus looked at his watch. Four o’clock. Sammy worked at an estate agency in town. It could be half-past five before she arrived home. He called Suzie at London Road to warn her he might not get home until eight o’clock. As he got out of the car, he noticed movement in the front room of the house. Somebody was home.
An attractive young woman answered the doorbell.
“Lexie Kendall?” asked Gus.
“Who’s asking?”
“My colleagues brought you here last Saturday afternoon,” said Gus. “Neil Davis and Luke Sherman work for me. My name is Freeman, Gus Freeman. Can I come in and talk to you for a few minutes?”
“You’re a police officer too?”
“I was a Detective Inspector before I retired. They call me a consultant now. Here’s my ID card. What time will Mum get home?”
“Not long now, she finishes at half-past four on a Wednesday.”
Lexie walked through to the lounge and pointed to the settee under the window.
Gus took a seat. Lexie sat in a chair to his left and tucked her legs under her bottom.
Gus took his mobile phone out of his pocket and laid it on the coffee table.
“Are you interviewing me?”
“Nothing like that,” said Gus. “I’m sorry if I appear at sixes and sevens. This is unfamiliar territory for me. Look, my boss asked me to take another look at your father’s case. We found his killers this time,
and they will get locked up for a considerable period. Ever since I learned about Bubble and Squeak, I wanted to make up for the police not being able to find them for you in the days after your Dad died.”
“I don’t expect to see them again,” said Lexie. “Dad was going to sell them, anyway. He warned me not to get too attached to them.”
“But you did, didn’t you?”
Lexie nodded.
Gus opened the phone and called up the images from the Dogs Home.
“He looks a little poppet. Is he yours?” asked Lexie.
“No, Rex, is yours if you want him,” said Gus. “I’m sure you’ll be able to persuade your mother to give it a shot. If you think you can give Rex a home, I’ll call the lady I met this afternoon, and she’ll contact you to make the arrangements.”
“I’m starting my studies soon,” said Lexie. “I plan to set up a mobile hairdressing business. He could come with me in the car. We wouldn’t leave him on his own. Mum can take him with her now and then. Her boss is a dog lover. It would be brilliant. Are you sure it’s alright? Don’t we need to pay anything?”
“That’s been taken care of, Lexie,” said Gus. “Courtesy of Wiltshire Police.”
The look on the young girl’s face was a picture. Gus remembered what Billie Morgan said: that kids never tired of receiving surprise presents from a parent. Was this how it felt to be a father?
“I can’t wait for Mum to get home,” said Lexie.
“I’ll make that call then, shall I?”
“Yes, please, and thank you again.”
Gus picked up his mobile phone and left the excited Lexie Kendall on the doorstep.
He walked to the car, drove out of Crickhowell, and parked in the nearest layby to call Billie Morgan.
“Did it give you a warm feeling, Mr Freeman?” she asked after he told her the good news.
“You might need to talk to your sister,” he replied. “Ask her how it feels to solve a stubborn case. For me, this afternoon was as if I’d put a missing piece into a jigsaw. I could see the picture already, but it wouldn’t be complete without it.”
“Safe journey home, Mr Freeman,” said Billie.
CHAPTER 6
Gus arrived back at the bungalow just before seven. He parked his Focus next to the little Golf and told it to sleep well.
Suzie was in the kitchen. “Was your journey to Crickhowell a success?” she asked.
“It was,” said Gus. “Today proved to be a good day all round. I can draw a line under the Kendall case. We’ve done what we can.”
“Back to reality in the morning,” said Suzie.
“We can start interviews tomorrow,” said Gus. “I haven’t decided who will do what on this case yet. Neil might be best to take with me when I visit the murder site.”
“We haven’t discussed this new case yet,” said Suzie. “Is it something I might remember?”
“Stacey Read?” asked Gus.
“Gablecross didn’t get far with that one if I remember it right. Jack Sanders thought it was a sexual assault that escalated to something more. He believed there was a gang of lads from the nearby estate involved.”
“Stacey had two knife wounds to her body and was half-undressed,” said Gus.
“Could those wounds have killed her?” asked Suzie.
“They weren’t superficial,” said Gus. “but treated quickly, she had a chance. Although the autopsy found no evidence of sexual assault, bruises on the body suggested a sexual motivation behind her death. I can see why Jack Sanders followed the route he did, but how he leapt from a single attacker to a gang, I don’t understand.”
“We don’t know that part of Swindon as well as Jack did, Gus. Perhaps it was more likely that teenagers gathered in groups at night back then. Safety in numbers. With the increase of activity on county lines, I don’t believe you’d find many kids wandering close to that nature reserve alone.”
“Your right, of course, Jack didn’t find the lone teenager arguing with Stacey that night. Nor did he collect a list of names for the so-called gang members. The coroner had little evidence on which to decide. He decided Stacey drowned quickly after getting stabbed and deemed it an unlawful killing.”
“Police appealed for people to come forward if they were in the nature reserve that night,” said Suzie. “You know how well those appeals do. The silence was deafening.”
“I’m not looking forward to interviewing the family members,” said Gus. “Stacey was only thirteen with her entire life ahead of her. For different reasons, the three adult females will blame themselves to a degree. Her younger sister will still miss her. Stacey was a part-time carer for Lucy too, based on the murder file report. Families, eh?”
“Do you mind if I ask you a question, Gus?” asked Suzie.
“Anything,” he replied.
“Did you ever want kids?”
“A difficult one to start with, I see. Tess was a teacher when we met,” said Gus. “Before she moved to take a job at the college in Salisbury years later, she had taught for over twenty years. Kids surrounded Tess throughout her working life. Tess never expressed a desire to have children of her own. I didn’t press her on the subject, and perhaps I should have. You know me well enough to understand how I spent my time. I concentrated on work. The only thing I strived for in my career was the satisfaction of solving a crime and seeing the guilty party in prison. I wasn’t interested in climbing the greasy pole like Geoff Mercer. The years slipped past, and then it wasn’t an issue any more. If it ever had been. We never discussed it and never argued over it. After Tess died, I spent days at the allotment watching weeds grow. There were lots of questions for which I didn’t have the answers. Yours was one of them. Did I ever want kids? I decided you don’t miss what you never had. A lady I met this afternoon made me think about that question again. I saw Lexie Kendall’s face when I showed her pictures of a black Labrador waiting for her and her mother to adopt. We never had pets at home when I was a kid. I couldn’t understand why those owners I met on the Mark Malone case felt so passionate about their pups. As I considered the trauma Lexie had suffered since she was fourteen, it amazed me how the thought of having a dog to care for could transform her life.”
“You’re a big softie under that gruff exterior, Gus Freeman,” said Suzie.
“I think I did the right thing today for a change,” said Gus. “My stomach is telling me it’s been too long since that toastie I had in Cardiff. Why don’t I stick to my selfless kick and cook for you? It’s been a while.”
Suzie could tell that the shutters had fallen again on her partner’s emotions. Gus wasn’t the first copper she’d known who found the only way to deal with the dramas they dealt with was to pretend that nothing affected them. It didn’t always end well.
“Right,” she said, “but only if I can sit in the kitchen with you and watch a master at work.”
“Mmm,” said Gus, “I’m a big softie, and you’re a frustrated stand-up comedian. Come on then. Tomorrow I’ve got to delve into the brief, tragic life of a thirteen-year-old girl. You don’t get many laughs out of that experience.”
Thursday, 19th July 2018
Gus had continued his good deeds for the day by cooking breakfast. He and Suzie left for work at the same time this morning. As he drove into Devizes following the Golf, he reflected on the evening they’d spent together.
The lamb steaks and vegetables had proved a success. It always paid to have a bottle of Merlot handy when serving lamb without an accompanying sauce.
This morning at breakfast, there had been a straightforward conversation between them. Similar to many other mornings since they became a couple. But nothing as deep as last night. Gus wondered what had sparked that. Should he have asked Suzie whether she wanted children in reply?
Suzie waved a hand as she turned into the London Road car park and he flashed his lights in response. Gus continued driving towards the Old Police Station office wondering why a thirty-three-year-old woman would thro
w her lot in with a sixty-two-year-old widower if she were desperate to start a family.
Gus hadn’t come to a satisfactory answer by the time he parked beneath the Crime Review Team office. The picture of Suzie on the steps of the building she had just left after the Eron Dushka case ended convinced him DI Ferris was a career copper intent on reaching the top. He had realised how much he wanted to be part of her life that day. Nothing had changed. It wouldn’t surprise him if he lived with an Assistant Chief Constable in a few years. As long as it wasn’t Geoff Mercer, he could live with that.
“Good morning, guv.”
Blessing Umeh had arrived.
“Hello, Blessing,” said Gus. “Your reversing is improving. I can see the white lines on both sides of your car.”
“Dave’s helped me,” said the Detective Constable as they travelled up in the lift together.
“You gave the young man another chance then,” said Gus.
“We had lunch in Chippenham on Sunday,” said Blessing. “Small steps, guv. My parents will want to meet him if they learn that I’m spending too much time away from the Ferris farm.”
“Ah, Maryam and Jackie talk regularly.”
“My mother calls me on Wednesday evenings and expects a call from me at the weekend. But since they visited Worton, my mother also calls Mrs Ferris asking for recipes, advice on plants she saw in the garden, anything that allows her to check that I’m behaving myself.”
“The joys of being a parent of an only child,” said Gus.
“I love them, dearly,” said Blessing, “but they can be a trial.”
The others were already at work when they entered the office.
“As everyone’s here,” said Gus. “I can update you on my visit to Cardiff and Crickhowell yesterday. Vaughn and Shaun Corbett sold the dogs for three thousand five hundred pounds to a character called Ivor Lewis within days of the murder. Lewis trained the dogs, found opponents for them, and then sold them on at a profit to two separate people through the Dark Web. There’s little chance of tracking those transactions, and we must assume the dogs are beyond help. I adopted a black Labrador at the Dogs Home on the West Point Industrial Estate and then drove to Crickhowell, where I met Lexie, waiting for her mother to get home from work. One look at the photos of the dog was enough for her to say they would arrange to take Rex in and give him a wonderful home.”
