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

“We can’t get on top of this case despite doing the right things, guv,” said Neil.

“I’m glad you think we’re on the right track, Neil,” said Gus. “I’ve been sitting here wondering where on earth to look next. I’m baffled.”

The team spent the rest of the afternoon on their given tasks while Gus checked the Freeman Files. Had they taken a wrong turning somewhere? Had someone they’d interviewed lied to them or kept back vital evidence?

When everyone had left for the day, Gus sat alone in the office.

He often found that this was when a light shone in the darkness. While the room buzzed with activity, it could distract him. After five minutes of trying to find inspiration, Gus decided it was time to drive home. He knew what the problem was now. This case had started with a handful of family members and friends that Kirkpatrick and Bennison interviewed.

After a few days of asking Nick Barrett and Rachel Cummins' different questions to those posed six years ago, there were now too many characters.

  CHAPTER 8

Gus arrived home at a quarter to six and spotted Suzie’s Golf in its usual spot. He hoped she was feeling as cheerful as she had this morning.

“I’m home,” he called as he walked into the hallway.

“Dinner will be ready in five minutes,” said Suzie. “I thought you were never coming home.”

“We’re getting nowhere on the Hogan case,” said Gus. “When Neil spoke to Nick Barrett today, he got far too many leads for us to investigate. I’m not sure it was useful. There’s too much crowding into my thoughts.”

“You can’t see the wood for the trees,” said Suzie. “What’s on your list for tomorrow?”

“I’m seeing the victim’s sister in the morning and his eldest son in the afternoon. Neil’s off to a snooker club this evening. There’s an outside chance he’ll find dirt on our victim that his partner, Rachel, and best friend, Nick Barrett, have hidden from us.”

“How did the meeting go with Rachel this morning?” asked Suzie.

“I found her easier to talk to than I imagined,” said Gus. “She’s a smart cookie, that one. There was one odd thing. Gerry kept his late wife’s photographic studio locked. He refused to change a thing, and Rachel had never been in the room. We asked to take a look, and she was happy to give us the key. We found little except a letter containing a job offer in New South Wales for Evelyn.”

“Was Evelyn leaving Gerry?” asked Suzie.

“Nick Barrett didn’t believe so. He thought their marriage was rock solid.”

“Maybe, tonight and tomorrow will bring you more luck,” said Suzie.

“By the close of play tomorrow, I hope to define the strategy we need to follow over the coming days. So far, all we’ve done is add more variables into the mix.”

“Let’s get stuck into our cheese omelette and chips,” said Suzie. “I’ve looked forward to this. You must be hungry, too?”

“You bet,” said Gus. He decided to forget the large sausage roll that he and Luke had devoured at lunchtime.

Later that evening, they wandered along the lane towards the Lamb.

“I’d like to check on my allotment before we go inside,” said Gus. “I appreciate things have fallen behind. At least I’ll have a better idea of the scale of the problem we face on Saturday afternoon.”

Suzie stood beside Gus’s garden shed while he wandered the length of the plot and back.

“It’s as if I’ve been on holiday for a fortnight,” he said. “I can remember Bert’s words to me this time last year. Everything comes into season at once and needs picking in August. So don’t take time off without getting another gardener to keep an eye on things.”

“Bert’s had plenty on his mind,” said Suzie, “with Irene in hospital. He hasn’t had time to look after your plot and his own.”

“It’s unreasonable of me to expect him to bother,” said Gus. “He’s well into his eighties. He offered to help when I first returned to work, but the time has come for me to do my bit.”

Bert Penman was the only familiar face they spotted as they entered the bar.

“Evening, Mr Freeman, Miss Ferris,” said Bert.

“We’ve just dropped by the allotments, Bert,” said Gus.

“I thought you’d forgotten where they were,” said Bert with a grin.

“I’ll be back in harness on Saturday afternoon, Bert,” said Gus. “I’ve relied on you for too long. Anyway, how are you? And how’s Irene now? Is she home?”

“Irene discharged herself this afternoon, Mr Freeman,” said Bert. “Her stomach was only grumbling now and again. She thought she’d be able to recover better at home. I’m keeping her stocked with vegetables from my patch. The Reverend is monitoring her liquid intake, if you get my drift. There will be no more unsupervised manufacture of cocktails.”

“Did they ever decide which ingredient caused the problem?” asked Suzie.

“It wasn’t one thing, in particular, Miss,” said Bert. “Irene seems to have developed one of them intolerances that have sprung up in the last few years. She’s eaten fruit for seventy years with no side effects. Now the Reverend tells me the fructose in the watermelons, grapes, and apples that she added to her most recent cocktail played havoc with her digestion.”

“These things are sent to try us, Bert,” said Gus.

“It never used to happen though, Mr Freeman,” said Bert, taking a good swig of his pint of cider. “The Reverend told me she got through the hay fever season happily as a child. When she started sneezing earlier this year, she thought she’d picked up a chill. One of her parishioners told her it was hay fever. Now, why should that start up at her time of life? I reckon it’s something in the water, Mr Freeman.