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

eight and a half thousand pounds in fifty, twenty, and ten-pound notes.”

“Hidden in plain sight,” said Gus. “What was Madeleine’s reaction?”

“Stunned,” said Kenneth. “With every passing day, Madeleine was learning things about her late partner that made her question whether she ever really knew him. Alan’s parents could not explain his movements. The detectives had a puzzle wrapped in an enigma, as someone once observed. Alan Duncan had no known enemies. He wasn’t known to the police, and they could find nothing in his life to suggest he was in danger. Why then did Alan quit his job and withdraw every penny he had in the world? Was he planning a midnight flit? If so, why not leave on Tuesday night once he had the money in his hands? Even at six-thirty on Wednesday evening, he followed his normal routine and set off on a weekly run.”

“There’s no escaping the fact that his behaviour was out of character,” said Gus. “This could be our toughest assignment yet. Please tell me you have something more, sir?”

“Wayne Phillips recalled a second odd incident as they returned from a fifty-mile cycle ride on Saturday the twenty-fourth. As they cycled along The Green, they passed the Biddestone Arms and the duck pond, before turning into Cuttle Lane. Phillips spotted a man stood by his car near the pond. He appeared to recognise Alan, who was leading and waved, but Alan ignored him and cycled faster. When Wayne asked who it was, Alan said he had seen no one.”

“Could Phillips describe the man, or identify the car?”

“Only a vague description,” said the ACC. “Medium height, medium build. Crewcut, fair-skinned, possibly late thirties, early forties. The car was a family saloon, but no make, model, or registration.”

“It could have been anyone,” said Gus. “Someone from work Alan Duncan didn’t get on with, or he didn’t recognise from a distance. Anything else?”

“A neighbour from Cuttle Lane reported seeing a Vauxhall Zafira pass her house on more than one occasion in the weeks before Alan Duncan’s death. DI Banks appealed for the car owner to come forward, but he could not identify the car or the driver. It might have been the same car and driver that Wayne Phillips saw, but it could have been unrelated.”

“Is that everything, sir?” asked Gus more in hope than expectation.

“I’m afraid so,” said Kenneth.

Gus tucked the Alan Duncan murder file under his arm and left the room.

“Can’t you spare time for a coffee, Mr Freeman?”

Kassie Trotter had just emerged from the dark recesses leading to Geoff Mercer’s office. Ms Packenham hadn’t curtailed Kassie’s bun run as yet.

“I need to return to the office, Kassie,” said Gus.

“My gossip will have to wait then,” she sighed. “You’re no fun anymore, Mr Freeman.”

“Life’s hard, and then you die, Kassie,” said Gus. “Look, do you still catch the bus home to Worton after work?”

Kassie nodded.

“I’ll pick you up this evening and drive you home. Save me any spare rock cakes, and you can chat while I carry out a taste test. I’ll take a doggy bag home for Suzie.”

“Thanks, Mr Freeman. See you later.”

Kassie gave her trolley a shove and got moving again. Her next port of call was to the ACC.

Gus gave Vera a friendly wave and skipped downstairs. Anything for a quiet life.

   

  CHAPTER 3

Gus glanced at the clock on the office wall as he exited the lift. The return journey hadn’t improved his demeanour. Lunchtime had come and gone, and he could do with one of those rock cakes right now.

“Okay, listen up,” he said. “I’ve got a murder file from a decade ago. Someone strangled Alan Duncan while he was out running in the lanes around the village of Biddestone. Let’s get started; you know the drill.”

The team swung into action like a well-oiled machine.

“Where do you want to start, guv?” asked Luke.

“The victim’s partner, Madeleine Telfer,” said Gus. “That will be our first interview, but a visit to the village has to be top of my list. I need to get perspective. The murder file mentions lanes which run into lanes and past duck ponds. Villages vary considerably. Some spread over a wide area; others are a single thoroughfare with several access points from surrounding towns and villages. Alex, perhaps you could accompany me?”

“Yes, guv,” said Alex. “When do you want to leave?”

“A coffee first, and then we’ll take advantage of this weather. It’s a fine day for a walk in the country.”

“I’ll have a timetable for your appointments by the time you return, guv,” said Luke.

“I can always rely on you, Luke,” said Gus.

Gus checked his desk drawer to see whether the bara brith Kassie Trotter had entrusted him with last Tuesday was still edible. He needed to have something to say about it later this evening; good or bad.

  Thirty minutes later, Gus and Alex were in the lift heading for the ground floor and the car park.

“Everything okay, guv?” asked Alex.

“One of Kassie Trotter’s experiments is weighing heavy on my stomach, Alex,” said Gus. “No worries. I’ll walk it off as we stroll around Biddestone.”

“Just as well that Biddestone is only a twenty-minute drive from here, guv,” said Alex.

Gus sat back in the passenger seat and hoped Kassie’s hot gossip occupied their conversation so much this evening that she forgot to ask if it was any good. The bara brith wasn’t one of her triumphs.

“We’re coming up to Chippenham Lane on our right, guv,” said Alex. “That becomes Sheldon Corner in time, and then it joins the main A420 road by the Allington Farm Shop and café. The murder file showed that Alan Duncan used that as one of his runs: six miles door to door.”

“Six miles?” asked Gus. “He was keen. I suppose