“We must pass it to the detective team at Polebarn Road in Trowbridge, Freeman,” said Kenneth. “They can prepare a case for the Crown Prosecution Service.”
“On to the next case then, sir,” said Gus.
“I’m sure you want something that allows you and the team to find a killer, Freeman,” said Kenneth. “This one was rather gruesome if I remember rightly. The victim was Marion Reeves, a forty-four-year-old wife and mother. She died on the eighteenth of March back in 2011. You didn’t work on the case, Freeman, but it occurred in Wilton, not five miles from your police station on Bourne Hill.”
“There was a station closer than that, sir,” said Gus. “The Wilton Road station closed back in 2014, and I believe there’s a proposal for the premises to get sold at public auction. Village stations can play a vital role in helping to keep rural communities safe. Or at least to feel safe. Of course, I’m a voice in the wilderness. Marion Reeves worked in Salisbury, didn’t she?”
“Yes, Marion Reeves was a manager at a printing firm. Her husband, Theo, was a fifty-eight-year-old graphic designer with an office in Wilton. The couple had married in 1991 and moved into a family home in Wilton. Marion’s son from her first marriage, Martyn Street, was three years old, and he lived with Theo and Marion. In 1993, Marion gave birth to a daughter, Stephanie. Both Theo and Marion had good jobs, and the couple thrived financially. In 2010, extensive renovations began on the Wilton property that would cost around eighty thousand pounds. On the fifteenth of March 2011, Marion Reeves withdrew six thousand pounds in cash from her bank. The police believed this money was for the completion of another phase of the building process.”
“Why do some business people insist on cash?” asked Geoff Mercer.
“Not everyone is as tech-savvy as you, Geoff,” said Gus. “I once tried negotiating the minefield they used to call the Bankers Automated Clearing Services to make a payment transfer. It was fraught with danger. One slip, and I could have sent my forty pounds to the wrong account altogether. When you hand cash to the guy who did the work for you and get a signed receipt in return, there’s no problem. He won’t come knocking at the door saying you haven’t paid him, will he? Imagine the headaches if you wanted to pay a building firm five or six grand every week for three or four months. I’d feel happier paying them that way, the same as Marion Reeves, and let the builder worry about the taxman.”
“Time marches on, Freeman,” said the Chief Constable. “Vera and Kassie will be here with lunch before we know it. Let’s get on. Right, Marion Reeves withdrew the cash on the fifteenth. Three days later, on the eighteenth, Theo Reeves left for work at eight-fifteen in the morning. That was normal behaviour. As for Marion, Theo had no concerns; she was bright and cheerful that morning. The builders arrived just as Theo Reeves drove away from the house. It was customary for Marion to talk to them before they started work. She had made arrangements with her employers to start work thirty minutes later each day and only take thirty minutes for lunch. Theo said it was usually around eight forty-five when his wife left home.”
“What about the children?” asked Geoff. “Did they witness any discord between the couple? Or see Marion arguing with the builders, perhaps?”
“The couple’s daughter, Stephanie, was eighteen,” said Kenneth. “She was a matter of weeks away from sitting her A-levels at South Wilts Grammar School on Bemerton Heath. The Reeves’s home was on Oakley Road in Wilton. Stephanie cycled the three and a half miles to school every weekday, a journey that took her between fifteen and twenty minutes. Stephanie left home at twenty-five minutes past eight. She told the police her parents were fine when she got downstairs that morning. They rarely argued. After her father left for work, her mother chatted to the builders while Stephanie ate her breakfast.”
“Did the older lad still live with his mother and step-father?” asked Gus.
“He did,” said Kenneth. “Martyn Street, twenty-three, had already left for work at eight o’clock. Martyn worked with a Grounds Maintenance team at Wilton House for the Earl and Countess of Pembroke.”
“An early start,” said Gus.
“The family home is one and a half miles from Wilton House,” said Kenneth. “Martyn couldn’t afford a car, so he walked to work. Thirty minutes each way. He spent most of his working day on his feet when the estate was open to the public. The Pembroke family has been there for over four hundred years. They had one hundred and forty employees back in 2011. Martyn had plenty of witnesses to say he arrived at work at eight-thirty that morning, and in normal circumstances, wouldn’t leave until five in the afternoon.”
“The Grade I buildings attract film crews,” said Geoff Mercer. “Not that it applies to the case. They shot scenes for ‘Tomb Raider’ there last year. I think the film came out in March.”
“It doesn’t sound something I would watch, Geoff,” said Gus.
“They based it on a video game,” said Geoff. “Lara Croft. Have you ever heard of her?”
“No, the last actress I remember seeing at the cinema was Meryl Streep. Tess was keen on watching whatever she starred in. I fell asleep twenty minutes into the film.”
“Lara Croft isn’t an actress, Freeman. She’s a character from the video game,” said Kenneth. “Don’t look at me like that, Mercer. My children played video games. I’ll never claim to be down with the kids, but I’m not ignorant. I think now would be a good time to take a break.”
Kenneth made the call, and
