A Genuine Mistake by Ted Tayler (miss read books txt) 📗

was no longer here. The police had entered the document into evidence.

What else lay in this drawer before he’d pushed it to one side to make room for Tess’s possessions? Gus studied the fronts of several hard-plastic folders that Tess must have stored here for safekeeping. Put out the flags! He’d found one that, according to Tess’s handwriting on the label, carried the deeds to the bungalow, their will, and Gus’s commendations and awards.

What possessed her to keep that rubbish, thought Gus. He grabbed the will and closed the folder on the Long Service and Good Conduct awards, the Chief Constable’s Commendations, the Certificates of Excellence, Certificates of Recognition, and Bravery Awards.

Gus made a mental note to check what Tess had determined was worth preserving in those other file folders. That would have to be soon because the dressing table would be bound for the recycling centre or burnt in the back garden.

The folder labelled BMD probably contained hatch, match, and dispatch certificates that covered the relevant ones for him and Tess and their parents and possibly grandparents. Family history was one area where Tess’s draconian system didn’t apply. She’d kept everything.

The sound of Suzie’s VW Golf arriving on the driveway interrupted his trip down memory lane. With the large brown envelope securely tucked under his arm, Gus ventured outside to greet her.

“Hello, darling,” he said. “Welcome home.”

“Are you okay?” asked Suzie. “Did you only work half-day today?”

“Cheeky,” said Gus. “We reached a sensible point to call a halt after giving our new case the once-over, so I sent everyone home thirty minutes early.”

“What on earth have you got there,” she asked, nodding at the envelope. “It looks positively archaic. Is that papyrus, or vellum?”

“It’s my will,” said Gus. “Or at least, it was how things stood three and a half years ago. I’ve never revisited it to bring it in line with my changed circumstances. Don’t take this the wrong way. I haven’t had a note from the Grim Reaper telling me my time is almost up, but I do need to be sensible at my time of life.”

“You are a treasure, Gus Freeman,” said Suzie as they walked indoors together. “Can I have first dibs on your vinyl collection? It would be good to get it in writing.”

“I’m glad to see you’re taking the matter seriously,” said Gus. “Time can be short. Our latest victim, cut down in his prime at fifty-four, demonstrates that to great effect. I’m a few years older, I admit, but we had things in common. He was a successful professional with no enemies. He had a beautiful young partner and two teenage sons from an earlier marriage. On a pleasant Sunday evening, he stepped outside his front door to speak to someone, and that was it. Bang!”

“I’m going to shower and change,” said Suzie. “I suggest you don’t wander around the house all weekend with that document under your arm. Find somewhere safe to stow it until you can give it your undivided attention. I’ll make myself scarce on Saturday morning for one of the last occasions until after the baby’s born. Why not have a crack at updating the contents then? I’ll gladly read it through with you in the afternoon. Unless you have other plans?”

“We need to clear the dressing table drawers in the nursery,” said Gus. “The sooner we can empty the bedroom to give us scope for your planned refurbishments, the better.”

“We do have time before that becomes urgent, Gus,” said Suzie. “Don’t forget what happened to Melody Davis. She and Neil had everything ready for the baby, and stress brought on a miscarriage. Let’s take things a day at a time.”

“Let’s pray there’s not a murder in the family to raise our stress levels then,” said Gus.

Gus carried the envelope through to the lounge and looked for a suitable spot. He slipped it onto the end of the rack of vinyl albums. He’d get a reminder every time he hunted for a record to accompany his musings about a case that there was something he’d forgotten to do.

Suzie returned, refreshed, and dressed in casual clothes. Her hair fell loose on her shoulders.

“That’s better,” she sighed. “I feel human again once I’ve got my uniform into the wash basket or the wardrobe.”

“I’m not sure the about-to-be-crowned Chief Constable will appreciate one of his senior detectives considering the uniform made her inhuman,” said Gus.

A cushion hit him in the small of the back as he headed for the bathroom.

“Don’t take all night in there,” said Suzie. “Although I have a lousy start to my days, it doesn’t affect my appetite in the evenings. Thank goodness.”

“If you’re twiddling your thumbs while I have my shower,” said Gus. “You could phone the Lamb and book a table.”

Gus rejoined Suzie fifteen minutes later.

“Are we good?” he asked.

“Despite everything,” she said, “yes, we are.”

“I meant, for a table at the Lamb,” said Gus.

“They never refuse me,” said Suzie. “I threaten to wear my uniform the next time I’m in the pub. That seems to do the trick. We have your favourite table by the window, by the way.”

Gus held out a hand, inviting Suzie to join him. She made a meal out of levering herself off the settee and closing the three-yard gap.

“Just practising, darling,” she said.

They left the bungalow and walked along the lane arm-in-arm.

“If you’re hungry,” said Gus, “you can have a starter, main course and dessert tonight.”

“Are you sure we can afford it?” asked Suzie. “We have extra expenses ahead.”

“True,” said Gus as he opened the pub door, “but I’ll save a fortune now you’re on soft drinks for the next seven months.”

As soon as they got inside, Gus heard a familiar voice.

“Evening, Mr Freeman, and Miss Ferris.”

Bert Penman was sat on his usual