Buried Secrets: The Freeman Files Series: Book 11 by Ted Tayler (that summer book TXT) 📕

“Maddy would never have married Alan,” said Elizabeth.

“Why did you say that?” asked Bob. “She was always good to us.”

“Maddy told you what you wanted to hear; she was crafty that one. Alan couldn’t see that she was hiding something.”

Gus and Blessing shared a glance.

“Even you know what it was,” said Elizabeth. “I saw you. She never shared that secret with Alan, but I knew there was something.”

“Did Alan receive any money when he left the Navy, Mr Duncan?” asked Gus.

“They get a resettlement allowance,” said Bob. “It was ten grand, or thereabouts, why?”

“We’ve already established that Alan settled for a job that paid far less than he could expect to earn with his qualifications. Your wife suggested Maddy had something to hide. As you said, she’s pretty and bright, and more than capable of finding a well-paid job in the area. Yet she wasted her talents at a call centre, making calls to people who didn’t want whatever it was she was selling. We heard a reason for that this morning. I’m still waiting to learn why Alan lost himself in a mediocre job. It appears they both had buried secrets. What do you have to say to that?”

“I told you Alan’s explanation never satisfied me, Mr Freeman,” said Bob. “We talked about it for hours, Elizabeth and me. It made no sense.”

“Did any of his former shipmates attend Alan’s funeral?” asked Gus.

“I wanted to contact his friends. The ones in the photos we have that Alan sent, but I couldn’t find their details. Alan wrote names on the backs, like Andy, Smudger, Taff. We thought Maddy had their details at the house in Biddestone. I rang her and asked her to search for his address book. He must have had one, but Maddy couldn’t find it, so there wasn’t a huge turnout. The boss sent a few representatives from the firm to the service at the crematorium. Wayne was there with his wife and several girls that worked alongside Maddy at Bumper’s Farm. Other than that, half a dozen of their neighbours from the village attended the service.”

“Were you working the day Alan quit his job?” asked Gus.

“It was a small factory, Mr Freeman. They’ve expanded into another unit since I retired, but I never heard a thing. A rumour passed from one end of the factory to another in minutes if there was a hint of redundancies. Alan worked in the offices, and I was in the Quality Control section on the shop floor. It was common for a week to pass without us bumping into one another. Alan must have asked his boss to keep it quiet. That’s the only explanation.”

“Alan never asked to borrow money?”

“We offered when Alan first came home, but he said he’d manage on the resettlement money. Then we offered again when they moved out to Biddestone. I thought they could use the extra money for white goods, a new TV, or ready cash. Maddy assured us they were fine. When the police told me about the cash they discovered in that shoebox, I could see what they meant. We’ve never had eight hundred pounds lying around, let alone eight grand.”

“The sum wasn’t the important element though, was it,” said Gus. “Why did Alan empty his bank accounts in the first place? Who, or what, was the money for, and why was it hidden in the house?”

“If Alan owed money to someone he would have paid it,” said Bob. “That’s the way we raised him.”

“When you returned to work on the Monday following the murder,” said Blessing Umeh. “That was when you learned Alan had quit, wasn’t it?”

“That was when it came out. As soon as I heard Alan had quit work, I called Maddy. She phoned the police because Wayne had seen Alan outside the bank on Tuesday afternoon. That started the ball rolling. Within twenty-four hours, I knew Alan had closed his accounts, withdrawn the cash and hidden it at home.”

“Maddy didn’t know that Alan had quit his job either, did she?” asked Blessing.

“Not a clue,” said Bob Duncan.

“What did you do the day you retired, Mr Duncan?”

“Had a few beers with the lads.”

“Were there any personal items you had in drawers or filing cabinets that you wanted to rescue?”

“The tools that I’d bought myself to help me in my job. A few odds-and-ends, like a mug for my tea, and a diary. Nothing that wouldn’t fit in the bag in which I carried my lunchbox and thermos. The rest wasn’t worth keeping and went in the bin.”

“I imagine Alan collected bits-and-bobs that he wouldn’t want to throw away,” said Blessing. “I wonder what happened to them?”

“In a box under the stairs,” said Elizabeth.

“When did that arrive?” asked Bob. “You never mentioned it.”

“Maddy had another shoebox containing items Alan’s boss brought to her from work. She dropped the box off the day before the funeral. You were at work. I chucked it in the cupboard under the stairs and forgot about it.”

Bob went into the hallway and returned with the box.

“Do you want to open this, Mr Freeman?”

Blessing stood and walked across the room. She was already donning a pair of blue nitrile gloves.

“Better to have them and not need them, guv,” she said.

Blessing removed the lid.

“A pocket diary, guv,” she said, “pens, pencils, and a coffee mug, inscribed with, ‘I might look like I’m listening to you, but in my head, I’m riding my bike.’

“Is that it?” asked Gus.

“Other than a handful of coins in the mug, nothing.”

“No photographs?” asked Bob Duncan.

“Why do you ask?” asked Gus.

“I’m positive we had a photo of Alan and his mates at Happy Valley Racecourse in Hong Kong,” said Bob. “It stood on the dresser for several years. When Alan moved out, he