“Today, it’s a funeral home, guv,” said Lydia.
“It’s quieter this side,” said Gus. “I wonder whether that’s why they chose it?”
“Hardly the dead centre of the estate, guv.”
“Look around us, Lydia; what do you see?”
Lydia checked her watch. It was early afternoon already. Time flew by when you were working on a case with Gus Freeman. Lydia wished Gus hadn’t mentioned the snack van. A drink and a bite to eat would be most welcome right now.
“It’s almost one o’clock,” said Lydia. “I can hear the bustle of activity inside many of the premises close by. But there’s not much traffic on this side street. There are twenty vehicles parked on either side of the road, I can see from this spot. Foot traffic is non-existent. Apart from us two, of course.”
“A second vehicle parked next to Marion’s car wouldn’t cause major concerns, would it? If the volume of traffic was similar seven years ago on this side street.”
“What about when you consider what was happening inside Marion’s car, guv?” asked Lydia.
“As you pointed out, stood in the open air, we can hear activity from inside the buildings on either side of the road. The sound of machinery, fork-lift trucks, and the odd yell of a name or laughter. Would any of those people hear an argument from inside the car? Some of them will wear ear-defenders for protection. Would they even hear screams?”
“I can hear music, guv,” said Lydia. “That car repair and MOT garage across the road has a tannoy system tuned to Heart Radio. Perhaps we’ve got it wrong. This side street was an ideal spot to commit murder.”
“In plain sight, with enough background noise to mask the sounds of the attack,” said Gus.
“Luke said he needed to contact DCI Wightman about that mobile phone, guv,” said Lydia. “Although it was in Marion’s handbag that morning, it doesn’t appear to get mentioned again in the murder file. That’s odd, isn’t it?”
“I’ll talk to DI Matt Price at Portishead when we get back to the office. He’s too good a copper to miss something that significant in an investigation. It’s more than odd, Lydia. This case is taking strange turns, so we need to keep our wits about us. I wonder whether anyone is working at the funeral home. It’s tranquil. Perhaps they just store corpses here, then collect them on the way to the church or crematorium.”
“Don’t joke, guv,” said Lydia. “That’s creepy. No, they have their offices here too.”
“Right, let’s find out when they moved in. In seven years, there might have been more than one change of use.”
Gus and Lydia followed the footpath to the side of the building and found a glass-partitioned door giving full details of the company. Lydia rang the bell. A tall, thin, bespectacled man in a dark suit opened the door. Gus sensed he would launch into his usual sombre greeting for grieving relatives and got in quick with his own spiel.
“Good afternoon,” said Gus. “We’re from Wiltshire Police. Can you provide us with information, please? You are?”
“Maurice Duffield, funeral director.”
“When did your firm take over these premises?” asked Lydia.
“We’ve been here for five years. It was a gym before we took over. We needed to make alterations and repairs, of course. The place had suffered during the time it was unoccupied.”
“Had the gym been trading for long?” asked Gus.
“Oh yes,” said Maurice Duffield. “This industrial estate has existed over fifty years and has had many corporate occupiers: BT, Wessex Water, and the Audi dealership for a start. The gym opened in the late eighties and was a thriving concern for over a decade, but the original owner retired. After that, several inexperienced people tried to revive the place without success. They kept a hardcore clientele that enjoyed lifting weights, but the modern trend was a more varied form of exercise. The owners didn’t have the capital to invest, so their equipment became worn out. The central heating and air-conditioning fell into disrepair. This building was in a sorry state when we moved here.”
“How long did it remain unoccupied?” asked Gus.
“Two years,” said Maurice Duffield, “and it was closed more than it was open during the previous eighteen months.”
“Thanks for the information, Mr Duffield,” said Gus. “We’ll let you get on with your day.”
“Would you like one of our brochures as you’re here?”
“Not today, thank you,” said Gus, making a sharp exit.
“Did that information on the gym help, guv?” asked Lydia when they reached the pavement again.
“It might explain why nobody took any notice of Marion’s car from this stretch of road. The place was on its last legs, and there were probably no sweaty clients coming and going.”
Gus set off towards the end of Stephenson Road, where it joined Churchfields Road. He was heading for the car. Lydia eased the Mini into the steady stream of afternoon traffic on the A36 twenty minutes later.
“Home, Lydia,” said Gus.
“I’m still enjoying that greasy burger, guv,” said Lydia.
“Mmm, that will repeat on me all afternoon. It wasn’t the best coffee I’ve ever tasted either. Jeff’s Diner will wait a long time before they get return business from me.”
“I was hungry,” said Lydia. “I couldn’t wait until we got back to the office, even for the Gaggia.”
“We must get everything we gathered into the Freeman Files,” said Gus. “Meanwhile, Luke needs to arrange meetings with Graham Street and Stephanie Reeves. I reckon they will be the best people to speak to after what we learned today.”
“Setting up a meeting with Arthur Jackson and Martyn Street might be awkward, guv. Do you think we’d get permission to interview them at their place of work?”
“You
