Angels Bleed (Fallen Angels Book 1)

by Max Hardy

  Saul’s hand circled behind her neck and started to gently massage the tension he could feel there. He leant even further into her, pulling her head forward delicately, kissing her quivering lips softly first, then kissing the tip of her nose tenderly before leaving his lips impressed upon her forehead for a moment. He pulled his head back a few centimetres, bringing his gaze level with her startled, sparkling emerald eyes.

  ‘This has nothing to do with you. I know where you were on the night that all of this happened. I know where I was. That’s what matters, that is what you have to keep reminding yourself. I know that is not easy, but please, try.’ he said quietly, warmth emanating from his tired, bloodshot eyes.

  ‘Et Tu, my darling, Et Tu.’ she whispered, leaning forward and kissing him hard, lips lingering.

  Their lips parted, the kiss bequeathing each a smile. ‘I am trying, and it is hard. Poor Munro is feeling the worst of how hard I am finding it.’ Saul said. ‘I also need to go and talk to Sarah. She still doesn’t know about the two of us or about any of this and I don’t want her finding out from anyone else. After I have been interviewed I am going home to see her.’

  ‘You need to. You have a lot to talk about.’ Jessica replied, her eyes turning away from Saul as she spoke.

  He saw the concern in her gaze before she broke contact. He moved his hand from the back of her neck and placed it under her chin, lifting her head back in line with his. ‘I will be telling her that I am leaving. I will be telling her that I have met someone else. I will be telling her that I love you. You,’ he said, intently staring at her concerned expression, ‘have nothing to worry about on that count.’

  She smiled. ‘When you have, I will be waiting. I’m not sure where.’ she said, in her low sultry tone. ‘But I will be waiting.’

  ‘I’m might be off the case but once I have seen Sarah, I will be coming back here. I have no doubt they will need to interview me further.’

  ‘I will be waiting here then.’ she finished, leaning over and giving him a huge, encompassing hug which ended in a gentle kiss on his lips. She then stood up, straightening her dress down, picking up her Cartier Handbag, her Vivien Westwood coat and left the room, letting her arm trail up Saul’s chest and over his shoulder as she went. He held onto her arm, letting it slip through his grip, all the way until the tips of their fingers parted.

  As she left, Strange smiled towards her. ‘Leigh, could you assist Mrs Seymour please.’ he asked as he came into the interview room, closing the door and leaning up against the back of it. Saul had his back towards him, sitting hunched over in the chair.

  ‘She seems to be a very sincere person John. It’s obvious that she cares a lot about you. I can see that the feeling is mutual. I need to ask your view on something though. If you didn’t know her, and had the evidence we have, would you think she was involved in this? Strange asked, watching Saul as his hunched spine straightened up and his head raised from the nothing it was looking at on the floor. Saul stood up and took the chair he had been sitting in, and walked around the table, looking at Strange as he passed.

  ‘I’m a suspect now Sir, let’s do this by the book.’ he said, placing the chair and sitting down in it. He pressed the start button on the tape and said into it. ‘3:15 pm. DCI Strange interviewing DI Saul. Would you like to ask that question again Sir?’ Saul said, looking up towards his superior in a calm and open manner.

  Strange nodded, impressed. ‘Good focus John, good focus.’ he started, leaving the door and sitting down in the chair Jessica had vacated, pulling it under the table and facing Saul.

  ‘If you didn’t know Mrs Seymour, but knowing the evidence we have about her in this case, would you think she was involved?’ Strange asked again.

  ‘Yes Sir, I would.’ Saul simply stated.

  Strange took a photograph off the file in front of him and placed it in front of Saul. ‘For the tape, I am showing DI Saul a CCTV image of a limousine, with the driver of the vehicle highlighted. DI Saul, do you recognise the driver?’

  ‘The person has a passing resemblance to me.’

  ‘And where were you at the time identified on the image.’ Strange asked, pointing to the bottom corner of the picture.

  Saul looked down at where Strange was pointing. ‘At that time, I would have been in the Old Waverley Hotel, in room number 389 with Jessica Seymour.’

  ‘What was the last time you can recall being with anyone other than Mrs Seymour on that evening?’

  ‘We ordered room service, Champagne and Ice Cream just before midnight. I called home and talked to Sarah for about ten minutes, just after midnight from the hotel telephone. Room Service was delivered at around 12:10 am. I signed for it. That was the last time I saw anyone else other than Jessica until we went down for breakfast at 8:30am. I would guess we fell asleep around 12:40 am. We were awake a few times after that but I have no idea what the times would have been.’

  Strange was looking at his notes from Jessica’s interview as Saul relayed his version of events. He looked up as Saul finished. ‘For clarity, between 12:10 am and 8:30 am on the 1st January 2012 you and Jessica Seymour were alone in your hotel room and did not see another person during that time?’

  ‘That is correct Sir.’

  ‘Do you feel that Mrs Seymour could have left the room without your knowledge during that time?’

  ‘That is a possibility Sir. However, on the couple of occasions I did wake during that period, she was there. She also woke me on one occasion. I have no reason to believe that she wasn’t sleeping next to me the whole time.’

  ‘Right,’ Strange started. ‘Interview terminated at 3:25 pm.’ he finished, stopping the tape recorder as he did.

  Saul looked up at him quizzically. ‘Is that it Sir. Don’t you want to corroborate my movements with Jessica for the rest of the day?’

  ‘There’s no need John. My focus is on that evening and what happened. Your version of events ties in exactly with Mrs Seymour’s and I am sure when we check with the hotel, they will confirm the timings that you both state. However, I am sure that in the next few hours, more evidence will come to light which will implicate either one or both of you. I have exactly the same feeling as you John, I think you are being played. What I don’t know, is if that is because you are really guilty and someone is exposing the evidence to prove that, or because you are being setup.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly Sir, although knowing what I know, it’s the latter.’

  ‘I can’t and won’t assume that John. The two of you are still my Prime Suspects. The only reason you aren’t under caution at this point is because all of the evidence so far is circumstantial. The second any concrete evidence is unearthed, I will arrest you.’

  ‘I know Sir and that is absolutely the right thing to do. Sir, I know I am off the case now, but could I offer a thought?’

  Strange smirked sardonically and leant back in his seat. ‘Do I have a choice John?’

  ‘No Sir, not really. You need to get Ennis in and question him. There are too many things that tie him to this case. I keep mulling over why someone would want Rebecca Angus out of the way. Surely if you wanted to clear her name, you would want her around to prove any new evidence. She would be able to say if Jessica were Madame Evangeline in a second, or if I was driving the limousine. She would be able to confirm this is the place they visited that night at the drop of a hat. I think Ennis has set this all up and hid her away so that he can play his sick game.’

  ‘I appreciate where your theory is coming from John and I think you are right, we do need to question him further. In return, could I ask you to consider something for me?’

  ‘Certainly Sir.’ answered Saul, looking intently at Strange, who had a pensive look on his face.

  ‘Just remember the old adage, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I know how you feel about Jessica but bear in mind the relationship she has had with Ennis in the past and how much evidence, albeit circumstantial, that we have on her. There m
ay be more than one person playing you John.’

  3:30 pm

  Strange leant against the frame of the open door to the MIU, hands pushed deep into his trouser pockets. He watched the intimate and tactile body language of Saul and Jessica as they embraced each other goodbye just at the side of the Mercedes, before Saul climbed in and drove off, more sedately than when he had arrived. Jessica folder her coat and arms around herself and stood for a moment longingly watching the receding vehicle, before turning and casting an aporetic gaze over Featherstone Hall, taking in the tired, lifeless orifices of each boarded up window in turn. She visibly shivered, then turned and started walking back towards the Visitor Unit, casting a nervous smile in Strange’s direction as she passed.

  Strange returned the smile, his eyes not leaving her otherwise elegant, composed stance, until she walked out of his line of vision. He leaned up from the door frame and turned back into the main MIU room, coming up behind the still sitting Munro.

  ‘How’s the stomach now Mick?’ Strange enquired, placing an arm around his shoulder and kneeling down on his haunches beside him.

  Munro looked up at him and snarled with a grimace of pain and anger. ‘I want that bastard charged with GBH.’

  ‘I understand that Mick, and you should. What I need to understand from you now is, can you hold off on that until tomorrow and are you in a fit state to continue with this investigation?’ Strange asked, politely but firmly.

  Munro grumbled under his breath, imperceptible profanities an undercurrent to the audible, ‘Yes, Sir, I can wait and I am okay to continue.’

  ‘Spot on Mick. Really appreciate your commitment.’ Strange answered, without a hint of condescension, every single word genuinely meant as he tightened his embrace around Munro’s shoulders.

  ‘Right everyone.’ Strange stated, standing up and walking towards the whiteboards. ‘We have a lot of new evidence, one less detective, who now happens to be a suspect, one more new suspect and less than nine hours to figure this conundrum out. We need to focus on two lines of enquiry. Is Jessica Seymour really Madame Evangeline and was John Saul complicit in assisting her during the murder of Michael Angus. Secondly, is Dr Ennis involved in the setup of this scenario to either A: uncover the truth about Jessica and John’s involvement or B: frame them.’

  ‘Sir, do you think Saul is really involved in this?’ DI Saxon asked.

  ‘The evidence suggests he might very well be Leigh, yes. So what we need to do is chase down the evidence. Jessica Seymour and John Saul are our Prime Suspects. Leigh, I need you to dig into the stories of their whereabouts that night, check the hotel, the bills, the room service. Can you also talk to Mrs Seymour’s chauffeur about his movements that day and get Forensics to search his vehicle, see if there are any prints, any hairs, anything that can give us proof of who was in the limousine.’ Strange asked, noting actions under the names ‘Seymour’ and ‘Saul’ on the whiteboard.

  ‘No problem Sir, I will start checking straight away, but I can’t believe Saul is involved. Most of the things we have found out, such as the limousine, were down to things Saul suggested we check. Why would he incriminate himself like that Sir?’ Saxon asked, still puzzled.

  ‘Leigh, I appreciate that you are finding it difficult to fathom his motives, but as Detectives, what do we do? We look for facts, we look for evidence. At this point in time, the evidence suggests he is involved. That is what we need to focus on.’ Strange answered firmly. Saxon lifted a thumb in acknowledgement.

  ‘We also need to start figuring out how Dr Ennis is involved in this. Mick I need you to bring him in for questioning. We need to delve deeper into what he has found out from Rebecca Angus during the time she was incarcerated. See if we can discover if he knew anything about John being in the limousine. It still stinks to high heaven that Rebecca has gone missing and he knew nothing about it. Mick, get yourself straight away.’ Strange directed Munro.

  ‘Will do Sir.’ Munro answered, tentatively rising from his seat and gingerly supporting his stomach as he left the MIU.

  ‘Sir.’ Strange directed to the plasma screen with the head of the Chief Superintendent on, who was looking down at paperwork on his desk. He looked up as Strange addressed him. ‘Have the press been in touch about this at all?’

  ‘No. At the moment this is going completely under the radar and I would like to keep it that way. We don’t have a lot of time and we don’t want your team distracted.’ he replied.

  ‘Good news. Now, Phyllis, have you found out anything from exotic pet dealers in the area at all.’

  ‘Sir, I am about fifty percent through a list of three hundred. So far, not one of them knows of any individual deals the size we are looking for. The general consensus from the ones I have talked to so far is that the snakes haven’t come in through a dealer. These shops tend to be working on a few dozen a year. They think it may be black market activity.’ she relayed back to Strange.

  Strange ruminated for a moment, then said. ‘Stop calling around Phyllis. I don’t think we are going to get any further on that track. Could you take over looking at the evidence coming out of the warehouse from Leigh please?’ Phyllis gave a perfunctory nod of acknowledgement.

  ‘Now, Steven, how are you getting on? Have we heard anything back from the local forensics regarding the real Dr Hanlon’s e-mail and telephone calls?’ Strange asked.

  ‘We have Sir. Any e-mail or phone c…call being made to the real Dr Hanlon from Dr Ennis was being redirected. Someone hacked into the Broadmoor e-mail system and the mobile network provider. That’s not an easy thing to do. Especially to a mobile network provider. It’s similar to what we are seeing with the feeds from the Hall. We have decrypted about twenty percent of them now. Most are from bots on systems that have been hacked. Whoever this person is, they have a level of technical skills I haven’t come across before. They are hacking into systems with the strongest defence in depth perimeter c…countermeasures in place anywhere in the world. They c…could be taking anything from these systems. Or leaving anything.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Strange.

  ‘False Identities. The fake Dr Hanlon being the c…case in point. This person has access to the systems which would let you make a new identity. A new NI Number. A new NHS Number. A new Passport. With the access they have, they c…could make themselves become anyone they wanted to be.’

  ‘Jesus.’ Strange exclaimed, is astonishment, a sudden thought breaking through immediately. ‘Does that mean they could potentially change things, such as CCTV images?’ he questioned.

  ‘It means they c…could do anything Sir. Absolutely anything.’

  4:15 pm

  Saul pushed a button on the dashboard of his SLK and the black wrought iron gate to the entrance of his property slid to one side, allowing him passage into the mature landscaped bushes, trees and shrubs that lined the long driveway up to the front of the house. He pulled the car up in front of a large, separate garage block, next to a deep red Range Rover Evoque, Sarah’s car, and then walked the short distance to the front door.

  One of the double doors was open slightly, just off the latch. He pushed it open and stepped through into the oak floored, wide entrance hallway. Just to the left of the door were a number of designer shopping bags dropped untidily on the floor, their contents –various colourful tops and trousers- spilling from them. He threw his car keys into a bowl on top a long telephone table as he passed it, heading towards the living room.

  ‘Sarah.’ he called, walking into the room. There was no answer and there was no one in the room. His attention was attracted to the sketch above the fire and he slowly walked towards it. He ran a finger down the blotted, watermarked parchment where it now contorted Sarah’s face into a blur of deformity.

  ‘What have I done to you?’ he whispered quietly to himself, as he took in the drawing, lips becoming pensive as his head slowly turned to see the other water spattered photographs and pictures on the walls. He turned around and sa
w an empty wine bottle and glass on the table in front of the sofa, next to them, ripped up pieces of photographs festooning the table surface, spilling over onto the floor. He picked a few of the remnants up and looked at them, eyes widening in disbelief as he did. There were fragments of his face, fragments of Jessica’s face: fragments of the two of them in an illicit embrace.

  ‘Oh god, Sarah.’ he murmured, the words full of concern. ‘Sarah.’ he then repeated, louder, as holding the scraps of photo in his hand, he walked purposefully from the living room. He was about to go over to the other side of the hallway, into the dining room, when he noticed further scraps of photograph on the hall floor and on the first few steps of the ornate circular stairway to the first floor. He changed direction and climbed the stairs quickly, noting the occasional feature of his face glaring back at him from the ripped photographs discarded on the steps.

  ‘Sarah.’ he repeated when at the top, listening intently for a reply. There wasn’t one. Only silence. But in the silence, in the overwhelming silence of his large, empty house, he heard the most delicate of whimpers coming from Jacob’s room. He approached it and slowly pushed the door that was ajar fully open.

  Sarah was sitting on the floor in front of Jacob’s cot, wearing her old tatty dressing gown and Uggs. There was an open bottle of wine next to her, the contents half drunk. No glass. Surrounding her was the confetti of adultery: a dispersed collage of torn eyes, ripped noses, riven lips and shredded encounters. The taggie was in place over the fingers of one hand while the other hand held another photograph that was being decimated. There was only one false nail left, on the little finger of her left hand. She looked up at Saul as he entered the room, the dark shadows around her eyes glistening with the tears of her torment, snot dribbling from her nose to join the salty flows from her eyes and moisten her quivering lips.