* * *
Telephone interview with Suresh Gupta
22 October 2018, 6.15 p.m.
On the call, DC T. Hansen
TH: CID, DC Hansen speaking.
SG: I’m ringing about that bloke – the one at the station, yeah?
TH: I’m sorry – I’m not sure –
SG: That story on the Oxford Mail website? My brother-in-law saw it and showed it me. It said to ring if you’d picked him up.
TH: Oh, I see, hold on a moment, let me get a pen. What’s your name, sir?
SG: Suresh Gupta – I’m on the cab rank at the station.
TH: And the number you’re calling from is the best one to contact you on?
SG: What? OK, right, yeah, it’s my mobile.
TH: Thank you. Now, perhaps you can explain exactly what happened?
SG: Right, OK. I picked him up, like I said, and took him out to that place. Gantry Manor or whatever it’s called. Out by Wytham. Twenty quid it was.
TH: And this was Sunday night?
SG: Yeah.
TH: What time?
SG: I reckon I picked him up around 9. But he’d have been there a bit before that. There was a bloody enormous queue.
TH: OK. So you wouldn’t know which train he’d been on?
SG: Nah. No way.
TH: Did he say anything in the cab? About where he’d come from – where he was going?
SG: Nah, barely said a word the whole time. Just stared out of the window and did stuff on his phone. Though he gave me the address on a piece of paper so I got the impression he hadn’t been there before.
TH: And what happened when you got to Gantry Manor?
SG: He got out and paid. Didn’t say anything – just paid.
TH: From a wallet? Or just loose cash?
SG: A wallet.
TH: How did he seem?
SG: How d’ya mean?
TH: Did he look apprehensive? Excited?
SG: Perhaps a bit pissed off? But I wasn’t really looking, to be honest.
TH: And what happened then? Did you see him approach the house?
SG: I had to turn the cab round so, like I said, I wasn’t really looking, but I deffo remember him walking up the drive.
TH: You’re sure – he went right up to the front door?
SG: Last I saw – but he’d stopped to get something out of his backpack, so I can’t be sure –
TH: He had a backpack?
SG: Yeah, didn’t I say? Sorry, mate –
TH: Can you describe it?
SG: Just a dark-coloured thing. Black, maybe. Not that big.
TH: You didn’t see any logos – anything like that?
SG: Nah. Those things all look the same. And in any case, I wasn’t really looking.
TH: Thank you, Mr Gupta. That’s incredibly helpful –
SG: So can I go now, only my shift’s starting in half an hour –
TH: I won’t keep you much longer, I promise. Just a couple more questions. Can I ask if you recognized him – had you ever seen him before?
SG: [laughs]
You’re joking, right? I see hundreds of blokes look just like him.
TH: How would you describe him?
SG: Well, it were dark and, like I said, I weren’t really looking. Just an ordin’ry bloke, yeah?
TH: So if we asked you to come in and help us with an e-fit –
SG: Well, I’m not sure – like I said, I’ve got work –
TH: We can sort out a time that suits you. It would be really helpful.
SG: [pause]
Yeah, OK. I suppose so.
TH: Excellent, I’ll check when the e-fit artist is available and call you back.
* * *
Hansen puts the phone down and looks across the office. He was hoping DC Everett was around – she’d be a useful sounding board. Because he’s still getting the hang of the whole Receiving/Resourcing DS thing, and something like this seems to land smack in the grey area right in the middle. Probably more ‘receiving’ than ‘resourcing’ but as it happens DS Quinn isn’t here. Unlike DS Gislingham, who’s at DC Baxter’s desk, looking over his shoulder at something on the screen. Hansen gets to his feet and goes over.
‘Sarge?’
Gis looks up and smiles. Hansen likes Gis – he gets the impression most people do. He doesn’t dislike DS Quinn, but he’s definitely trickier. Brighter, but trickier.
‘We just had a call passed through from the switchboard. A cab driver from the station rank. He picked up our dead guy on Sunday night.’
Gis frowns a little. ‘He’s sure?’
‘Oh yes, he dropped him at Gantry Manor.’
Gis exchanges a glance with Baxter; this sounds promising.
‘Can he describe him?’
Hansen makes a face. ‘Not well. But he’s agreed to come in and talk to an e-fit operator.’
Baxter shrugs. ‘Better than nothing.’
‘And it’s not just that,’ says Hansen, aware he sounds a bit too much like an over-eager rookie. ‘He saw the vic walk up the drive. Hardly your standard housebreaker MO –’
Gis gives a grim smile. ‘Er, no –’
‘– and he had a backpack with him. A backpack that seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth.’
Baxter raises an eyebrow sardonically. ‘Maybe that’s where all that stuff is that we didn’t find in his pockets.’
Gis taps the young DC lightly on the arm. ‘Good stuff, Hansen. Give Barnetson a call, will you? Get him to add the backpack to the MIA list. And in the meantime, we’ll get hold of the station CCTV.’
He turns to Baxter and flashes his widest smile. ‘Or rather, DC Baxter will. Given how much he loves that sort of thing.’
Baxter gives him a look, but it’s obviously an old joke. ‘Yeah, right.’
Hansen makes to go, but Gis stops him. ‘Not so fast, young Hansen, I’ve got a job with your name on it too.’
* * *
Barnetson ends the call and sticks his phone in his pocket. They’d all but finished, and still have nothing to show for it. Not a screwdriver, not a phone or wallet, and definitely not a bloody backpack.
He turns to Grover. ‘Apparently the dead man turned up with some sort of rucksack.’
Grover frowns. ‘Is that what they think was in the plastic bag?’
Barnetson looks round. ‘Maybe,’ he says distractedly. ‘It’s probably about the right size.’
Grover sighs. ‘Any suggestions where we look, Sarge, cos I’m all out of ideas.’
Barnetson stares at him, then looks away. He’s all out of ideas too.
* * *
First thing the following morning, Gis and Quinn are standing by Baxter’s desk, staring at printouts. It’s the Swanns’ phone records since the start of the year.
Gis shakes his head. ‘This is really all there is? In over nine months?’
Baxter nods. ‘That’s what I thought too. So I double-checked with BT that the line was working. Which it is. Though judging by that list, I don’t reckon the Swanns would even have noticed if it wasn’t.’