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

you’re going with this, Blessing,” said Gus. “If we could only ask Gerry whether he ever wondered if Rachel was after his money, it might add strength to Belinda’s fanciful scenario. It is what it is, Blessing. Until I came out of retirement to head up the Crime Review Team, my murders were ‘live’ investigations. I was the first detective to try to solve the riddle. It was rare for other family members or witnesses to die before I got the chance to corroborate another person’s statement.”

“You and the team have dealt with cases where the gap has been greater than six years, guv. It feels with this case as though there are more deaths and more uncorroborated statements than the norm.”

“I can’t argue with that, Blessing,” said Gus.

“We’ve still got forty minutes, guv,”

“We’ll park the car, get a coffee and walk to the Marina. Neil tells me it’s a pleasant spot to sit and watch the world go by.”

“A marina? Are we back to the canal again, guv?”

“The Kennet and Avon, yes, the one that linked with the waterway in Swindon where they found Stacey Reade’s body. The Bradford Marina is less than a ten-minute walk from the car park, and Sean Hogan’s office is near to the marina.”

“There’s a method in your madness,” said Blessing.

“I do try, Blessing. Although, this case is driving me mad. Let’s see if we can find the coffee house that Neil mentioned.”

Blessing settled into step beside her boss as they walked into a narrow street.

“This is quaint, guv. It reminds me of Diagon Alley.”

“Really, where’s that, Warwick?”

“It doesn’t matter, guv.”

“This place is The Shambles, Blessing.”

“We can always try somewhere else, guv.”

“That’s the name of the street, Blessing. It’s full of old-world charm and sits on the site of the medieval market stalls. In the early Middle Ages, this would have been an open space, except on market days, when traders could set up their stalls. Gradually the stalls became permanent structures and then were replaced by buildings, some of which remain. Like that pair of houses with timber fronts, we can see on the other side of the street. They’re also from the fifteenth century. Their cellars were once the town’s lockup.”

“You know a lot about the history of Bradford-on-Avon, guv.”

“You can thank Neil for that, Blessing. He couldn’t resist telling me everything he’d learned on a visit here with Melody.”

They found the coffee house and were soon on their way to the canal towpath. Neil was right. It was a quiet refuge in the heart of the town, and there were several spare benches for them to watch the passing traffic.

“Why do men of a certain age insist on lycra, guv?” asked Blessing as a grey-haired cyclist pedalled past.

“No comment,” said Gus. A female jogger with an inadequate sports bra headed slowly in the opposite direction.

“This spot is a magnet for families during the school holidays, guv,” said Blessing.

“Too many people dashing to and fro to get the full effect of life on the canal,” said Gus. “When you watch the canal boats negotiating the lock over there inching towards Avoncliff, then you can appreciate the true meaning of leisure.”

“We won’t find you jogging or cycling in the near future then, guv?”

“Not likely. Suzie has tried to persuade me to join her on her weekly horseback ride. A gentle hack around the lanes and tracks between Worton and Urchfont. That’s more appealing.”

“Of course, it is guv. You get to spend more time with DI Ferris. You should go for it.”

“Has Jackie ever tried to tempt you? They have several horses in the stables.”

“They frighten me, guv,” said Blessing. “I’m not a country girl like DI Ferris.”

“Finished your coffee?” asked Gus. Blessing nodded and placed the cup in Gus’s outstretched hand. He walked to the other side of the towpath to put their cups in the waste bin.

“Look out, guv!” cried Blessing. “Skateboard alert!”

Gus managed to avoid the teenage skater who trundled past. There was no point shouting after him with the outsized headphones he wore.

“I’d better watch where I’m walking,” said Gus. “Right, let’s get back to the main road. It’s safer.”

They soon found the offices of Hogan Finance, established in 1992, and entered the reception area. A smartly dressed young woman looked up and greeted them with a beaming smile.

“Good afternoon. I’m Emma. How can I help you today?”

“We’re Mr Hogan’s two o’clock appointment,” said Gus. “Mr Freeman and DC Umeh.”

“One moment. I’ll tell Mr Hogan that you’ve arrived.”

Gus quickly took in his surroundings. One girl in reception. Two offices on the ground floor. He wondered who occupied the upper floor.

“The entrance must be at the rear, guv,” whispered Blessing. “There’s an alleyway to the right-hand side of this building. There are no stairs visible from here, so they must be behind a false wall with an access point directly overhead. She wandered across to her left and knocked on the wall. The hollow sound brought a massive smile from Blessing.

“Not very often that I’m wrong,” she said, “but I’m right again.”

“Mr Hogan will see you now,”

Emma had returned from the larger office of the two.

Gus and Blessing walked in to meet the current head of Hogan Finance.

Sean Hogan looked totally at ease in his surroundings.

His office was light and airy, fitted with every gadget the modern CEO could want. Gus wondered how his father had looked at twenty-four years of age. Gerry had returned from Australia in November 1981, got married early in the New Year, was living in Clifton, and learning the finance business at the sharp end with a newly formed company. Gus doubted that Gerry would look this cool.

“Come in, please take a seat. When one of your colleagues called, he said you