Shrine to Murder (16 page)

‘
Yes, sir. Just about finished the inside. I came out for a breather. The smell is…unspeakable.’

‘
What have you found?’

‘
Well, sir, the ignition key was switched on and a long length of 2” by 1” timber was jammed between the seat back and the accelerator pedal.’

Angel
had expected that or something similar. ‘Was there anything in the van, such as a mirror?’

‘
I thought you’d ask about a mirror, sir. No. But on the windscreen in red paint was the message: “III to go”.’

Angel
’s face muscles tightened and his heart beat faster. Although the message was entirely predictable, he felt that the audacious killer was speaking directly to him. He knew it and he didn’t like it.

‘
Right, Don,’ he said. ‘That’s enough for now. Is Mac there?’

‘
He’s just coming out of the tent, sir. Hold on.’

Angel
heard some unintelligible exchanges between them, there was a pause, then he heard Mac’s broad Glaswegian voice. ‘Now then Michael, what you wantin’ from me?’

‘
Tell me straight, Mac. Is the wound on that victim, Peel, the same as the ones on Luke Redman and Ingrid Underwood?’

‘
Aye. It is. And I believe it to have been made by the same weapon, a dagger with a 6” blade.’

‘
No laurel leaf?’

Mac
snorted. ‘Give me a chance. There’s a laurel leaf tucked inside his shirt lapel. That’s all you what you wanted to know, isn’t it?’

Chapter Twelve

There was a knock at the door.

Angel
looked up. ‘Come in,’ he said.

It
was WPC Baverstock. ‘We’ve got Margaret Ireland for you, sir,’ she said. ‘Did you want her here or in an interview room?’

‘
In here, for the minute,’ Angel said.

‘
In here, Miss Ireland, please,’ Baverstock said.

The
woman came in. She looked round the office then down at Angel. She didn’t look pleased.

DC
Scrivens followed close behind and closed the door.

Margaret
Ireland looked from Angel to Scrivens to Baverstock and then back to Angel. ‘I’m not used to being moved around from place to place like a parcel,’ she said.

‘
I’m transferring you to a cell in the station,’ Angel said.

She
blinked. She was obviously surprised. ‘It will be safer here, I suppose,’ she said.

Angel
nodded. ‘Not only that, Mrs Ireland, but in view of certain forensic evidence there is some possibility that it may be necessary for you to have to explain your presence in Luke Redman’s bedroom the night he was murdered. In the meantime, I am holding you for further questioning.’

Her
eyes almost popped out of her head. ‘
What
?’ she said. ‘Luke Redman’s bedroom? Ridiculous. That stupid old man was old enough to be my grandfather! I wouldn’t be seen dead with him. What are you up to, Inspector?’

‘
There’s no need for you to offer any explanation now,’ Angel said. ‘I suggest that you consult your solicitor and I’ll speak to you tomorrow. All right?’

‘
No. It is not all right. I wouldn’t be seen dead with the stupid old fool. I don’t know what strange ideas you have got hold of, Inspector, or what cock and bull evidence you have concocted, but it’s utterly ridiculous and outrageous.’

Angel
looked up at Baverstock and said, ‘Take her down to the cells. See that she has all that she needs.’

‘
Right, sir.’

As
they went out, the phone rang.

Angel
reached out for it. It was Harker.

‘
Do you know the time.’

‘
Yes
, sir. It’s 4.55,’ he said. He knew full well what the time was, and he told the superintendent what he wanted to hear.

Harker
grunted, said, ‘That’s better,’ and put the receiver down.

Angel
was about as happy as a villain who expected an ASBO and got two years.

Thank
god it was time to go home.

There
was a knock at the door. He looked up and sneered across at it.

‘
Come in.’

It
was Carter.

‘
Oh, yes,’ he said, suddenly brightening. ‘How did Tom Franks take the news? Was he put out at all?’

‘
He was surprised, sir.’

He
looked at her closely. ‘Did he show any signs of…of reluctance…or fear?’

‘
He seemed unhappy at losing police protection, but glad to leave the cell. I must say, sir, I think you are taking a great risk withdrawing protection like this.’

He
heard her clear enough. He didn’t choose to reply.

‘
Did he mention that he had a suitable hideaway to go to?’

‘
He didn’t say, sir. But he did say that he was packing a bag and leaving immediately.’

‘
Did he give you a mobile phone number?’

‘
Yes, sir.’

She
passed a card with a handwritten number on it. He raised his eyebrows, glanced at the card and then put it in his pocket. ‘I assume there was nothing to report about Ingrid Underwood’s daughter, Rosemary?’

‘
Nothing vital, sir, or I would have said. Things
have
been moving on rather quickly.’

Angel
nodded.

‘
Anyway, sir, Rosemary Underwood said that she knew of no one who would wish her mother dead. She said that, as she was the only child, she was the only one to benefit financially from her mother’s death. Her mother divorced years ago and she can’t remember her father. She knows of no connection between her mother and Luke Redman or Angus Peel, and the names, Kenneth Lamb, Tom Franks and Margaret Ireland meant nothing at all to her, and she doesn’t know if any of them had been customers and bought flowers from her mother at any time. She didn’t know anything about the production of
Nero
either. The only relationship of her mother’s she knew of - and she didn’t like it - was the man opposite who has the bike shop, Carl Young. And that’s about it, sir.’

‘
What didn’t Rosemary like about him?’

‘
Nothing specific, sir. She said he was always hanging around when she visited her mother at the shop.’

Angel
frowned, closed his eyes for a second, then said, ‘He fancied her, that’s all. She wasn’t bad looking. I bet she’d been a cracker twenty years ago. Kids are always jealous. Anything else?’

Carter
nodded in agreement and then said, ‘No, sir. I think I’ve covered everything.’

Angel
nodded. He pursed his lips then rubbed his chin. She appeared to have done a thorough job interviewing Rosemary Underwood. She had asked all the questions he would have asked. He was wondering whether he wanted her to accompany him on a visit to Margaret Ireland’s parents. Ron Gawber, his sergeant for ten years, would have been the ideal copper to have sent on that sort of job on his own. Alas, he was not available to him any more.

‘
About Margaret Ireland,’ he said. ‘There are so many reasons why she is probably
not
the murderer we are seeking. I really need some hard evidence to charge her or make a decision to eliminate her completely, before Kenneth Lamb or Tom Franks is found dead.’

Carter
looked surprised. ‘She’s in a cell, sir. Isn’t she?’

‘
Yes. For only forty-eight hours, then I’ll have to release her. She’s not been charged with murder. She can’t be, yet. Not enough evidence. The only hard clue we have is the DNA on the two hairs found on the back of Luke Redman’s hand.’

‘
Aren’t you waiting for a DNA result on the hair you took from her yesterday?’

‘
That’ll take a few days. She’ll be out before then, and if she’s the murderer and she finds Lamb or Franks, it will be god help them. The lab said that the gene pattern indicates the hair belonged to a female of oriental origin. If Margaret Ireland’s parents or forbears are oriental, then she must be the murderer. She’s the only female it
could
be.’

Carter
nodded.

‘
First thing in the morning,’ Angel said, ‘we’ll visit her parents.’

‘
Right, sir.’

There
was a knock at the door.

Angel
’s eyebrows went up. ‘See who it is, will you?’

She
opened the door.

A
voice said, ‘Ah, Flora, is the boss in?’

It
was DS Crisp. Angel recognized his voice.

‘
Come in,’ he said, then to Carter he said, ‘Push off home. See you here, first thing in the morning.’

She
went out and closed the door.

‘
Did you see Lamb off all right?’

‘
He said he was pleased to go. He was bored to tears and the place hadn’t the comforts of home,’ Crisp said.

‘
Did he give you a mobile number?’

‘
No, sir.’

Angel
’s hands tightened into fists. ‘It wasn’t supposed to be the Dorchester,’ he said. ‘It was to save his skin. Where’s he going to go undercover? The Maldives?’

‘
I don’t believe he’s planning to go anywhere, sir. He said he’ll take his chances.’

Angel
ran his tongue along his lower lip. He was thinking. He was glad he didn’t have superintendent Harker’s conscience. ‘You’re sure that he understood the risk?’

‘
He said he wasn’t scared of anything.’

‘
What’s his home address?’ Angel said as he reached out for the phone.

‘
72 Wentworth View, sir. On the corner. What are you doing?’

Eventually
a voice in the earpiece said, ‘Inspector Asquith.’

‘
Michael Angel here, Haydn.’

‘
Oh, the scruffy branch of her majesty’s constabulary,’ Asquith quipped. ‘What can I do for you?’

Angel
didn’t mind the friendly jibe if he could get his own way. ‘It’s more what I can do for you, Haydn. I have an idea that there might be a burglary at 72 Wentworth View tonight. If you could get your lads to keep an eye on the place…? Use the street corner as a rendezvous point a few times in the night. You know the sort of thing?’

‘
Certainly watch that, my son. Have no fear. Thanks for the tip-off, Michael. If my lads can make a collar, they will. There’ll be no robbery there tonight, I can assure you. Pleasant dreams.’

He
replaced the phone.

Crisp
looked at Angel, smiled and shook his head knowingly.

Angel
wasn’t smiling. He was rubbing his chin in thought.

‘
There’s one loose end that has not been cleared up, Trevor,’ Angel said. ‘I want you to see to it tomorrow morning, while I’m in Huddersfield with the new sergeant. It’s the business with Cyril Krill and that Solar Heating and Power Exhibition in London last week. Krill originally said that he went down there alone, yet in the Fair’s visitor’s book, the organizer told DS Carter that he had arrived there with a woman and signed in as Mr and Mrs Krill. Now, you know all about Mrs Krill. You interviewed her.’

‘
Yes, sir. She spent the weekend at home with a migraine.’

‘
Aye. I don’t know what we can do about that, lad. A migraine without a witness is not an alibi. Anyway, you remember, you were with me when Krill told us about a relationship he had had with a woman whose name he can’t remember; it began with an “M”. We never did tidy that up, such a lot happening. But I hadn’t forgotten it. I want you to go back to him. Lean on him. Take Scrivens with you. I want you to get him to produce an alibi for the Saturday night/Sunday morning his father-in-law was murdered, if he can. Then I want you check it out, thoroughly. If it doesn’t hold up, bring him in for questioning. He’s probably got a strong enough motive to have murdered the old man, but, of course, we have no evidence against him in respect of Ingrid Underwood nor Angus Peel. However, it should make him sit up and take us seriously. He can’t play ducks and drakes with us like that.’

‘
Right, sir.’

*

‘Good morning, sir,’ Carter said as she pulled open the door of Angel’s BMW.

Angel
nodded and, as the door closed, he let in the clutch and the car pulled smartly away from the steps of Bromersley Police Station and headed for Huddersfield Road and over the moors. They hardly spoke through the short journey.

Eventually
Angel said, ‘We need to find out if Margaret Ireland has any Far Eastern heritage. If she has, it would be a step nearer to matching the DNA of the hair and provide justification for arresting her and charging her with the three murders.’

‘
So you want me to keep a lookout for anything Chinese or Japanese or - similar?’

‘
It’s a matter of confirmation or elimination.’

It
didn’t take long to reach Huddersfield town centre.

He
handed Carter the street guide. ‘Lumb Lane is off the road to Oldham,’ Angel said.

And
so it was: a very long back street of terraced houses, which had their front doors opening directly on to the pavement. He found number 121 and was able to stop and park the BMW right outside the front door. Two little girls with skinny white arms and legs were bouncing balls against the red brick walls of a nearby house.

Angel
knocked on the door panel and waited.

Angel
and Carter exchanged looks. He knocked again and the door was opened five inches and an elderly man’s voice said, ‘What is it? What do you want?’

‘
Mr Ireland?’

‘
Yes. What is it?’

They
pulled out their ID cards and Angel said, ‘I’m Inspector Angel and this is Sergeant Carter. We want to talk to you about your daughter, Margaret.’