All Things Bright

by Ted Tayler

  At one minute to three, a Honda Jazz bearing a 2018 registration arrived on Moredon Road. It pulled up in front of the garage to the left of the detached property that Pat Read had rented since leaving Debbie and the kids in Gorse Hill.

  “He’s come up in the world, hasn’t he, guv?” said Neil. “That place looks as new as the car,”

  “Pat Read earns good money at Honda, Neil,” said Gus. “Even without the maintenance sum deducted by their payroll department. His neighbours say that Pat doesn’t have a social life. He tends the small front garden that we can see ahead of us. Judging by the estate's layout, they’ve maximised the number of properties to the acre. The rear garden too will be compact.”

  Gus and Neil got out of the car and crossed the road. Pat Read stood on the step outside the front door with his keys in his hand. Debbie’s husband was six feet tall, slim, and neat; Gus couldn’t think of a better way to describe him. His Modern Metallic Steel car suited him to the ground. It was bland, as was its driver.

  “Are you the detectives I’m expecting?” asked Read. “I suppose you want to come in?”

  “The sooner we start, the sooner we finish, Mr Read,” said Gus.

  Pat Read looked edgy. Neil and Gus followed him indoors.

  The interior was spotless, Neil couldn’t stifle a whistle of appreciation. No matter how hard he and Melody tried to keep their new-build home looking good, they were light-years from Pat Read’s standard. It put even the show home on Neil’s modern housing estate to shame.

  “You wanted to talk about my daughter, Stacey, is that right?” said Read.

  Gus sat on a comfortable chair under the window. Read stood in front of the faux fireplace.

  Neil looked at Read’s black leather recliner chair in the corner. No way was he sitting on that after steak and kidney pie, followed by Spotted Dick. One stain on that leather and Read would implode.

  “I’m sure our colleague DS Sherman told you the reason for our visit, Mr Read,” said Gus. “So, let’s cut to the chase. Why did you walk out of your marriage in 2008?”

  “I’d decided that married life wasn’t for me,” said Read. “Debbie was content to live in a tip, and I wasn’t. I hated the constant noise and mess associated with young children. After six years of never achieving an acceptable level of order in the house, I had had enough.”

  “Why did you marry in the first place, if it might irk you so much?” asked Gus.

  “We’d been seeing one another for eight weeks when Debbie announced she was expecting. She’d taken me home to meet her parents for the first time the weekend before. Harry was in my ear only days after Debbie broke the news. He didn’t want an unmarried mother in his house; so, marriage was our only option. You know what they say. Marry in haste, repent at leisure. Well, I soon knew that feeling. Debbie trapped me.”

  “You must explain something to me, Mr Read,” said Gus. “It’s clear there was an attraction. The two of you got together at New Year and had sex on at least one occasion. Debbie was comfortable enough with how the relationship was progressing to introduce you to Harry and Mary. The marriage took place, your daughter Stacey arrived, and two years later, Debbie gave birth to Lucy. Your wife told us that sexual relations continued throughout the marriage, despite how you felt about married life.”

  “We argued, and then we made up. What’s unusual in that?”

  Pat Read looked at his watch.

  “Are we keeping you from something, Mr Read?” asked Gus.

  “This will affect my schedule,” said Pat Read. “I should have had my first lot of washing in the machine by now. The thirty-eight-minute cycle allows me time to hoover and polish downstairs. How long did you say this would take?”

  “Relax, Mr Read,” said Neil. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve answered our questions. If you prefer to upgrade this conversation to an official interview room at Gablecross Police Station, we can accommodate that.”

  “So, you would have us believe that you and Debbie continued to share the same bed, despite your differences,” said Gus. “If Stacey was noisy and messy and annoyed you, why risk another pregnancy?”

  “We used protection,” said Pat. “That failed to protect us the first time, then suddenly, Debbie was pregnant again.”

  “You must have cursed your luck,” said Neil, shaking his head.

  “How long are you going to keep up this charade, Mr Read?” asked Gus.

  “What do you mean?”

  “When did you first suspect that Lucy wasn’t your child?”

  Pat Read’s shoulders slumped.

  “The dates fitted when she told me she was late,” he sighed. “I was mad as hell. How could it happen to me twice? Then, when she brought Lucy home, something didn’t feel right.”

  “You had nothing to do with the girls, did you?” said Gus. “You didn’t visit Debbie in the hospital. You never held your daughters, helped feed them, or bathe them.”

  “Why should I? Debbie was their mother. I provided for them by working every hour I could. They were noisy, smelly, tiny versions of their untidy mother. As Lucy grew older, it was obvious she wasn’t mine. I left not long after she had her second birthday.”

  “Did Debbie tell you who the father was?” asked Neil.

  “I never told her the reason I left. Debbie assumed it was because I had had enough of married life in general. I haven’t spoken to her since, so there was no way she could torment me with that information.”

  “We don’t need to ask you where you were on the night Stacey died,” said Gus. “The police confirmed your alibi. However, I’d like to know whether you ever met Stacey after you walked out? Did she try to get in touch with you?”

  “Never,” said Pat Read. “I recognised her from her school photo in the newspaper. Stacey was mine alright.”

  “How did you get on with Vanessa, Debbie’s sister?” asked Neil.

  “She was another reason I couldn’t stick living there any longer. They’re two peas in a pod, those two. Why get married if you want to carry on living life as if you’re single?”

  “Did Vanessa meet with other men before Barry left her?” asked Neil.

  “Not so much, if ever,” said Pat. “That started once he’d moved to Germany. Vanessa was always badgering Debbie to join her on nights out.”

  “Did they have a night on the town together frequently?” asked Gus.

  “No, Debbie was too tired to have late nights back then. Of course, once I’d left, I heard she was partying every weekend. Mary and Vanessa had to look after the girls.”

  “Was there anyone that you suspected was Lucy’s father?” asked Neil.

  “Nobody,” said Pat, “I wasn’t interested.”

  “How did you feel when you learned of Stacey’s death?” asked Gus.

  “Sad. I’d never cried before that day. Stacey didn’t deserve to die. I know my behaviour is alien to most people, Mr Freeman, but I hadn’t seen her for over seven years. Although I could see Debbie and me in Stacey’s features, she was a stranger. I doubt that I would ever have wanted to get to know her if she’d lived.”

  Gus decided that Pat Read didn’t hold any information to advance their progress in the case. He felt sorry for the man on the opposite side of the room. But a jaundiced outlook on life isn’t a crime.

  “I don’t think we’ll need to talk to you again, Mr Read,” said Gus. “Do you want us to contact you if we discover who was responsible for Stacey’s death?”

  “I hope you find the person responsible,” said Pat, “but, no, it won’t serve any useful purpose. It won’t change anything.”

  Gus and Neil returned to the car.

  “The first load of washing will be on, guv. Thirty-eight minutes. Can I get us back to the office before the final spin cycle?”

  “I feel as if I just spent half an hour in an alternate universe, Neil,” said Gus. “I imagined him as not showing any emotion under any circumstance. Almost robotic, but he cried when he learned tha
t Stacey had died. Odd, doesn’t cover it. Take a steady drive back, no rush. It’s going home time. We’ll set things up for Monday morning, and re-charge the batteries over the weekend.”

  “We’ve got a long way to go before we wrap up this case, guv,” said Neil.

  “You could be right, Neil,” said Gus. “I’m wondering whether we’re coming at it from the wrong direction.”

  CHAPTER 10

  The drive from Moredon Road to the Old Police Station took a leisurely forty-four minutes. With almost the same time left in the working day, Gus elected for a rapid debrief of Gablecross and Moredon Road events after he and Neil reached the first-floor office.

  The rest of the team wanted to learn what progress they had made.

  “A lot of effort for not much return, guv,” said Lydia Logan Barre.

  “Try to focus on the positives,” said Gus.

  “We know where Ryan Lock is,” said Neil. “Alex, can you fix up an interview on Monday late in the morning at Feltham Young Offenders Institution?”

  “Luke, here’s a list of male companions of Debbie Read,” said Gus. “Ignore anyone without an asterisk after their name. You should have four names to chase. I need background checks done. I’ll determine whether we need an interview with any of them on Monday. You can omit Rod Maidment from your checks. He’s a person of interest. Please contact him this afternoon, and we’ll see him at his home near Wroughton, first thing on Monday.”

  “On it, guv,” said Luke.

  Gus sat at his desk, going over the events of the past few days. What had he missed?

  “We still need to talk to Debbie Read again, guv,” said Neil. “Concerning the period between Stacey’s birth and when she had Lucy.”

  “OK, we can hold off on that until Monday, Neil,” said Gus. “Lydia, I want you and Alex to travel to Middlesex to chat to Ryan Lock. I’ll give you a list of the answers we need.”

  “We’ll come here first to collect your notes, guv,” said Alex. “Feltham have got us booked in for eleven-thirty to see Ryan Lock.”

  “Why was Maidment singled out as a person of interest from that list, guv?” asked Blessing. “How did he stand out from the other four names?”

  “Because he was in relationships with both Debbie and Vanessa Read,” said Neil.

  “At the same time? My goodness, I can’t mention that to my parents if they ask me how work went this week.”

  “You think you’ve got problems, Blessing,” said Neil. “When I get home I’ve got to admit to Melody that I had a Spotted Dick at lunchtime.”

  “Oh, Neil, you are pulling my leg. A girl brought up in the Midlands knows that you had a pudding made with suet and dried fruit, served with custard.”

  “I think it’s time we went home,” said Gus. “It’s been a tough week. We owe it to Stacey Read to get back here on Monday, fully refreshed and ready to uncover those elusive pieces of the jigsaw that are preventing us from finding the truth.”

  The team updated their copies of the Freeman Files, tidied their desks, and at five o’clock Gus found himself alone in the office.

  Time to make an important call.

  “Mercer, speaking.”

  “Geoff, it’s Gus here. Are you free?”

  “Not tonight, Gus,” said Geoff. “What about tomorrow afternoon, will you be on your allotment?”

  “Weather permitting,” said Gus. “I don’t think Suzie has other plans for me, although that could change when I get home in an hour.”

  “I’ll drop by the allotments at around two o’clock. Is that okay?”

  “Yes, Geoff,” said Gus. “I look forward to it. It’s been ages since we had a chat.”

  “Until tomorrow, then,” said Geoff, ending the call.

  Gus headed for the lift. That was the simple part done. Now he had to convince Geoff Mercer that West Mercia was a step too far. He needed him at Devizes.

  Saturday, 21st July 2018

  “Are you staying in bed all morning?” asked Suzie.

  “Are you leaving for Worton already?” Gus replied, opening one eye with great reluctance.

  “It’s a beautiful morning,” said Suzie, “and I can’t wait to spend it riding around the country lanes. What will you be doing? If, and when you get out of bed.”

  “Was there anything you wanted to add to the shopping list by the waffle maker? If not, I’ll drive into Devizes, get a haircut, and then visit the supermarket. I need more picnic items for this afternoon.”

  “No, it’s complete, as far as I remember. You think a salmon sandwich and wine in a plastic cup will convince Geoff to stay at London Road?”

  “Not on their own,” said Gus. “My sparkling wit and diplomacy will win the day. The food and drink will be to celebrate a successful outcome.”

  “I’ll leave you to recover from last night,” said Suzie. “I’ll be home by one o’clock.”

  Gus heard the front door close, and the roar of Suzie’s GTI as it left.

  There was nothing for it. Gus knew that he had to admit he wasn’t as young as he was; the recovery time from a heavy night lasted far longer these days. They hadn’t intended the evening to turn out the way it had.

  When Gus had arrived at a few minutes before six, Suzie had been home for forty-five minutes. The washing machine was chugging away quietly in the corner of the kitchen. Gus could hear the sound of the Dyson coming from the lounge. Someone was busy. What was the rush?

  “I’m home,” he called.

  “Good,” said Suzie, “get changed out of those work clothes. I’ll be starting a second wash in around ten minutes.”

  “A thirty-eight-minute cycle?”

  “Sorry?” asked Suzie.

  “I managed to look after myself after Tess died,” he said. “I’m not helpless. Although, I admit I wouldn’t have known the exact length of a normal wash for my machine before meeting Pat Read today. He has the same model.”

  “Stacey Read’s father. A bit of a character, isn’t he?”

  “Pat Read can’t bear dirt or noise. Everything in his house was in pristine condition. I looked through the patio doors at his back garden and saw an immaculate lawn of artificial grass. I’ve seen the effects of time, weather, and footfall on that type of product. The only way Pat Read could keep it looking that good is if he rolled the monstrosity up and replaced it with a new patch every three months.”

  “I sense that you’re not a fan,” grinned Suzie. “I agree with you; it’s naff. Okay, Pat Read might be anal, but did he kill his daughter?”

  “Never in a million years,” said Gus. “The only flicker of emotion I saw from the man was when he admitted that he cried when he heard Stacey was dead. I’m convinced Pat wasn’t the father of Debbie’s second child. If he had it in him to kill anyone, then it would have been Debbie.”

  “That’s something new,” said Suzie, “tell me more while we get this house ship-shape.”

  Gus took Suzie through the meetings they had at Gablecross and Moredon.

  “How were things at London Road?” he asked after they finished the household chores.

  “Geraldine Packenham continues to annoy everyone she meets,” said Suzie, “I’ve avoided the woman, so far. I felt sorry for Kassie Trotter today.”

  “Don’t tell me, Ms Packenham isn’t a fan of sticky buns,” said Gus. “It would be the end of life as we know it if that tradition went.”

  “Geraldine quoted various items of Health and Safety legislation to the poor girl this afternoon. Kassie said she’d had no complaints before and invited the DI to inspect her kitchen. It got heated. Geoff Mercer had to step in to prevent them from coming to blows.”

  “I’ve not met Ms Packenham yet,” said Gus, “but Kassie would make mincemeat out of most people, male or female.”

  “The ACC heard the commotion and stood in the doorway of his office. I think he expected Geoff to tell him what was going on, but Geoff slipped away downstairs.”

  “I’d better buy extra goodies for tomorr
ow afternoon. It sounds as if Geoff and I have more matters to discuss.”

  “Where do you want to eat this evening? Suzie asked.

  “The number of items on our list suggests we have little to offer in our fridge or freezer,” said Gus. “It’s a takeaway or a visit to the Lamb.”

  Suzie pulled a face.

  “We could call a taxi, and eat at the Waggon & Horses,” she said. “We’ll be in the Lamb tomorrow, after our picnic at the allotment.”

  Gus hadn’t needed asking twice, although this morning he’d wished he’d been able to convince Suzie the takeaway was a better option. The food was excellent as always, but with neither of them having to restrict their liquid intake, they arrived back at the bungalow in high spirits. When would he ever learn?

  Gus levered himself out of bed and made it to the shower. Ten minutes later, he stood in the kitchen and wondered if he should skip breakfast. Two black coffees revived him enough to brave one slice of buttered toast. He checked his watch. It was too early to risk driving yet.

  When Suzie returned to the bungalow, she had found Gus unloading shopping from the boot of the Focus.

  “You’re cutting it fine,” she said. “I thought you were meeting Geoff at two.”

  “How did you drive to Worton without getting pulled over and breathalysed?” said Gus. “I didn’t feel safe to drive until eleven o’clock. I decide to forgo the haircut and just grab the shopping. The checkout girl thought they were recording an episode of ‘Supermarket Sweep’.”

  “You had a nightcap when we got home last night, or don’t you remember?” said Suzie.

  “You had a glass of water,” said Gus, as he stacked the shopping bags on the worktop in the kitchen. “I wanted to carry on our discussions concerning Pat Read’s obsession with the clock.”

  Gus checked the bottle recycling bin.

  “I finished the bottle of scotch,” he said. “You see, I remember everything clearly.”

  “Because you had consumed copious amounts of alcohol, you started telling me more than I wanted to know of Debbie and Pat Read’s love life. You mumbled something about forty minutes when you eventually followed me into the bedroom.”