“Which way did Wightman take her investigation, sir?” asked Gus.
“She asked the family, the builders, and her work colleagues who they thought Marion Reeves could have met. Nothing useful came from that. Then Wightman pursued the notion Marion was cheating on her husband.”
“I’m not surprised,” said Gus. “Billie’s husband was a uniformed copper at Bourne Hill. He left her for a younger woman. An affair wouldn’t have been my first thought based on the history you’ve given us so far, sir. Marion Reeves was a happily married, successful woman.”
“Wightman’s idea may have had merit, looking at things from a different angle,” said Kenneth. “Theo Reeves didn’t marry before he met Marion, but he had several former lovers. Wightman and Price traced and interviewed the lot but found nothing to support the idea one of them killed Marion Reeves for the opportunity to reunite with Theo.”
“What happened to the cash?” asked Gus.
“We know the builders didn’t get it,” said Geoff. “What’s to say it was in her handbag that day? She could have handed it to someone else between Friday and Monday morning.”
“Fair point,” said Gus.
“Forensics showed the murder took place inside the Lexus,” said Kenneth. “Theo Reeves confirmed nothing had been stolen from his wife’s handbag. Her cards, keys, mobile phone, and a modest amount of cash were still inside. The six thousand pounds in cash were never recovered, but it might have gone before Monday morning, as Geoff said.”
“Was there anything else?” asked Gus.
“Eyewitnesses saw Marion Reeves talking to the driver of a pick-up truck on Friday after she’d withdrawn the cash from the bank.”
“We need their names,” said Gus. “Did Billie Wightman ask whether any of them saw Marion hand something to the truck driver?”
Kenneth Truelove glanced through the report.
“The driver was stopped in traffic on the opposite side of the road to the bank. He was leaning out of the cab window. If Marion Reeves had wanted to hand over an envelope, she would have had to step off the pavement, walk into the street, and offer the money up to the driver’s window. You can check, but the conversation might not be relevant. The driver could simply have asked a pedestrian for directions.”
“We’ll still ask the eyewitnesses whether it looked as if the two knew one another,” said Gus. “Who else did Wightman and Price speak to?”
“They interviewed and eliminated everyone who worked at the Churchfields Industrial Estate or visited premises there on Monday morning.”
“They covered an awful lot of people,” said Geoff, “uncovering no meaningful clues.”
“Did anything turn up at the autopsy?” asked Gus.
“The attacker struck from the passenger seat,” said Kenneth. “With the number of knife wounds the coroner recorded, Marion’s killer had to be covered in blood.”
“Why didn’t anyone see them after they got out of the car at ten o’clock?” asked Gus.
“Was Theo Reeves ever a suspect?” asked Geoff. “I know the marriage sounded idyllic, but based on Gus’s assessment of DI Wightman, she would have looked at the husband first.”
“Theo was in a meeting when the murder took place,” said Kenneth. “Half a dozen colleagues confirmed he hadn’t left the building since arriving at work. Wightman ruled out Theo Reeves early doors. One set of fingerprints recovered from inside the car briefly gave credence to the possibility of an affair. They belonged to a neighbour, Simon Turner. He was a twenty-six-year-old primary school teacher at Manor Fields. Theo confirmed Marion picked him up on his way home one evening the previous week. Simon’s car wouldn’t start when he left school, and he decided to walk the two-and-a-half miles home. Marion picked him up after he’d covered half the distance. He had a classroom of school kids to offer an alibi for his whereabouts on Monday morning.”
“That was everything, was it?” asked Gus.
“I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got time for, Freeman,” said Kenneth, handing Gus the case file. “I suggest you read the file for yourself, but we’ve covered the salient points. Six weeks after Marion Reeves’s murder, DI Wightman and DS Price transferred to another team working on a spate of aggravated burglaries.”
Gus spotted Geoff Mercer shrug his shoulders. The recently elevated Chief Constable was already out of his chair and heading for the door.
They had suffered the first casualty of the new regime. The three friends could no longer give a case the once-over as they had in the past. Gus always found those musings beneficial.
“The Crime Review Team are in at the deep end,” said Geoff.
“We’ll do our best as always,” said Gus.
Gus collected a cream slice from Kassie in the dark corridor leading to Geoff Mercer’s office. He glanced at the brown paper bag on the passenger seat as he set off for the Old Police Station office. Change was continuous, but you didn’t have to like it.
CHAPTER 3
“What was the Chief Constable’s office like, guv,” asked Neil Davis as Gus emerged from the lift forty minutes later.
“The same as it was when the previous Chief Constable occupied it, Neil,” replied Gus. “Kenneth Truelove brought his family photographs across the mezzanine with his chair. Apart from that, every expense was spared. The fixtures and fittings aren’t important. It’s the change in responsibilities that will have the greatest ramifications.”
“You look troubled, guv,” said Luke. “Has the Chief Constable handed us a stinker of a case this time?”
“We have a cold case from seven years ago,” said Gus, “where a forty-four-year-old wife and mother got stabbed to
