Angels Bleed (Fallen Angels Book 1)

by Max Hardy

  He picked up one of the mobiles from the desk in front of him, a silver iPhone which was sitting next to a white phone, and called a number at the top of the call list.

  ‘She’s asleep now. She trusts me, at the moment. There may come a point when she tries to gouge my eyes out with a screw, but not just yet. How are things at your end?’ he asked, listening intently to the reply.

  ‘I don’t think it will be long. John has just been back into the drawing room. They have found the evidence linking the Hall to Michael’s murder and they are working on the premise that Madame Evangeline is real. I don’t think it will take too long to find out who owns the property.’ he continued.

  He nodded as he listened, watching Saul pause at the ‘Basket Of Fruits’ picture before leaving the room on the screen. ‘I should be there in about an hour. I’ll take over from you then. Be careful.’ he finished, then hung up.

  He dropped the iPhone into his pocket and picked up the white phone, toying with it in his hands for a few second before placing it next to the keyboard. He looked around the small room, pointing to the various contents one after another until he seemed satisfied with everything that was in there.

  ‘Right.’ he announced. ‘Lets’ see if we can’t find you a nice crisp, clean comfy bed Rebecca. God knows you deserve it.’

  10:37 am

  The silver spoon irritatingly clinked off the side of the half empty coffee cup over and over again. Sarah was lost in her own thoughts as she absentmindedly stirred the triple shot Americano, gazing through the window and gazing through the people who passed by on their way to the important things in their lives. Her pupils reflected the frosted windows in the Georgian sandstone buildings on the opposite side of Grey Street to the café she was sitting in, her eyes tracking the shadowed silhouettes moving on the other side of them. Everyone apart from those silhouettes were background noise to her, as was the spoon clinking, as was her friend, who had just entered the coffee shop and was standing beside her, trying to attract her attention.

  ‘Earth to Sarah, come in Sarah.’ Allie said in a raised voice, waving a hand in front of her friend’s distant eyes and putting a concerned hand on her shoulder. ‘Are you okay Baby Girl?’ she asked.

  Sarah looked up toward her, but her eyes still didn’t show any sign of recognition, still lost in their own world of contemplation.

  ‘Sarah?’ Allie questioned in a concerned tone. ‘Are you alright?’ she finished, sitting down in the empty seat next to Sarah and grabbing her friend’s hands. Sarah’s bottom lip started to quiver and Allie could feel her hands shaking. Sarah’s bloodshot, red rimmed eyes started to glisten with the tears that were welling up. She looked down at Allie’s hands over hers and took a deep breath, then turned back to Allie, a smile forced on to her face as she clasped her fists together hard.

  ‘Sorry Allie. Just lost in a dark place there. Thanks for coming.’ she said in a pained voice. Sarah reached over and gave her friend a huge hug, pulling her in tight, taking solace in the intimacy of the embrace, in the intimacy of their friendship.

  ‘It’s alright Baby Girl, that’s what I’m here for.’ Allie replied, letting Sarah hold the embrace as long as she needed, feeling the tension in her ease slightly until she let go and sat back, a more composed expression on her still fraught features.

  ‘Well, you are the first woman to have a good snuggle up to my new boobs.’ Allie said, rearranging her breasts in a low cut top under her silver Jacques Vert jacket. ‘What do you think?’ she finished humorously, sticking her chest out, pulling her shoulders back and posing with her head to one side while pouting her collagen filled lips.

  A genuinely warm smile broke through the pain ingrained on Sarah’s face as she looked down at the ample cleavage. ‘A little big and far too hard for my tastes, but I’m sure the men will love them.’ she answered.

  ‘Oh they do.’ Allie retorted playfully. ‘Watch this.’ she added, turning around and attracting the attention of a waiter who had just finished at another table. She looked at his name badge as he came over, his gaze immediately drawn to her thrust out chest.

  ‘Hi Philippe, how are you doing today? Could I get a double shot caramel macchiato, with a double squirt of cream, please?’ she teased.

  ‘Of course madam.’ the waiter replied in a faux French accent, blushing as he tried not to look at her breasts, failing miserably. ‘Is there anything else I can get you?’ he asked, slightly flustered.

  ‘Not for now Philippe, but maybe later.’ she answered, winking as she did.

  He turned quickly, taking his eyes off the temptation as fast as he could. Sarah let out a quiet chuckle under her breath as he left, enjoying the distraction Allie was orchestrating, and leaned over to Allie surreptitiously. ‘You are a whore, a brazen, unadulterated whore.’

  ‘Hey, less of the unadulterated, there’s been plenty of adultery in my life, I’ll have you know.’ she corrected, playfully petulant.

  In an instant, the joviality was gone from Sarah, the introspection invading again. ‘Yes, I know.’ she quietly said, reaching out her hands and placing them on top of Allie’s.

  ‘It’s a mess Allie. I’m a mess.’ she said, looking at her friend imploringly.

  ‘I can see that. I can see it’s not just from one three bottler either.’ Allie looked down at Sarah’s hands, and lifted them up to eye level, stroking the bitten nail on one of the fingers. ‘I haven’t seen you bite your nails this bad since we were at high school and that thing we don’t talk about happened with that trampoline coach we don’t mention. What has John done?’

  ‘It’s about a lot of things. What he has done, what he hasn’t done and what he has stopped doing. You know John, you know how he reads people. He just doesn’t do that with me anymore. He always used to instinctively know my moods and what I was thinking even before I knew myself half the time. That’s gone, totally gone. All I get now is indifference. For such a long time now it’s just been indifference.’

  ‘Have you talked to him about it?’ asked Allie.

  ‘I’ve tried. On the odd occasion he is around. And that’s what he hasn’t done: be around. I know it’s mainly to do with Jacob. No, sorry, that’s not fair on Jacob. I know it’s to do with the circumstances of Jacob’s illness. I know John can’t cope with the lack of responsiveness from Jacob. I know that. But try and talk to John about it and he shuts down. He becomes less emotionally responsive than Jacob. I know he can be like that, he has always reacted the same when I have probed him about his past. He just shuts off and there is no talking to him.’

  ‘But you guys have been battling with Jacob’s illness for years. What’s so different now, what has changed?’

  ‘We used to argue, we used to fight like wailing banshees. We used to be up all night sometimes, battling, disagreeing on the best way to try and help our beautiful little son. We both had hope, we both had an unwavering conviction that there was a best way to help, that we had choices. Time moved on and the choices became less and less. John doesn’t think there is any way to help him now.’ The tears were back in Sarah’s eyes, gathering in the corners, ready to fall.

  ‘Oh Sarah, he can’t think that. Look at everything he does to raise funds for Jacob. If he thought that, why would he do it?’ Allie encouraged, holding Sarah’s hands tightly.

  Sarah shot Allie a scathing glare, her next words fiercely whispered. ‘He does that to distract himself. He does that so he doesn’t have to come home. He does that so he doesn’t have to spend time with me. He does that so the outside world thinks he is a caring, considerate father who would do anything within his power to help his son. He does that because he can’t stand being around Jacob.’ The sentence ended sibilant, the hiss dissipating on the echo of her hostile breath.

  ‘Baby Girl, it’s not me you are angry with, remember that. I’m here to listen, but less of the attitude. I will ask questions, not because I don’t believe you, but because I don’t understand.’ Allie replied with a firm voice
married to sympathetic eyes.

  Sarah visibly wilted in her seat, the ferocity ebbing from her body as diffidence descended upon her. ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s not you.’ she apologised, stroking Allie’s hand affectionately as she regained a little composure.

  ‘It’s John and the things he has done. He came home the other night and wanted to talk. He wanted to talk about Jacob. He said…’ a sudden single sob caught in her throat, making her pause to catch a breath.

  ‘He said that we should start to think about the possibility that there may be no cure for Jacob’s illness. He said…’ this time her chest started to wrack, sobs making her words a shrill sing song.

  ‘He said that if there was no cure, we should think about, we should at least consider the possibility of…’ she was taking deep inward gulps of air with each sob, lungs burning with the intensity, finding it almost impossible to say the word: almost.

  ‘The possibility of euthanasia.’ she blurted out, letting the final word ride on the exhalation of her collected breath, adding a whispered ‘Shush…’ as she finished.

  ‘Fuck. Did you just say euthanasia?’ Allie said incredulously. ‘John wants you to think about killing your son!’ her mouth opened and closed as she looked for something else to say, shock side-lining speech.

  ‘Madame, your double shot Caramel Macchiato.’ said Philippe, breaking the silence as he placed Allie’s drink on the table in front of her. His false smile changed into a rictus stare as he saw the salty tear trails flowing from Sarah’s puffed up eyes.

  ‘Yes. Could you leave please, we are having a private conversation.’ Allie replied curtly, waving him away with her hand.

  ‘Okay, now I understand. Jesus Baby Girl, what did you say?’ asked Allie, shock still rumbling in her tone as she spoke.

  ‘Just about every expletive I know. It was a very one sided argument. I swore at him for half an hour, screaming and shouting, then threw him out of the house.’

  ‘Where the fuck did that come from?’ Allie asked, still shaking her head.

  ‘I have no idea. But I want to find out. I’ve only seen him for about an hour since then, what with the shift he was on and him being away this weekend. I was hoping that we could have a civilised conversation about it last night, or perhaps today, when we had time to ourselves, so I could understand why he has given up on us.’

  ‘God, you really need to talk to him about this. It’s just….it’s just fucking mental. I can’t get my head around it.’ said Allie, gulping down her drink to calm her nerves.

  ‘When I see him, I will. And not just about that. About the other thing I have found out as well.’ Sarah said, reaching down and removing an A4 size brown envelope from her Louis Vuitton bag at the side of their table. She took several black and white photographs out of the envelope and handed them to Allie.

  ‘What are these?’ Allie asked, perplexed, flicking through them. ‘It’s John.’ she added. ‘With a woman?’ she continued. ‘Kissing a woman!’ she finished, dumbfounded once again.

  ‘I had him followed. I got these yesterday. She is called Jessica. Jessica Seymour. She’s beautiful, you can see that. A very successful business woman in her own right, but has also inherited her dead husband’s business empire. No children, no immediate family. They met running, apparently. Her offices are over there, third floor up.’ Sarah said, looking out of the café, past the passers-by, to the building opposite: to the silhouettes moving behind the frosted windows.

  ‘That’s just a few of the details the Private Investigator found out. The most devastating thing he uncovered, is that they have been having an affair for more than two years.’

  11:01 am

  Saul stood at the top of the circular car park in the middle of Newcastle and looked out over the city, losing himself in the surrounding normality of the everyday. The sun was shimmering, high in the cloudless blue sky, reflecting off the glass cover over the main stands of St James Park, the football stadium looming large over the city centre. The city was buzzing with everyday life, people parking up and heading off into the main shopping centre, Eldon Square, or off to the main shopping streets nearby. It was approaching lunchtime, so a steady stream of students could be seen exiting the University Buildings opposite and heading off to one of the many pubs in the Haymarket area.

  A ten year old, immaculate blue Vauxhall Corsa pulled into a spare parking bay next to his SLK and DI Saxon got out of it.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting Sir, the traffic coming in was heavy.’ said Saxon, coming up alongside him and taking in the view too.

  ‘No problem Saxon. Newcastle at lunchtime can be a bit gridlocked, especially around the Haymarket. It’s where all the buses terminate. It’s easier to get down to Grey Street from here. Do you have the address?’ he asked as he started walking down the spiral road of the car park.

  ‘Yes Sir, number fifty seven.’ she answered, following on slightly behind him as there wasn’t enough room for two people to walk side by side.

  ‘Do you think anyone at Pison is involved in this Sir?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s difficult to say at the moment. Certainly the company own the property and seem to own a limousine that may have been heading toward that property on the night in question. We have to find out if there’s anyone within the company that matches the description of our suspects; either our ‘Unknown Caller’, Dr Hanlon or Madame Evangeline.’

  ‘Do you think she is real? Madame Evangeline?’ Saxon asked with an excited expectation, coming alongside him as they reached the bottom of the car park and headed off in the direction of China Town.

  ‘I know that I don’t trust Dr Ennis. I know that DI Bentley is a prick and from the evidence I’ve seen has done a piss poor job during the initial investigation. Is she real? There is certainly enough doubt in the evidence to make us have to think she is real. Personally, I think she is, but that’s just my gut telling me that, not evidence. Otherwise, there is no other obvious suspect. And our ‘Unknown Caller’ was adamant that someone else was responsible for Michael’s death.’

  ‘Why don’t you trust Dr Ennis? Do you think he might be involved in this? It certainly seems very strange to me that a patient initially in his care should go missing. Have you considered that he could be our ‘Unknown Caller’, that he could be Dr Hanlon and that it could be him that has set this all up?’ asked Saxon as they turned left into Eldon Square Gardens and headed off down towards Grey’s Monument, a large sandstone pillar in the middle of the city on top of which a Statue of Earl Grey, a former Prime Minister, stood proud.

  Saul shot her an appreciative glance. ‘Yes, it’s definitely crossed my mind. I don’t trust him because I know he is a sadistic bully who preys on the vulnerable people in his care and hides behind the law and ‘process’ to justify the atrocious things that he has done. Trust me, if I find even the tiniest shred of evidence that he is involved in this, I will crucify him.’ Saul answered harshly, venom in his last words.

  ‘That’s one thing that I am struggling with on this case Sir, people’s motives. I know that is investigation basics. What’s the motive? Why did Rebecca kill her son? Was it really just madness? And why is our ‘Unknown Caller’ doing this? What’s in it for him?’ They passed the steps of Greys Monument which were filled with people sitting having their lunch, listening to and watching the menagerie of buskers, jugglers and clowns all vying for the odd piece of silver.

  ‘How long have you been a DI?’ Saul asked inquisitively.

  ‘Three weeks Sir, this in my first real case. So far I have just been shadowing DI Munro, doing lots of paperwork.’ she answered eagerly.

  ‘Lucky you. Don’t, whatever you do, take much advice from him. He is old school cynical, old school method. It doesn’t work in the world today. I would agree with you, the motives are elusive at the moment. Investigation basics should also teach you to work out the ‘how’ first and nine times out of ten, that will point you to the why. Sometimes both are blatantly obvious, but i
f they aren’t, always focus on the facts. What does the evidence tell you?’ he said, smiling reassuringly at her. They were heading down Grey Street now, leaving the main shopping streets behind and heading into a hubbub of office workers going about their business or heading out to lunch. They passed the neoclassical façade of the Theatre Royal on their left, building height banners dropped between six tall pillars at its front, advertising the latest stage show.

  ‘Right, number fifty seven, where’s number fifty seven?’ Saul asked rhetorically, looking up at the numbers above the ground floor level shops and café’s as they continued to walk. ‘It looks like this side is even, there’s number sixty.’ he said as they walked past Iguanas, one of the cafés on the street. ‘That would make number fifty seven just over there, beside Browns.’ he stated, walking across the road between cars, Saxon following him.

  They stopped outside the door to number fifty seven and read the labels against the intercom on the side wall. Axiom and Pison Properties were on floor three, along with a company called ‘Equity Investments’. A quizzical expression crossed his face as he read the name and he went silent for a few seconds, deep in thought.

  ‘Is everything alright Sir?’ asked Saxon, standing behind him.

  ‘Pardon?’ he said distractedly, then added, ‘Yes, everything’s fine. I just recognise the other company name, that’s all.’ he answered brusquely, as he buzzed the intercom.

  ‘Hello, Pison Properties, this is Janice speaking, how may I help you?’ asked a tinny female voice from the intercom.

  ‘Hello Janice. I am Detective Inspector Saul from Northumbria Police. My colleague, Detective Inspector Saxon and I would like to talk with the owner of the company if that is convenient. Could we come up please?’

  ‘If you push the door Sir when you hear the buzzer and come up to the third floor. The owner is in a meeting at the moment, but I will see if she can make time for you.’