Angel and the Actress (16 page)

Angel smiled, paid him and came out of the shop.

Angel had had a quiet Sunday, apart from the delivery of the new mattress, sheet, duvet and duvet cover, which he duly assembled on the bed. The pattern of the duvet cover was a similar floral pattern and he hoped that Mary wouldn’t notice until he’d been able to give his whitewashed account of what had happened in the house while she had been away. He would only mention it if she spotted the difference.

It was 8.28 a.m. on Monday, 10 November when he made his way down the station corridor to his office where he took off his coat and hat and sat down at his desk.
He reached out for the phone and tapped in the number of the CPS and made an urgent appointment to see Mr

Twelvetrees at 2 p.m.

Then he phoned the CID office.

Ahmed answered.

‘I want you to find DS Crisp and DC Scrivens and send them to my office ASAP.’

‘Right, sir,’ Ahmed said.

Angel replaced the phone. It immediately began to ring. It was the superintendent.

‘Angel?’ Harker said. ‘You’re always on the bloody phone when I want to reach you.’

Angel pulled a face. ‘It was only an internal call, sir,’ he said.

‘I haven’t time for complex explanations, lad. Bring yourself up here,
smartly
!’

‘Right, sir,’ he said, but the phone was already dead.

Angel’s muscles tightened. He really detested meetings with the superintendent. His daily reports managed to avoid face-to-face contact much of the time. But Harker was his boss and contact was inevitable.

Angel trudged up to his office. He really did have some very good news to report. He had solved at least one of the murders and had the men responsible locked up.

He knocked on the superintendent’s door.

‘Come in,’ Harker called.

The room reeked of menthol and the superintendent’s desk was the usual chaotic mess.

Harker looked over the piles of papers, files and medications and said, ‘You needn’t sit down, Angel. You’re not stopping long.’

Angel wasn’t unhappy about
that
.

‘When I came in this morning, I saw that four of the cells were occupied,’ Harker said. ‘
Four!
’ he bawled. ‘In addition, I discovered that they had been in use since early on Saturday morning. We can’t be catering for four villains for days on end like this. What do you think this is? The Dorchester? It ties up a man running after them and it costs hard cash to feed them, and that all comes out of our general account, which is sadly in the red again for this fiscal year. Have you got good, solid cases against all four?’

‘I have a rock-solid case against all four for armed robbery of the Slater Security van, sir. I also have a rock-solid case against one of them for the murder of the actress, Joan Minter. And I expect to have enough evidence soon to make a case against another of them for the murder of Ian Fairclough.’

‘If they are rock-solid cases, why have the villains not been charged?’

‘We haven’t had the time, sir.’

The skinny man’s eyes almost popped out of his head. ‘
Time?
It only takes a few seconds to tell a man he is being charged with murder.’

‘We didn’t get away from here until after six o’clock on Saturday morning, sir.’

‘If you really have solid cases against them, then they can be booted out of here and put on remand. They can eat and be looked after out of a prison’s budget. Have you seen the CPS?’

‘I have an appointment to see Mr Twelvetrees later today.’

Harker wasn’t pleased. He pinched the bridge of his
nose and squeezed his eyes tight shut. ‘You’ll miss the magistrates’ court this morning, then?’ he said.

The answer was obvious. Angel breathed in and out heavily. He didn’t reply.

‘Well, make sure they attend court tomorrow morning,’ Harker said.

‘I’ll try,’ Angel said. ‘But they haven’t seen their solicitors yet, sir.’

‘Excuses. Excuses. That’s all I get from you. I said make sure that they attend court tomorrow morning, and that’s an order.’

‘I’ll do what I can, sir. There’s something else I have to report.’

Harker’s fists tightened. ‘What is it?’ he said.

‘The woman in the reception office, Mrs Meredew, has been opening sealed communications that have passed through her hands and reported the contents to the newspaper, the
Daily Yorkshireman
.’

Harker’s jaw dropped. He screwed up his face and scratched his left ear.

‘Are you sure of that?’

‘Positive. I made a simple, deliberate mistake in a letter sent to the lab at Wetherby by courier. The error was repeated the following day verbatim in the paper.’

Harker said, ‘Mmmm. That explains a few things. She gave her notice in a week ago. I interviewed her to discover the reason. She simply said she was retiring. Mmmm. Anyway, there is a new woman starting today. But you should not be wasting your time checking out members of staff, Angel. That’s not in your brief.
I
give you the cases you are to work on. You don’t simply
assume
them.’

Angel’s face reddened. His heart pounded like a steam hammer. ‘What was I supposed to do, sir?’ he said. ‘Allow the leak to continue? She was giving away vital information that might have hindered the investigation.’

‘You should have reported it to me. If I had decided there was anything in it, I would have instigated an inquiry. Instead you took on the job of investigating officer and now that she has left, it is rather too late. Any action I took against her would be pounced on by the media. And we don’t want
that
sort of publicity. Would make it look as if we are unable to keep our own house in order. Anyway, as it happens she has already left, and, indeed, been replaced, so I am not disposed to take any action against her.’

A
NGEL STORMED OUT
of Harker’s office. He had a face like thunder. He marched down the green corridor to his own office where DC Scrivens and Ahmed were waiting for him.

He looked at Ahmed and said, ‘Where’s Crisp?’

‘I told him you wanted to see him straightaway, sir,’ Ahmed said. ‘He said he would be here.’

Angel gritted his teeth, ‘Right, lad,’ he said. ‘I need DS Carter as well. Ask her to come here ASAP.’

‘Right, sir,’ Ahmed said.

‘And you’d better come back. There’s a lot to do.’

Ahmed grinned. ‘Right, sir,’ he said as he went out.

Angel turned to Scrivens. ‘Ted,’ he said, ‘the super wants those men out of our cells and put on remand post-haste. Will you find out who their solicitors are and arrange meetings ASAP? He wants me to arrange for them to appear before the magistrates tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow? That’s a tall order, sir,’ he said.

‘Don’t tell me, lad, tell the super.’

‘I won’t bother, sir,’ he said with a knowing smile.

The look from him lightened Angel’s mood and he smiled back.

He went out as Crisp came in.

‘You wanted me, sir?’

Angel looked at him, then raised his eyes skywards, then shook his head.

Crisp said, ‘I couldn’t come sooner, sir. I had a member of the public who wanted to know—’

Angel put up both hands and blew out a length of breath. ‘Don’t bother, lad. Don’t bother. I haven’t the time or the patience.’

There was a knock at the door.

Angel turned to look at it and said, ‘Come in.’

It was Ahmed. ‘DS Carter’s on her way, sir,’ he said.

Angel nodded.

‘And you wanted me to come back, sir?’

‘Yes, Ahmed. Come in. Close the door. Wait a minute while I finish with DS Crisp.’

Ahmed nodded.

Angel turned back to Crisp. ‘Right, now listen up. This is very important. I want you to go down to SOCO and see Don Taylor. He has a load of clothes and personal effects from the men in the cells. Among them is a large black overcoat. Ask Don to deal with it quickly, then let you have it and take it up to Dr Mac at the mortuary.’

‘Right, sir,’ Crisp said, and he turned towards the door.

‘Just a minute,’ Angel called. He quickly swivelled the chair through 180 degrees to the table behind him, picked up a small polythene evidence bag, turned back and handed it over to Crisp. ‘In there is a very valuable button and some threads of cotton. You can see the
threads hanging off the button without opening the bag, can’t you?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘A man’s future hangs on what forensic science tells us about that button and those threads. Give that bag to Dr Mac also. He’ll be expecting you. This is very, very important – and urgent.’

Crisp nodded and went out.

Angel then turned to Ahmed and said, ‘Right, lad. Now what I have for you is equally urgent. Sit down a minute.’

Ahmed’s eyes glowed with enthusiasm. He leaned forward. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said. He enjoyed being a policeman when he was busy doing something other than filing.

Angel took three other polythene evidence bags from the table behind him and passed them over to the young detective. ‘There are three items taken from the gang we are holding in the cells,’ he said. ‘In one bag is a silver ring representing a skull, in another, a part-pack of cigarettes and a lighter and in the third, a cigarette end with the brand clearly visible through the polythene. Take those to Mrs Sellars at 24 Ceresford Road. Ask the duty sergeant in the Control Room for some transport there and back. Tell him I have sent you and that it’s urgent and important. Give Mrs Sellars my compliments and ask her if that is the skull ring she saw being worn by the man who knocked on her door on Monday last, 3 November. Then ask her if the cigarettes and lighter are hers and were the same ones in her handbag when it was stolen from her kitchen. And lastly, ask her if she could say that that cigarette butt could have been from a cigarette from the pack stolen from her. All right? Any questions?’

‘Yes, sir,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to take a formal statement from her?’

‘It would save time, yes, but let me know what her answers are on my mobile as soon as you can.’

‘Right, sir.’

‘There’s something else,’ Angel said. ‘You must interview her without her husband being present. He doesn’t approve of her smoking. If you ask about the cigarettes and the lighter in front of him, you’ll make it very difficult for her. Understand?’

Ahmed smiled. ‘Right, sir,’ he said. Then he picked up the three evidence bags and went out.

Angel then reached out for the phone, scrolled down to ‘Mortuary’ and clicked on it. It was answered by Dr Mac. Angel told him that he was sending Crisp with the overcoat and button and asked him to treat the query with the utmost urgency. He asked him to report on the matter as soon as possible and certainly before Angel’s meeting that afternoon with Twelvetrees at the CPS. Mac said he would do the best he could.

There was a knock at the door.

Angel finished the call to Dr Mac, then called out, ‘Come in.’

DC Scrivens came in followed closely behind by DS Carter. She was carrying several A4 sheets of paper.

Angel looked at both of them and then back at Scrivens and said, ‘Is it a quickie, Ted?’

‘Yes, sir,’ he said, looking deferentially at DS Carter.

She held out a hand, indicating that he should proceed before her.

Scrivens said, ‘Well, sir, just to say that the solicitors
of each of the four men say they will be round to see their clients before lunch.’

Angel sighed. ‘Ah. Great stuff, Ted. Thank you.’

Scrivens nodded and went out.

Angel looked up at Carter and said, ‘Now, Flora, what is it?’

She waved the papers she was holding. ‘There’s an email from Records, sir,’ she said, sliding the sheets in front of him. ‘It’s the report on the two guns I asked them for.’

Angel picked it up eagerly. ‘Ah yes,’ he said. ‘Sit down, Flora.’

He glanced at the brief accompanying letter then read the reports.

They said:

When Angel had finished reading the reports, he eagerly looked through the pile of papers on his desk. The pile was thick. There was a lot to go through but he knew exactly what he was looking for: it was another email with the history of the Walther handgun that Records had supplied a few days earlier. He found it and pulled it out. He quickly reread it. Then he smiled, looked up at Flora and said, ‘All three guns were stolen from the army security store in Cardiff on 2 February 2001. As the Smith & Wesson and the Beretta were found in the possession of the Fachinno brothers, it is not surprising to find the third gun, the Walther, also in their hands, is it?’

‘No, sir. It is not,’ she said.

‘Therefore if Dr Mac can forensically show that the button found in Ian Fairclough’s hand irrefutably came
from Antonio Fachinno’s overcoat, with all the other witnesses’ evidence and CCTV verification, and ballistic evidence that the Beretta taken from Antonio was the gun used to kill Ian Fairclough, we have a strong enough case to convince a jury that he murdered Fairclough to protect his identity while he was in the process of taking back the suitcase, which contained the proceeds from the raid on the Slater Security van.’

Flora frowned. ‘How had Ian Fairclough come by Antonio Fachinno’s suitcase, sir?’ she said.

‘His brother let it out. In my bedroom – you were under the bed. Antonio and Ian Fairclough had identical suitcases – brown and cream, very unusual – and they were both travelling on the same train to London. They must have been switched by accident at the ticket office or on the platform or on the train or in the buffet car. But let me continue … I don’t want to lose my train of thought.’

‘Right, sir.’

‘Well, now, the gun – the Walther – that was found on the lawn at the home of Joan Minter was indeed the weapon used to murder her. We now know that for a fact. Also we know that Roberto was there. He was the caterer. He had motive, means and opportunity, and now we have shown that he had actual access to the Walther. Therefore, I am certain that a jury would convict him of that murder.’

Angel stopped. Looked at Flora and said, ‘Have I forgotten anything?’

‘Don’t think so, sir.’

‘Good. Well, then, leave me to it. I must get it written down for Twelvetrees while it is clear in my head.’

It was four o’clock when Angel came out of Twelvetrees’ office. His face glowed. It shone as if it had been buffed up by a French polisher. He didn’t walk, he glided his way along the pavement to the police station two buildings away. He sprang up the front steps, two at a time, then through the front door and the security door and made his way along the corridor towards his office.

DS Carter had been on the lookout for him. She had an urgent message to deliver. They met at the office door.

‘Yes, Flora,’ he said. ‘Come in. What is it?’

She was smiling and holding several A4 sheets of paper. ‘Got an email from Records, sir,’ she said. ‘A response to the photographs and prints I emailed there on Saturday. They have no knowledge of the Fachinno brothers. Their prints are not on record anywhere. But they know a lot about the other two: proper little heathens. List of offences – some on their own, some with each other. And they both have a list of offences for stealing expensive cars.’

‘Have they been through our hands?’

‘No, sir. But they’re well known to Huddersfield CID.’

Angel nodded. ‘That’s great, Flora. Leave it all there,’ he said, pointing to the corner of his desk. I’ll read it when I’ve got a minute.’

She put the papers down and said, ‘How did you get on with the CPS, sir?’

He leaned back in the chair, and formed a steeple with his hands. ‘Everything is fine. We’ve got a prima facie case for both murders and the armed robbery provided that that button can definitely be proved to have come from Antonio
Fachinno’s coat, and that Ballistics confirm that the shells actually came from the two guns used to commit the murders.’

‘That’s good, sir,’ she said.

‘Now then, Flora, I’ve got another job for you,’ he said. ‘Now that we have photographs of the Fachinno brothers, I want you to include them in our rogues’ gallery and take the laptop out to Mrs Pickles’ shop on the High Street in Tunistone. She sold Antonio Fachinno the three pickaxes used in the robbery of the security van. I want her to pick him out. If she does – and I expect she will – take a statement from her. All right?’

‘Right, sir,’ she said. She went out and closed the door.

Angel rubbed his chin, then smiled. He liked it when the plan all came together.

The phone rang out.

It was Ahmed.

‘Yes, Ahmed. What have you got?’ Angel said.

‘Mrs Sellars said that the lighter and cigarettes are hers, sir, that the cigarette end was almost certainly from the pack from her handbag because Adelaide cigarettes are not on sale over here, and that the silver ring certainly looks like the ring worn by the villain at her front door.’

Angel beamed. ‘Right, lad, that’s what I needed to hear. Now get it down on a witness’s statement form.’

‘Righto, sir.’

‘Good. When you get back, bring it into my office. I’ve another job for you.’

‘Right, sir.’

He ended the call and then looked at his notes. He didn’t want to overlook anything. He still wanted to hear
from Ballistics that the guns and shell cases matched; also he needed to know that
that
button came off Antonio Fachinno’s coat.

Angel rubbed his chin and looked at the clock on the wall. It was five o’clock. It had been a great day.

On his way out of the station, Angel was thinking that it would be the last evening he would be dining alone. The following day, Mary would be home. It couldn’t come soon enough. He felt a warm glow in his chest. He was meeting her at 5.35 p.m. at Bromersley Station. He began to think about what needed to be done to return everything to (what Mary would consider was) normal. He decided to defrost something from the freezer and make sure the house was tidy, warm and welcoming. He would get her some flowers, and he would wash up the few pots he had used, clean the sink, vacuum the carpets and maybe dust around. He thought that would about do it. He hoped that she wouldn’t notice anything different about the mattress and the duvet. He hadn’t yet thought of an explanation that would be acceptable to her for the fact that he had renewed most of the bedding.

After a couple of drinks in the bar at The Feathers and a steak and a half-bottle of house red in the restaurant, he called at the petrol station for some flowers, returned home and did the necessary chores. He phoned Mary in Edinburgh and confirmed the arrangements for meeting her the following day. Then he went to bed, and slept the sleep of the good.