Angels Bleed (Fallen Angels Book 1)

by Max Hardy

  They entered when the buzzer sounded and started up the ornate oak staircase, Saxon following Saul. The building still retained a lot of its original features. The high ceilinged rooms had sculpted plaster coving and ornate ceiling roses above crystal chandeliers. Original oil portraits of different gentlemen dressed in period finery hung from picture rails up the stairway as the ascended. Saul looked at the names on the small plaques below each as they passed them, a bemused expression crossing his face.

  ‘There’s a long line of Seymour’s in this company.’ Saxon commented as she took in the names too.

  ‘Yes, there are.’ Saul said, his tone thoughtful.

  They were greeted by a slightly nervous but smiling Janice when they arrived at the third floor. ‘Detective Inspector Saul, Detective Inspector Saxon, if you would like to follow me, I’ll take you into Mrs Seymour’s office. I have told her that you are here and she will be with you in five minutes.’ she said, turning and walking through into the main offices.

  Saul followed her silently, taking in his surroundings, eyes darting over the faces of the dozen or so people working at desks in an open plan area. Janice led them into a large room off the main office and invited them to take a seat in some comfortable leather chairs in one corner of the office. They both sat down.

  ‘Can I get you a drink while you wait?’ asked Janice as they sat down.

  Saul didn’t answer for a moment. He was looking around the room intently and his gaze had stopped on a picture on the side wall behind the door they came in through. Saxon looked at him perplexed for a split second, waiting for him to answer. When he didn’t, she did. ‘Nothing for me thank you. Sir?’ she questioned, irritation evident in her raised voice.

  Saul looked back at Saxon abruptly, frustrated. ‘Yes Saxon.’ he said.

  ‘Janice asked if you would like a drink Sir.’ she reiterated, calmly.

  Saul looked at Saxon, bemused, then at Janice, his expression not changing. ‘No thank you.’ he said dryly, turning back immediately towards the picture.

  ‘No problem. If you do need anything, I’m just outside.’ Janice said with a strained smile towards Saxon.

  As she left the room Saul stood up and approached the painting on the wall that had caught his attention. Saxon followed him.

  ‘What is it Sir?’ she questioned, taking in the picture.

  ‘It’s a Cezanne. It’s called ‘Nature Morte Au Crane’ or ‘Still Life With Skull’ he answered, running a finger down the canvas which showed a table with a white cloth half covering it, on top of which sat a number of apples with a skull sitting just behind them. ‘It’s an original. The third Cezanne original I have seen today. Why here, why the hell is it here?’ he posed, shaking his head as he stared at the painting, chewing his bottom lip with a visible frustration.

  ‘Saxon, could you go to the desk please, tell me if there are any photographs on it?’

  ‘Sir?’ she questioned, perplexed.

  ‘It’s not hard Saxon.’ he raised his voice abruptly. ‘Go to the desk and tell me if there are any photographs on it!’ he repeated, louder, turning and glaring at her.

  ‘Okay Sir, I’ll go and look.’ she answered nervously. She walked behind the desk and saw three photographs on its surface. The first was of an older man who had a striking resemblance to the portraits hung on the stairway. The second was of a dog, a Border collie leaping into the air and catching a ball. The third. She looked at the photograph. She looked up at Saul. She looked back at the photograph, astonishment overtaking every sinew in her face.

  ‘It’s you Sir. There is a photograph of you on the desk.’ she said, in shock.

  ‘Fuck.’ Saul said, running his hands through his already bedraggled hair and grabbing it hard. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ he hissed. ‘Some motherfucker is playing with me.’

  ‘Sorry Sir, I don’t understand. Why is there a photograph of you here?’ asked Saxon, confusion evident in the question.

  ‘Because the person who works from that desk is a friend of mine, a good friend of mine.’ he answered curtly, while pacing back and forth in the few metres between the painting and the sofas, deep in furious contemplation.

  ‘Surely if you know this person Sir, you would know that they would be working here?’ Saxon said, bemusedly.

  ‘I knew she worked for a company called ‘Equity Investments’, I knew it was on Grey Street. What I didn’t know was the specific building, or that there were other companies in the group. Now that I do know those things, it opens up a whole other level of complexity. I can’t interview her. I know her. It compromises her, it compromises me and it compromises the case.’ he spat harshly, still pacing back and forth.

  ‘Sir, I’m still confused. Okay, so you didn’t know she worked here, but how can knowing her compromise the investigation?’ Saxon asked.

  Saul stopped pacing and put his head in his hands, rubbing them over his face rapidly for a few seconds, before breathing out heavily as he stopped the frantic action and slowly drew the tips of his fingers down from his forehead to his chin, sinking the nails in slightly on the descent.

  The door opened and a tall, slim woman wearing a black shift dress, black suede high heels shoes and a simple set of pearls around her neck, entered. She had a short blonde bob, perfectly straight, cut around her elfin ears which were pierced three times each side, simple pearl studs in each piercing. She wore very little make up, save for some eyeliner under her striking green eyes, and a rich cherry gloss lipstick. Her face exuded a natural radiance with a slight blush in the cheek. There was also a slight furrow in her otherwise smooth brow as she looked inquisitively at Saul, then over to Saxon.

  ‘John?’ said Jessica Seymour, walking up to him and placing a friendly kiss on his cheek. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked as he received the affection stoically, stepping back from her slightly.

  ‘I’m sorry Jess. We are here investigating a potential murder. The case I told you about earlier.’ he said curtly, taking a slight step further back. Saxon gave a quizzical look on hearing Saul’s last comment, but said nothing.

  ‘John, what has that got to do with me and why are you being so abrupt? Surely if you have some questions, you can just ask them?’ Jessica said, perplexed, crossing arms in front of herself and taking a step back from Saul.

  ‘Shit.’ Saul cursed, banging his fingernails off his trembling lips. ‘I’m sorry Jess, I didn’t know we were coming here to question you. It’s going to get complicated and it is going to get messy. Sorry. Let’s take a seat. Saxon, could you come over too. DI Saxon, this is Jessica Seymour.’ he said as they all sat down on the sofa, Saxon shaking Jessica’s hand as they did.

  ‘Right. In summary, last night we found a dead body at a property owned by Axiom, your company. We are treating the circumstances as suspicious. One of the lines of enquiry we are pursuing relates to a black limousine seen heading towards the property on the night of his murder. That limousine is also registered to your company. We are also looking for a woman who was in the Edinburgh area on the night of his murder and subsequent to his murder.’ Saul said, looking Jessica directly in the eyes with a concerned expression and pausing for a second, glancing at Saxon momentarily also.

  ‘This is where is gets a bit complex. I know that you have a passing resemblance to the woman that we are looking for. I know that you were in Edinburgh around about the time the murdered took place.’ he added pausing again as surprise surfaced on both Jessica’s and Saxon’s face simultaneously.

  ‘I know that you were there, because I was with you. It was New Year’s Eve, 2012 and we were there for a half marathon. At this point though, it doesn’t matter that there is a reasonable explanation for you, or I being there. The fact that you own this company, own the car and were in the same vicinity as the victim means that you will need to help us with our enquiries. I can’t question you about it because I was with you. Do you understand?’ he asked, eyes darting between them pensively.

  ‘I unders
tand the information you are giving me, but…’ Jessica started, still startled. ‘But it sounds incredible!’ she added, nonplussed for a second, staring wide eyed between the two officers. She regained her composure remarkably quickly, sitting up straight, pushing her shoulders back and straightening out her dress over her knees.

  ‘But, if you need to question me, that’s not a problem. Just let me know what you need me to do.’ she asked, calmly and politely.

  ‘I need you to go with DI Saxon, up to Featherstone Hall. The team will then interview you with regard to this matter. Unfortunately I can’t be involved in the investigation now.’ he was sat beside her, and gently placed a hand on her knee. ‘I need you to tell them the truth about that day. I need you to tell them the truth about us. Everything about us.’

  ‘Sorry Sir.’ interjected Saxon. ‘I’m not quite sure why you can’t be involved in this now.’

  ‘No need to be sorry Saxon. I know Mrs Seymour well. Very well. We have been having an affair for a very long time. I can’t be involved in the investigation because by association, I am implicated in the events leading up to the victim’s death. At this point in time, I am also a suspect.’

  11:40 am

  ‘How many!’ Strange asked, incredulously. He was leaning down, arms pressed against the surface of the desk in the MIU, taking in what DI Munro has just told him.

  ‘They have counted more than two thousand at the minute. There are tanks lining the walls of the warehouse with thousands more live ones inside. Apparently the stench from those two thousand dead snake carcasses was a bit unpleasant. One or two of the guys vomited. It was the stench that someone complained about. One of the local PC’s went to investigate, called it in and it flashed up on our ‘Has anyone seen a shitload of snakes’ radar.’ Munro finished, wryly.

  ‘Are SOCO there yet? Have we got any Detectives on the way?’ Strange asked.

  ‘The location is secured, SOCO have started to process the scene. DI Cummings is on the way. It’s in a row of other leased warehouses down in the old dockyards in Wallsend. The PC who arrived first questioned the other warehouse owners. The unit had been empty for a long time and no one can recall any recent activity from it. One very important thing that’s come to light. While the units are all leased, the owner of the warehouse complex is a company called Pison Properties. The same Pison Properties that owns Featherstone Hall.’ Munro finished, smugly leaning back in his seat, the front legs of it off the ground.

  ‘Interesting.’ Strange answered, a glint in his eye as he turned and marked up the white board under his notes on ‘Snakes’ with the owner and location of the warehouse.

  ‘Keep an eye on that and feedback anything of note from either SOCO or the investigating officer immediately. Phyllis, keep checking with those suppliers. They had to get those snakes from somewhere. Anything else on Missing Persons?’ Strange asked Munro, turning back from the whiteboard.

  ‘Three people have turned up and been reunited with their worried families. No leads relevant to this case coming from the other investigations at the moment.’ Munro said, rocking back and forth on the seat.

  The conference phone on the desk started to ring. Strange checked the number then answered it.

  ‘John, how are things going at Pison?’ Strange asked.

  ‘Saxon is bringing Jessica Seymour, the owner of the company, in for questioning. They are on their way up to you now.’ Saul said, his voice distorted, the call fading in and out.

  ‘Why are you bringing her in for questioning? What have you found out?’ asked Strange inquisitively, leaning closer to the conference phone. Munro stopped rocking on his chair and leaned in closer too.

  ‘Sir, do you recall the conversation we had about Personal and Professional. Well, this has just got very personal. I know Jessica. She owns the company. She owns the limousine. She looks a little like the photo fit of Madame Evangeline that we have. She was in Edinburgh on the day in question. She is most definitely a suspect, and because she is a suspect, so am I.’ Saul said, his voice breaking up.

  ‘Are you driving John, the connection isn’t great. Explain to me what you mean by that. Why are you a suspect?’ Strange asked, perplexed, standing upright and putting his hands into his trouser pockets. Munro raised his hands in a quizzical gesture too.

  ‘Yes, I’m driving. I don’t have time to explain at the moment Sir, Saxon will bring you fully up to speed when they arrive. I have to go and check some..in. .ut…..’ A loud beep came from the phone as the call cut out.

  ‘Curious.’ Strange mused, poking the redial button on the phone. It rang dead, out of signal range. He turned back to the whiteboard and wrote the name ‘Jessica Seymour’ under the heading ‘Axiom/Pison’.

  ‘Well, let’s wait to see what comes of that. It sounds as though we may have a suspect at last.’ Strange said to the room in general, his tone slightly dubious.

  ‘OK, Steven, is there any update on your connection machinations?’ Strange asked, abruptly changing the subject, walking up behind Reynolds and placing hands on his shoulders.

  ‘The IT Guys at the Department Of Health Offices are still c…checking the c…connection at their end. They have found that as well as it talking out of their network to this location, it also has active c…connections going into their internal network. They are trying to figure out what those c…connections are doing. In the meantime I’ve been trying to decrypt the encrypted c…connections. I have managed to do three of them. It’s the same type of traffic, all heartbeat messages. All c…coming from some type of government or public sector organisations. I am getting in touch with the relevant IT Teams as soon as I know who the organisations are. Whoever this person is, they sure know how to hack c…computers.’ Reynolds said.

  ‘What about the larger connections, the ones you think are carrying the video streams, any joy with them?’ asked Strange.

  Reynolds shook his head. ‘Not yet Sir, they are going to be harder. They are using a stronger level of encryption. It could be a few hours before I manage to get anywhere with them.’

  ‘Okay, keep up the good work.’ Strange said positively, patting Reynolds shoulders as he did.

  ‘Georgie, are you there!’ Strange said loudly, looking up towards the screen showing the autopsy room.

  Darrie could be seen on the screen, deep in active concentration, working on the cadaver which was just below the camera angle, out of view of Strange as he watched.

  Darrie raised his head, then a blood stained gloved hand with which he mopped his sweating brow. With the other hand, he lifted Michael’s brain into view.

  ‘I’ve just removed his brain Jerry. I have to say, the initial autopsy was a Pigs Ear. I know the chap who carried it out. Met him at a convention a few years back. Think I might even have buggered him a couple of times while we were there. I’ll be buggering his career now. I would guess due to the damage of the chest cavity and with having a confession from the killer, he didn’t put much effort into other possible injuries. He certainly didn’t do a full autopsy on the head. Mind you, that may be me being a little disingenuous. From the outside, there really isn’t any physical sign of injury to the scalp. There is a very slight graze with some light bruising. No real external bleeding to speak of and it’s all hidden under his hair.’

  ‘So there is something there then?’ asked Strange.

  ‘Oh yes, most definitely yes.’ Darrie answered, angling the bottom rear of the brain to the camera. ‘Do you see that red swelling, about a centimetre across, there?’ he said, pointing at a slight mound sticking out from the Occipital Lobe. ‘That is internal haemorrhaging. This is what happened. Young Michael here has had a light bang on the head. A bone has splintered off on the inside of his skull and pierced an artery in his brain. That has caused the haemorrhage. He would have died within thirty seconds of the blow. Young Michael didn’t die from having his heart ripped out. All of that was done post mortem. He died due to a blow on the head. From what Harris found at the H
all, my professional opinion would be that he knocked it on the fireplace. How, I can’t tell you, but he didn’t die at Rebecca Angus’s flat. He died in Featherstone Hall.’

  12:15 pm

  ‘It’s me again Sarah, please call me back when you get this message, I need to talk to you urgently.’ Saul huffed into his phone as the call went to voicemail. He was striding towards the Reception of the Fielding Institute from the car park. He thrust the phone back into the inside tuxedo pocket with such force, the lining ripped.

  ‘Great.’ he mumbled under his breath as he entered the Reception and approached the desk, the same young lady as earlier behind it.

  ‘Good afternoon Detective Inspector Saul, are you here to see Dr Ennis again?’ she asked, smiling politely at him.

  ‘Is he in his office?’ Saul asked tersely.

  ‘Yes, would you like…’ she started, but Saul was already walking away, down the corridor towards Dr Ennis’s office.

  ‘Sir, Sir, could you wait until I ring through.’ she called ineffectually, Saul ignoring her. She stabbed a button on the phone, the call answered quickly. ‘Dr Ennis, DI Saul is coming to your office now, he doesn’t seem to be at all happy.’ she relayed, looking anxiously down the corridor as she spoke.

  Saul barged his way into the office, pushing the door open hard, where it swung fully on its hinges and banged off the wall with a loud thud. Dr Ennis stood up as Saul thundered across the room, blood rushing up his neck and into his cheeks as fast as he stood, his own expression starting to fume with anger. Dr Ennis moved quickly to the side of his desk, right into the oncoming path of Saul, where he stood defiantly, arms slightly raised in a defensive position in front of him. Saul’s hateful glare didn’t leave Dr Ennis’s fiery eyes for one second as he covered the last few feet over the office and stopped directly in front of him, their faces mere centimetres apart. Their gaze was locked, for a moment both of them just standing there, features twitching with the pent up anger bubbling inside. Saul’s fists were balled tight, ready to punch, knuckles red raw with the pressure he was applying. Dr Ennis’s hands were one above the other, trembling in anticipation of action.