by Ted Tayler
“One of my team found him easily enough on social media, Phil,” said Gus.
“Well, my officer verified Ellison’s date of birth. He checked where Ellison went to school and the few qualifications he had when he left. He spoke to the building firms that employed him. We’ve tracked the driving school that got him through his test, and the lady who sold him the one car he’s ever owned and got insured. His name appeared as the victim of an assault charge brought against Darren Forsyth. That was in 1993. After that, my officer couldn’t confirm a sighting of him in Marsden, or anywhere in the Leeds area. Kyle Ellison appears to have disappeared off the face of the earth.”
CHAPTER 11
“That’s a touch dramatic, Phil,” said Gus. “How far have you gone? Is this now an official missing person investigation?”
“You know the score, Gus,” said Phil. “We need to gather sufficient information on the missing person to enable an effective and thorough investigation; the depth of that information varies according to the risk.”
“Do we believe that Kyle Ellison was at risk twenty-five years ago,” said Gus. “Well, we know that Darren Forsyth wanted to separate Kyle’s head from his body, but young Darren felt justified because Ellison was using his sister, Jennifer, as a punchbag.”
“Allegedly,” said Phil Banks.
“Do you know something I don’t?” asked Gus.
“Not at all. You’ve interviewed the girl; I haven’t. Were you convinced by her version of events?”
“I’m long enough in the tooth to realise that until I speak to Kyle Ellison, I won’t appreciate whether there were discrepancies between their stories. My gut feeling was that the young girl was terrified of Ellison and got as far from him as possible. She hid her tracks well and hasn’t been bothered by him since. That doesn’t mean he’s missing.”
“We now have detailed information for Kyle and a lifestyle profile,” said Phil. “My officer is taking a full statement from the last person to see him. That’s the guy who owned the flat in Leeds where Kyle rented a room. The place is an HMO and the passage of time rules out forensics. We can’t consider seizing any electronic devices, computers, or get details of usernames and passwords. I’m uncertain we can unearth a photo of Ellison. At least, not one more recent than one he had taken at secondary school. Kyle had a mobile phone, but we don’t know if he had it with him when last seen.”
“I assume that if he still had the phone from 1993, we could send him a message asking him to let someone know he’s safe,” said Gus. “But what about that car of his?”
“I suggested to my officer that he placed markers on the PNC without delay, but the flat owner remembered Ellison scrapped the vehicle a few weeks before he went missing. It was a banger back then. Fat chance it was still on the road today.”
“Did Kyle have a passport?” asked Gus.
“No,” replied Phil Banks. “Before you ask, we don’t have DNA samples or fingerprints either.”
“So, Kyle’s still in this country, posting on social media via an electronic device. Can we trace him via that route?”
“A computer-based enquiry is an important aspect of a missing person investigation, Gus, as you know. Online activity may provide crucial clues, but we don’t always have the legal right to access that information. Individuals have the right to privacy and don’t have to inform their families and friends about their whereabouts. An investigation into personal data is intrusive by nature. We may justify access to such data to determine if a crime has occurred. We would need more than what we have to get a warrant.”
“What do Kyle’s family know of his whereabouts?” asked Gus.
“No living relatives, as far as we can discern,” said Phil.
“Your people should be able to find when the deaths got registered,” said Gus. “Even if it was only a few months after Kyle was last seen in Leeds, it suggests there was no love lost between him and his parents. I should get your guy to double-check there were no siblings while he’s at it. We can’t just sweep this under the carpet. Look, Phil, with what we know so far, are we concerned for Kyle’s welfare?”
“I’m concerned that you want to speak with him in connection with your case, and we can’t locate him,” said Phil Banks. “I intend to upgrade the search to include the various government and private organisations which may hold relevant information. The Department for Work and Pensions, the DVLA, his GP if he had one, and maybe even car rental companies.”
“That type of check should establish if Kyle has chosen to disappear, or if harm has come to him,” said Gus.
“What if Ellison became homeless?” asked Phil. “If he’s registered with a GP, perhaps we’ll find evidence of a drug habit.”
“If it weren’t for one thing, I’d say that could be the answer,” said Gus. “Let’s say that Kyle suffered a slow descent into addiction, fell through the cracks in society, existed on the streets for several years and eventually died from an overdose. We don’t have dental records or DNA. There would have been nothing to prove his identity. It’s a daily occurrence.”
“Except for the social media accounts,” said Phil Banks.
“Quite, after you’ve exhausted your enquiries to establish whether Kyle is alive and well and using a different name wherever he’s living, you need to speak to members of the Forsyth family,” said Gus. “Dave and Mary from Marsden; Darren from Leeds, and Jennifer. She’s called Madeleine Telfer now, and I can pass you her contact details in Chippenham.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Gus,” said Phil. “I didn’t imagine this turn of events when you called the other day.”
“Nor did I, Phil,” said Gus, “but something had to explain why Jennifer Forsyth hid away in a dead-end job, two hundred miles from home.”
Blessing Umeh drove into Corsham with more confidence today. It helped to have made the trip before. But her time working with Divya had provided so much more than the data they extracted from the photographs. Gus had encouraged her to stand in front of the whole team to take them through the details. Six months ago, that would have frightened her so much she wouldn’t have been able to speak.
Bob Duncan answered the front door as she was walking up the path from her car.
“Hello, Mr Duncan,”
“You’re back again,” said Bob. “How much more can there be to say.”
“Let the girl get inside the door, Bob,” said Elizabeth. “How are you, Blessing?”
“Very well, thanks, Mrs Duncan,” said Blessing. “I’m returning the originals of the photographs we borrowed. Shall I help Bob put them back into the frames?”
“Does that mean you’re staying long enough for a cup of tea?” asked Elizabeth.
“I don’t see why not,” smiled Blessing. Elizabeth headed for the kitchen.
“What did you learn from the photographs, anyway,” said Bob.
“We know the actual names of everyone that Alan recorded on the backs of the photos,” said Blessing. “I can let you have Alan’s pocket diary back too. We’re talking to several of his colleagues early next week, and we’re conscious of the fact that they’re unlikely to have learned that Alan died in 2008. I thought that if you wanted to call them over the weekend, it might soften the blow. They were good friends of Alan’s and thought a lot of him.”
“That’s a nice thought, Blessing,” said Elizabeth as she returned with three cups of tea on a tray.
“Gus Freeman would like to know what you remember of the missing photo, Mr Duncan,” said Blessing. “The one from Hong Kong taken at the Happy Valley racecourse.”
“Alan and the others wore those horrid shirts,” said Elizabeth, screwing up her face. “I think they had been drinking.”
“I must have looked at that photo a hundred times over the years,” said Bob. “Whether I can remember who was in it, I don’t know.”
“Alan was on the left,” said Elizabeth, “next to the man with ginger hair.”
“Taff,” said
Blessing. “His name is Max Hughes, and he comes from Swansea.”
“We never knew that did we, Bob?” said Elizabeth, “He was just Taff to us.”
“If I show you the other photos, do you think you can remember seeing any of them in one of those horrid shirts?”
Bob and Elizabeth studied the photos, and Bob pointed at Keith Smith.
“He was there, Smudger. He was in most of Alan’s pictures.”
“Keith Smith,” said Blessing. “Well done, we’re almost there. Who were the other two?”
“This chap looks familiar,” said Elizabeth. She pointed at Craig Anderson.
“Yes, Andy,” said Bob. “That’s right; he was on the opposite end to Alan with his arm around the shoulder of…”
“Go on, Mr Duncan,” said Blessing.
“He’s not here,” said Bob, checking the photos.
“Are you sure?” asked Blessing.
Elizabeth flicked through the photographs. She shook her head.
“No, my memory isn’t what it was, but surely he was shorter, and carried more weight.”
“Fatter in the face and around the middle,” said Bob. “I remember that now, his shirt buttons were doing a grand job holding it together,”
Bob and Elizabeth laughed at the memory.
“Did Alan write names on the back of that photo?” asked Blessing.
“I can’t remember, I’m afraid,” said Bob.
“I remember when we got that photo,” said Elizabeth, “Alan sent it to us with my birthday card in August.”
“Which year was that?” asked Blessing.
“Perhaps two years before he came home for good,” said Elizabeth.
“August 2002 then,” said Blessing.
“Does it matter, dear?” said Elizabeth.
“It could do,” said Blessing. “You mentioned when Alan came home for good. Sometimes he came home to visit, I suppose, when his submarine returned to Faslane at other times?”
“Not often,” said Bob. “Alan rang us from Faslane to check that we were both well. He spent a weekend here every year, no more than that.”
“Was there a particular reason for that, Mr Duncan?” asked Blessing.
“Alan and his father didn’t always see eye to eye,” said Elizabeth.
“Alan kept telling us he was working on things that he couldn’t talk about,” said Bob. “I thought he had something to hide. I couldn’t work out what it was, but it bothered him. On those odd occasions when he slept here, especially in the last couple of years in the Navy, Alan was always on edge.”
“Did Alan learn any foreign languages?” asked Blessing.
“French and Spanish at school,” said Elizabeth, “but he dropped those subjects when he did his A-levels.”
“What about Russian?” asked Blessing.
“Why would he need that?” asked Elizabeth.
“Even though the Cold War was over, the Russians still pose a significant threat,” said Bob. “It’s possible Alan, and his crewmates picked up more than a few phrases. Everyone monitors everyone else when they’re patrolling, or carrying out manoeuvres under the oceans. That’s common knowledge, whether or not Alan spoke to us about what he did.”
“What about this photograph?” asked Blessing, showing the couple the photo taken in Moscow..
“What about it?” said Bob.
“Surely you know where Alan is?”
“I can’t say I do,” said Bob, “did Alan write on the back?”
“You’ve probably never seen it before, Bob,” said Elizabeth. “Alan kept several photos in a drawer in his bedroom. He left them behind when he moved out to live with Maddy. They couldn’t have been important.”
“That’s St Basil’s Cathedral in the background,” said Blessing.
“What, in Moscow?” said Bob.
“Yes,” said Blessing, “and this man took the photo.” She showed Bob and Elizabeth the photo of Yuri Kovalev. “Alan returned the favour at Moscow Zoo in the afternoon. Alan was in Moscow less than two months before he left the Navy.”
“I don’t recognise that chap as one of Alan’s crewmates,” said Bob.
“Yuri Kovalev wasn’t a crewmate,” said Blessing. “We don’t know what he does. Their meeting could be innocent. Kovalev was a keen runner. Perhaps they just met while running, and the young Russian offered to show Alan around his home city. One thing that bothers us is what brought Alan to Moscow in the first place. This photograph from the poolside of a hotel in Dubai is from the end of March. If Alan and his colleagues were on leave in March, how did he get more shore leave in early May?”
“The submarine needed repairs,” said Bob, “there was a collision with a trawler. Everyone got stuck at Faslane. Because Alan had opted to leave, his commanding officer didn’t want him hanging around waiting for the next voyage. It was uncertain when that might be. They could have forced Alan to stay until his twelve months’ notice was up, but rather than have a Weapon Engineer Officer on a tour of duty who didn’t want to be there, they cut him loose early.”
“Did Alan have a change of duties after returning to Faslane from Dubai?” asked Blessing.
“They weren’t best pleased with having invested so much time and money in training him to find that he wanted to throw it away,” said Bob. “They found him a desk job.”
“Alan wasn’t happy, Bob,” said Elizabeth. “What’s the point of life, if you’re not happy?”
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier, Mr Duncan?” asked Blessing.
“Bob was ashamed,” said Elizabeth. “For years we’d been so proud of Alan serving his country with distinction. Then within two years, Alan changed. He wasn’t the happy-go-lucky person he’d once been. When he finally came home, we could tell that a great weight had lifted. Whatever had troubled him was in the past. Alan settled into his job at the factory, found a girlfriend, and although Bob never understood why Alan quit when he did, he accepted things had improved. Then someone murdered Alan, and the doubts came crashing back. What caused that black period in his life? How did he recover from it? Did someone from his past kill him, and why?”
“As soon as you started looking into the murder again, I knew that something dreadful would come out,” said Bob. “If he was meeting with the Russians, it can only mean one thing.”
“One of my colleagues made a good point about these photographs,” said Blessing. “We can only see the events that Alan posted to you. His crewmates will have others from the same time, or dates in between. You mustn’t jump to conclusions, Mr Duncan. We’ll talk to Taff, Smudger, and Lofty next week. Maybe, we’ll get the opportunity to talk to Yuri Kovalev, or at least discover who he is and where he works.”
Blessing knew that she needed to return to the office to update Gus, but she was concerned for Bob and Elizabeth Duncan. They had done nothing wrong. They didn’t deserve this. If there was more to get uncovered from their son’s past, then it must come out. Gus wanted to find Alan’s killer, and no matter what other secrets he had to dig up in finding that killer, he would keep digging.
“I’m sorry if going over these photographs again has upset you,” she said. “I’ll get back to the office. Please remember, none of this is your fault.”
“We know, Blessing,” said Elizabeth. “Bob and I will get through it together, somehow. We must.”
Bob Duncan saw Blessing to the door. When she reached her car, she turned back to wave, but Bob had gone back indoors already. Blessing sat for a while to gather her thoughts. Could Alan Duncan have sold secrets to the Russians? Was that where that eight and a half thousand pounds came into the case? Blessing didn’t know the sums that might change hands for details of a submarine’s weapon systems, but surely it had to be worth more than that?
Her phone rang. It was Dave Smith calling.
“Hi, Dave,” she said. “You got my message then?”
“Things have been hectic,”
“Are you free this weekend?”
“I’m s
orry, Blessing,”
“You don’t want to see me again, is that it?”
“It’s been fun, but I’m not ready to settle down yet. I’m off to Jersey for a week’s holiday with a few mates next weekend.”
“Oh, okay,” said Blessing. “Well, have a great time. You’ve got my number. I’m sorry too, Dave. I like you a lot. Bye.”
Blessing started the car and drove back to the Old Police Station office.
Blessing told herself that she could wait until she reached the farm and the safety of her bedroom before she allowed herself to cry.
Gus and the others were winding down towards the end of another busy week. Vera Butler had called to confirm that their visit to Faslane had received a green light. Luke had finalised the details of the ferry journeys and the stopover in Liverpool.
Blessing exited the lift. Gus wasn’t in his usual seat.
Neil nodded towards the restroom.
“Gus is getting a coffee, Blessing,” he said. “You missed all the fun. The case took another corkscrew twist.”
“Another one? I thought I was going to give him a surprise. What now?”
Gus opened the restroom door and returned with his drink.
“What news from Corsham, Blessing?” he asked.
“Bob Duncan gave me a part-explanation of how Alan ended up in Moscow, guv,” she replied. “His submarine needed repairs, and as Alan was serving out his notice, his superiors kept him on a desk job at Faslane rather than send him to sea. I’ve got names for everyone except one person on the Happy Valley photo. Taff, Smudger, and Andy were there with Alan, but a shorter, fatter man joined them in that one photo. They didn’t know his name, I’m afraid. We must rely on one of the other crewmates to identify him.”
“Did you show them the photo of Kovalev?” asked Gus.
“Yes, guv,” said Blessing. “I don’t think Bob had seen the Moscow photos before, only Elizabeth when she discovered them in the drawer. Because Alan left them behind when he moved to Biddestone, she didn’t think they were important, so she didn’t show them to Bob. It stunned Bob that Alan had met Yuri Kovalev. His immediate thought was that Alan was meeting with a Russian spy.”
