“It will take getting used to seeing you three in the West Wing,” said Kassie, wheeling her trolley across the plush carpet.
Gus could always rely on Kassie to surprise him with a fresh look when he visited London Road. Since their heart-to-heart over Rhys Evans and her news of a single sighting of Rick Chalmers getting up-close-and-personal with Vera, he had seen little of his young friend.
There was no missing Kassie’s hairstyle. If that wasn’t too grand a name. Kassie’s head was shaved on the left-hand side, while the dark tresses that cascaded over her right shoulder had streaks of red and electric blue.
As Gus wondered whether to risk glancing below Kassie’s shoulders, Vera whispered in his left ear.
“One bacon bap, Gus, and a black coffee, no sugar.”
“Thank you, Vera,” said Gus. “How’s Kassie coping with the changes to her routine?”
“We distribute the healthy food options Geraldine Packenham insists on during these shortened lunch breaks. Then, when her back’s turned, mid-morning and mid-afternoon, we still conduct a busy trade on the sticky buns and cakes.”
“You enjoy being part of a group, don’t you, Vera?” said Gus. “When we met, you were one of the FEW, and now you’re a member of the DRM. The Devizes Resistance Movement.”
Vera didn’t comment. There seemed to be trouble on the other side of the room.
“Come on, Mercer,” said Kenneth Truelove. “We haven’t got all day. What’s up now?”
“I ordered a sausage bap and a tortilla wrap, sir,” said Geoff. “My bap’s gone missing.”
Gus tried not to smile. He mouthed a thankyou at Vera as she left the room with her trolley.
“What do you reckon to my tattoo, Mr Freeman?” asked Kassie.
She bent forward to give Gus a better view of the recent addition between her left shoulder and elbow pit. Kassie’s bluebirds and love hearts quivered.
“It looks fiery, Kassie,” said Gus.
“Well, it is a dragon, Mr Freeman.”
“No, I mean, you should keep an eye on it. I hope it hasn’t got infected.”
“I’ve got my antibacterial ointment, Mr Freeman,” said Kassie. “I’ve got to apply it myself, of course. I’m still looking for the man of my dreams.”
“When we finish here, Kassie, can I come and see you?” asked Gus. “The boss won’t let me stay for afternoon tea. He’s far too busy. Perhaps, I can sneak away with one of your illicit cakes later?”
“You need to be careful, Mr Freeman. The enemy has eyes everywhere. I’ll get one of my cream slices to you before you leave, don’t fret.”
After Kassie closed the door behind her, Kenneth Truelove looked ready to carry on with the outline of the case.
“My compliments to the chef, sir,” said Gus. “I had my doubts when I heard from Vera that Ms Pakenham had engaged new caterers, but I was pleasantly surprised.”
“So was I,” said Geoff. “And I think I know who to blame for my short measures.”
“Where was I,” asked Kenneth. “Ah yes, we’d dealt with the whereabouts of the younger members of the family. The firm Theo Reeves employed for the renovations was MP Builders Limited. Stuart Milligan and Derek Preston had worked together for two decades. Both were in their late thirties, married with children. Milligan told the police Mrs Reeves was later leaving that morning. Marion Reeves said cheerio and drove away at five minutes after nine.”
“Did Marion Reeves pay the builders the money she withdrew from the bank the previous Friday?” asked Gus.
“Milligan and Preston claimed Mrs Reeves didn’t mention money,” said Kenneth.
“That’s odd,” said Geoff. “I would have thought if the money were for the builders, she would have handed it over on Friday evening, not first thing Monday morning.”
“It’s something we can follow up, Geoff,” said Gus. “If Milligan and Preston were a well- established firm, they could have got a wife to bank their cheques and cash. To save breaking off work during the day to make a special trip into Salisbury.”
“Are MP Builders still trading, sir,” asked Geoff.
“I believe so,” said Kenneth. “Anyway, at five past nine, Marion left her builders alone at the property to start work. She set off to drive to Salisbury in her white Lexus RX350.”
“Very nice,” said Geoff. “Christine keeps looking at one of those.”
“At nine-thirty,” said Kenneth, “witnesses reported a car of the same colour and make on Wilton Road near Quidhampton.”
“That’s the A36,” said Gus, “It only takes ten minutes to drive from that part of Wilton into Salisbury. Where did she stop for twenty minutes? Unless there were an accident or major roadworks, she should have passed Quidhampton three or four minutes from home.”
“At a quarter to twelve,” said Kenneth, “police received a call from an employee at the Churchfields Industrial Estate, Bemerton. He’d discovered a woman’s body in the driver’s seat of a white Lexus. Someone had stabbed Marion Reeves in the chest and stomach. The police surgeon suggested the wounds came from a narrow, four-inch blade. He estimated the time of death at ten o’clock.”
“At ten in the morning, an Industrial Estate like that would be busy,” said Gus. “Surely, somebody saw something?”
“Nobody witnessed the Lexus arrive,” said Kenneth. “Marion Reeves parked on a side-street between a light-engineering firm and a gym. Nobody saw anyone near the car, inside the car with the victim, or the murder itself. So, who killed Marion Reeves, and why?”
“Who ran the investigation?” asked Gus.
“Billie Wightman was the DI in charge,” said Kenneth.
“Ably supported by DS Matt Price,” said Gus. “I knew Matt. He was a good lad. As for Ms Wightman, let’s say we never saw eye to eye.”
“I hope that won’t be an issue, Freeman,” said Kenneth. “Wightman checked Marion’s diaries for details of anything to explain why she didn’t travel
