“When did you learn your father was dead?” asked Alex.
“I was in the Greyhound last night,” said Ralph. “People were talking.”
“A massive heart attack,” said Gus.
“My father was in his seventies,” shrugged Ralph. “He never acknowledged I was alive. Don’t expect me to care he’s dead. The man brought it on himself from what I heard in the pub. Chloe Zafferelli was her name, the woman he was in bed with at the time. I hadn’t heard the name before. Bill, the landlord, told me that was because she was a high-end call girl who charged at least two grand a night for her services. How Bill knew, I didn’t ask. He reckoned there was nothing normal about the services she provided. It takes all sorts, doesn’t it?”
Gus and Alex had to agree that it did. Neither of them could think of a good reason for speaking to Ms Zafferelli that could be argued was part of the case they were investigating. It was time to move on.
“Something else I can help you with?” asked Ralph Tucker.
“Did you ever ask your mother how she came to know Graham Street in the first place?” asked Gus.
“My mother was just sixteen when she met him in town,” said Ralph. “Street was twenty-one. He wasn’t the wealthy man he became in later years. I like to believe they had genuine feelings for one another. But he did the rounds, didn’t he? The only woman he married, though, was Marion. Martyn was the only child that carried the Street name, and because the lad wasn’t perfect, Graham Street cast him adrift just as he had me, and heaven knows how many others. My Mum is sixty-six now and not in the best of health. I think it’s best to draw a veil over the entire episode as if it never happened.”
Gus and Alex sat at the table and watched Ralph Tucker walk to the café door.
“Do we drive back to the office now, guv?” asked Alex.
“Call Bourne Hill, first. Let’s see if they’ve caught Derek Preston.”
Alex made the call while Gus visited the toilet. When he returned, he saw Alex giving him the thumbs-up.
“Police caught Derek Preston queuing for the Isle of Wight ferry in Portsmouth, guv.”
“That’s a relief,” said Gus. “I admit, I was concerned he might do something stupid. Why the Isle of Wight, I wonder? There aren’t any extradition problems I don’t know about, are there?”
“Hardly, guv,” said Alex. “He just wasn’t thinking straight. We can interview him in the morning at Bourne Hill.”
“Right, you can head back to the office and get your files updated. Keep the rest of the team in the loop. I need to find a quiet spot to plan my questions for Preston. Oh, Alex, ask Luke to tell Warren Baker to be in his office at lunchtime tomorrow. We’ll talk to Preston first, and then I want to revisit the Churchfields Industrial Estate.”
“Are you not following me back, guv?” asked Alex.
“No, I’m driving to Urchfont. Sherlock Holmes used to describe a tricky case as a three-pipe problem. My allotment stands next to a church with an organ that boasts many more pipes than that. Yet, I still don’t think it’s enough.”
Alex left Gus standing by his Ford Focus, staring into the distance. He made his way out of the Garden Centre car park and took the A360 back to the Old Police Station office. It appeared Gus was formulating those questions already.
Thursday, 23rd August 2018
Gus rolled out of bed at half-past seven. Suzie stirred but resisted the temptation to join him. They had spent two hours yesterday evening on the allotment before a meal at home and an early night. Conversation was at a minimum. Suzie allowed Gus to do the pondering he needed. She sensed he was ready to feel the collar of another killer. Whether he shared his thoughts with her before he left for Salisbury was a mystery.
Gus had showered and dressed when Suzie finally shook herself free from the tangled sheet that covered her. As she padded softly to the bathroom, Gus called out:
“Coffee and cereal?”
“Fine,” she replied.
Gus was sitting at the table, toying with a piece of sausage, trying to soak up the remains of the yolk from his fried egg. The concentration on his face caused Suzie to burst out laughing.
“Are you still struggling with getting your ducks in a row, darling?” she asked.
“When we left the allotment last night, I thought I had it,” said Gus. “Then in the night, I started having doubts and lay there for ages going through my thought processes. The result was different every time. I’m missing a vital piece of my jigsaw, Suzie. I think I know where to find it, but part of me hopes I’m wrong.”
“You can’t have the answer you want, Gus,” said Suzie. “You must accept the answer the facts prove. You know that better than anyone.”
Gus swallowed the final tasty morsel, drained his coffee cup, and sighed.
“It will be strange visiting Bourne Hill nick today,” he said. “I spent many happy years there, but so many faces have disappeared.”
“Derek Preston is first on your agenda, isn’t he?” asked Suzie. “Are you certain he’s not your killer?”
“I asked myself whether Stuart Milligan had a reason to lie about the time Derek Preston got back to Oakley Road. They were friends from school and have worked together for twenty years. Of course, he may have lied to protect his friend and their business, but my hunch is quick cash was the only thing on Preston’s mind that morning.”
“What if Marion Reeves wasn’t the only partygoer his mother, Kathy, kept photos of from her time in the group?” said Suzie.
“That
