Night Train Read online

  “Don’t worry,” said Gus, “I know better than to visit London Road and not reach out to you two.”

  “You were much later today,” said Kassie. “Most Monday mornings, you time your arrival to get offered a coffee and a bun.”

  “I took a coffee break mid-morning in the office,” said Gus. “I spent it with Lydia Logan Barre. She’s finally located her birth father and is planning a trip to the Netherlands to meet him for the first time next weekend.”

  “That sounds exciting news,” said Vera. “I suppose she and Alex will go together?”

  “Without a doubt,” said Gus. “Those two are inseparable these days.”

  “Like someone else that we know,” said Kassie.

  “Ah, the village telegraph is still in fine working order,” laughed Gus.

  “It was the frequent trips between Worton and Urchfont that did it,” said Vera. “I was in town on Saturday afternoon, and a friend said she saw you and Suzie, in convoy, with both vehicles carrying loads of items on the back seats.”

  “Your friend couldn’t see the stuff in the boot,” said Gus. “Not that either of us can get much in there. Anyway, we’ve done it now. What did you two get up to this weekend? Anything exciting?”

  “Unlike Lydia, I already knew where my birth mother and father were,” said Kassie. “Not that we’ve had much to do with one another since I left home. Last weekend wasn’t much different from any other, Mr Freeman. I came into Devizes on Saturday to do my weekly shop and baked on Sunday. It’s getting boring.”

  “I can see you didn’t just do your weekly shop, Kassie,” said Gus. “You visited the hair salon to adjust the colour of your flash, or whatever you call it, from royal blue to emerald green. Your nails now display ten original designs, compared with two lots of five I noted on my last visit.”

  “Don’t miss much, do you?” said Kassie.

  “I’m a detective, Kassie,” said Gus with a grin. “I can’t see any additions to the tattoos though.”

  “I live in hope,” said Kassie, “one day, my prince will come. My love birds are getting fed up waiting.”

  Gus glanced at Vera and raised an eyebrow.

  “What did I get up to?” she said. “Oh, nothing that exciting. The friend I mentioned was someone you saw in the Bear that night, months ago. We went out for a meal and a few drinks on Saturday night. We hadn’t done that for a while.”

  “Carol was one of the original FEW, Mr Freeman,” explained Kassie. “Then she met someone, but it didn’t work out.”

  The Frustrated Ex-Wives Club, yes, Gus remembered.

  “When does Rhys Evans move into that property of Monty’s, Vera?” asked Gus.

  “Rhys starts work as our new Police Surgeon three weeks today. I believe he’s collecting the keys from Monty ten days before that.”

  “I’ll be free that weekend,” said Kassie. “If he needs a hand.”

  “Rhys won’t be short of offers of help by the sound of things,” said Gus. “I’d better make tracks to the Hub. Good afternoon, ladies. It’s been good to catch up.”

  “Don’t be a stranger,” said Vera.

  “Do you want to pop back in an hour?” asked Kassie. “Mr Mercer’s office will be vacant. I can offer you a coffee and a generous slice of my Victoria sponge.”

  “You’re a temptress, Kassie Trotter, and no mistake,” said Gus. “Have you invested in a book containing Welsh delicacies yet?”

  Kassie blushed a deep red.

  “You’ve caught her out, Gus,” laughed Vera.

  “I promise I’ll get back later, Kassie,” said Gus. “Suzie’s finishing her stint in Swindon this week. I might not get an evening meal until late tonight, and I’ll need something to stop my bones poking through.”

  With that, Gus trotted downstairs to chat with the Sergeant in Reception. As soon as he had the pass, Gus exited the main building and made his way across the yard to the Hub. The swipe card allowed him to negotiate the security doors on this occasion safely. It was during his first case that Geoff Mercer had brought him here for a quick tour. Gus studied the pictures on the corridor walls again.

  Because of the rapid succession of Chief Constables and the change of circumstances for a previous Member of Parliament, the images had reverted to pastoral scenes from the Wiltshire countryside. They were far less likely to end up in prison or worse.

  Gus found Alex Hardy and Rick Chalmers’s work station and pulled up a chair.

  “Good to see you again, Rick,” said Gus, shaking the detective’s hand.

  “It’s quieter than the last time we worked together,” said Rick.

  “I imagine it’s better than the undercover role you had to play on Chesil Beach and other beauty spots too?”

  “I lost count of the number of types of vessel these immigrants will use to cross the Channel, guv,” said Rick. “They pay good money to get on a decent sea-going craft, but some will risk the journey in an inflatable raft designed for children. It’s crazy, and the numbers keep growing.”

  “People I speak to can’t understand the attraction.” said Gus, “Anywhere would be better than the war-torn regions they’re fleeing, but if you cross half a dozen countries to reach France, why bust a gut to go a further thirty miles? The weather’s worse over here, and the streets aren’t paved with gold.”

  “Do you know what I noticed, guv?” asked Rick. “English was more likely to be their second language, not French, German, or Italian. Of course, as soon as you catch them, they’ve forgotten every word. It never ends, guv.”

  “Well, now you’re back at London Road, Rick, we’re happy to use a man with your experience. Now, who’s going to update me on the progress Geoff Mercer told me you two had made?”

  “I suggested to Alex that we change tack from what he tried last week,” said Rick. “If the red-headed sniper was part of a well-organised unit he will be tough to find by a direct route. They’ll be too good at covering their tracks. I thought we could follow up on people who benefited from their unidentified help. They might help us find a way in.”

  “Fair enough,” said Gus.

  “We’ve found Tanya Norris, guv,” said Alex Hardy. “The young girl Jack Sanders described.”

  “Was that through social media?” asked Gus.

  “Yes, by a convoluted route,” said Alex. “If you recall, Tanya was fifteen when she ran away from home in Oxford. She got dumped outside Swindon’s major hospital two years later after an illegal abortion attempt. The young female doctor who treated Tanya persuaded her to tell her how she came to be in such a state. Running away was the simple part, Tanya told her, finding a place to live, and a job was something else. Tanya was vulnerable, and after several weeks living on the streets, she was soon in the clutches of the Swindon grooming gang.”

  “The first thing the doctor did when she learned of the horrific life Tanya and the other girls had suffered was make a phone call to a national newspaper,” said Rick. “Now, that sounds innocent enough. Members of the public phone in to various sectors of the media every day of the week. What does the next step in Tanya’s life tell us?”

  “Someone intercepted that call,” said Alex. “Because a man and woman arrived within hours with enough accreditation to leave the hospital with Tanya. The youngster had gone when the doctor reported for her next shift. The story she got was that Tanya’s parents had arrived from Newbury. Her birth parents hadn’t moved to a new house in the past two years. So, who took her?”

  “When the doctor rang the reporter to tell them what had happened,” continued Rick, “he told her the newspaper had already received a call from a senior hospital manager telling him their source was unreliable. The doctor checked, but nobody from the hospital made any such call.”

  “So, someone was covering their tracks,” said Alex.

  “Nothing to see here, move along, please,” said Gus.

  “We searched online for a Tanya Norris who is now twenty-five or twenty-six years old,” said Rick.
“There were several potential matches, but we didn’t have a photo of Tanya to be sure we had the right person. Alex didn’t want to call her parents for an old photo at that point, in case it opened old wounds. Someone whipped Tanya away from the hospital before anyone could get Tanya’s consent to contact her family. They are probably in the dark about what’s happened to her since she left home a decade ago.”

  “I found an inactive account Tanya had with Facebook when she was fourteen,” said Alex. “The profile picture was of her with the family’s pet dog. The last posting was a few weeks before she ran away from home. I know Rick said we found her by a convoluted route, but to be fair, we were lucky. I searched for girls with the first name Tanya, who resembled the girl on that profile. If she had altered her first name too, we could have searched for months without luck.”

  “Is Tanya married, with children?” asked Gus. He remembered sitting outside Jack Sanders’s place wondering what had happened to Tanya and the other girls caught up in that despicable business. He had hoped for the best but expected the worst.

  “Tanya’s single,” said Rick, “we haven’t heard her full story yet. We’re interviewing her in Wantage tomorrow morning.”

  “We’re hoping she can tell us about the people who took her,” said Alex. “Who they work for, and where they’re based.”

  “What about the lead you uncovered last week, Alex?” asked Gus. “Might we get to Grant Burnside’s killer by speaking with people living in that apartment block in Marylebone?”

  “We’re hoping Tanya kept in touch with other girls, guv,” said Rick Chalmers. “The class of person who occupied those apartments will expect to speak to someone with a higher rank than a Detective Sergeant, and only with a solicitor present. Most of the occupants were at work in the City, or something similar. If there was anyone home, they were domestic staff, and turnover can be high in that line of work. They’ll be back in Portugal or the Philippines by now.”

  “Don’t give up on that angle yet,” warned Gus. “I want Burnside’s killer. We’ll explore every avenue.”

  “Got it, guv,” said Alex and Rick.

  “Call me when you return from Wantage tomorrow,” said Gus. “I ought to get back to the Old Police Station office soon. The team will champ at the bit for their next case. Although, they might change their tune once they see what little we have to work with.”

  “That’s never stopped us in the past, guv,” said Alex.

  “You’re right, Alex,” said Gus. “Something will turn up. We just have to ask the right questions.”

  Gus left Alex and Rick to continue the search for potential links to the people that used Grant Burnside’s assassin. He crossed the yard from the Hub building to return to his car. Once he’d locked the Kendall murder files inside the Focus, he dashed upstairs to the admin area. The team could wait another thirty minutes. Kassie’s cakes were too good to miss.

  It was a quarter to three when he stood in the lift travelling up to the Crime Review Team office. As soon as Gus exited the lift, he could see that his team had run out of useful tasks.

  “Are you carrying two files, guv?” asked Neil Davis.

  “We’ve got a case that started in South Wales as a missing person, but ended up as a murder in Westbury,” said Gus. “That’s why this landed on our desk. South Wales Police handled the initial inquiry, and Wiltshire took it forward once the victim’s body surfaced. The killers had thrown Ivan Kendall’s body into a fishing lake half a mile from the railway station where the murder occurred.”

  Gus took the team through the basics surrounding the case. He allocated tasks and watched as the pertinent crime scene photographs, local maps, and witness statements got pinned to the walls and whiteboards. By five o’clock, everything was ready for their review to start.

  “Two minutes,” said Gus, “and then we’ll go home and start afresh on this in the morning. First impressions, anyone?”

  “DC Trainer believed there were two men involved in the killing,” said Luke, “based on forensic evidence gathered in the toilets and the car park. Is that correct?”

  “I see no reason to query the forensic evidence, Luke,” said Gus, “but somebody could interpret your question two ways. Define what you mean by correct.”

  “Well, the victim did something his wife said was out of character. They had been married for twenty years, and Sally left him on three occasions. Something wasn’t right in the marriage, and it might not have been entirely their economic circumstances. Sally took a lover when she was in Cardiff. Was Ivan Kendall gay?”

  “There’s no suggestion of that in the material gathered by the two separate police forces,” said Gus.

  “Luke’s concerned about the murder site, guv,” said Neil. “We don’t understand why Kendall visited a Westbury station toilet late on that Saturday night. Maybe he agreed to meet someone.”

  “Neither reconstruction produced a witness who remembered seeing Kendall on the train, alone or with anyone else. Police interviewed passengers who travelled between Pontyclun and Cardiff, and several who travelled from Cardiff to Bristol Parkway and beyond. It’s not conclusive, but it’s easier to imagine Kendall arriving on the Westbury platform at a quarter to midnight alone.”

  “I agree, guv,” said Lydia. “If Ivan were gay, and used to finding casual partners throughout the marriage, he’d find them closer to home. Eighty miles on the train is a long way to travel on the off-chance that you get lucky.”

  “So, are we happy Ivan was alone when he got off the train?” asked Gus.

  “How many other passengers got off that train at that time of night?” asked Blessing Umeh. “I’d be in bed.”

  “An excellent question, Blessing,” said Gus. “I learned a lot about Westbury station when the ACC stepped through the case notes with me earlier. Even though it’s an important junction with services across the south of the country, only a few trains stop there that late at night. Nor would trains depart the station before the following morning. So, apart from the staff, Ivan Kendall was unlikely to have encountered many people. Either on the platform or in any other part of the station.”

  “Why pay a visit to the Gents toilet, though?” asked Neil, “a train travelling that distance from Cardiff Central would have had toilet facilities on board. Perhaps, Kendall approached someone in the Gents and picked on the wrong guy.”

  “How do we explain the second man that the forensics indicated?” asked Lydia. “Or did they make a mistake? Kendall was a stocky individual, not easily pushed around. It’s possible his killer worked alone but was a giant of a man.”

  “We have to locate Sally Kendall,” said Gus. “We need to confirm whether Ivan might have met another man, or not. That’s our first hurdle because nobody has seen Sally and Alexa since December 2014.”

  “There are too many imponderables,” said Blessing, shaking her head. “We need to come back to this with a clear head in the morning.”

  “I couldn’t have put it better, Blessing,” said Gus.

  Blessing and Lydia left the office and travelled in the lift together.

  “Who’s running Blessing back to the farm this evening?” asked Gus.

  “I am, guv,” said Neil. “I just wanted to clear the air with Luke first. It wasn’t judgemental, mate. I know gay men don’t all look for rough trade in public conveniences. I was exploring the possibility that Kendall had an ulterior motive for making the journey.”

  “That’s OK, Neil. I understand where you’re coming from,” said Luke. “I didn’t take offence. If Kendall knew someone was meeting him, he might expect one man to greet him on the platform and take him to the waiting car and its driver. There had to be a house they were returning to nearby. Kendall couldn’t carry out a business transaction and jump on the next train back to Cardiff. He realised he was staying in Westbury overnight when he left home.”

  “Why didn’t he take a bag with him then?” asked Neil.

  “He didn’t want to raise his wife�
��s suspicions, I suppose,” said Luke.

  “It’s a puzzle we can’t solve this evening lads,” said Gus. “Come on, let’s go in the lift together. Blessing will be eager to get home for her dinner.”

  Gus watched Luke and Neil’s cars leave the car park. How many more facets could this case have? A homophobic attack? He hadn’t even considered it. Neither had the detectives on the case in 2014. It was time to find another subject to fill his mind. Tomorrow was another day.

  As Gus drove through the gateway to the bungalow, there was no sign of Suzie. He had the place to himself. Gus sat in the lounge and stared at the four walls. It was almost four years since he and Tess had moved here and decorated the place throughout.

  To him, it felt comfortable; it was home. He liked the odd bump and scratch it had gained over the last four years and wouldn’t be in a rush to change it. Many of those bumps and scratches helped keep Tess’s memory alive.

  How did Suzie feel about the bungalow? Would she hint that the décor looked tired? What would she think if Gus dug in his heels and said it was fine as it was? He’d had quite enough upheaval in his life in the past few months, thank you very much. Gus closed his eyes and relaxed.

  Gus heard Suzie’s car pull up outside. He shook himself awake. How long had he been napping? He checked his watch. It was a quarter past seven. Suzie breezed into the hallway, chucked her car keys into the tray on the side table and dropped her bag on the floor.

  “What a day,” she exclaimed.

  Gus emerged from the lounge and hugged her.

  “I think we’ve both had a tough day,” he said, “what can I get us for dinner?”

  “We’ll prepare it together,” said Suzie. “You can unload your troubles on me, and I’ll do the same in return. Thank goodness, tomorrow will be the last day I must stick working with that idiot, Gareth Francis.”

  “Okay”, said Gus, “although, it sounds as if you’re going first.”

  An hour later they’d de-stressed and eaten. Sitting in the lounge with a coffee, Suzie leaned her head on Gus’s shoulder.

  “I was thinking,” she said.