“Be with you in thirty minutes, give or take, sir,” said Gus.
Gus replaced the phone on its cradle before the ACC could pass comment. He collected the report file from Alex Hardy and made for the lift. Thirty minutes, what was he thinking?
The sun shines on the righteous, or so they said, thought Gus as he followed the tractor and trailer through Seend. He would struggle to be with Kenneth Truelove by lunchtime at this rate. When he turned off London Road into the visitor’s car park, he could see the ACC staring out of his office window.
Gus paused in Reception to sign in.
“You must be Mr Freeman,” said a female voice.
The way she stressed the word ‘must’ suggested to Gus that he matched her expectations.
Gus turned around. He didn’t need to ask the name that belonged to the unfamiliar face.
“Gus Freeman, yes, that’s me. You must be DI Geraldine Packenham.”
“I have it on good authority that you make a habit of being late for meetings, Mr Freeman. That is unacceptable. It does nothing to help deliver a first-class service to the residents of this county.”
“I can see we’re going to get along famously,” said Gus, taking the stairs two at a time. “Can’t stop to chat. I don’t want to have to tell Kenneth that you delayed me.”
Vera Butler heard his comment and grinned at him as he moved across to the ACC’s office.
“I warned you,” she said.
Gus knocked and entered the office in one swift movement.
“Apologies for being late, sir. Our local farmers are making the most of the opportunity to make hay. I might have passed the tractor in Seend, but the trailer that was bobbing along behind it proved too long an obstacle. I’m here now, bearing gifts.”
Gus handed Kenneth truelove the Read case file.
“You have your shortcomings, Freeman,” said the ACC, “but you never cease to deliver the goods. A nasty business this one, I imagine?”
“One of the worst I’ve had to handle, sir,” said Gus. “You’re the second person this morning to mention my shortcomings. DI Packenham had a quiet word in Reception.”
“I must get Mercer to rein in that woman, Freeman. He told Geraldine quite clearly that you were off-limits.”
“It’s water off a duck’s back, sir. I’ve seen them come, and I’ve seen them go. Let’s forget her for the present. Geoff Mercer’s staying here so everything is going to plan. As soon as the PCC announces your Coronation, you can nudge him into his next action. Onto the next matter. Gablecross will handle the Read case from here. What have got up your sleeve for the Crime Review Team next?”
“Do you remember the Alan Duncan case from 2008?” asked Kenneth.
“Was that the one the press dubbed the murder of the long-distance runner?”
“That’s the fellow. Duncan lived in Biddestone, a picturesque village between Corsham and Chippenham.”
“The village with the duck pond. I’ve driven through it, but never stopped.”
“Around five hundred inhabitants, but popular with tourists as it’s on the edge of the Cotswolds and an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.”
“No doubt you pay a hefty sum for a property around there,” said Gus.
“Alan Duncan and his partner, Madeleine Mills lived on Cuttle Lane in one of the more modestly priced cottages. They had lived there for less than four years. Duncan was thirty-six when he died, three years older than Madeleine. She had worked at a call centre in Chippenham for eleven years. Duncan worked as a draughtsman for a company based on the Leafield Industrial Estate in Corsham. Before he moved back to Corsham in 2004, he had served in the Royal Navy for over a decade.”
“The press made a lot of the running and cycling this Duncan character enjoyed in his leisure time, didn’t they?” asked Gus. “They were careful not to print any actual accusation that he was happier alone, or with men than with his girlfriend. But that was the inference.”
“I don’t think the original investigation ever found anything to support that view,” said Kenneth. “On Wednesday the twenty-eighth of May 2008, Alan Duncan left home at half-past six for a run. Madeleine Mills said these runs took several routes, but neither lasted longer than an hour and a half. Duncan was a familiar sight in the village, so we have eyewitnesses who saw him running on Cuttle Lane, by the Green and the duck pond, and on Challows Lane that evening. Those sightings ranged from six-thirty to a few minutes before seven. Challows Lane leads directly onto Ham Lane. A horse rider spotted a suspicious shape in one of her fields as she rode past. Davinia Campbell-Drake phoned it in at once. I think she told the officer who took the call that her fields were not an area where fly-tipping would be tolerated. He recorded the details, plus her admission that the culprit would be horse-whipped if she caught him before the police did. Two uniformed officers went to investigate, and they found Alan Duncan’s dead body at eight thirteen. His mobile phone lay on the grass beside him.”
“Did the phone yield anything useful?” asked Gus.
“Nothing that led the investigating team to a potential suspect. DI Phil Banks was Senior Investigating Officer on the case, and his main partner was DS Connor Tallentire. They both worked out of Chippenham. They’re at opposite ends of the country these days. Alan Duncan’s contacts were what you might expect. His partner and parents, of course, plus a handful of close friends and work colleagues.”
“Nothing relating to his naval career?” asked Gus. “I thought camaraderie was a strong point in the services. Friendships formed during training and on overseas operations can last a lifetime, so I’ve
