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

the stables or the barn where we park our horseboxes, Land Rovers and quad bikes, but human vermin shouldn’t get within one hundred paces.”

“Did you see anyone after you set out from here that night?” asked Luke.

“Two dog-walkers from the village. Both of whom I’ve known for decades. They have permission to enter our fields. Other than that, I can’t recall anyone, except Mr Meakin. One tends to forget him. Meakin was forever running up and down the lanes.”

“What about Alan Duncan?” asked Gus. “He ran on every Wednesday evening during the four years he lived in the village. Surely, you must have noticed him?”

“I didn’t know the man,” said Bunny. “Four years in a village is but a blink of an eye. Someone told me later that Duncan had several routes he took for his weekly run. I might have seen him on Ham Lane once or twice, but I wouldn’t have recognised him.”

“What drew your attention to the body?” asked Gus.

“Let me correct you,” said Bunny. “I did not know it was a body. I don’t fall asleep in the saddle or stare at the tarmac; I keep my eyes peeled. To check the state of our fields as I ride, ensuring there are no open gates, broken fences, or unwanted litter. Townsfolk are prone to drive into our beautiful countryside to dump a piece of furniture or a freezer at any time of the day or night. As I passed Fifty Acre field, I spotted something that shouldn’t have been there. I grabbed my mobile phone from my jacket pocket and dialled 999. You must have that detail recorded somewhere.”

“We do,” said Gus. “The call came in at seven fifty-three. The desk sergeant sent two uniformed officers to the scene, and they arrived at around eight-fifteen.”

“Well, there you are then,” said Bunny Campbell-Drake. “Was there something else? I have a business to run.”

“Not so fast, Bunny,” said Gus. “You confirmed that you saw Greg Meakin that evening. Greg’s important because he passed Mr Duncan and can verify Alan was still alive at twenty to seven. If you rode through the lanes and tracks from this farmhouse to Challows Lane and saw Mr Meakin, then you too were on Challows Lane well before seven o’clock. We’ve visited Fifty Acre field, and By Brook. So we know you could trot on horseback from the duck pond in the village's centre to the very end of Ham Lane in twenty minutes. We believe that Alan Duncan died in that field, somewhen between seven and seven-thirty. If you are telling us the truth about the route you took, you either saw the murder or were the killer. What do you have to say to that?”

“You can’t possibly believe I killed that man,” said Bunny.

“What I believe is solely influenced by the facts, nothing else,” said Gus. “Until this evening, I didn’t have a suspect that I could place in the field where the murder took place at the right time. You told us earlier that you never saw a stranger in the weeks leading up to the murder. We’ve been searching for a car and its driver who were seen on many occasions by villagers. We have sightings at the duck pond, out at Giddeahall, and on Cuttle Lane.”

“I didn’t kill Mr Duncan,” said Bunny. “You must believe me.”

“Did you leave this farm at six on the evening on the twenty-eighth of May, ma’am,”

“Yes,”

“Did you ride through the fields and on the tracks you described until you reached Challows Lane?”

“Yes,”

“Did you see Greg Meakin, as he ran along Challows Lane towards The Green?”

“Yes,”

“Did you see Alan Duncan when you joined Challows Lane?”

“I didn’t know who it was, but, yes, there was a person one hundred yards ahead of me.”

“What were they wearing?”

“A dark singlet and shorts, navy blue, and orange trainers.

“What did you do next?”

“I stopped to let my horse rest for a while.”

“Could you see the road junction from where you stopped?”

“To The Butts, d’you mean? Yes, I could.”

“Did any cars pass you, or did you see anyone take the alternative road.”

“I heard a car when I first stopped riding and dismounted. The driver must have taken a wrong turn, stopped, reversed, and then followed The Butts road.”

“This was at around a quarter to seven, am I right?”

“About that, yes,”

“Did you see the make or model?”

“A Vauxhall, perhaps, but I couldn’t be certain.”

“When did you remount and ride on?”

“At ten to seven,”

“What did you see when you reached Fifty Acre field?” asked Gus. “The truth, please.”

“Two men in the gateway, arguing. One was Mr Duncan. I didn’t recognise the other man.”

“What was the argument about; could you hear?”

“Worthless,” said Bunny. “That was the only word I could make out. It was none of my business, as long as they stayed off our land, so I rode past them and around the bend as quickly as I dared. That’s when I saw the car. That was a Vauxhall too. Whether it was the same car, I don’t know. The driver’s door was open, and the motor was still running. It appeared to be a road rage incident where Mr Duncan had strayed into the middle of the lane, nearly causing an accident. After I reached By Brook, I followed the lane for a while and then cut through the trees and across the fields. I wasn’t in Ham Lane when I saw the body. I was crossing the fields to bring me back to Slaughterford Road when I glanced to my right. It was Mr Duncan. I could see the orange trainers even from that distance. The other man had disappeared.”

“Time?” asked Gus.

“Half-past seven.”

“Carry on.”

“I made my way onto the lane that leads to Slaughterford Road. As I rode