“That’s all that any of us can hope for,” sighed Blessing.
Gus swung the Ford Focus into the one remaining parking space in front of the main building. He looked towards the ACC’s window and corrected himself. Of course, Kenneth Truelove now had a change of scenery. Sandra Plunkett’s former abode on the first floor had stood empty since her demise. Until the Chief Constable appointment became official, Kenneth had resisted the temptation to move in.
Change is continuous, thought Gus, but not always easy to accept.
Somehow, Gus didn’t think he’d ever get used to not seeing Kenneth staring at him from above. There would now be an empty office on the right-hand side of the administration floor. It would make sense for Geoff Mercer to transfer from the dark recesses of the corridor at the back of the building. Geoff would be more likely to wave than frown when Gus arrived to sully the visitor’s car park with his old banger.
Gus collected his file folder from the passenger seat and trotted up the steps to the front door. He spotted a familiar face as soon as he stepped inside the foyer.
“Divya, good to see you again.”
“Blessing told me you needed these for your meeting, Gus. We found nothing untoward on the images Carl Wallace posted online. They came from within the Bristol area, with the majority focussing on Filton. The regularity of posts and photos across his social media accounts doesn’t suggest he spent a long period anywhere other than Bristol or Bath.”
“Thanks, Divya. That was what I expected to hear. Taken in isolation, it seems a waste of effort, but it serves to support everything Carl Wallace told us in an interview. Not everything the Hub handles is a game-changer, but your contribution has added value to the work we mere foot-soldiers had to carry out on this case.”
“We’re a facility that’s ready for you to use whenever the need arises, Gus,” said Divya.
“Don’t worry,” said Gus. “The Chief Constable will make sure I don’t forget that fact. The Hub is his baby. At first, I thought he needed justification for the expensive set-up costs, but there have been odd occasions when your people have provided us with the golden key to solve a mystery. I’d better let you get back to your computers.”
Divya smiled and made her way out of the main building towards the Hub.
Gus took the stairs two at a time up to the first floor, just because he could.
Nobody saw him, which was a minor disappointment.
He couldn’t spot Vera Butler or Kassie Trotter. Geoff Mercer was standing by the ACC’s office door.
“Are you making plans, Geoff?” he asked.
“Kenneth had his belongings transferred over the weekend,” said Geoff. “He thought you might need a guide to help you find his office.”
“I can’t recall ever getting an invitation to visit either of the incumbents since my return to the fray,” said Gus. “There have been so many; it’s hard to distinguish one from another. Was the furniture upgraded on each occasion?”
“I took a peek first thing this morning,” said Geoff. “I reckon they got rid of the fixtures and fittings Sandra Plunkett favoured and reinstated the stuff Leonard Pemberton-Smythe’s mate used before he had to resign.”
“Every expense spared then,” said Gus. “Now I understand how they can afford the executive lunches. Shouldn’t we be heading over to the dark side? It’s almost noon.”
“Kenneth was giving an interview to the press at eleven forty-five,” said Geoff. “That should be over in a few minutes. Then he wants us out of his hair by two o’clock as he’s got a financial management meeting with the Police and Crime Commissioner.”
“What was the meeting with the press about?” asked Gus as they arrived outside the Chief Constable’s door.
“A member of the public discovered firearms on a Swindon industrial estate,” said Geoff. “The local rag thought the area was out of control and accused the police of treating the estate as a no-go area.”
“No truth in it, surely?”
“That’s what our new Chief Constable told them. We shall not rest. No stone unturned. You know Kenneth’s style. He can be persuasive.”
“Yes, he has a way with words,” said Gus.
A red-faced Kenneth Truelove appeared at the top of the stairs.
“There’s a glow surrounding his persona, isn’t there?” said Gus.
“It’s the shiny new insignia on his uniform. That’s a brand-new white shirt too,” said Geoff.
Kenneth had now joined the pair outside his office door.
“Did the meeting go badly, sir,” asked Geoff.
“It went, Mercer,” grunted the Chief Constable, opening the door and walking inside.
“I told you he had a way with words,” said Gus, quietly, as he and Geoff followed their leader into the light, well-appointed office.
“To business, gentlemen,” said Kenneth. “Give me the bottom line on the Hogan case, Freeman.”
Gus placed the file folder on the desktop as neatly as possible. The desk was always cluttered in the ACC’s old office and enjoyed the lived-in look, but the new oversized desk was all straight lines and dust-free.
“Carl Wallace maintains Gerry Hogan turned the gun on himself when he suspected that Rachel Cummins was his daughter.”
“Good heavens,” said Kenneth. “What did you make of that, Mercer?”
“I agree with Gus’s assessment, sir. I don’t think it was murder.”
“John Kirkpatrick won’t come out of this smelling of roses,” said Kenneth. “How did he miss that possibility six years ago?”
“If it walks like a duck, sir,” said Gus.
“I suppose so. A prominent business owner shot in the head on his doorstep. My first thought would be who wanted him dead. It wouldn’t be, hang on, is there any chance it was suicide?”
“Nothing in the interviews with family and friends pointed us in that direction, sir,”
