by Ted Tayler
“Good. How did Theo react?”
“Theo Reeves recognised Wightman and Price at once. He said they were the detectives who visited him frequently after the murder. I watched as Theo scanned the array of photos. I’d swear he wasn’t trying to pull the wool over my eyes, guv. He said he didn’t recognise any of the others. When I asked whether he thought Marion might have known them, he shrugged his shoulders.”
“Did you ask him to explain?” asked Gus.
“Of course, guv,” said Lydia. “Theo said that over the past seven years, he’d questioned just how well he had known Marion. He was positive he’d seen none of those faces during the twenty-three years they were married. If she knew one, or more, of those people, it was before they met.”
“Did you stay with Theo long?” asked Gus.
“He offered to make me a cup of coffee, guv. I reckon he’s lonely.”
“I’m sure you got him talking, Lydia,” said Gus. “Don’t keep us in suspense.”
“I didn’t tell him the real reason for the visit, guv. Theo thinks it was for clarification only. He asked why the lady who spent the most time at the house wasn’t among the people on my list.”
“Family Liaison Officer, guv,” said Neil. “Had to be. She would have looked after Stephanie and perhaps kept Martyn calm while Wightman and Price interviewed their father.”
“Get me the name of that woman first thing in the morning,” said Gus. “Let’s get off home. I sense tomorrow could be our breakthrough day.
“Can’t you give us just one highlight, guv?” asked Blessing.
“They serve an excellent fruit loaf in the garden centre cafe, Blessing,” said Gus.
He was in the lift and making for the Ford Focus before anyone could ask another question.
“Come on, Luke, spill the beans,” said Neil. “We’ve got fifteen minutes before we leave.”
“The news of Graham Street’s death hadn’t reached Wilton,” said Luke. “Neither of the three people we spoke to this afternoon was aware he was dead. We didn’t inform Martyn Street because Arthur Jackson told us we couldn’t predict his reaction. They prefer to keep him on an even keel. Nobody mentioned whether Martyn takes any medication to assist in that process. We learned from Arthur Jackson that Ralph Tucker, a tree surgeon, was behind the drunken night and the frequent bullying Martyn suffered after he started work on the estate twelve years ago. Tucker wasn’t on-site that day, nor was he the truck driver Marion Reeves saw in Wilton on Friday afternoon. He might be worth an interview, but we’re still hunting that pick-up driver.”
“If Tucker wasn’t working on the estate, then he could have driven to the industrial estate,” said Alex. “Has Gus ruled him out?”
“Not yet,” said Luke. “Gus can’t see how the guy could have a motive. Tucker knew Martyn, but nobody has ever said he knew Marion Reeves. Serena Campbell told us Tucker was too young to attend the parties, anyway.”
“Hang on,” said Neil. “The parties? What parties?”
“I’ll get to that later, Neil,” said Luke. “Martyn told us Marion wanted him to forget about his father and the time they spent living in his house. Martyn tried but said he couldn’t. Street hit Marion frequently, even when she was pregnant with Martyn.”
“That fits with the picture I got when I delved into his background, Luke,” said Neil. “A nasty piece of work, who convinced wealthy, important people he was a decent bloke.”
“Arthur Jackson confirmed that on the day of the murder, he kept in contact with Martyn and the rest of the ground staff via walkie-talkie. Each employee carries a unit with them throughout the day. Because of the distances they have to cover, it’s the sensible way to check their progress and move them around if an urgent repair crops up.”
“That means nobody working in the grounds of Wilton House could have been the killer,” said Lydia. “Did Gus think someone there wanted Marion dead? If so, why?”
“Gus is keeping our options open at present,” said Luke. “As he said to Serena Campbell before we started our conversation, we didn’t learn many additional facts from Theo or Stephanie. This afternoon we added precious little from our chat with Martyn. Gus hoped that what Serena added to our scraps of information would gel into a giant arrow pointing at the killer.”
“Forever the optimist,” said Neil.
“Gus’s last question caused Martyn to explode with rage,” said Luke. “Gus went as white as a sheet. I thought Martyn was going to throw the table across the room to get at him.”
“What did he ask him?” asked Alex.
“Theo and Stephanie didn’t get in touch with Martyn after Theo insisted he leave Oakley Road. Gus told Martyn his sister was expecting a baby with Danny Ellis. He suggested Martyn phoned Stephanie for a chat.”
“That caused him to go crazy?” said Neil.
“Martyn said he was alone when he moved into his new place. The only people who cared were Arthur Jackson and Serena Campbell. He felt abandoned. His Mum had stressed the importance of family, and Martyn got upset because he said everybody lied to him, except Arthur and Serena.”
“We’ve read the Freeman Files and the report Gus and Blessing added relating to this morning’s meeting with Stephanie Reeves,” said Alex. “So, we know Serena was Marion’s best friend. I assume the parties you referred to were where the two met?”
“They met soon after Marion moved to Salisbury from Ringwood,” said Luke. “Marion and Serena fell into the clutches of Graham Street, and a guy called Dave Francis. Those two characters procured attractive young women, some underage, and introduced them to a group of wealthy people who enjoyed weekend sex parties.”
“Gross,” said Blessing.
“Dave Francis and Serena married two years after they met. She was just seventeen. Graham Street married Marion soon after. That was in 1984. Four years later, she gave birth to Martyn, much against the wishes of her husband. She was no good to him if he couldn’t take her to these parties and share her among his friends.”
“We know Theo met Marion while she was getting divorced from Street,” said Neil. “What happened to Serena?”
“She left Dave Francis, returned to her parents, and then she divorced him. Marion walked out on Graham several months later. Two things we learned from Serena this afternoon. One, Marion got the flat Street set her up in as part of the divorce settlement. Two, Marion sold it when she married Theo and convinced him the money she suddenly had available was a windfall from a dead grandparent. Oh, and there was one more thing added to the divorce settlement. Marion agreed never to reveal anything that happened during the time she knew Graham Street.”
“A non-disclosure agreement?” said Blessing. “Doesn’t something else apply with a married couple?”
“It’s complicated, Blessing,” said Alex, “but they were no longer married. Street had total control over Marion during the relationship, and no way was he going to relinquish that when she walked away. He knew what trouble she could cause him if she talked.”
“The original investigation couldn’t find a connection between Street and Marion’s murder,” said Blessing. “They uncovered nothing related to these sex parties either. Why didn’t they interview Serena Campbell or Dave Francis? Their names aren’t in the murder file.”
“Excellent spot, Blessing,” said Luke. “Serena Campbell told us this swingers group, or whatever you want to call them, was well-connected. A high-ranking police officer and his wife attended these parties in the early years. Serena claimed he steered the murder investigation in a different direction. Gus believed her. We know Marion’s mobile phone went missing too, and the forensics guy, Warren Baker, could be responsible for its disappearance. Whether he was a participant in the parties or acting on orders from above, we don’t yet know. Finding the name of that police officer will be another job for first thing in the morning. As Gus said, tomorrow should be interesting.”
“Blimey,” said Neil. “This group must have clout if they’ve kep
t a lid on goings-on such as that for over twenty years. My Dad never heard a whisper. You know how close Dad had his ear to the ground.”
“Someone broke ranks seven years ago, Neil,” said Luke. “Serena told us Marion Reeves received intimate photos showing her at these parties. There was no note, no demand. The envelope arrived on Thursday, and on the following day, she withdrew the cash. On Saturday, she called Serena, and they arranged to meet in the café the following afternoon. That was when Serena learned what had happened. On Monday morning, Serena received a text message from Marion saying the blackmailer wanted to meet her on Stephenson Road at Churchfields Industrial Estate. As Gus pointed out, at no time was any sum of money ever mentioned.”
“If Marion Reeves had six grand in her handbag, why did she die?” asked Alex. “It makes little sense.”
“Even if her killer was angry that six grand was everything Marion had that day,” said Lydia. “Most blackmailers keep the victim on the hook and squeeze them for money any way they can.”
“What happened to the photographs?” asked Blessing.
“They never found them,” said Neil. “Perhaps Marion Reeves had already destroyed them; or, if she had them in the car, her killer would have taken them, plus the money. They could destroy the photos whenever they wished.”
“What happened to the lunchbox then?” asked Blessing.
Lydia laughed.
“You won’t forget that lunchbox, will you, Blessing? Are you hungry?”
“We only had Stephanie’s word that her mother took a packed lunch every day,” said Alex.
“Not now,” said Luke. “Martyn Street confirmed Marion gave him a packed lunch every day before she died. It’s another gold star to Blessing. Why didn’t they find it in the car?”
“I can’t wait until tomorrow,” said Blessing.
“You can help me first thing in the morning, Blessing,” said Luke. “Serena Campbell gave us the names of three women who may have given birth to a child by Graham Street. I’m not sure of the relevance yet, but Gus wanted to check them out.”
“It’s time we disappeared, folks,” said Neil. “We’ve had more than enough highlights for one day. Anyone fancy a party?”
“Gross,” said Blessing.
As his team made their way down in the lift, Gus Freeman drove past Wadworth’s brewery in Devizes. He wondered whether he would see Suzie pulling out of the car park as he made his way along London Road. There had been surprising developments today and yet more setbacks. It still wasn’t clear who had the opportunity to murder Marion Reeves. Indeed, Gus wasn’t sure he understood the motive.
If Graham Street was so concerned with what Marion knew about his past, why wait twenty years to take action? The same went for Dave Francis. Serena walked away, divorced him without the golden handshake of a free flat or a cash settlement. Serena had mentioned no document she signed swearing not to talk of the sex parties and who attended. Why didn’t Francis take the same precautions as Street? Gus wondered if he was wrong to take everything Serena said as gospel. Had her good looks blinded him to the fact she was as much a threat to Francis as Marion was to Graham Street?
Gus continued to mull this over as he drove into Urchfont. He parked the Focus beside the bungalow and went indoors. Gus had been so engrossed in his thoughts that he’d forgotten to look towards the Wiltshire Police HQ. Less than a minute after he hung his jacket on the back of a kitchen chair, Suzie breezed through the front door.
“I was two cars behind you from the car park to the junction,” she said. “Didn’t you see me waving and flashing my headlights?”
“I was watching the road ahead,” said Gus.
“I’ll bet,” said Suzie. “My money is on that case of yours. You’re stuck, and it’s occupying your every waking minute.”
“As it happens,” said Gus, “we might make a breakthrough in the morning. I can’t deny I wasn’t considering the case on the way home, but I can’t tell you too much, I’m afraid.”
“Now you’ve got my interest,” said Suzie. She closed the distance between them and held him close. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”
“If what Luke and I learned this afternoon is true, then if word gets out, we’re pursuing a particular line of enquiry, it could put us in danger. The fewer people that know, the better.”
“I don’t like the sound of that, Gus,” said Suzie. “Why can’t you get a simple murder case to solve? You’ve survived an assassination attempt from Albanian gangsters, brought a dirty cop to justice, and rescued me from Terry Davis’s killer. What have you got mixed up in this time?”
“Weekend parties that featured extreme sex games, BDSM, and several TLI’s,” said Gus.
“I’ve read about BDSM,” said Suzie, “but it’s never appealed. As for TLI’s, I can’t imagine what deviant behaviour is involved there.
“Nor can I,” said Gus. “But so many things are covered by three-letter initials these days, I threw it in to cover everything that might have gone on.”
“You never change, do you,” said Suzie. “You use humour to convince me there’s nothing to worry over. Be careful, darling, please.”
“Are we staying here moulded together the whole evening?” asked Gus.
“No, you need to shower, get changed, and get to your allotment. You can have an hour’s gardening while you plan how to avoid getting hurt, then I’ll join you. We’re eating in the Lamb tonight. Our table’s booked for eight o’clock.”
“Fair enough,” said Gus. “I’ve only eaten a slice of fruit loaf since breakfast. I could eat a horse.”
“I didn’t hear that,” said Suzie. “Get in the shower.”
At a few minutes after six, Gus walked through the gateway of the allotments and scanned the area for fellow gardeners. He’d checked his maths as he walked along the lane. Suzie had said an hour on the land, and they were eating at eight o’clock. Something was going on.
“Good evening, Gus,”
Clemency Bentham was kneeling by her rows of lettuces, radishes, and other salad crops.
“Trouble, Reverend?” asked Gus. “Do your plants need heavenly help? They look fine from where I’m standing.”
“I got down here to avoid bending for an extended period, Gus. Although my diet has had limited success, I’m unable to get back to my feet without outside help. Prayer won’t help me. Can you give me your arm, please?”
Gus helped the Reverend back to her feet without comment. He knew when words weren’t necessary.
“Thank you, Gus,” said Clemency. “Is Suzie still coming along later?”
“Still?” asked Gus. “I’m guessing this is something you two are aware of, but I’m to be kept in the dark.”
“We’re hoping there will be an announcement at seven o’clock in the Lamb,” said Clemency.
“Has Bert Penman been here today?” asked Gus.
“I haven’t seen him,” said the Reverend. “Now I’m back on my feet; I’ll cycle home and get ready to get to the pub later. Bye for now.”
With that, she was off. Gus opened his garden shed, found the tools he required, and set to work. Whatever was happening at seven o’clock, he couldn’t waste time thinking about it now. His vegetable patch needed work.
Suzie strolled up at a few minutes to seven, looking as fresh as a daisy.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Not much, by the looks of it. I thought you would have done more in an hour,” said Suzie.
“Am I okay to visit the pub in this state?” asked Gus, returning his tools to the shed.
“You’ll be alright for ten minutes,” said Suzie. “then you can dash back to the bungalow, and shower and change, while I enjoy a cold drink in the beer garden with the Reverend.”
“You’ve got it worked out, haven’t you?” said Gus.
“Someone has to. If we left it to you men, it wouldn’t get done.”
Gus bought the drinks and followed Suzie outside into the b
eer garden. Clemency was already there with Brett Penman. They both look pleased with themselves. Gus wondered whether they were making the announcement. An engagement, perhaps? They hadn’t been seeing one another long, but then who was he to judge?
“Hello, you two,” said Brett. “Glad you could make it.”
“Making it wasn’t a problem,” said Gus. “Understanding why we‘re here is another matter.”
Gus and Suzie took a seat next to Brett and Clemency.
“Busy day?” asked Brett.
“Challenging,” said Gus.
“Mr Freeman, Miss Ferris. I hoped you would be here.”
Bert Penman’s voice rang out from the pub doorway. Gus couldn’t be confident from this distance, but Bert appeared to be wearing a suit. When his old friend finally walked outside into the sunlight, Gus saw that Irene North had joined him. She must have dug deep in her wardrobe to find a dress he’d never seen her wear before. It knocked ten years off her.
Bert carried the tray with their drinks to the table, and when he and Irene were seated, Bert cleared his throat.
“We thought you four should hear the news from us before anyone in the village starts talking,” he said before taking a large sip of his pint of cider. “Irene agrees with me. It’s daft keeping two properties going when we spend so much time together. My place is big enough for two good friends to live under the same roof.”
“What other people think of what we plan to do doesn’t concern us,” said Irene. “We’ll save money, and we’re both sensible enough to realise that having someone around the place will be of benefit when one of us doesn’t feel so good.”
“It’s a great idea, whoever first thought of it,” said Gus. “I wish you both health and happiness. When the time comes, and you need someone to lend a hand, you know who to call.”
“We’re not staying after this drink, Mr Freeman,” said Irene. “There’s a programme on TV that Bertie and I want to watch.”
