you can forget me leaving you my money after this
Ungrateful little bastard
ok fine im an ungrateful bastard you’ll be better off not hearing from me then
Where are you?
I need to know where you are
Im bad my knees playing up
where are you Tyler
Ive called the police
tell me where you are im worried
The last message from Tyler had been sent on the sixteenth of June the previous year. Dilys’s final message to him had been sent in October.
However, directly above this WhatsApp chat was another, which Robin, seeing the name ‘Tyler’, surreptitiously opened, scrolling back to the first message, which had been sent on July the twelfth of the previous year.
Gran this is my new number
Gran I got rid of my old phone because I was getting people hassling me on it so you need to use this one for me now. Griff can have it but nobody else, ok?
Who is this?
It’s Tyler. You need to use this number for me now.
Is that you Wynn Jones
No gran it’s me, Tyler. I’m going to call you now all right?
Gran answer the phone it’s me
Tyler
Gran THIS ISN’T WYNN IT’S ME
The last of these messages had been sent shortly before Christmas.
‘Would you mind if I take copies of these, Mrs Powell?’ asked Robin.
‘All right,’ said Dilys, and Robin photographed both chats with her own phone.
‘And would it be all right for me to take the number for Tyler’s father?’ Robin asked, seeing Ivor Powell’s name on an older WhatsApp thread.
‘Yeah, all right,’ said Dilys again.
Robin saved the number, then handed back the Nokia.
‘Have you spoken on the phone to Tyler since he left, Mrs Powell?’
‘No,’ said Dilys. ‘That’s not him. It’s that Jones playing games.’
‘Wynn Jones from Higwell Farm?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You think he’s been calling you, pretending to be Tyler?’
‘What?’
‘You don’t think it’s really Tyler who’s been calling you?’
‘Rude,’ said Dilys. ‘And he was a good boy before all this.’
‘Have you spoken to Tyler since he left, Griff?’ asked Robin.
‘Not since June,’ said Griffiths.
‘He seems to have wanted you to have his new number,’ said Robin.
‘That’s not Tyler, that other one,’ said Dilys mutinously. ‘I can tell the difference.’
‘You called the police in late June, Mrs Powell, did you?’ said Robin, looking down at the messages again. ‘Was that because you saw the news stories about the—?’
‘He said “silver”,’ said Dilys stubbornly. ‘I heard him.’
‘You know the shop where the body was found was masonic?’ asked Robin.
‘What?’
‘It stocks things for the Freemasons. Was Tyler interested in Freemasonry, at all?’
‘Freemasons?’ said Dilys. ‘With the funny handshakes?’
‘Yes, them,’ said Robin.
‘No, he wouldn’t be into all that,’ said Dilys impatiently. ‘He works in a garridge.’
‘Did he know anything about silver?’ asked Robin. ‘Hallmarks, antiques, anything like that?’
‘No,’ said Dilys mistrustfully, ‘but he could learn. He’s not stupid.’
‘What were Tyler’s interests? Mr Griffiths has already told us he liked cars.’
‘Loved his car,’ said Dilys. ‘Did it all up himself. He knew engines.’ As though refuting an unspoken accusation, she said again, ‘He’s not stupid.’
‘Anything else he was interested in?’ asked Robin.
‘Football,’ said Dilys. ‘Wolves. He loves Wolves.’
‘Yes,’ said Robin. ‘We’ve just seen the plaque on the wall along the lane. Billy Wright. Did you know the man who was working at the silver shop was calling himself William Wright?’
‘Yer,’ said Dilys, nodding. ‘Billy Wright.’
‘Could I check a few more details?’ asked Robin. ‘How tall was Tyler?’
‘Taller’n
‘Not difficult,’ said Griffiths, with a rueful smile. ‘He must be about five six, eh, Dilys?’
‘Did Tyler have any distinguishing marks? Scars, or—’
‘Birthmark,’ said Dilys.
‘Really? Where?’
‘On his back,’ said Dilys.
‘Is he left- or right-handed?’
‘Right-handed,’ said Dilys.
‘D’you know what blood group he is?’
Dilys shook her head.
‘Did he know anything about guns?’
‘Guns? Yer, a bit,’ said Dilys.
‘Really?’ said Robin.