by Ted Tayler
Neil wasn’t that interested in the Nick Barrett side of the story. He was interested in Gerry Hogan’s companion that night.
“What about Bronwen’s friend, Cat?” Neil asked. “Was she from the same part of Wales?”
“No, not a bit,” said Nick. “Her accent was bland, not a regional one that you immediately recognise. Cat’s voice wasn’t posh, though, just neutral. Before I heard her speak, I guessed her name was Myfanwy, Megan, or another Welsh favourite. She wore a t-shirt with a kitten on the front and shorts.”
“If they travelled together, surely Bronwen must have mentioned Cat’s real name and where she lived?”
“I don’t think they’d met before they got on the plane, DS Davis. Two young girls, early twenties, on the adventure of a lifetime. Sensible enough not to risk travelling alone. We didn’t see them after that night. We were planning to move on, and they were getting ready for the long flight back to Blighty.”
“Did Gerry say what happened that night?” asked Neil.
“I asked what time he got in. Gerry gave a big grin and went for a shower. I told your boss the other day, Gerry didn’t elaborate on any of his conquests.”
“So he didn’t know where his companion was going when she got home?” said Neil. “What jobs did these two have? Didn’t you discuss that?”
“It wasn’t the first thing on our list of things to talk about with girls we met, detective. Gerry and I had worked as a team for four or five years. At university, it wasn’t possible to use any underhand methods because most students knew you from somewhere. In one of the city's nightclubs filled with locals, it was open season.”
“I don’t think I follow you, sir,” said Neil.
“The dating game has altered dramatically since those far-off days,” said Nick. “Look, if it was a casual fling you were after in our day, you didn’t give too much detail. You might not use your real name or be vague over where you lived. Or lie about what you did. Hi, I’m Gregg, a ski-instructor from Windsor. That way, if things went pear-shaped, you didn’t get a phone call a year later from a girl with a baby crying in the background.”
“You’re right,” said Neil. “things have changed. So, who were you two that day?”
“Batman and Robin,” said Nick. “Cassandra, the girl who met us at the airport, drove the combi-van to the cove. The girls laughed when they saw our t-shirts as they boarded the van. That broke the ice.”
“So, you have no idea where either girl worked?”
“None whatsoever,”
“And you’re certain neither Bronwen nor Cat mentioned where Cat lived?”
“I didn’t speak to the girl much, except at the cove. Cassie told us the best places to visit when the six of us were still in a group. I tried to make progress with Bronwen in the evening, but she wasn’t interested. It was lucky that they had done so much travelling already. If they had arrived in Australia at the same time as us, it would have made for a quiet night.”
“I take it you didn’t get in touch with Bronwen after you returned home?” asked Neil, “Or vice versa?”
“I don’t think either of us believed there was any point, detective,” said Nick.
“What about Gerry?”
“If he did, I didn’t know,” said Nick. “Gerry had met Evelyn by then. They were in love. He must have been, because Gerry gave her his real name. No, Gerry had more sense than to chase up a one-night stand.”
“Was that it for Darwin?” asked Neil.
“We stayed there for a further week. There were no more girls involved.”
“Where did you go next?”
“Cassie introduced us to a fellow countryman, Mick, who offered to give us a lift halfway to Alice Springs. He had various stops to make in outback towns on the way. That leg of the journey took us eight hours. We stayed in a grubby hotel overnight in a town that hardly needed a name because it was so small. There was a pub, so we drank a few lagers the next day. Cassie told us that a truck would come through on that route eventually, and we could negotiate a lift. We stayed for five days in that dump. Then a trucker pulled in, and after another eight-hour slog, we reached Alice Springs.”
“What was that like?” asked Neil.
“It’s in the middle of nowhere,” said Nick, “and only worth visiting if you want to visit Uluru, King’s Canyon, and learn about the Flying Doctor.”
“It did not impress you?”
“It must have been fifty degrees centigrade, detective. I was melting. Before you ask, no, Gerry didn’t meet a girl in Alice Springs. We headed east after a week and made for Cairns. Our first stop was Mount Isa, four hundred miles away. We hired a car for that journey.”
“I’ve never heard of the place,” said Neil. “If there’s just a mountain there, was it worth stopping?”
“Mount Isa is a city in the Gulf Country region of Queensland, DS Davis,” said Nick Barrett. “It came into existence because of the vast mineral deposits found in the area. The region has one of the most productive single mines in world history for lead, silver, copper, and zinc. Almost twenty thousand people lived there. We slept, refuelled, and made the six hundred mile trip to Cairns. That was where Gerry met Molly from Glasgow.”
“Another pretty girl?” asked Neil.
“Molly was short, with a bubbly personality, and could drink both of us under the table,” said Nick. “Gerry started up a conversation at Palm Cove. That was a thirty-minute bus ride from Cairns itself. There were hundreds of guys and girls there our age. They’d gathered for an impromptu barbie, and a guy with a guitar kept people entertained. Molly was with a party of five or six girls, but her mates wanted to go out on the town, not laze away the evening on the beach. So they jumped on the bus into town. I was on my Jack Jones, drinking bottled beer, grabbing a snack now and then, minding my own business. I must have dropped off to sleep because when I awoke, Gerry and Molly had gone. The barbie was cooling, and I had one bottle left.”
“Did you miss the last bus?” asked Neil.
“Molly’s pals caught that,” said Nick. “I’d spent the night on the beach. No worries, as they say. The temperature only dropped to the low twenties centigrade. Warmer than an English summer’s day.”
“How did you get back to Cairns?” asked Neil.
“I caught the first bus of the morning. I must have reeked to high heaven. The few passengers on it gave me a wide berth. Gerry was sleeping when I reached the hostel. He had stamina; I’ll give him that. We were drinking again at lunchtime and headed for Trinity Beach that night. He was off again.”
“Molly caught up with him?”
“No, that night it was Ruth and her friend, Shirley. Gerry went off with Ruth, and I got stuck with Shirley.”
“I don’t suppose you remember where they came from, surnames, or where they worked?” asked Neil, more in hope than expectation.
“Derby,” said Nick. “both girls came from Derby and worked for Royal Crown Derby, the English porcelain manufacturer.”
“Good, that’s something we can follow up on,” said Neil. “Is there anything to add to the Gerry and Ruth story? Was that another one-night stand?”
“You might see a pattern emerging, DS Davis,” said Nick Barrett. “After a day spent imbibing the amber nectar, we visited our sixth or seventh bar, and Gerry saw Ruth. He told me to follow him and made a beeline for her. Ruth was taller than Molly and with a fuller figure. I prayed she had a twin sister somewhere in that crowded pub. Gerry bought our drinks and followed Ruth as she sashayed into a dark corner. I trailed along behind, as usual, to get introduced to Shirley.”
“It didn’t go well?” said Neil.
“She had the personality of a whelk, detective, and once she had another drink inside her, Shirley started to talk. A booming voice and language that would have caused my mother to faint. An hour later, when Gerry and Ruth disappeared to the girls’ hostel, I could tell that Shirley expected to go back with me to our digs. I opted to walk along the Esplanade with h
er to give Gerry time alone with Ruth.”
“How did Shirley react to that?” asked Neil
“I received a verbal onslaught rather than a physical one. For which I was grateful. Shirley would have made mincemeat out of me,” said Nick. “She suggested I was gay. I went with her to the hostel to make sure she got back safely, made my excuses and left.”
“What happened to Gerry?”
“He wasn’t entirely happy when he returned. He thought he was in for an all-nighter.”
“Were you sticking to Batman and Robin?” asked Neil.
“Gerry mislaid his t-shirt somewhere on the trip. I can’t remember where. Somewhere between Alice Springs and Mount Isa. I think we were Gregg and Norm for that night.”
“Did you move on from Cairns soon after?”
“We moved on to Port Douglas to visit the Great Barrier Reef,” said Nick. “Now, that was an unforgettable experience. Amazing. Gerry and I had talked to one another again by then, but he wasn’t keen on hitting on anyone. It was weeks before we left Queensland. We spent ten days in Mackay, just chilling out, trying to drink less and save our pennies. We knew the cost of living was higher around Sydney, and we wanted to keep money in reserve.”
“Did you work during your trip?” asked Neil.
“I couldn’t possibly comment, detective,” said Nick. “One way of cutting back on the alcohol intake might be to pull a few pints for someone else. Let’s leave it at that. We had a glorious time on the Sunshine Coast. The place became far more popular in the decade after we were there. It had attracted the hippies in the Sixties, people seeking an alternative lifestyle. There were craft industries, co-operatives, and spiritual centres wherever you looked. Far out, man. That stuff didn’t interest us, but the weather was great, and the locals were friendly.”
“When did Gerry’s quiet period end?” asked Neil.
“After we moved into Brisbane,” said Nick. “Now, let me see if I’ve got this right. I think her name was Julia, and she hailed from Richmond. The place on the Thames, not the town in Yorkshire. Julia did something in the City. She had a position with a merchant bank. Gerry was punching above his weight, but Julia took pity on him for four or five nights. She didn’t have a friend in tow, so I didn’t need to embarrass myself. I fell off the wagon and got drunk the first night, had the hangover from hell, and that might have been an occasion when I pulled pints for other people. I kept my distance from Gerry and Julia in the evenings.”
“Your hesitation suggests that Gerry got lucky more than once in Brisbane,” said Neil.
“We’re talking June, July, and the beginning of August,” said Nick, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. “The weather was mild. There was no rush to move on, and it was the busiest time for tourism in the area. You couldn’t go for a quiet pint anywhere. Every bar was teeming with international students. Their term dates differ from those in the UK. The academic year started in February and March, and they had a further intake in June and July. So, Brisbane was a paradise for Gerry when we stopped there. I couldn’t drag him away. I was keen to move on to New South Wales and Sydney. Time was running out. We both wanted to fly home well before Christmas. He met a South African girl called Kerry, and I didn’t see him again for a week. I’d resigned myself to my lot, and didn’t bother joining him when he was on the pull. I’d pick a bar, Brisbane had plenty to choose from, and sit nursing a pint for two hours, then get off back to the digs.”
“Time must have dragged,” said Neil.
“Not really,” said Nick, “I might have worked the odd shift, you know, and with so many students in town, I always had someone to chat to, male and female. I kidded myself that if I didn’t go looking for a girl, it might happen when I least expected it.”
“How did that work out for you?”
“Much as you might expect. Gerry was around during the day. We never fell out again. Oh, I’ve just remembered one more occasion before we left Brisbane. The weather was on the turn. They can get violent storms and cyclones there in August and September, so we agreed to heed the warnings and head south. We took one last excursion before leaving. We hired a car and drove north to Sylvan Beach, on Bribie Island.”
“Was that a long trip?” asked Neil.
“Not compared to some we took. Only a ninety-minute drive. It was safe to swim in the cool blue sea. There were other tourists there, and when Gerry and I were walking back from our swim, he spotted two bronzed beauties sunbathing. He dropped down next to them and started talking. I joined them and got told to go forth and multiply. Gerry threw me the car keys and said he’d get a lift back somehow. I hung around for the rest of the afternoon, thinking he’d have a job separating them, but when dusk fell, I called it quits and drove back to Brisbane. Gerry persevered and ended up in bed with the pair of them.”
“I thought you said Gerry didn’t tell,” said Neil.
“It was noon the next day before I saw him again. I was eating lunch at a café we used from time to time near our digs. I asked Gerry which girl had taken his fancy. He just winked and said, sometimes you didn’t need to choose.”
“Where were they from?” asked Neil.
“Romford in Essex,” said Nick. “Their names were Mandy and Annette. Before you ask, they worked in a shoe shop. That was Gerry’s last one-night stand. We moved to Sydney two weeks later. You know what happened there. Someone in a bar mentioned a beach party at Bondi the following evening, and we went along. Gerry spotted Evelyn strolling along the beach with her camera. That was the end of his philandering.”
“You woke up next to a giant guy from New Zealand after another boozy night on the beach,” said Neil.
“That was the one. When I saw Gerry later that day, I could tell that this latest girl had left a deeper impression than the others. It could have ended in tears, of course, but Evelyn felt the same way, and as soon as she was free to travel, she flew to the UK to join him in Bradford-on-Avon. I was the best man at their wedding. Evelyn didn’t have bridesmaids, so I had no luck there either. It was the story of my life until I met Ginny.”
“Are you sure there weren’t any others?” asked Neil.
“Isn’t that enough?” asked Nick.
Neil had to agree with him.
“We might be lucky in finding several of these women,” said Neil, “especially the British ones. Whether any of them will lead us to Gerry’s killer, who knows?”
“You can only do your best, DS Davis,” said Nick Barrett.
Neil thanked the solicitor for his time and left the office. He still had thirty minutes left on the parking ticket he’d bought. Perhaps there was somewhere close by to grab a snack. Lunchtime would have come and gone before he reached the office.
Twenty-five minutes later, Neil arrived at the Old Police Station office and took the only remaining space. Gus and Luke were back. Neil rode up in the lift to the first floor.
“Hi, guys,” he said. “Miss me?”
“What did you learn, Neil?” asked Gus.
“I reckon Gerry Hogan was lucky to last as long as he did, guv,” said Neil. “He was a lad and no mistake.”
“How many names did you get?” asked Blessing.
“Surnames and addresses would be more helpful,” said Lydia.
“I can’t help you there, ladies,” said Neil. “The best Nick Barrett could come up with was eight first names and a nickname. I got a few home towns and occupations, but that was it.”
“Nine girls?” asked Blessing.
“Gerry only slept with seven of them,” said Neil. “Bronwen from Tenby talked to Nick Barrett for hours about places she’d visited while in Australia over the previous weeks. Shirley from Derby got escorted back to her hostel by Nick. She was keen, and he wasn’t.”
“Enter everything into the files, Neil,” said Gus. “Luke and I have added what we learned this morning from Rachel Cummins. You can catch up on that later. Luke, why don’t you call Nick Barrett now? Catch him before he disappears
for a long lunch.”
“Did I forget something, guv?” asked Neil.
“I found a letter offering Evelyn a job in New South Wales,” said Gus. “There was no sign that she’d accepted it or turned it down. We can’t ask Gerry whether he knew about the offer. Perhaps Nick can tell us if Gerry knew and passed the information on to him.”
“Over a frame of snooker at the club?” said Neil. “Yes, that’s a possibility. One thing I picked up while Nick was chuntering on about his lack of female company. When he rebuffed Shirley’s ample charms, she returned to her digs and disturbed Gerry and Ruth, Gerry was miffed, and he and Nick hardly spoke for a day or so. Other than that, they remained good buddies throughout the nine months they were out there.”
“Nick Barrett has confirmed that he knew nothing of a job offer, guv,” said Luke a few minutes later. “He was surprised to learn there had been one. Nick thought Evelyn was happy here in the UK.”
“Fine. Thanks, Luke. When can you call that charity to find out what happened?”
“It’s early Thursday morning there now, guv,” said Luke.
“Look it up on the internet, Luke,” said Gus. “Find a contact email address. Send the request for information, and maybe we’ll get a response soon after they open their offices for the day. It could be informative, but it’s not urgent.”
“Got it, guv.”
Gus checked the murder file for details on John Kirkpatrick. He found a mobile number for DCI Kirkpatrick with Avon & Somerset Police in Portishead and called him.
“Is that John Kirkpatrick? Good afternoon, sir. Gus Freeman here, former DI in Salisbury. I’m working with a Crime Review Team for ACC Kenneth Truelove from London Road. I’m sure you remember him. Can I pick your brains on a murder case we’re re-investigating?”
“I hope it won’t take long, Gus? I’m on TV this evening, and the crew is setting up outside the building. You’ve got two minutes.”
“Gerry Hogan, sir. Shot on his doorstep on the sixth of May six years ago on Trowle Common. We can’t find anything between 1982 and 1992 when he worked for Hargreaves Lansdown. Were every one of his business dealings without blemish? Didn’t you find even one of his clients as worth an interview?”
