FF 07 Creature Discomforts

by Ted Tayler

  Lydia returned with three coffees and sat back down next to Gus.

  “Have you remembered where you moved your warehousing, Kerry?” asked Gus.

  “We rent a unit out at Blagrove, next to the M4,” she said, “only five miles from here. It’s convenient for Henry and Joseph. The rent costs us twenty per cent more than the old place. But Gary wouldn’t listen.”

  “When you filled in the details in the books,” said Gus, “how did you explain payments made to Fergus McHugh? Did your father, or Gary, ever tell you what he did for them?”

  “That was the farmer out near Blunsdon, wasn’t it?” said Kerry. “Dad told me it was waste disposal and McHugh only dealt in cash. It seemed odd, but there have been plenty of other cash-in-hand transactions I’ve coped with over the years.”

  “I’ve no doubt,” said Gus. “Did you ever wonder what type of waste disposal it involved?”

  “Dad told me it was nothing I need to worry over. Sometimes it was best not to know.”

  “Henry told my detectives this morning that you still have holiday money belonging to Howard Todd. That seems odd.”

  “We don’t understand where he went,” said Kerry. “His sister called in here one day. It wasn’t long after Dad’s funeral. She told me she believed that her brother was dead. Gary told me Toddy just left the area. I never had personal dealings with him.”

  “I can assure you Howard won’t be back to collect what’s owed him,” said Gus.

  “Perhaps I should pop the money in an envelope and drop it round to Mandy then,” said Kerry, “it’s not much, but Gary suggested I held on to it, just in case.”

  “This will come out in due course, Kerry,” said Gus, “but Howard was the reason for your father being at Cheney Manor the day he died. The gunman had nothing to do with Toddy, as your family called him, but at around ten o’clock that morning, he ceased to be one of your employees.”

  “Vic was there, wasn’t he?” asked Kerry.

  “Vic’s given us useful information, Kerry. I’m inclined to believe him when he says he killed no one. We will take his cooperation into account when the time comes.”

  “There might be a deal on the table, is that what you’re saying?”

  “I can’t make that promise, Kerry. It’s not my decision. However, my words might carry weight. If you were to cooperate too, then it wouldn’t hurt his chances of a deal.”

  “I won’t go against my family, Mr Freeman,” said Kerry, “but if there’s something else I can help you with, I will.”

  “Do you find it strange that Vic was in prison, while Denver Drewett escaped before the police could arrest him?”

  “Vic told me they were working together,” said Kerry. “Gary sent them to Upper Stratton to have a word with a kid who fell behind with his payments. The boy’s mother arrived home out of the blue and saw the company van parked on her driveway. She called the police. Vic got picked up an hour later. The police went to Vic and Denver’s home at the same time, yet Denver wasn’t there. He must have returned home after the job, packed a bag, and legged it.”

  “Who tipped him off?” asked Lydia.

  “There’s only one person who would do that,” said Kerry.

  “Gary?” asked Gus.

  Kerry nodded.

  “Why, though?” asked Lydia, “those three have been friends since school. If Gary discovered that the police heard of the attack on this person in Upper Stratton, why didn’t he warn both of them?”

  “Because, and I’m quoting Vic now, Kerry,” said Gus, “the longer everything went on after Grant died, the more both of us realised it was wrong.”

  “Did he tell you anything more about that?” asked Kerry.

  “Nothing,” said Gus, “would you wish to elaborate?”

  Kerry shook her head.

  “We’ll come back to it later,” said Gus, “for now, let’s concentrate on things around the time of your father’s death. Don’t bother denying the facts, Kerry. We’re beyond that, and you know it. It was your Dad who changed the focus of the business from theft to drugs. Grant used Gary, plus his two school mates, to persuade people to toe the line, pay up on time, and never say a word about anything they saw or heard. I remember the phrase that the Gablecross detective used when he spoke with our colleague. It’s my way or the highway. Gary followed the same mantra, didn’t he? I suppose you keep your distance from street-level business, Kerry. It would be tough trying to sleep at night with that spinning around in your head. I could tell you were different from Gary when you spoke about the goings-on at the snooker club. You said things such as the Blake Dixon murder made your stomach churn.”

  “I’ve tried to keep as far away from it as I can, Mr Freeman,” said Kerry, “not the same way as Madam Kirstin though. She’s in total denial. Kirstin has made herself believe that Gary is a genuine businessman. Any talk of violence is just that, talk in her fantasy world.”

  “Everything ramped up a notch after your Dad died, I imagine?” asked Gus. He was in virgin territory here. These were details that Jake Latimer hadn’t passed to Neil.

  “Gary ordered Henry to take on a whole load of recruits. Henry had to warn them he’d send in Vic and Denver to sort out anyone who didn’t follow the methods he laid down. I watched youngsters turn into violent criminals in a matter of months. There was a constant air of casual violence. Henry took on Simeon, a lovely young lad, who was only sixteen from the next street. Within weeks he was smashing another kid’s head against a brick wall or shoving someone to the ground just to build his reputation. You spoke of a phrase that my father used. It’s my way or the highway. That’s gone now. Henry told his kids that whenever they beat on someone or punished them, they had to say–it’s not personal, it’s just business.”

  “Tough to stand by and watch it happen, I imagine?” said Gus.

  “The business keeps going from strength to strength,” said Kerry, “and things are only getting worse. I came to realise I needed to get out. Sometimes Vic and Denver got the call to assist Gary, and someone got hurt, badly. Vic didn’t want that. He didn’t mind wading into a fight with several blokes his age and size, but he drew the line at beating on children.”

  “If that got back to Gary, then there’s your explanation of why Denver received a tip-off, and Vic didn’t,” said Gus.

  “It’s such a mess, isn’t it?” said Kerry, “Gina could see where it was heading, but nobody took any notice of her.”

  There it was again, thought Gus. Another name was suddenly popping up that he’d dismissed as irrelevant. He was losing his grip. Neither Jake Latimer nor Jack Sanders had considered Gina Burnside as anything other than a lost cause.

  “Do you often speak to your aunt, Kerry?” he asked.

  “I haven’t seen her in decades, Mr Freeman. She left home as soon as she could, but in the early days of Mum and Dad’s marriage, she sneaked back to babysit Gary. Mum was only fifteen when Gary was born, and she had Henry at seventeen. Dad wasn’t an easy man to live with.”

  “Maggie told us about the abuse, Kerry. I imagine sometimes her injuries meant she couldn’t cope with baby Henry and the toddler, Gary,”

  “Gary was eight when I came along. Mum was pregnant with me when Dad went to prison at the end of 1977. He was away for four years. That was when Auntie Gina spent the most time with Mum and us kids.”

  “What did Gina see in Gary’s behaviour that made her think trouble lay ahead?”

  “Gary had a problem with confined spaces,” said Kerry. “When he was a toddler, Gina said she’d put him in his cot after his feed, and he’d settle for a while. Can you remember what you were like at that age?”

  Gus couldn’t remember a thing from that far back.

  “Just about,” said Lydia, “I was afraid of the dark, and my parents left a light on at the top of the stairs, outside my room, so when I awoke it wasn’t pitch black.”

  “Yeah, me too,” said Kerry. “But Gary moved around in his cot and burrowed unde
r the blanket. Until his head was at the foot and his feet stuck out at the top. When he woke up, he couldn’t get out and screamed the house down. Gina ran into the bedroom the first time it happened and comforted him. She said Gary’s face was as red as a beetroot and he looked so angry. When she told Mum, they made sure his bedclothes were always loose so that he could escape.”

  “Was that it?” asked Gus, “I would have thought Gary grew out of that as soon as he moved into a bed. Surely, you two weren’t still afraid of the dark after you reached school age or a little later?”

  Kerry and Lydia didn’t reply. Gus knew better than to press them for an answer.

  “Do you know what a lot of kids say was their favourite toy growing up?” asked Kerry, “not a doll, or a train set, it was a cardboard box. Something to climb in and out of and play to your heart’s content. That box became anything your imagination could dream of, a fairy coach, or a spaceship, but for Gary, it was different. Henry and Joseph were playing together in a large box that had contained a Christmas present Mum and Dad bought for Gary. He didn’t like seeing Henry and Joseph enjoying themselves. So Gary tipped the box over and made them get out. It’s my box, he yelled and climbed inside. Henry closed the lid, and then he and Joseph sat on top, trapping Gary inside.”

  “I think I can guess what happened,” said Gus, “Gary lost his temper.”

  “When they stood up, Gary burst out of that box like the Incredible Hulk. I was on Mum’s knee, and she was reading me a story. I was three at the time, but I remember it vividly. Gary attacked Henry and Joseph with his fists and his feet. By the time Mum plopped me in the chair and went to drag him away, they both had bloody noses and split lips. Henry’s little finger got broken too. Gary was a madman.”

  “So, Gina spotted his aggressive nature from infancy,” said Gus, “and confined spaces were a trigger.”

  “Yet, Gary still chose a life of crime and the potential for getting locked up in a cell,” said Lydia. “I would have thought it was the last thing he wanted.”

  “Gary didn’t choose his way of life,” said Kerry, “none of my brothers did. Our father set them on the same road his father forced him to follow. Grandfather George wanted his legacy to be a Burnside dynasty, where every child followed in his footsteps.”

  “Why did your Aunt Gina leave home at sixteen?” asked Gus.

  “Nobody has ever spoken about it,” said Kerry. “When Dad came out of prison and saw me for the first time, Mum said he burst into tears. She never told me that until I was twelve. I thought he wanted another son. She shook her head and said that when his father died in 1988, it was a weight lifted off his shoulders. I didn’t understand what she meant, and Mum’s never mentioned it since. It seems to be a Burnside way. Any family secrets get buried deep.”

  Gus and Lydia drew their own conclusions.

  “Where would we find Gina?” asked Gus.

  “I don’t know her address,” said Kerry, “she keeps moving.”

  “We’ll find her if we need to speak with her,” said Gus. “I appreciate how difficult this afternoon has been for you, Kerry. I hope we haven’t caused you too much distress.”

  “What will happen now?” asked Kerry.

  “I say the same thing to each person we interview on this case,” said Gus. “The entire purpose of the Crime Review Team is to find answers to a case that detectives left unsolved. I do not understand who killed your father or why. As for any conclusions one can discern from the interviews we’ve held, well, that’s for detectives at Gablecross to determine and to act upon. Those matters don’t come within our purview. We’ll let you get on with your day. If you feel ready to add to what you shared with us today, then I suggest you speak to someone at Gablecross. Tell them the full story. If you have information related to your father’s murder, that’s the only thing that would necessitate us meeting again.”

  “You’ll inform Swindon police of what Vic and I have told you, though, won’t you?” asked Kerry.

  “We keep them informed of everything we uncover, Kerry,” said Gus. “They would have highlighted your father’s murder when asked by our superiors at Devizes for cases that deserved a second look. They’re as keen as we are to bring his killer to justice finally. I just wish we could find a starting point.”

  Gus and Lydia left Kerry Burnside worrying over her uncertain future.

  “Who do we talk to next, guv?” asked Lydia.

  “I think we’ve done enough for today. I want to return to the office, listen to what Luke and Neil learned from Joseph if anything, and then prepare for tomorrow.”

  “Did you imagine that Gary Burnside could be so volatile when you interviewed him, guv?”

  “He had his minder with him,” said Gus. “Iverson would recognise the signs and cut off any line of questioning that might cause Gary to explode. Perhaps Grant had the same trait. Grant and Gary killed at least three men while working together. Vic’s claim that they played no part in the killings looks much more credible after our conversation with Kerry. It doesn’t get him off the hook for other things he did for the Burnside family.”

  Gus drove them back to the Old Police Station office, and they soon reunited with Neil Davis and Luke Sherman. One look at the Freeman Files told Gus what he needed to know. Luke and Neil’s reports on their interviews with Henry and Joseph were a carbon copy of one another.

  “Was Joseph listening in to Henry’s answers to your questions?” he asked, tongue in cheek.

  “He wasn’t,” said Luke, “but I don’t believe they rehearsed their responses. We didn’t learn an awful lot, I’m afraid. Was my text message of any use?”

  “Gus found a way to use it to our advantage,” said Lydia, with a grin at her boss.

  “That message was timely, Neil,” said Gus, “and let’s leave it at that.”

  “I hope you fared better at HMP Bristol and with Kerry Burnside, guv,” said Neil, “because otherwise today’s been a waste of effort.”

  Gus gave the pair the headlines from their interviews with Vic Hodges and Kerry.

  Lydia continued entering her reports into the files and listened to their reactions.

  “Kerry and Vic Hodges,” said Neil, “just wait until I tell Jake Latimer. He won’t believe it. I’m not surprised he missed it mind. Gablecross would have eyes on the drug trafficking and dealing, trying to catch a break. Vic’s been inside for a while, and where Kerry might go on a Wednesday afternoon isn’t important enough for someone to tail her.”

  “I bet you didn’t know where to look when she dismissed her brief, guv,” said Luke, “does she stand a chance of escaping the clutches of the gang, do you think?”

  “Gablecross would demand more from Kerry than she divulged to us before any deal could be on the table,” said Gus. “She was holding something back.”

  “But if they considered Vic and Kerry as a couple,” said Lydia, “then the combination of their evidence could bring the whole Burnside gang crashing down. Then they could weigh the value of that evidence against the crimes they both committed. It might lead to a reduction in any sentences they had to serve.”

  “There’s a long way to go before Gablecross will get to that,” said Gus. “I’ll enter my notes and impressions into the Freeman Files now. We’re almost ready to pass our findings on to Gablecross. Tomorrow morning, I’m taking a trip to Swindon to find Gina Burnside. I want to learn more about her and her assessment of Gary.”

  “Take care driving around Broadgreen, guv,” said Neil, “I’d hate to hear a zealous beat officer cautioned you for kerb-crawling.”

  “Fat chance of finding one, Neil,” said Gus, “so. I think I’ll risk it.”

  “What do you want us to do in the morning, guv?” asked Luke.

  “I’ll go to Broadgreen direct from Urchfont. If you collect Neil on the way through to Swindon from your place in Warminster, I’d like you to do two things for me. Check out Andy Wilkinson and grill him on Grant Burnside’s day of reckoning. See if he s
potted anyone hanging around the site the week before. You know the question we need to ask. After that, Neil, I want you to liaise with Jake Latimer. Find a young tearaway called Simeon. I didn’t get a surname, but he lived within a stone’s throw of Kerry’s office, and Henry’s had him on his books for a while.”

  “How old is this lad, guv?” asked Neil.

  “Maybe seventeen or eighteen, Neil,” said Gus.

  “I’m holding the fort then, guv,” said Lydia.

  “Who better?” said Gus, “and you can spend the morning checking the office layout I sketched on that board over there. If we don’t make it back from Swindon before the furniture arrives, make sure it goes where it should. Keep the crew supplied with coffee and biscuits, flutter your eye-lashes, but don’t let them leave until there’s nothing for us to do when we get back.”

  “Got it, guv,” said Lydia, “but you’ll be back by then, surely? Ladies in Gina Burnside’s profession don’t want a customer stopping them from working for an entire morning.”

  Gus was already updating his file and missed the looks his team shared while he concentrated on his keyboard. He heard the stifled laughter and wondered what he would do with the information Gina Burnside might offer.

  At five o’clock, the members of the Crime Review Team finished work and headed home. As Gus exited the lift on the ground floor, he stood to watch the three cars leaving the car park ahead of him.

  Yes, they were a good bunch. Everyone put in a decent shift today, and yet Gus knew that his team still had nothing tangible to show for it.

  Ah well, tomorrow was another day.

  CHAPTER 10

  Friday, 22nd June 2018

  Gus spent Thursday evening deep in thought. There was no visit from Suzie Ferris tonight to look forward to, and he knew that the weekend was time enough to get more gardening done. Clemency Bentham and Bert Penman had to labour on without his company.

  Tonight was one of those nights where he needed to be alone to mull over this case that was causing them so many problems. Gus couldn’t waste time hunting for something to eat, let alone cook it, so he dialled a familiar number. His pizza would arrive in thirty minutes.