by Ted Tayler
“Both men were white,” said Blessing. “That doesn’t fit with the idea the young man stood outside Mrs Fryer’s house was working with the coloured guy seen later in the day.”
“True, Blessing,” said Gus, “but what made the Gablecross team think the events were ever related?”
“Catalytic converters are worth a small fortune,” said Luke. “That had attracted the interest of organised crime gangs, and as usual, they refined the process into a slick operation.”
“They separate the converters containing precious metals from the car owners,” said Neil, “and divert them to scrap dealers who don’t ask questions.”
“I recognise those buildings, guv,” said Alex. “That’s a couple of streets away from the station.”
“I know that district too,” said Neil. “I reckon that’s Henry Street.”
“How far is that from the railway station?” asked Blessing.
“A two-minute drive,” said Neil.
“Chaloner’s two employees lived nearby,” said Lydia. “Which road is the garage on?”
“Ponting Street,” said Luke. “Most of the housing by the railway station sprung up thanks to Isambard Kingdom Brunel. If he’d selected another town as a staging post along his Great Western Railway, Swindon would have remained an isolated market town, as it was in the days of the stagecoach. After God’s Wonderful Railway arrived, they opened the Railway Works in 1843 as a repair and maintenance facility. Sixty years later, the engineering works had expanded to employ over twelve thousand people, all of whom needed housing. There are dozens of streets of Victorian terraced houses to the south of the station.”
“What does the proximity of the theft to Chaloner’s garage suggest?” asked Gus.
“I’ve read nothing in the murder file to suggest Richard Chaloner was a criminal, guv,” said Blessing.
“If we can take the statements given by his employees and his customers as gospel, then Chaloner was as honest as the day is long,” said Alex.
“Did Raj Sengupta and Tom Spencer switch horses, guv?” asked Neil. “They had no joy identifying the three persons of interest and couldn’t find anyone with a grudge against Chaloner. So they started looking for links with something dodgy.”
“If he got involved with an organised crime gang,” said Lydia, “you could understand how Chaloner would end up as he did if he crossed them. Was that what you thought, guv? Is that why you believed this wasn’t a straightforward robbery?”
“The Chief Constable thought I was hasty in my conclusion that there was something sinister about it,” said Gus. “I deliberately didn’t go into my thought processes in any detail until I heard what each of you thought.”
“You held back the CCTV footage until we outlined our ideas based on the evidence we’d received,” said Alex. “With the CCTV added into the mix, the picture looks very different. But, as Lydia said, if Chaloner was involved in either receiving stolen goods or helping a gang source the converters, that was something that could turn nasty, very quickly.”
“Did Tom Spencer check that out, guv?” asked Neil.
“We need to delve deeper into the murder file to learn just how many leads the team followed, Neil,” said Gus. “Safe to say, when the top brass at Gablecross pulled the plug on Sengupta’s investigation, he and Spencer hadn’t found a link between Chaloner and dodgy dealings.”
“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t there,” said Luke.
“That‘s word-for-word what I told the Chief Constable, Luke. So we’ll take another look.”
“If we found a link,” said Blessing, “that could explain why Chaloner had to die. The robbery was to throw the police off the scent.”
“That’s a logical conclusion to draw, Blessing,” said Lydia, “but Gus asked you why the Gablecross team thought the events were related.”
“I’ve jumped in too soon,” said Blessing.
“Each of us has been guilty of that at one time or another,” grinned Gus.
“What am I missing, guv?” asked Blessing.
“I’m prepared to get shot down in flames,” said Gus, “but nobody has mentioned the bicycle.”
“The slashed tyre, guv?” asked Neil. “That was just a delaying tactic, surely, to keep Chaloner at the garage after Merchant and Simpkins went home. Everyone could have left at the same time if they hadn’t done that. But, of course, Mrs Fryer wasn’t watching the entire time that lad was standing outside her house. So perhaps he saw an opportunity to dash across and do the deed.”
“Or Stan Jones could have missed that young woman, guv,” said Luke. “Her partner was peering through the window, making sure everyone stayed indoors out of the rain, while she slashed the tyre. Then she ran back to the car and drove to collect him. So Stan Jones could have missed vital parts of the action unless he stood by the window full-time.”
“I’m struggling to find a connection between organised crime gangs and bicycle tyres,” said Gus.
“Gang members don’t do subtle, is that what you’re saying, guv?” asked Alex.
“It doesn’t strike me as likely they would bother with the bicycle tyre. If Chaloner crossed them, or if he’d ripped them off, they would have gone in mob-handed. Guns are their stock-in-trade. The CSI team would have collected evidence that two or three men had visited the garage. There would have been much more damage. Enough to put Merchant and Simpkins out of a job and send a clear message to other garage owners they had their claws on.”
“You’re ruling out the possibility it was gang-related, guv?” said Neil.
“It’s something we’ll investigate with due diligence, Neil,” said Gus. “However, I believe the answer lies in another direction. One thing that struck me was the lack of panic after he’d shot Richard Chaloner. The attacker had done his homework. He expected Harry Simpkins to leave at five-thirty on the dot. As for Merchant, if the attacker had kept watch for a time, he knew Monday nights differed from the other four nights of the week.
“Merchant played football on Mondays,” said Lydia. “He was leaving at around ten to six to drive to Wootton Bassett but went back inside when he spotted the puncture. The attacker must have been watching when Chaloner and Merchant came outside to look.”
“If Merchant had somewhere to be, he couldn’t stay to help his boss or give him a lift home,” said Luke. “That adds weight to your argument, guv, that the attack was well-planned.”
“That was my thought earlier when I went through the case file with DS Mercer,” said Gus. “Chaloner cycled to work every day of his working life. He wasn’t about to abandon his bicycle for a mere puncture. So, after Merchant drove away, he returned to the office and his paperwork. According to the autopsy, the body hadn’t been moved. Chaloner got shot at close range in the middle of the workshop floor. Simpkins and Merchant found him the following morning lying between two cars. There were no signs of any struggle anywhere on the premises. Which suggests the attacker somehow got Chaloner out of his office.”
“I posed a question concerning the wallet earlier, guv,” said Blessing. “I thought Chaloner would leave it in the office while he was working, not carry it in his pocket throughout the day. He didn’t need it, did he? So, to steal the cash, the attacker had to go to the office first, surely?
“The wallet was found under a workbench by the office door,” said Gus. “There’s a photo in the appendix towards the back of the file.”
“So the attacker took the money, threw away the wallet, and forced Chaloner into the workshop to kill him,” said Lydia. “Why?”
“Why did he kill him, or why take him to the workshop?” asked Neil.
“Run through the sequence of events once more,” said Gus.
“The bank card was lying on the desk,” said Luke. “The attacker could have taken the cash, gold chain, and bank card within the first minute of walking through the side door. Of course, it could have taken longer to get the PIN information out of Chaloner, but it had to be over quickly.”
“Why?” asked Gus.
“The confirmed time of death was between six and seven, guv,” said Luke.
“When you enter through a door situated two-thirds along the side of a building, how many options do you have?” asked Gus.
“Left, right, and straight ahead,” said Neil. “Unless you’re in the wrong building.”
“I think after Matt Merchant drove away, the attacker walked through the side door, switched off the lights, walked to his left past the first car, and crossed to the centre of the garage. Richard Chaloner left the office to investigate, and as soon as he got close enough, the killer shot him. That explains why there were no signs of a struggle. The killer now had plenty of time to remove the gold chain from around Chaloner’s neck and find other items to add to the illusion this was a robbery. Chaloner’s wallet was probably in his jacket pocket. The bank card was on the desk, and thanks to a stroke of luck, the killer spotted the PIN on the noticeboard. He switched off the workshop lights, closed the door behind him, and left.”
“Why didn’t he switch off the office lights?” asked Lydia.
“I can’t be certain he never went inside the garage before that night, but I suspect he thought the switches by the door extinguished all the lights. He wasn’t daft enough to wander back inside just to rectify that slip. The dog walkers would be on the streets within minutes. Someone could have recognised him.”
“You think the killer was local, guv?” asked Neil.
“That’s my guess, Neil,” said Gus. “We’re looking for someone who could keep watch on the garage without attracting attention. The nosy neighbours would have spotted a stranger spending long periods on the street outside their window. So the killer was someone they didn’t have any concerns about seeing on Ponting Street.”
“This wasn’t a robbery gone wrong, guv, was it?” said Alex.
“We’ve almost ruled out the possibility it was gang-related,” said Luke.
“What does that leave us with?” asked Gus.
“A mystery within a mystery,” said Blessing Umeh.
CHAPTER 4
Gus left the office at five o’clock to drive home to the bungalow. The preliminary discussions on the Chaloner murder had taken longer than expected. It wasn’t straightforward, that was certain; there was much to do.
In his haste to get home to Suzie, he’d left the wrap and slice of cake in the desk drawer. Kassie Trotter’s summer berry cake would survive the night, but the healthy wrap would already be wilting. You can’t win them all.
As he drove past the entrance to the allotments, Gus spotted the Reverend’s bicycle. He hadn’t seen her, or Brett, at the weekend, so he stopped for a chat.
Clemency Bentham was another who was wilting in the heat.
“I know what you’re thinking, Gus,” she said. “The afternoon sun has caused this hot flush. Despite the number of pounds I’ve shed, two hours of gardening in the heat of the afternoon takes it out of one. I blame you, of course. Your patch is a picture these days. You put me to shame.”
“Suzie and I were here twice over last weekend,” said Gus. “I recognised I needed to do something drastic to catch up with Bert Penman. I’d stayed away too long. We kept missing one another. How are you both?”
“Bert was here before lunch,” said Clemency. “He left the Crown just after I arrived. I imagine he had a liquid lunch and slept it off in his orchard this afternoon.”
“I meant you and Brett,” said Gus. “I tend to think of you as a couple, or am I wrong?”
“Of course not, Gus. I’m happy for my parishioners and other villagers to see us as a couple. We have to observe certain standards, of course.”
“Brett can’t leave the vicarage first thing in the morning,” said Gus. “Yes, I can see that wouldn’t go down well with the Bishop, nor with the less tolerant locals.”
“That isn’t an issue at this stage,” said Clemency, blushing even more than Gus thought possible. “Not that it’s anyone’s business.”
“I didn’t mean to pry,” said Gus, wishing the ground would open and swallow him. “How’s Brett’s work at the vet's going? Are they busy?”
“Every day is different, Gus. Brett tells me that on Friday, he left home at half-past eight to drive to Wootton Bassett,” said the Reverend. “His first job was to visit the kennels to see if any new patients got booked in by the duty vet overnight. Next, he received an update on the in-patients from one of the veterinary nurses and decided which needed immediate attention. When he’d cleared that list, he reached his consulting room and called the first patient of the day. Last Friday, he had a rabbit with a painful abdomen, a dog with pancreatitis who was vomiting and looked dehydrated.”
“Charming,” said Gus. “Does Brett get a break for lunch?”
“It was nowhere near lunchtime when that happened, Gus,” laughed Clemency. “Brett says the surgery is fully booked, with ten-minute appointments throughout the morning. He deals with vaccinations, minor problems, and routine health checks on a range of small animals. While he’s engaged in that part of the job, his support staff take pre-op blood and give pre-medications to get his surgery patients nice and relaxed for their procedures. Then, after a brief break for a quick coffee and a sandwich, he was spaying, castrating, removing a large bladder stone, and carrying out dental work on patients for over three hours. Finally, he arrived home at five-thirty, fell asleep in the chair, and called me at eight to apologise for not picking me up at seven. We had arranged to visit the Wharf Theatre in Devizes to watch a Youth Workshop production.”
“Will you be able to keep Brett awake this evening?” asked Gus. “I don’t know what Suzie wants to do yet, but this spell of hot weather encourages me to spend an evening in the Crown’s beer garden.”
“I’ll ask Brett when I speak to him,” said the Reverend. “We hadn’t made plans. But, looking at that church clock, I’d better get back to the vicarage. If he’s home already, I could miss his call.”
“I haven’t heard Suzie’s Golf roar past the gateway,” said Gus. “She tries to leave work by half-past five, but DS Mercer has given her even more work to handle.”
“Suzie looks well on it, Gus,” said Clemency. “Perhaps cutting out the alcohol is having health benefits.”
Gus thought it wise not to comment. Next Tuesday wasn’t that far away.
Clemency retrieved her bicycle, and after adjusting the strap on her bonnet, she set out along the lane towards the vicarage.
“We may see you later, Gus,” she called over her shoulder. “No promises.”
Gus allowed the Reverend time to get well past the Crown before driving to the bungalow. As he inched out of the gateway, Suzie’s car appeared from the left, and she gave a toot of her horn as she passed by. They turned off the lane together and parked under the neatly arranged yellow roses on the side of their home.
“Did you finish early?” she asked.
“Not today,” said Gus. “I spotted the Reverend’s bicycle and stopped for a chat. She hoped to persuade Brett to join her in the beer garden later. What do you think?”
“It sounds good to me,” said Suzie. “It’s too hot to cook. How did things go today?”
“Kenneth handed us a new case. Only two years old this time. Do you remember the Richard Chaloner murder?”
“The man shot in his garage, in Swindon. I can remember it, but nobody at London Road had much involvement. The Hub was still in the planning stages, and Gablecross felt confident they could get a result with the team they picked.”
“They didn’t get far in the time allowed to them,” said Gus.
“No doubt they got dragged away after five or six weeks to tackle something more likely to get a result,” said Suzie.
“It sounds as if you’ve had a tough day,” said Gus.
“Too many plates to keep spinning, Gus,” she sighed. “Results are the only thing that matters these days.”
They went inside the bungalow, and Gus sifted through the ma
il while Suzie had a shower. He gained a degree of satisfaction from throwing his two unsolicited invitations to buy something he’d never use into the recycling bin. There seemed little point to the postal service these days, as most items were junk mail. Gus placed Suzie’s letters on the hall table.
“All yours,” she said as she left the bathroom minutes later.
Suzie carried on into their bedroom while Gus took his turn in the shower. When he came out five minutes later, Suzie was standing in the hallway with one of her letters.
“Something interesting?” he asked.
“Get dressed, Gus,” she said. “Nothing to worry you.”
Gus put on a short-sleeved shirt and slacks. When he returned to the hallway, Suzie stood by the door, ready to leave for the pub.
“I don’t think Brett and Clemency will get there for another hour, at least,” he said. “What’s the rush?”
“I need a drink,” said Suzie. “You’ve got between here and the Crown to persuade me not to drink an entire bottle of Chardonnay.”
“You said your letter was nothing to worry me,” said Gus. “I’m worried now.”
“It’s Vicky. She’s in hospital. The letter was from one of her colleagues. You know how paranoid Vicky was about people finding out she was working with me. Last week, she got a single mum with two young children into a refuge. Her partner had physically and psychologically abused her and the kids for months. Vicky persuaded the woman to walk away from the relationship and stay with her parents over the weekend. The partner constantly phoned her, shouting threats and cursing her parents. Nobody in the house felt safe. Finally, last Monday morning, Vicky moved the wife and children to a place of safety. The partner must have seen a reference to Vicky in the local press. The PCC had given interviews championing the association between the Police and Victim Support. Press reports mentioned my name, showed my photograph and used the quotes I’d made to the reporter.”
