by Ted Tayler
“My car needs servicing each year to get it through the MOT,” said Gus, “and has its mileage recorded in the service book.”
“Yes, but did you buy that rust bucket from new?” asked Geoff.
“Keep your voice down; she might hear you,” said Gus. “Yes, I did, but although I didn’t need to pass an MOT, I still got it checked over, and they recorded the mileage.”
“Many drivers don’t bother visiting a garage until that first MOT is due. It’s easy to get a car clocked before it goes to the garage.”
“That’s illegal,” said Gus.
“It’s illegal to alter the mileage and then sell a car on without telling the buyer that its mileage has changed,” said Geoff. “The act of turning back the clock isn’t illegal.”
“If Richard Chaloner got involved in that business, what equipment did he need?” asked Gus. “The days of the screwdriver are long gone, I presume?”
“Just a laptop and software available online,” said Geoff. “If he didn’t fancy doing the job himself, he could arrange for someone to pop in and do it for one hundred pounds.”
“We’ll check with Merchant and Simpkins,” said Gus. “What happened to the garage after Chaloner’s death?”
“Merchant has continued running the business, trading under the name of Merchant Motor Repairs,” said Kenneth. “Harry Simpkins is still there, and they now have a young apprentice motor mechanic, Anne Marie Buckland. Chaloner’s widow, Eve, was happy to let Merchant take over the rental of the unit. She lives alone in the house the couple shared for six months on Shrivenham Road.”
“As this murder occurred only two years ago, almost every person Sengupta and Spencer interviewed is living and working where they were at the time,” said Geoff Mercer. “Even the CCTV footage came from the same postal district next to the railway station. So if the killer was local, then you won’t have far to look, Gus.”
“We’ll see,” said Gus. “Is that it for today, Sir?”
“I need to attend another briefing in ten minutes, Freeman,” said Kenneth. “I would welcome the opportunity to spend that brief respite in quiet contemplation.”
“Message received, Sir,” said Gus. “I’ll rescue that chicken wrap and get this folder back to the Crime Review Team office.”
Geoff Mercer took his cue from Gus, and they both headed for the door. As Gus held it open for his colleague, he spotted the Chief Constable standing by his window. With responsibility comes sacrifice. The view from that window wasn’t a patch on the one Geoff Mercer now enjoyed. So far, the PCC had resisted the temptation to include his pal in the bloated ranks of Assistant Chief Constables, for which both Gus and Geoff would be eternally grateful.
“I’ll monitor Suzie’s workload, Gus,” said Geoff when they were outside. “I’d hate for her to buckle under the strain. She’s a safe pair of hands. When I look around my team for the right person for the job, Suzie stands head and shoulders above the rest.”
“I understand your problem, Geoff,” said Gus. “Suzie is someone who relishes the opportunity of sticking her head above the parapet. She’s ambitious, and apart from the fact that she’s taller than you, Suzie reminds me of what you were like in your youth.”
“You never change, you cheeky beggar,” said Geoff. “Don’t forget what Kenneth said about looking after Blessing. Take one of the three lads with you when you interview someone. It’s for their benefit as much as for you. Good luck with the case; I fancy you’ll need it.”
Geoff walked the short distance to his office, and Gus looked across the administration area for signs of Vera or Kassie.
“Has your meeting with the Chief Constable finished?”
Gus recognised the icy tones of Ms Packenham.
“When I was holidaying in the Balearics with my late wife many years ago, we watched a group of young women dancing. They wore a traditional costume, with long black skirts that kissed the ground. The way they circled the musicians suggested they were on roller-skates rather than the balls of their feet. It was fascinating, and whatever they were doing under those skirts, it made no discernible sound. You achieved the same result in trousers and sensible lace-up shoes. I’m impressed.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” said Geraldine Packenham.
“You didn’t explain why you needed to know,” said Gus. “I answer to DS Mercer. If he wishes me to leave the London Road offices within one minute of the conclusion of a meeting, he’ll instruct me through the proper channels. Have you had your regulation thirty-minute break today, Ms Packenham? That looks like mayonnaise on your shirt. Perhaps you should be in your office, not chatting here with me. Your productivity ratio is suffering.”
Geraldine opened her mouth to speak, but Gus turned on his heel and headed for a green flash he’d spotted on the other side of the office. Kassie Trotter was closing in on the filing cabinets she’d pointed to earlier. He wanted to collect his slice of summer berry cake and escape without further delay.
“Am I in trouble again, Mr Freeman,” asked Kassie. “She’s always on my case, that one.”
“Keep your head down and ignore her,” said Gus.
“Ms Misery has gone to her office, Mr Freeman. We’re in the clear.”
Kassie handed over Gus’s afternoon treat.
“Is that a chicken wrap, Mr Freeman? Are you still hungry?”
“The Chief Constable was in a hurry to get us out of his office, Kassie. I don’t enjoy seeing food go to waste. Give my regards to Vera. I’ll see you next Monday, if not before.”
Gus was soon downstairs and outside the building. The sun was high in the sky, and his Focus was an oven. There was nothing for it. He had to risk opening the windows. As he drove back to the Old Police Station office, he thought it might require a trip to Merchant Motor Repairs if the windows refused to return to their normal position.
Thirty minutes later, Gus arrived in the car park below the Crime Review Team office. He breathed a sigh of relief as his windows closed as instructed. He collected the folder and his two treats from the passenger seat and walked to the lift door.
“That sounded like someone called the lift,” said Neil a few seconds later.
“We’d better make it look as if we’ve been working,” said Lydia.
“I wonder whose murder we’ve got this time,” said Blessing.
Gus emerged from the lift and saw five faces staring at what he was carrying.
“I didn’t have time to finish lunch,” he said, “and Kassie Trotter baked a cake at the weekend. Although, I don’t know why I should explain myself.”
“You’ve got the new case folder, guv,” said Lydia. “That’s what we were looking for.”
“Two years ago, in Swindon, someone shot a garage owner,” said Gus. “The killer stole cash and a bank card, but I don’t think robbery was the motive.”
“Who was the victim, guv?” asked Luke.
“Where did the killing take place?” asked Alex.
“The victim was forty-four-year-old Richard Chaloner, and his garage was half a mile from Swindon station.”
“We’ve already got street maps for that part of town, guv,” said Lydia. “I’ll get them onto the wall.”
“Can I delve into the murder file, guv?” asked Blessing. “You’ll want the crime scene photos on the whiteboard.”
Gus dropped the file on Lydia’s desk and put his wrap and slice of cake into his desk drawer for safekeeping. Lydia distributed the copies of the summary sheets to the others.
“Who was in charge of the investigation, guv?” asked Luke.
“DI Sengupta was Senior Investigating Officer, and his second-in-command was DS Tom Spencer. So the murder fell into the lap of detectives at Gablecross, as you would expect.”
“Who do we want to interview first, guv,” asked Neil. “Was the victim married?”
“He was,” said Gus. “Richard and Eve Chaloner had only been married for six months at the time of the murder. Chaloner was a bachelor; hi
s wife had been married before. The details are in the folder. Who would you want to speak to first, Neil?”
“That could be a trick question, guv,” said Neil. “I can give my mate, Jake Latimer a call, to get the lowdown on how they handled the case. If it was a mess, then it might be best to speak to the wife first. But hang on, you haven’t told us whether this garage was a one-person outfit or one of the big boys. How many people did Chaloner employ?”
“Just two, Neil,” said Gus. “Matt Merchant, twenty-nine, and Harry Simpkins, sixty-one. Merchant runs the business these days. Simpkins assists him, and there’s an apprentice. They operate out of a unit on a side street near the station.”
“That street has an effective Neighbourhood Watch, guv,” said Alex. “They spotted three strangers in the garage's vicinity during the day of the murder. I wonder why the detectives couldn’t name any of them?”
“We can try a fresh approach, Alex,” said Gus. “The first person spotted was driving a white van. He wore white overalls. I want to find whoever DS Spencer spoke to and push them for more details. Do you remember Raj Sengupta? He reported to Jack Sanders on the Stacey Read investigation. We can talk to him at Gablecross whenever we wish. He’s head of the cybercrime unit these days and permanently indoors. I don’t know what Tom Spencer’s working on, but it’s only two years, so maybe nothing’s changed, and he’s grafting as a Detective Sergeant. The boss told me Tom Spencer did the heavy work on the investigation. Raj sat in his office dreaming up strategies.”
“It sounds as if I should call Jake, guv,” said Neil.
“It won’t do any harm, Neil,” said Gus.
“How do you propose finding white van man, guv?” asked Lydia.
“We’ll need more detail on the van. Whether there was signage identifying the firm for which he worked. It’s odds-on the guy was self-employed, but only a handful of occupations use white overalls day-to-day. My guess is he‘s a painter and decorator with his own business, but I’m prepared to be proved wrong. Once we add more details to this original murder file, I’d search trade directories, either in print or online. One of them will find us this person. We need to speak to him and either put him in the frame or drop him from our enquiries.”
“They had little to go on to identify the young man stood outside Mrs Fryer’s house, guv,” said Blessing. “He could be anybody. There wasn’t a connection to the garage as there had been for the other two persons of interest. He didn’t cross the road. The eyewitness couldn’t categorically state he was even interested in the garage. He could have been waiting for someone or was unemployed and had nothing better to do than hang around on a street corner.”
“Blessing’s right, guv,” said Lydia. “We’ve got zero chance of identifying him, and he didn’t enter the garage or stare through the window. Mr Jones wanted to be helpful with the third person of interest, but his description of the man and woman was vague. I wonder whether Mrs Fryer caught sight of those two. There’s no mention of the Afro-Caribbean chap and his girlfriend in DS Spencer’s interview. He only took notes for Mrs Fryer’s sighting of the youngster stood outside her house.”
“Good point, Lydia,” said Gus. “That’s something we can ask. Mrs Fryer worked a morning shift at a care home, which meant she didn’t see the white van and its driver. Stan Jones may have done. I imagine he spends much of his time indoors. Check the murder file to see if Spencer followed up on what he’d heard about the argument in the morning. Perhaps he missed something from the house-to-house enquiries the uniformed officers carried out. You had better add a question regarding the young man outside Mrs Fryer’s place while you’re at it. He may have walked past Stan Jones’s house to get to the spot where he stood, waiting, or watching.”
The office was a hive of activity for the next hour as the team dissected the murder file. They posted street maps, crime scene photos, and a list of the main characters in the drama. Luke was preparing a running order for the interviews for Gus to consider. He never got it right the first time, but Gus didn’t enjoy staring at a blank sheet of paper.
“Who wants to go first?” asked Gus. “Give me your first impressions.”
“Based on your observation when you entered the office, guv,” said Neil, “you don’t think it was a robbery. You haven’t yet explained why. If I hadn’t heard that comment, I’d say this was a classic case of a young thug, armed with a gun, bursting into the garage after the others had left. He threatened Chaloner, who handed over the cash from his wallet, and the gold chain. Something spooked the attacker. Maybe Chaloner tried to distract him and grabbed for the gun. The autopsy showed the gunman was only three feet away from the victim. The thug may not have intended to kill Chaloner.”
“You think the attacker was an addict desperate for cash for his next fix?” asked Gus.
“The wallet contained less than one hundred pounds,” said Lydia, “and that solved his problem in the short term. He could have flogged the gold chain in a pub. It doesn’t fit with the bank card, though.”
“Why not?” asked Neil. “Chaloner was lying on the floor, dead or dying. His attacker searched the garage for items easily disposed of for cash to add to his haul. It wasn’t a huge unit, only enough floor space for two vehicles, side by side. The office was a likely spot for a mobile phone or a laptop. I reckon he couldn’t believe his luck when he spotted the bank card on the desk. How long would it have taken him to rummage through a few drawers and paperwork on the desk, hunting for a record of the PIN? A minute, tops. He spotted a scrap of paper pinned to the board on the wall, realised what it was, forgot everything else, and got out. Why run off with bulky items that only yield a small return when he was guaranteed a cash pay-out at an ATM?”
“The young thugs you’re describing aren’t cool and calculating, Neil,” said Alex. “I could imagine the panic he experienced if the gun went off accidentally. He would have scarpered without giving the office, or anywhere else in the garage, a second thought.”
“What do you think happened, Alex?” asked Gus.
“Chaloner didn’t have any enemies, guv, according to people Tom Spencer interviewed. I know Tom from my days at Gablecross. He’s methodical. So, whatever path Raj Sengupta determined they should follow, Tom would have stuck to it. Raj decided it was a robbery, so Tom looked for a likely candidate.”
“Tunnel vision,” said Luke. “He tried to find that young white man stood across the road and the Afro-Caribbean guy peering through the window later in the afternoon. Their actions play into the idea it was a robbery. One, or both, men wanted to learn everything they could of the layout inside the garage, check on how many people they needed to see leave at the end of the working day. The attacker didn’t leave evidence at the scene, and there were no signs of a struggle. So why couldn’t there have been two men inside the garage? One man searching the office while the other handled Chaloner. Neil’s suggestion might not be that wide of the mark, guv. Two men working in tandem could explain Alex’s reservations over the lack of panic.”
“So, you think it could have been a robbery, Luke?” asked Gus.
“As Neil said, you haven’t told us what convinced you it wasn’t,” said Luke.
“Try to be patient for a while longer, Luke. I haven’t heard from either of the ladies yet.”
Blessing was sitting closest to the whiteboard where she had posted the crime scene photos.
“Richard Chaloner was wearing one of those all-in-one outfits, with a zip from the neck to below the waist, guv. It protected his normal clothes from getting covered with muck. Look at the photos. He didn’t stuff his breast pockets with small tools or personal items. Where was his wallet? If it was in the office, why was the body found lying in the middle of the floor? The young thug Neil described would have burst in through the side door waving the gun, shouting. Chaloner was working in the office to the right, according to Matt Merchant. The thug could have got the money, the chain, and the bank card without leaving the room. Why shoot Chalone
r? The attacker had cash and something to sell, but at some point, he made Chaloner walk into the workshop area. Either Neil’s scenario played out, and the gun went off by accident, or the thug lost patience with Chaloner and gunned him down.”
“There was no evidence to suggest the attacker tortured Chaloner,” said Gus.
“Whether or not Chaloner gave the attacker the PIN, it didn’t alter the outcome, guv,” said Lydia. “We can’t know why the attack ended in murder. The attacker could have been wearing a ski mask. He might have had just a scarf around the lower half of his face or no disguise. If it was one desperate man acting alone, he could have got everything he went there for and suddenly realised he needed to kill Chaloner.”
“Chaloner could have recognised his attacker, guv,” said Blessing. “Or it dawned on the attacker that Chaloner could give the police a decent description. But, as Alex pointed out, the type of criminal who carries out these opportunist crimes isn’t the brightest spark.”
Gus checked his computer. Good news. Kenneth Truelove had sent through a copy of the CCTV footage they had viewed at London Road. Perhaps that would sow seeds of doubt in the younger minds sat in front of him.
“I’ll upload this information to the Freeman Files so we can watch it together,” he said. “This theft took place several days before Richard Chaloner died.”
The team sat in silence and watched the two thieves calmly stealing the catalytic converter.
“They knew what they were doing, didn’t they,” said Alex. “They were back inside the van inside two minutes; job done.”
“They drove a white van,” said Neil. “Is that significant, guv?”
“The number plate belonged to a VW Passat, stolen from Membury service station on the M4, seven weeks earlier,” said Gus. “We could take photos of the van and the two men back to people canvassed in the house-to-house. We definitely need to show them to the person who told Tom Spencer about the man in white overalls arguing with Chaloner at eleven in the morning. Whether it was the same white van, who knows?
