Angels Bleed (Fallen Angels Book 1) (16 page)

12:53 pm

Strange held a bundle of case notes in his hands, on top, the artist’s impression of Madame Evangeline.  He looked through the one way glass into the interview room at the far end of the MIU, to the sitting figure of Jessica Seymour.  He put a hand over the hair in the picture, obscuring it from view, emphasising the facial features.  He took in the green eyes of the picture, then looked to the green eyes of Jessica.  He took in the high, angular and defined cheek bones in the picture, and the high, angular and defined cheek bones on Jessica.  He took in the small, slightly rounded button nose on the picture, and the same nose on Jessica.  The full bodied lips on the picture.  The same on Jessica.  The elfin ears, the same on Jessica.  The narrow chin, the same.  He watched her for a moment, taking in the precise way she held herself in the chair.  Her spine was straight, shoulders back and head held high with perfect deportment, legs and feet parallel and angled to one side, with hands clasped together in her lap, immaculate etiquette for a seated lady.  She took the occasional sip from the glass of water on the table in front of her, but otherwise sat calmly and patiently.  He sighed to himself, then left the small observation room, coming out into the main room of the MIU again, before going into the interview room.

Jessica stood up as he entered, straightening her dress down as she did.  She held out a hand to shake as Strange approached the table.

‘Jessica Seymour.’  She said politely, leaving a question in the tone for him to reply.

‘Hello Mrs Seymour.  I am Detective Chief Inspector Jeremiah Strange.  I am leading the investigation into the discovery of a body at Featherstone Hall.  Thank you for coming in today.  I take it DI Saxon has given you a little bit of background to the case?  Please, do sit.’  Strange finished, waiting for her to take up his offer before he too sat down.

‘Yes, she has given me a background to the case.  I have to admit to being somewhat shocked and taken aback at what is going on, but please be assured, I am here to co-operate in any way I can.’

‘Thank you Mrs Seymour, I appreciate your candour, especially given the circumstances.  I would just like to mention before we start the questioning formally that you are not under caution.  You are simply here at this point to help us with our investigation.  If at any time you feel that the questions I am asking become difficult, or you feel that you should be taking advice, please let me know and I will stop immediately.  Are you happy to continue on that basis?’  Strange asked, smiling encouragingly. 

‘I understand Chief Inspector and I am more than happy to continue.’ she replied, returning the smile confidently.

‘Right.’  Strange said, starting the tape at the side of the desk.  ’12:35 pm Monday.  Interview with Jessica Seymour.  Interviewing Officer DCI Strange.  The interview is not under caution.’  He finished, looking down at the file in front of him for a second before he continued.

‘Mrs Seymour, could you please confirm if you are the owner of the following companies, Axiom and Pison Properties?’

‘I am the Managing Director of the companies and the largest shareholder.  Sixty percent of the company is in trust, but yes, fundamentally I am the owner and run the company with a board of trustees.’

‘We have information from the Land Registry that show the deeds for Featherstone Hall belong to Axiom.  Is that correct?’

‘Yes, we own Featherstone Hall.’ she replied, gently rubbing the thumb of one hand against the palm of the other in her lap.

‘Could you explain how and when you acquired the property and why it was registered with an offshore company?’ 

Jessica smiled at the question.  ‘It may look slightly Machiavellian Chief Inspector, but there is a simple explanation.  My husband’s brother, Cecil Seymour owned the property until his death.  He was Lord Featherstone.  The Hall has been in the Seymour family since it was built.  On Cecil’s death, the property passed back to Henry, as did the title.  Henry relinquished the title and he didn’t want to live in the Hall so planned to have it developed.  It was put under Axiom, which is our offshore holding company for assets we are not actively exploiting.  It saves the company paying various taxes while the property is empty.  The company has not been able to progress the development of the estate, in the main due to Henry’s death and the time it has taken to sort out his affairs.’ 

‘The Company is not renting the property out then? As far as you are aware there is no one living in it?’

‘No, there shouldn’t be.  The house was emptied and mothballed when Cecil died.  The last time I was here was a few days before he died, when he was seriously ill.’

‘One of the rooms in the house, the main drawing room, looks to have been recently decorated.  It was the room we found Michael Angus’s corpse in this morning.  Did the company at any point carry out that work?’

‘No.  I have no knowledge of that work being carried out.’

‘As the owner of the company, of a large company, would that be the kind of thing you would know about?’

‘In the general day to day running of a large company, perhaps not.  However, having only recently gone through probate, we have had to be very vigilant on everything we spent, so every item of expenditure had to be approved by the trustees.  I cannot recall seeing anything to do with development work at Featherstone Hall.’

‘And yet, we have a room which has been decorated with a number of very expensive items in it.’ Strange posed.

‘I am sorry Chief Inspector, I can’t explain why that would be.’ she offered, apologetically.

Strange nodded and jotted some notes on the file in front of him.  He then took some sheets from inside the folder.  He placed the first one in front of Jessica.

‘For the tape, I am placing a photograph of Rebecca Angus in front of Mrs Seymour.  Mrs Seymour, this is a picture of Rebecca Angus, the person who is currently incarcerated for the murder of Michael Angus.  Do you recognise her at all?’  Strange asked.

Jessica shook her head.  ‘No sorry, neither the name nor the picture ring any bells.’ she answered.

‘How about this one: and for the tape too, it is a picture of Michael Angus?’

It was a post mortem picture of his face, lifeless and cold.  Jessica looked over it intently, her brown furrowing, a tinge of sadness in her voice as she answered.  ‘No, I don’t recognise him either, sorry.’

He placed a third picture in front of her.  ‘For you and the tape, this is an artist’s impression of a woman Rebecca Angus claims was with her and Michael on the night of his death.  She is called Madame Evangeline.  Do you recognise her or the name?’  Strange asked, paying particular attention to her face as she looked down at the picture.

Once again, she took her time viewing the image, a slight look of concern fleeting into her demeanour.  Her thumb started to circle in her palm just a little faster.  ‘I have never heard of anyone called Madame Evangeline.  However, the picture does have a lot of facial similarities to myself, although I have never had long red hair.’ she replied, wearing a worried frown as she did.

‘I know this must be difficult, so thank you for your openness Mrs Seymour.  Could you tell me where you were on the day and evening of the 31
st
December, into the early hours of the 1
st
January 2012 please?’

Jessica took a sip of water, her whole body becoming uptight at the question.  She put the glass down and her hands returned to the rhythmical circling.  ‘I was in Edinburgh.  I was there running a half marathon.  I was staying in the Old Waverley Hotel, at the end of Princess Street.  I was there until the morning of the 1
st
January, until checkout time, about 10:30 am.’ she paused, taking another sip of water as her mouth dried out.  ‘I was there with John Saul.’ she finished, the last few words rushed out. She sighed heavily, releasing some of the tension that had overcome her.

‘Thank you again Mrs Seymour.  I know that we are going to be talking about your private life and about an Officer involved in this investigation, so if you do need to take a break at any time, just let me know.’  Strange empathised.  He looked down at his notes, gathering his own thoughts for a second, then asked.  ‘Could you tell me how you travelled to Edinburgh on the 31
st
?’

‘My chauffeur drove me up in the company limousine.  He picked me up from home at around 7:00 am and we arrived at about 9:00 am.  He went home after I booked into my hotel.’ 

‘Did he not stay around to take you home?’

‘No, the arrangement was that I would be going home with John.’

‘Who is your chauffeur?’

‘His name is Ewan Jones.  If you need to talk to him you can reach him via the office, he is at work today.’  Jessica offered.

‘Thank you, we will do that.’  Strange took out another photograph from the folder and placed it in front of Jessica.  ‘For the tape, I have just placed a CCTV still of a limousine on the table.  Mrs Seymour, could you confirm if that is your company limousine please?’

Jessica looked at the number plate clearly visible on the image and over the body of the vehicle.  She nodded her head affirmatively as she continued.  ‘Yes, that is the registration of our limousine.  It is the vehicle as well.  Ewan keeps a Woody Woodpecker toy stuck to the window just above the tax disc.  I can see it.’

‘Could you read the date and time from the image please?’  Strange asked.

She scanned the photo quickly, eyes finding the information in the bottom right corner.  ’12:35 am 1
st
January 2012.’  She relayed, a surprised expression crossing her face as she looked up at Strange.

‘That picture was taken by a CCTV camera at the Portobello junction on the A1 out of Edinburgh.  Do you have any idea why the vehicle would still be in Edinburgh at that time, when you thought it was back in Newcastle?’

The surprise morphed into astonishment as she shook her head from side to side, staring intently at the CCTV image.  ‘I really have no idea.  As far as I was aware, Ewan took the limousine straight home.’ 

There was a knock on the door as she continued staring down at the image.  DI Saxon poked her head around it as she opened it.  ‘Sir, could I have a word please.’ a high level of gravitas in her tone, ‘It is important.’ 

‘Yes, no problem,’ he started, shooting her a perplexed glance.  ‘Sorry Mrs Seymour, I will only be a minute, is that alright?’ he asked apologetically.

‘Yes, no problem.’ she answered distractedly, still looking at the picture.

‘Thank you.  Interview suspended at 12:54 pm.’ Strange said into the tape, pausing it as he did.  He picked up the bundle of files from the table and quickly left.

Jessica picked up the CCTV still from the table and ran a finger over the number plate, then up to the Woody Woodpecker toy, all the time shaking her head dejectedly, her countenance pensive, concerned and scared all at once.  She put it back down, arranging the other photographs and picture in a line in front of her, gingerly touching the faces of the people in the other three, Madame Evangeline first, then Rebecca and lastly Michael, fingers lingering on his empty eyes.

The door opened again and Strange re-entered the room.  ‘Thank you for your patience Mrs Seymour.’ he started, his tone a little curt and his mannerisms slightly more abrupt.  He pressed the start button on the tape before continuing. ‘Interview recommenced at 12:57 pm.’ He continued, taking a couple of photographs from the top of his files.  ‘Mrs Seymour, could you tell me where you were at 12:35 am on the 1
st
January 2012 please.’

‘I was at the Old Waverley Hotel, in my room.’

‘And where you alone at the time?’ he asked.

‘No, John was with me.  We had been there since around 7:30 pm the previous evening, after returning from an early dinner.’ 

‘Was there any point during the evening that the two of you were apart?’ Strange queried.

‘No.  We were asleep some of the time, but awake for long periods of the night.  I can’t recall exactly when we slept.’ she answered with a tinge of embarrassment.

Strange took the top photograph from the two he held in his hands and placed it just above the one of Rebecca that Jessica had lined up. 

‘For you and the tape, this is a photograph of the limousine captured at another set of traffic lights, five minutes earlier than the one I showed you earlier.  The image is much clearer.  Could you tell me who you can see looking out of the lowered rear window?’ he asked.