Buried Secrets: The Freeman Files Series: Book 11 by Ted Tayler (highly recommended books txt) 📗

our empty cups through to the kitchen, I asked to use the loo. Their bedroom is at the front of the house, so I knocked on the door and asked Elizabeth if she wanted me to take her breakfast things downstairs.”

“Clever,” said Gus. “Did she remember you?”

“Yes, guv,” said Blessing. “Once seen, never forgotten, that’s me. I could tell Elizabeth was depressed, but she was willing to talk. I told her why I’d come over today. She told me that what I’d copied were the ones they had framed. There were several additional loose photos in a drawer in what used to be Alan’s bedroom at the back of the house. I asked if I could borrow them. She agreed. Most of them are photos that Alan took of places he visited, but a couple of them are of colleagues on their own.”

“Even better, Blessing,” said Gus. “Right, get everything on your phone downloaded. Let’s see who we can match from the pocket diary. I’ll scan in the loose snaps Elizabeth gave you. I wonder why Bob didn’t remember they had them. Did he say anything when you returned downstairs?”

“Bob thanked me for collecting his wife’s breakfast things, guv,” said Blessing. “I didn’t show him the photos I had in my handbag.”

Blessing handed Gus the selection of loose snaps. He studied them and sorted them into three groups. Alan Duncan’s casual shots of Sydney Harbour Bridge, the Great Pyramid of Giza, and other famous landmarks he placed in a discard pile. The second group included pictures of one man, standing alone, smiling at the camera. Never the same man. Some wore a naval uniform, which Gus took to be that of a fellow submariner, others wore smart casual clothing. There wasn’t a Hawaiian shirt in sight. That left just one photo. It was of Alan Duncan himself, in casual gear, smiling at the camera. Gus knew where someone had taken it. The buildings in the background were unmistakeably St Basil’s Cathedral, in Moscow.

“Are you ready to scan your snaps in, guv?” asked Blessing.

“Only half a dozen matter,” said Gus. “Why, have you downloaded the others already?”

“That part was easy, guv,” said Blessing. “I need to create a file now in which we can hold the data you collected from the pocket diary. First, I’ll crop these images to give us each individual’s face. It will get easier after the first one because several of Alan’s friends turn up repeatedly.”

Gus looked at the clock on the wall. He would not be much use to Blessing on this job. Alex and Lydia would be back within the next thirty minutes.

“I can tell that you need to concentrate, Blessing,” said Gus. “I’ll get out of your hair. Time to take a walk in the fresh air, get a sandwich from the deli in the Market Square, and make us both a drink when I get back.”

“OK, guv,” said Blessing. “I’ve got this.”

When Gus returned thirty minutes later, Alex and Lydia were waiting for the lift.

“How was Woodpecker Mews?” he asked.

“Busy,” said Lydia Logan Barre. “Most properties have more cars than they have driveway. Several have even converted their garages into extra rooms, so on-road parking appears to be the norm.”

“Lydia’s miffed because we had to park six doors away from the Phillips’s place, guv,” said Alex with a nod to her black trainers.

“I broke a heel on my shoes,” Lydia wailed. “They were my favourite pair.”

“Just as well you went prepared,” said Gus as they entered the lift together.

“I learned early on that if you might want to take me on a route march around a murder scene, I should carry an old pair of trainers and wellington boots.”

“I promised Blessing I’d get her a coffee when I got back from my brief break,” said Gus. “You two can get what you gathered this morning into the files, while I’ll do the honours. We’ll debrief our efforts later.”

“Okay, guv,” said Alex.

Gus disappeared to the restroom to reacquaint himself with the Gaggia. When he returned with four coffees in Alex’s multiple mug holder, the others were hard at work. Gus placed their drinks on their desks and then sat at his desk. He wanted to hear what they had to say, but patience was a virtue.

“I’ve got the first part of the summary ready, guv,” said Blessing a few minutes later. “The file is available for each of us to view within the Freeman Files.”

“Good,” said Gus as he swallowed the last dregs of his cup of coffee. “Let’s stop what we’re doing and switch our attention to that for a few minutes. I want to identify our next steps.”

Gus, Alex, and Lydia brought up Blessing’s work file on their screens.

“Lead on, Blessing,” said Gus.

“For Alex and Lydia’s benefit,” said Blessing, “the photos held in picture frames brought from Bob Duncan’s home, plus the pocket diary from Alan’s office, allowed me to identify seven of his colleagues. I also found loose snaps that I’ve added at the foot of the page. I’ll explain those in a minute. The ginger-headed man, Taff, who features in the photos most often is Max Hughes, from Swansea. Every man’s record follows the same pattern. So, I’ve isolated the best head-shot of Max Hughes for his profile picture. The columns include his home address, phone number, etcetera. The position the colleague occupies reflects the frequency with which he appears in the photos. Keith Smith, Craig Anderson. Rico Menghini, Freddie Watts, Drew Taggart, and Bryan Tarbuck are the actual names for fellow crew members that Alan Duncan went with on these shore leave trips. When he added their names to the back of the photos for his parents, they became Taff, of course, Smudger, Andy, Gooner, Lofty. Chuff and Tarby.”

“I can’t think of a reason the Scots lad got called Chuff,” said Lydia.