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That’s why I’m sticking to cider.”

“You’d better pray you don’t develop a fructose intolerance, Bert,” said Gus.

“Is the Reverend with Irene this evening?” asked Suzie.

“Brett collected her from the rectory after he dropped me here,” said Bert, “I’m expecting to see them after they’ve got Irene settled.”

“Did you go to see her last night?” asked Suzie.

Bert gave Suzie an old-fashioned look.

“Brett and the Reverend didn’t give me much choice,” said Bert. “They whisked me out of my house and into the car before I had time to catch my breath.”

“I’m glad you went, Bert,” said Suzie. “Irene would have been disappointed if you hadn’t made an effort. You two have grown close over these past months.”

“We’re not as close as you two, Miss Ferris,” said Bert. “Don’t rush out to buy a hat. Mrs North and I are good companions. That’s as far as we want things to go.”

“Are you ready for another pint, Bert?” asked Gus. “I’m in the chair. We’ve stood here for several minutes without troubling the landlord.”

“I don’t like to go thirsty, Mr Freeman,” said Bert. “What will you be drinking tonight, Miss Ferris, another one of those fancy soft drinks you’ve taken a liking to?”

“You don’t miss much, Bert Penman,” said Suzie. “They’re a refreshing drink in the summer.”

“Whatever you say, Miss,” said Bert, giving Suzie a wink.

Gus handed Bert a fresh pint, and he and Suzie wandered outside to watch the sun disappear over the distant hills.

“I’m sure Bert knows,” said Suzie.

“I haven’t breathed a word,” said Gus. “Who could have let it slip?”

“Nobody,” said Suzie. “Do I look different to you?”

“Not at all,” said Gus. “You’re blooming.”

“That doesn’t help, Gus Freeman,” said Suzie.

“I think we’ll call it a night after this one,” said Gus. “It’s been a long day, and I’ve got another gruelling day ahead tomorrow. We’ll catch up with the gang at the weekend.”

“Okay, we’ll ask Bert to say hello to Brett and the Reverend and tell him we’ve got a bottle of eighteen-year-old Macallan’s at home that’s calling our name.”

“I like the sound of that,” said Gus.

“The sound is all you’re going to get, Gus,” said Suzie. “I’ve hidden it away to bring out for an appropriate celebration.”

“It’s VJ-Day today,” said Gus. “I read it somewhere. Does that qualify as appropriate?”

“I meant an appropriate personal celebration,” said Suzie. “Our special occasion.”

Seven months and counting, thought Gus.

Neil Davis parked in the railway station car park yet again. He’d only visited the town on a couple of occasions in his life before this week, and tonight was his third trip since Tuesday. He soon found the club on Market Street. The place looked quiet. No big surprise. The professionals might play throughout the year, but Neil knew local leagues were most active between September and April. Neither of the two tables was in use at a few minutes after eight. Two men stood at the bar, chatting to the barman. All three looked to be in their fifties or sixties. Sean Hogan wasn’t in tonight. Neil knew he could stay for a while and hope to learn something useful.

 

Thursday, 16th August 2018

Gus and Suzie left the house at eight-thirty on the dot.

“Your turn to cook tonight,” she said after she kissed him and walked to the Golf.

“A quiet night in with our feet up,” said Gus. “To prepare for a late night on Friday night.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” said Suzie. “Good luck today.”

“We’ll need it,” said Gus, getting behind the wheel of his Focus.

Suzie led the way into Devizes, and Gus remembered that Blessing was also heading to London Road this morning. She was delivering the information Neil had gathered from Nick Barrett, plus the financial statements that Alex had started to untangle. Gus wanted to visit the Hub to get things moving, but he knew Neil needed to report back on what he learned last night before their appointment with Belinda Hogan.

He and Suzie exchanged their usual waves, and Gus drove past London Road, past the brewery and out of Devizes, heading for the Old Police Station office.

When he arrived, he saw three spaces lying empty. He parked and went upstairs in the lift.

“Morning, guv,” said Lydia.

“Ah, you and Alex came in together this morning,” said Gus.

“There’s no fooling you, guv,” said Neil.

“Can you justify this claim for expenses that I can see on my desk, DS Davis?”

“I only had a pint and a half of bitter, guv. An hour on the snooker table, and petrol for fifteen miles there and back. Oh, and I grabbed a bag of chips on the way to the car.”

“Was it worth going?” asked Gus.

“Neither Neil Barrett nor Sean Hogan came into the club last night, guv. The steward explained I could fill in a form and get a provisional membership, which was valid for two months. I mentioned Nick Barrett’s name when he asked if I knew a club member. That didn’t automatically get me a permanent membership, and it didn’t exclude me either. Make of that what you will. My application has to go before the committee for final approval.”

“Never mind, Neil,” said Gus. “You were unlikely to go back there.”

“You could be right, guv,” said Neil. “Anyway, as soon as I’d filled out the form, I could use all the facilities. So I played snooker with one of the old guys that had been at the bar. His mate had gone home.”

“Not rushed off their feet in there, then?”

“Middle of August, guv,” said Neil. “The steward said it picks up after the Bank Holiday weekend.”

“Any breaks?” asked Alex.

“Twenty-two in the second frame,” said Neil.

“In the case, I meant, Neil,” said Alex.

“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” said Neil.

“Well?”

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