A Normal November: The Freeman Files Series: Book 15

by Ted Tayler

  Jackie smiled to herself as she kneaded her pastry dough. John didn’t know it yet, but they were going to make themselves scarce on Friday afternoon. Blessing and her dreamboat needed to be alone.

  When Blessing wandered into the kitchen on Friday morning, Jackie was taking a well-earned break.

  “I don’t need to ask if you slept better last night,” she said. “I was just going to make myself a coffee.”

  “Is that eleven o’clock?” asked Blessing. “Half the day’s gone.”

  “What time did Jamie say he would get here?”

  “Between two and three,” said Blessing. “He’s working this morning and hoping to get away early for a change.”

  “Do you want any breakfast?” asked Jackie.

  “I’m starving,” admitted Blessing, “But I’ll wait until lunchtime now. Coffee would be perfect for the time being, thanks.”

  “John’s driving me over to Amesbury this afternoon,” said Jackie. “We’ll not get back until late. Do you think you can cook something for the two of you? Or will you venture into Devizes for a meal?”

  “I don’t know how long Jamie can stay,” said Blessing. “He’s on call, in case there’s another incident like the one he responded to on Wednesday evening.”

  “John will be in for his midday meal in an hour,” said Jackie. “Have you got your appetite back, Blessing?”

  “You bet,” said Blessing.

  “Why not spend the afternoon in the orchard?” said Jackie. “It’s cooler, and you know there’s plenty of food in this kitchen to snack on if the two of you get hungry.”

  John and Jackie left in the Land Rover before one o’clock. Blessing showered and tried on half a dozen dresses before deciding which one to wear. At two o’clock, she stood by the kitchen door, trying to hear the sound of an approaching car. She didn’t have long to wait.

  Blessing’s heart flipped when Jamie got out of the car and walked towards her. The tight-fitting white t-shirt, black jeans, and aviator shades were a look to grace the catwalk in Paris or Milan. Jamie removed his sunglasses and smiled.

  “It appears you’ve made a full recovery from the other night,” he said. “You look stunning.”

  “So do you,” said Blessing. “I wondered what you looked like out of uniform.”

  Jamie laughed.

  “So, this is where you live? Do I get the grand tour?”

  “You’ve spent ages on Salisbury Plain,” said Blessing. “Once you’ve seen one farm, you’ve seen them all. So why don’t we visit the orchard at the back of the farmhouse? It’s shaded, quiet, and the perfect spot on a warm afternoon. I often sit there to read or to chat with Jackie, my landlady. Can I get you a drink?”

  “A cold beer would be great,” said Jamie as he followed Blessing along the path at the side of the farmhouse.

  Blessing turned around to look at him.

  “Well, I didn’t plan on driving back to Bulford for ages,” said Jamie.

  “That’s a relief,” said Blessing. “In that case, I’ll have a glass of wine too.”

  Time flies when you’re having fun, and it was early evening when Blessing snapped a selfie of her and Jamie lying on a rug under the branches of an apple tree.

  “Facebook?” asked Jamie.

  “No,” said Blessing. “I thought I should send it to someone my parents know.”

  Blessing sent the photo with no words. The message was simple. Ekene Kanu was now aware he was surplus to requirements. Jamie BT was a great kisser, and Blessing Umeh was not looking for a make-do husband.

  When John and Jackie Ferris returned to Worton Farm later that evening, the farmyard was empty.

  “I’d better have a wander around to check everything’s secure,” said John. “See you in ten minutes.”

  Jackie went indoors and found Blessing sitting in the kitchen.

  “How did it go?” asked Jackie.

  “It couldn’t have been better,” said Blessing. “I hope my parents forgive me.”

  “The heart wants what the heart wants,” said Jackie, hugging Blessing.

  “Did you and John get what you wanted in Amesbury?” asked Blessing.

  “We drove around for a while, had a drink in a pub, and then sat on a park bench like we did when we were sixteen. We just wanted to give you two time alone.”

  On Sunday morning, Blessing drove to Englishcombe village, to her parents’ house. She attended morning service at St Peter’s Church with Kelechi and Maryam, then returned home for lunch.

  “I thought you told me Ekene Kanu was going to be there this morning,” said Blessing as her father carved the roast beef.

  “Ekene called yesterday,” said her father. “He said he was indisposed. I said I hoped he got well soon. I got the distinct impression his indisposition could be permanent. Do you know anything about that?”

  “I never met the man in person,” said Blessing. “How could I know what made him change his mind?”

  “We didn’t have time to speak much on Wednesday evening,” said Maryam. “I hope Mr Freeman’s not working you too hard?”

  Blessing squeezed her mother’s hand. Maryam hadn’t told Kelechi that she’d asked her mother for Ekene’s phone number.

  “Mr Freeman is looking after me, don’t worry. I have much to be grateful for, and my trip on Wednesday evening bore fruit. I have high hopes that my work-life balance will improve in the months ahead.”

  Monday, 3rd September 2018

  “What’s on the agenda for today, Gus?” asked Suzie as she popped two slices of bread in the toaster.

  “We didn’t hear any negative reports from John and Jackie over the weekend,” said Gus, “so I expect to see Blessing fighting fit and back in the office. She needs to update our digital files on the Guthrie case as soon as possible. Then, it won’t take the rest of us long to fill in the blanks. I fully expect to take the completed files to London Road before noon. The office is as tidy as it’s been in weeks, so, while I’m collecting our next case file from Kenneth, the others will probably relax and pepper Blessing with questions about her few hours of excitement.”

  “We used to call that skiving in the old days,” said Suzie. “I can’t recall the last time we had free time at London Road.”

  “That’s the Packenham effect, I presume?”

  “Geraldine’s relentless,” said Suzie. “She wants to turn the place into a lean, mean crime-fighting machine.”

  “Ms Packenham reports to Geoff Mercer,” said Gus. “A man who has carried more than a few extra pounds for the past two decades. I never thought Geoff would be the sort to follow the ‘don’t do as I do, do as I tell you’ principle. The lady is a loose cannon. Someone needs to have a quiet word in Geoff’s ear.”

  “I wonder who you have in mind?” laughed Suzie.

  “Has Geoff found anything new to add to your workload?” asked Gus.

  “On Friday afternoon, he mentioned the PCC had raised the subject of thefts from vehicles,” said Suzie. “Statistics showed an increase from nine to ten per day across the county compared to last year. Most of these incidents occur in beauty spots and are from insecure vehicles or those that have valuables on display. He asked me to run a crime prevention campaign urging motorists to lock their vehicles and keep belongings out of sight.”

  “It will keep you out of mischief,” said Gus.

  “Even if it’s Common Sense, Room 101,” said Suzie. “Are you going to eat that second slice of toast?”

  “Not today,” said Gus. “I may bump into Ms Packenham later. I don’t want to give her any ideas.”

  They left the bungalow at eight-fifteen on the dot and drove in convoy towards Devizes.

  When Suzie turned into the London Road car park, Gus gave her a wave and carried on towards the Old Police Station office seven miles away.

  He had achieved a lot since Thursday lunchtime. The allotment was now looking on a par with Bert Penman’s plot for the first time in months. All the jobs he’d put off for week
s had been finished. Tess’s climbing roses on the side of the bungalow could now enjoy a controlled flourish with a newly added wire framework. The wooden bench on the edge of the front lawn had gained a fresh coat of wood stain.

  Gus had stood in the doorway of the second bedroom on Friday afternoon, wondering whether to make a start on re-decorating it, ready for the new arrival. But, instead, he decided against making any unilateral decisions until Suzie reached home.

  Suzie had accompanied him to the allotment, as the weekend weather had been conducive to spending time outdoors. Gus persuaded her to sit and watch him work. Suzie agreed, as long as Gus let her drive into Devizes on Saturday afternoon to pick up an armful of brochures from various DIY stores.

  “If I’m to sit and watch you work for several hours today and tomorrow, I can plan for the first weekend when the weather forces us indoors,” she said. “Do I have a budget?”

  Gus had stopped weeding and thought for a second.

  “I’ve ignored every budget London Road has ever set. I told Geoff Mercer when I returned to work that if they wanted the job done right, it would cost what it would cost, and I don’t see any reason to work to different limits at home.”

  “That’s the right answer,” said Suzie, dropping the cheaper brochures onto the grass beside her chair.

  Although Gus knew he had earned brownie points with Suzie with his reply, he spent much of Saturday afternoon thinking of Luke Sherman and Geoff Mercer’s comments when he’d spoken to him on Thursday morning.

  Somehow, he had to persuade Luke to stay.

  Geoff thought Luke was a potential Detective Inspector and the prime candidate to succeed Gus as head of the Crime Review Team when the time came. Gus couldn’t fault the logic. After all, Kenneth Truelove was under orders from his wife to retire as soon as possible. The thrill of being the wife of a Chief Constable would only last so long. Geoff’s view was it had a lifespan of eighteen months, two years at the most.

  The storm clouds would then gather, and once Kenneth’s protection disappeared, Gus’s position would become vulnerable. However, DI Sherman could confidently take things forward if the team had proved it deserved to stay in existence through a string of solid successes.

  Geoff’s other comments had given things Gus hadn’t considered an uncomfortable clarity. Gus had never been a fan of the annual appraisals introduced at Bourne Hill during the latter part of his time there. Gus believed a team was like a car with four wheels. None of those wheels was worth any more than the other.

  Now he had learned the top brass at London Road viewed people like Alex Hardy and Neil Davis as somehow less valuable than Luke Sherman. That gave him a problem he didn’t need. How could he tinker with the team dynamic, so Luke felt the love while keeping Alex and Neil happy as well? They weren’t daft. He’d always treated everyone alike since they started working together. Those two would soon wonder what was behind any changes, no matter how subtle.

  As he slowed at the traffic lights near the village of Seend, Gus thought about Lydia and Blessing. Geoff Mercer intimated he was more likely to find openings for those two. They had tremendous potential. Ten minutes later, Gus parked the Focus in the one remaining empty bay behind the Old Police Station and steeled himself for what lay ahead. As a young lad, he’d never mastered the art of juggling, and at sixty-two, he was unlikely to be able to add it to his skill-set.

  Gus found the rest of the team gathered around Blessing Umeh’s desk. He heard his young Detective Constable mention Jamie Banks-Trewick twice and wondered whether the Second Lieutenant from the Military Police Special Investigations Branch had visited Blessing since the early hours of Thursday. It had been hard enough prising them apart and persuading her to get into John Ferris’s Land Rover.

  “Morning, guv,” said Lydia. “All present and correct. Blessing solved the murder and found a boyfriend. All on the same night.”

  “It’s good to see you looking refreshed and ready for a new challenge,” said Gus. “Have you started updating those files yet?”

  “We only arrived a minute ahead of you, guv,” said Neil. “We’ve hardly had time to do much more than hear about Blessing’s weekend.”

  “How were your parents, Blessing?” asked Gus.

  “What they don’t know about the details of Wednesday night won’t hurt them, guv. I was a dutiful daughter and attended church in Englishcombe, and then I spent the afternoon with them before returning to Worton Farm. I should finish my updates by eleven o’clock if that fits with your timetable.”

  “That will be perfect, Blessing,” said Gus. “How about the rest of you? Any problems with meeting that deadline?”

  Nobody protested, so Gus got stuck into completing a report on his contributions to the case from Wednesday afternoon onwards. One hour later, Alex and Lydia offered to get coffees for the team. Blessing was still recounting her adventures in the middle of Salisbury Plain, while Neil and Luke were reading through the Guthrie case notes for the third time.

  “Has anyone notified the detectives from the original investigation?” asked Neil.

  “Keith Porter is still at Bourne Hill,” said Luke. “Gus and Blessing visited Maxine Coleman last week at home with her baby.”

  “That’s right. Maxine’s a Devereux now, married to that rugby player. Gus might think she’ll want to learn we’ve wrapped up the case. I’ll ask him before he shoots off to Devizes.”

  “I’d like to know what Helen Guthrie made of it,” said Luke. “The files show Gus heard from Geoff Mercer after we left here on Thursday. The SIB people found human remains on one farm Kendall Guthrie submitted a bid for before he died. Wallington had killed before. He must have suspected Guthrie would discover his secret. I was reading an article at the weekend, and if Helen Guthrie had plans to carry on what her father started and sell that land to developers, she’d have to think again. The MoD built dozens of temporary buildings near the garrison camps during WWII. Then, after the war, they bulldozed the site and buried everything underground. The farmers who lived and worked there struggled to grow anything, so they used it for grazing sheep and cows. The article I read reckoned asbestos and lead has tainted the land. No way could anyone build on it.”

  “You know what that means,” said Neil. “Wallington didn’t need to panic when he heard Guthrie mention the farm was among the batch he’d applied to buy. The odds of anyone testing soil samples and then uncovering those remains were tiny. Gus’s report said they found the remains in a gully on the edge of the property. Private Winslow was reported as AWOL twenty years ago, and nobody had ever thought to look for a body.”

  “So, Kendal Guthrie didn’t need to die,” said Luke.

  “If Oscar Wallington hadn’t done it, someone else would have,” said Neil with a shrug. “He was universally disliked. That’s not something I would want on my headstone.”

  “My report is ready to go, guv,” said Blessing.

  “With ten minutes to spare,” said Neil. “Luke and I wondered whether you wanted us to inform DI Porter and Mrs Devereux, guv?”

  “I don’t think Keith Porter will bother, Neil,” said Gus, “but call him, by all means. Call Maxine too, for definite. It might convince her to return to work after her maternity leave. We live in hope.”

  “How do you think Ms Guthrie will react to the news that the farmland opposite Glenhead Farm is riddled with asbestos and lead?” asked Luke.

  “Which renders it unsuitable for development,” added Neil.

  “I think you can leave that one to me,” said Gus. “I owe her one.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Gus skipped into the lift with the Guthrie file folder and whistled a cheerful tune as he emerged into the car park. He stood by the open driver’s door of the Focus, waiting in vain for the temperature inside to drop to bearable. Time was pressing, so he reversed out of his parking bay and headed for the exit.

  It was fifteen minutes to twelve when he turned off the London Road into the Wiltshire Police HQ
visitor’s car park. He sat and thought about Maxine Devereux. What if she decided to be a stay-at-home Mum? Nothing wrong with that, of course, if that was her choice. Even if she was depriving the county of the services of a first-class detective.

  If Maxine decided she would enjoy a return to work eighteen months or two years from now, where might she be a good fit as a Detective Inspector? Perhaps he should start dropping hints to Geoff Mercer that Maxine would make a better replacement for him and the CRT when he finally got put out to grass.

  Did that mean he was coming around to the idea Luke could transfer to West Mercia? These personnel problems were a nuisance. His sole focus needed to be on whatever case the Chief Constable handed him in the next half-hour. Gus would never admit to Suzie that multi-tasking was easier for her than it was for him, but he found it impossible in this arena.

  Gus trotted up the steps to the main door and spotted an older face on the Reception desk. Access to the first floor without pranks or mishaps should be a breeze this morning. Within seconds, he was signed in and taking the stairs two at a time.

  “It’s a warm one this morning, Mr Freeman,” said Kassie Trotter. “Did you hear? August was the warmest month on record in England.”

  “Too warm for baking, I presume?” asked Gus.

  “I’m into skinny-baking these days, Mr Freeman,” said Kassie. “I told you last week.”

  Gus had tried to rid himself of the image Kassie had planted but failed.

  “The end product tasted better than ever, Kassie,” he said. “I left work early to allow myself time to enjoy the experience. You’re a genius.”

  “Do you want to know what I have for you in my drawers, Mr Freeman?”

  “That’s not what Kassie meant, Gus,” said Vera Butler, who suddenly appeared on his left-hand side. “Kassie concentrated on a lighter bite in deference to the warm weather. I’m sure you’ll enjoy a slice of her summer berry cake.”