Gus waited as the young woman gave the charity's name for which she now worked and introduced herself.
“Good morning, Vicky,” said Gus. “My name’s Gus Freeman. I believe you know a colleague of mine, DS Neil Davis. He sends his best wishes. Can you spare us a quarter of an hour this morning?”
“I remember Neil. Does he still have a terrible sense of humour?”
“Some things never change, Vicky,” said Gus. “We were both sorry to hear why you left the force.”
“Then you’ll understand why I’d prefer not to talk to you.”
“Neil works with me as part of a cold case review team. Our current case was one you worked on with John Kirkpatrick. Do you remember the Gerry Hogan killing?”
“That must have been five or six years ago. Before I transferred to Thames Valley.”
“Six years, yes,” said Gus. “Are you still working in Oxford?”
“I’m based in Abingdon. You will not take no for an answer, will you?”
“Fifteen minutes of your time,” said Gus. “We’ve made progress, but we still have one or two missing pieces. Something you noticed at the time might help bring Gerry’s killer to justice.”
Gus sat, waiting, as Vicky considered her next move.
“I take a break at noon. Meet me in the Abbey Gardens. I don’t want a police car anywhere near our premises. The people we deal with are as wary of the cops as they are of the villains.”
“A sign of the times, Vicky,” said Gus. “Don’t worry. We’ll be discreet. I’ll make sure Neil’s on his best behaviour.”
Gus ended the call.
“Are we off, guv?” asked Neil.
“Vicky Bennison has agreed to give us fifteen minutes in Abingdon. How long will it take to get there?”
“If I’m driving, about ninety minutes, guv,” said Neil.
“We’ll need to leave by ten,” said Gus. “That’s not ideal, with the Hub business, but needs must. Alex, you can do the honours. As soon as Divya sends her results through, get the rest of the team working on them. You know what we’re looking for.”
“Got it, guv,” said Alex. “Will you let us know what you get from your meeting before you drive back? It might save us chasing a dead-end if Vicky Bennison provides you with a hot lead.”
“Good point, Alex,” said Gus. “You never know your luck,”
“We haven’t had a lot of good luck on this case, guv,” said Lydia.
Gus and Neil left the office a few minutes after ten. Neil drove them out to join the M4 on the other side of Chippenham, and then they left the motorway at Junction 13.
“Ever been here before, guv?” asked Neil as he searched for a car park close to the ruins of the ancient Abbey.
“I can’t say I have had the pleasure, Neil,” said Gus. “I had a quick look online before we left. The ruins result from the collapse of a later addition. Something that the Victorians termed a folly rather than centuries of decay. Since 2012 the town added ‘on Thames’ to its name. Perhaps they thought it added a certain cachet to the place, but it smacks of desperation, don’t you think?”
“Abingdon’s sixty miles from London, guv,” said Neil. “I don’t suppose they would have been in a rush to claim the moniker if the Thames was as filthy as it used to be twenty years ago.”
“The water is certainly cleaner than in the old days, Neil,” said Gus, “but they still get a dead body dragged from the river every week of the year. There’s still work to do.”
Neil found a car park, and by ten minutes to twelve, the two detectives had located a quiet corner in the Abbey Gardens.
“You’ll recognise Vicky Bennison, I presume?”
“She won’t have changed that much in ten years, guv,” said Neil. “Despite everything she’s been through.”
Gus heard a church clock chime in the near distance. He looked across the grass towards the ruined folly. Was this a waste of time?
“Hello, Neil. You must be Gus Freeman. Good morning.”
“Blimey, you crept up on us, Vicky,” said Neil. “How are you?”
“You two remain seated. I’ll stay here under the shade of the tree. Your fifteen minutes have started, Mr Freeman.”
Gus knew there was no point in arguing.
“What were your first impressions when you arrived at the house on Trowle Common?”
“It seemed clear enough. Someone had shot Gerry Hogan in the head. His partner and his sons recounted what had happened that evening. A stranger arrived on the doorstep asking to speak to Gerry Hogan. He shot Hogan and left.”
“Nothing struck you as odd?” asked Gus.
“Not at all. We returned to the house the following morning to carry out a door-to-door, looking for witnesses. Nobody saw a thing, but one elderly neighbour remembered hearing something. He couldn’t give us an accurate timing. It might have been irrelevant. I drove to Bradford-on-Avon to talk with the victim’s sister after that.”
“The news of her brother’s death came as a shock,” said Gus.
“Nobody had contacted her the previous night,” said Vicky. “I asked John if that was odd. He said that the young partner, and the sister were bound to be at loggerheads. When the will came to light, that explained everything. No matter where we looked for motive or opportunity, we couldn’t tie anyone to the killing. A month later, John and I switched to another case.”
“How far did you extend the search?” asked Gus.
“We knew about the victim’s early life, but there was nothing there. Why wait thirty years to settle a grievance? I suggested the partner could have had a motive. John asked me to dig into her past.”
“Rachel Cummins came from Haslemere, in Surrey,” said Gus. “Her mother and father split up eighteen months after she was
