Taylor nodded. ‘So she told a lie and was actually trying to prove it was the truth.’
Angel nodded. ‘Exactly. She told a whopping lie, making a thief out of a woman who is probably as straight as a parson’s pencil.’
‘What a nasty, evil bitch she really is,’ Taylor said.
There was a knock on the door.
‘Come in,’ Angel called.
It was Crisp. He looked very breezy and smart.
Taylor and Crisp exchanged nods then Taylor looked back at Angel and said, ‘Was there anything else, sir?’
‘Yes, Don,’ Angel said. ‘Ephemore Sharpe has to be stopped, before we find another dead body. But there’s nothing else for now, lad. That’s all. Carry on.’
‘Yes sir,’ he said and went out.
Angel turned back to Crisp. ‘Now then, Trevor, sit down. It’s like this . . . a new inquiry has cropped up, and I urgently want the names and medical records of all the patients in St Magdalene’s Hospital. If I ask for it openly, it would show my hand to the very person I need to hide it from, so I want you to get it for me — quickly, quietly and surreptitiously. I think the best bet, the easiest bet, would be via the pretty bird on reception. All right?’
Crisp blinked.
‘That should be easy-peasy for you, lad,’ Angel said.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know, sir. Depends what she’s like. You know how weird women can be.’
‘Yes, I know, but this one’s a real eye knocker, all right.’
‘Well, then, she’ll be in great demand, sir. She’s probably already got a regular partner.’
‘She might have. You can’t tell. She might be fed up with him.’
‘She might be very happy.’
Angel shook his head. ‘None of these modern lasses are really happy,’ he said. ‘They don’t know what happiness is. They don’t know what they want, and when they’ve got it they don’t want it.’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘Besides, men often shy away from really good-looking girls. They think the competition might be too strong. She’d probably welcome a new face.’
‘Yes, sir, but it might not be mine,’ he said. He scratched his head. ‘And she’d take a little time to get to know.’
‘We’ve not got a lot of time.’
‘Is she really a cracker?’
‘She makes Cheryl Cole look like one of Ken Dodd’s Diddymen. Believe me.’
Crisp smiled. He was warming to the idea.
‘Mmmm. What about expenses, sir?’ he said.
‘Anything reasonable would be all right, but I am not talking about two months in the Maldives. I want you to crack this quickly — very quickly indeed.’
‘And how would I get this info, sir?’
Angel opened his desk drawer, reached inside, took out a small paper bag and handed it to him.
Crisp took it and opened it. Inside was a bubble pack of a card and a memory stick for a PC.
‘Do you know what that is?’
‘Oh yes, sir.’
‘Well, at the first opportunity stick that into a USB socket in the computer on her desk in reception, and the rest is easy. All right? It’ll only take you a minute, if that.’
‘When am I going to have the opportunity?’
‘Don’t worry. I am working on that.’
Crisp seemed a little more confident. ‘Right, sir,’ he said.
‘Hop off, put on your best suit, get to that hospital and start the charm offensive. I’ll contact you on your mobile.’
Crisp grinned and went out.
Angel watched the door close and smiled.
He resumed his wrestle with the endless paperwork and was thinning it out nicely when there was another knock on the door.
It was DS Carter.
‘Have you a minute, sir?’ Flora said. ‘I’ve managed to find out a little bit about Julius Hobbs and Wendy Green or Woods, as she was known then.’
Angel pointed to the chair Crisp had not long vacated. Flora Carter sat down. She took out a small notebook from her bag.
‘What have you got?’
‘Well, sir, according to their respective mothers, they were not aware of any liaison of any kind between them, but both mothers were willing to agree that their kids didn’t tell them everything about their friends and relationships, particularly at that age. I found a neighbour of Wendy Woods who was a similar age, and she said that when they were at school, they shared confidences particularly to do with boyfriends, but she never knew of any relationship between Julius and Wendy, so I have tended to rule that line of inquiry out. I did find out that they were both in the same class from being eleven years of age up to seventeen so they couldn’t have avoided knowing each other. They were both born in 1980, so that’s not surprising. Also her friend said that Wendy was almost always at the top of the class. Julius Hobbs’s mother said that he was always top of the class, from when he first attended school also. They can’t both be right. Anyway, they both left school at the end of the summer term in 1997. Julius Hobbs went to work in a travel agency in town and then as an estate agent selling houses, while Wendy Woods went straight to university. I couldn’t find any indications that their paths ever crossed again. And that’s all I’ve got, sir,’ she said closing her notebook.
Angel had been listening carefully. ‘Sounds as if there might have been a bit of competition between them to be top of the class?’
‘Might have been. I don’t think it was serious.’
Angel pursed his lips then said, ‘Did either of the mothers mention Ephemore Sharpe?’
‘No, sir. I asked each mother if their child had at any time mentioned any of their teachers by name. They both said they couldn’t remember. They didn’t think so. When I mentioned the name Ephemore Sharpe, both mothers said that they didn’t know of her.’
‘Did it seem genuine?’
‘Oh yes, sir. It did.’
‘And is that it?’
‘That’s all I could manage to dig up. Is it of any help?’
Angel shrugged. He tapped the tip of his forefinger quickly at his temple several times. ‘It all goes in the pot, Flora,’ he said. Then he ran a hand through his hair and said, ‘If I could find where Ephemore Sharpe keeps hidden a big cat that kills to order, how she gets it to obey her and not harm anybody else, her motive for murdering two of her ex pupils, and sufficient evidence to secure a conviction, I’d be a very happy man. As it is, I seem to have a million facts milling around in there but not the right ones. In addition, there seems to be another murder case that I will have to solve involving a patient at St Magdalene’s Hospital.’
Flora Carter lowered her eyebrows. ‘I thought that was a breaking and entering and burglary job, sir?’
He pulled a face, moaned and said, ‘No. But there’s that as well, lass.’
The phone rang. He glared at it. He hesitated then reached out and snatched it up.’
It was Mary. ‘Can you talk a minute, love?’
He wanted to say ‘no,’ but he didn’t want another row. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘DS Carter is with me. She won’t mind waiting one minute. What is it?’
‘Give DS Carter my apologies and tell her I look forward to meeting her in the near future.’
‘That’s half a minute gone. What do you want?’
‘Don’t be mingy. That was only ten seconds, if that. There’s a car breaker at Barnsley Common. Car breakers use acetylene torches all the time, don’t they? Shall I ask him if he can collect the safe and cut it open for us?’
Angel blew out a truncheon’s length of air. ‘All right but get a quote from him first.’
‘Right, love. Bye.’ There was a click and she was gone.
His nose went up and the corners of his mouth went down. He slammed down the phone, blinked several times, turned to Flora Carter and said, ‘Where was I?’
‘I was thinking, sir, the two pupils who were in the same class may have witnessed something or were involved in somet
hing with Miss Sharpe which she now doesn’t want to become public knowledge . . . something criminal.’
Angel nodded. ‘It’s possible, Flora. It’s possible, but I think that the most significant thing you have found out is that both mothers said that their child was always top of the class.’
‘A typical proud mother’s boast, sir, don’t you think?’
There was a knock at the door.
‘Come in,’ Angel called.
It was PC Sean Donohue, a car patrolman from Inspector Asquith’s uniformed team at Bromersley.
‘What is it, Sean?’ Angel said.
Donohue looked at Flora Carter and then back at Angel. ‘Oh. Er, I just wanted a word, sir,’ he said. ‘But if it’s not convenient . . . ?’
‘No. That’s all right. Come in. You know DS Carter?’
Flora thought that Donohue wanted to speak to Angel on his own. She jumped up and said, ‘If you gentlemen will excuse me? I’ll get off.’
Angel nodded. Donohue smiled and she went out.
Angel looked at the patrolman, pointed to the chair and said, ‘What is it, Sean?’
Donohue did seem more at ease when there was only the two of them. He sat down and put his flat hat on his lap. ‘That notice in the canteen, sir. About Miss Sharpe, the history teacher at the grammar school.’
‘Aye, what about her.’
‘I was in her class from about twelve until I was sixteen, the same form as Julius Hobbs and Wendy Woods.’
‘Oh yes? We were just talking about them, Sean. Which one was the cleverest?’
Donohue frowned. ‘They were both pretty slick, sir. I guess Hobbs was the cleverest, but Wendy Woods came a very close second. They were the two smartest in the class. Is it important?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Huh. I know I came way below them both.’
‘Tell me about Miss Sharpe.’
Donohue shook his head and looked down. ‘She was a horrific monster, sir, if the truth be known. She was scary and all the class was terrified of her. She used to rant and rage and scream at us if we got a date or a name wrong. She was an absolute terror. There was never any nonsense in her lessons. If she picked on you, you could expect a rough ride. There were some girls she reduced to tears. Her subject was history which she pumped into us hard. Her lessons were boring and uncomfortable.’
‘And was there anything of a relationship . . . I realize that you were only in your teens, but was there anything of a relationship between Julius Hobbs and Wendy Woods?’
‘I never noticed anything, sir. Relationships did exist but they were, in the main, kept secret, because if they got found out, they would get teased something rotten.’
‘Anything else you can tell me about Julius Hobbs, or Wendy Woods?’
‘I don’t think so, sir. They were ordinary kids, just like we all were. It’s just that they always seemed to know the answers and get the best marks, that’s all.’
‘Can you remember if they were good at history?’
‘They were brilliant at everything, sir.’
Angel frowned, then he looked up and said, ‘Thanks for coming in, Sean.’
Donohue went out and Angel sat there, rubbing his chin. He could not see a motive for the horrible Ephemore Sharpe to want to kill her two best pupils, unless it was deliberately to confuse him. Because confuse him it certainly did. He ran his hand through his already dishevelled hair. He had never hated a case as much as he hated that one at that moment.
The phone rang. He reached out for it. ‘Angel.’
‘It’s Sergeant Clifton in the Control Room sir. I wouldn’t bother you, but as you know the super’s off sick and Inspector Asquith is up to his proverbials with this football match. The chief constable said I was to ask you to deal with it. He said, it needed your tact and diplomacy . . .’
Angel pulled a face like tripe on a plate. ‘Yes, Sergeant. What is it? Don’t wrap it up. Spit it out, lad.’
‘Yes, sir. Well, there’s been a call from Mrs Councillor Regan about sixty-one Huddersfield Road, near Fairclough’s veterinary practice. She lives close by. It was a woman’s fashion shop, but has been empty more than a year, I reckon.’
Angel’s hand clenched the phone tightly. ‘What about it?’ he said.
‘Oh, she says that there is an unbearable sickly sweet smell coming from the building,’ Clifton said.
Angel’s eyes went up and then down. He knew about sickly sweet smells. His heart began to pound. He stood up and reached for his coat.
17
Six minutes later he was steering the BMW along Huddersfield Road towards the empty shop a few doors from Fairclough’s veterinary practice where he had arranged to meet Flora Carter.
Angel understood from Sergeant Clifton that the shop was about six doors down from Fairclough’s veterinary surgery. He saw the sign and slowed the car down.
Number 61 had been a smart shop with imitation marble frontage and two display windows now covered with sheets of white paper.
Angel stopped the car and got out.
His old friend, the sickly sweet smell began to pervade his nostrils.
He went up to the shop entrance. There was a big steel padlock locking the door. There was no indication that anybody was occupying the building, indeed it looked desolate. He banged loudly on the door and waited a few seconds. He gave the door another good thumping. There was still no response.
He stood back and looked up at the fascia of the two-storey stone building. He couldn’t see any alarms, CCTV cameras or wiring.
He heard a car engine roar behind him. It was Flora Carter arriving in her Honda Civic. She stopped the car, got out, smiled then she also noticed the smell. She pulled a face and waved a hand in front of her nose.
Angel went up to her. ‘I don’t think there’s anybody in there. I’m going to have to break in,’ he said. He opened his car boot, took out a crowbar and used that to lever the hasp off the door jamb.
When he opened the door, the smell was stronger than ever. They looked round the shop but there was nothing there. It was completely empty. It was just one empty room with a door leading to stairs.
There was still no sign of the source of the overbearing odour.
They went up the stairs together. At the top was a door. He tried the handle. It was locked. He put his weight against it and burst it open at the second attempt. A cat zipped out of the room and down the stairs.
The smell in the room was more powerful, the fumes overwhelming.
He quickly pushed the door open all the way back. It banged on the wall behind.
‘Protect your eyes, Flora,’ he said, and he half closed his own eyes and shielded them with his hands. He needed to open a window. He could hardly see his way across the room the fumes were so strong, but he could see the daylight. He arrived at the window. It was the old-fashioned type. The fastener thankfully was broken off. He opened it and stuck his head outside for a second then looked round the tiny room.
The walls were lined with glass showcases. Flora put her hand to her mouth when she saw that one of them contained bones and skulls. In the other showcase was a collection of stuffed animals. There was an otter, a rat and a cat.
She pulled a face and said, ‘What sort of a person is interested in stuffing dead animals?’
‘Taxidermy, Flora,’ he said. ‘You’d be surprised. It’s a hobby to some people.’
‘Yes, sir. Taxidermy. Couldn’t think of the word.’
‘What an awful smell. I couldn’t work in this all day. Yet all kinds of people are mad keen on this sort of thing . . . doctors, medical students, people interested in animal welfare, all sorts of people.’
‘Do you know whose place this is, sir?’
He pursed his lips. ‘I expect it’s somebody we know.’
Flora shook her head, then said, ‘Whoever it is, I expect that sickly perfume is used to cover the dreadful smell the animal’s skins give off.’
There was a ten-gallon copper
tank on the floor filled with a white crystalline powder. Angel leaned over it and discovered that it produced another ghastly smell. Next to it was a brown paper sack with the one-word label ‘Saltpetre’ stuck on it.
Angel’s eyebrows went up then he nodded knowingly.
‘We may have found our saltpetre thief, Flora.’
‘And there’s a big bottle of iodine up here, sir,’ she said looking up at a high shelf with an array of bottles. ‘It fits the description.’
At the back of his memory, Angel knew that iodine combined with salt (then called iodized salt) was used for curing skins and body parts in taxidermy. He learned that at school. He could have kicked himself.
Below the shelf, on the floor, were the remains of a smashed brown-glass bottle, but the area around it showed no stain or trace of the contents.
Flora pointed to the broken glass. ‘What do you suppose was in that, sir?’
‘That might have been the source of the stink. If it was alcohol based, it would have evaporated, wouldn’t it?’
She nodded.
Angel noticed that there was an empty saucer and a half-bottle of milk on the floor next to the smashed bottle. He looked back up at the shelf and then said, ‘I think that cat must have knocked that bottle down.’
He straightened up, took another quick look round the room and said, ‘Look Flora, you finish off here. Find the person who is using this place. Ask him or her about the saltpetre and the iodine. You might find some traces of that bottle of ethanol also. It could have been used in that perfume concoction, I suppose. Get SOCO to see if they all or any came from St Magdalene’s. And be very careful, do you hear? If the person whose place this is turns up, you might not be entirely welcome.’
She looked at him carefully.
‘I have reasons to think we could be dealing with the murderer,’ he said.
‘Why do you say that, sir?’
THE CHESHIRE CAT MURDERS an enthralling crime mystery full of twists (Yorkshire Murder Mysteries Book 18) Page 18
